#it's depressing that I could think of three shows I like that all fall under the umbrella of this issue

[departed-pronouns]

Scrolling through my timeline now is letting me look and see a wide arrange of thoughts and reactions. But something I notice from almost everyone right now that has something to say about 911 and it's lackluster last season and season final. Is that they never expected Buck and Eddie to get together. I don't just mean the people who say they never saw the romance, that's a given, but they are saying it as if it was a forgone conclusion and they're saying that it's because we shouldn't expect to see characters presented as queer.

And then on the other side there are people who really wanted it and believed it was possible. There are people who wanted it but kept their expectations low because there's always a chance that your ship wont sail. There were people that just wanted canon confirmed Bi buck or canon confirmed queer Eddie in any form the show gave.

But in their posts on tumblr, on twitter, reddit or discord. They always have to add after saying they saw the possibility of it, but that they wouldn't be surprised if it didn't happen. After 911's last episode people who posted about Buddie were saying they were disappointed but they weren't surprised. There are people posting that they expected to be disappointed and people posting that you should have seen it coming and just accept that it was never going to happen.

And honestly, why not? Tell me why. Things have to change some time for the better. Why not see that change now? Why not be disappointed about this? When really by now we should be to a point where one fan pairing that's queer doesn't go canon should be just as meh as if a fan hetero couple does. Why just accept it's never going to happen.

I mean maybe I wont get to see something like this in my life time. But I'd like to think one day we could do something as simple as watch tv and see people on it being all different shades of queer. See two guys who were only written as straight suddenly show queerness because like, in real life that's something that happens, people realize things late in life. People present a certain image and when you get to know them more you find out hidden depth. Characters aren't even real and this annoying rule that fiction has to be held in this chock hold because people in real life are homophobic/transphobic/just terrible in general and can't seem to handle, well, differences.

Maybe that day when I can log online and say two fictional characters would be cute together and not end up in some online discourse over it will also be the same day me or any other person that's different won't have to live in fear in real life. Can be unique but not considered 'other' and 'wrong' Because yes for a lot of people this may just be 'oh no the pretty people I want to see together on tv didn't get together'. But to some it's another way of pointing out how what a lot of us are is wrong and gross. And to people like me it's another reminder that I don't live in a world where what I am is normal enough to just be on tv. To just be out there and not given a second thought.

In this specific fandom, for this show, lots of people point out there's already Hen and Karen, and there had been David and Michael. As if that fills some quota the queers have that doesn't apply to straight couples. We didn't see anyone saying Buck or Eddie shouldn't have girl friends because there were already too many straight couples on the show. Hell, with this fandom I've had someone tell me if I want to see a gay couple, go watch a completely different show. Cause Lone star has Carlos and TK. It's like a backwards slide, enough queerness on this, move along to something else.

Frankly I think seeing people say 'I know this could never happen' is more depressing than the ship not sailing. And I wish when I or other people brought up our disappointment about this sort of stuff. It wasn't boiled down to us being silly about ship. Right now one of the very real ways I can fight against prejudice is by finding and supporting queer media and trying to support the general medium embracing and celebrating and representing queer people in real ways.

Sure it might not be on the same level as when I protest legislation that is being passed that strips away peoples rights. Which is still happening because we can't change people's misinformed views on real life issues, and we can't do that if we can't even get past token rep in shows.

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 27]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 4.4k

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Police Arrest Three After Mass Protests in LA County

By C. Grant

Three people were arrested in Pasadena, California yesterday after a crowd gathered to protest the death of Sheila Pom. Police say the three individuals, whose names have not yet been released, appeared to be Enhanceds attempting to agitate the crowd. Witnesses claim one of the individuals was creating sparks with their fingers and threatening to start a fire, while the two others encouraged the behavior. Police have made no comment about these arrests and all questions about the incident have been redirected to a now defunct phone number. 

Sheila Pom was killed in an officer-related shooting two weeks ago after neighbors reported her as a Dangerous Individual under the new Sokovia Accords Act. Pom, 23, worked at her uncle’s auto body shop as a mechanic while also attending online classes to get a degree in Engineering. She was also a telekinetic - someone who can move objects with their mind. 

Pom was known to not be shy about her gifts. Pom was seen frequently lifting cars and trucks within garages without the help of equipment and is rumored to have once righted a tipped over semi-truck. Neighbors became concerned when Pom began using her gifts at home.

“We’d come home, and things would be floating up and down the street,” one neighbor said.

Another claimed Pom was unstable, and when she would become upset, things around her would begin to shake.

“I thought it was an earthquake until my TV hit the ceiling,” a source who lived in the same building Pom told GKTV, “I learned the next day her boyfriend broke up with her.”

Officers were called when Pom refused to return a motorcycle to the ground while working on it in a residential neighborhood. After a brief standoff, officers fired two shots, striking Pom in the head, and killing her. 

Pom’s family claims she was unaware of the officer’s presence, as wireless earbuds were found near her body after. Pom was known to listen to music to block the noise of machines. 

Protests began after the officers involved in the incident were cleared of any wrongdoing. 

----

A full-page ad takes over your screen, and instead of continuing to read the depressing article, you close the tab.

There has been a palpable unrest in the news cycle the past week that is starting to leave you with an uneasy feeling in your stomach. You’ve noticed a shift in the general narrative tone and terminology used when discussing people who have superpowers. 

Before Sokovia, before Lagos, before Connecticut, the morning shows would bring on people with amazing gifts and gently joke about them joining the Avengers as they made water fly around the set, but now those same hosts debate if they should be allowed to have the right to privacy. ‘Enhanced Peoples’ has been shortened to just Enhanceds and is now spit out like it is something dirty. 

You don’t know when the conversation stopped centering around heroes and vigilantes and started being about everyday people, but it scares you that the change happened. There seems to be no official power scale about what is deemed ‘dangerous’ and your mind keeps zipping all over the place trying to justify different lines of thinking.

Does Matt fall under the category of Dangerous? 

He is a vigilante, so by default the Accords are directed at him, but is it doubly so? If he was forced to reveal himself to the government, would they require him to wear a tracking device? Or would they try to lock him up?

Could he fight it in court, or would they whisk him away in the middle of the night and you’d never know what happened?

If Matt is deemed Dangerous because of his senses, and not just because he is a vigilante, would Minnie be considered the same?

With how intense and angry everyone is becoming you could see yourself having to take her in to be tested.

To be monitored. 

And she is just a baby. 

You can’t imagine how others must feel - people who are older, who are just trying to live their lives. The girl who was killed was just trying to fix her bike, like millions of other people do every weekend. She wasn’t going to other countries to fight terrorists. She wasn’t trying to use her powers to rule over others. She wasn’t hurting anyone.

But she was different, so they killed her.

“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! I need help!”

You’re ripped from your spiraling thoughts and look across the room to where Minnie is sprawled out on the floor. Her Starkpad is in front of her, and she’s set up Pig and Scooby so they are also peering down at the device and you know exactly what she is doing.

It is the same thing she has been doing for a week straight - playing a bootleg Muppet’s math game. 

Since meeting Spider-man, all your little Mouse has wanted to do is learn math. She keeps saying she wants to impress him and make him proud, and you are in no way going to discourage her. Every day has been filled with counting and addition and subtraction and you are a bit amazed she has stayed so focused. 

You are not going to complain at all about it - you are getting time to yourself while she has been glued to Elmo and Kermit. 

You leave your phone on the dining table and head towards your daughter.

“You need help?” you confirm as you crouch beside her. The screen shows a Muppet you don’t recognize, along with various numbers floating around them, and up at the top, the equation that has your little Mouse stumped. 

“I need help!” Minnie repeats as she scrambles up off her belly and into sitting. “I don’t have enough fingers!” 

She holds up both her hands to show you all ten of her itty-bitty fingers and you make a sympathetic noise. 

Mouse has been getting pretty good at using her fingers to help her with addition and subtraction, but on only one hand. She uses the index finger on her right hand to help count by pointing at each finger and hasn’t quite worked out she can use her fingers to point and count. That is okay, though, as you are happy to lend yours to her important cause. 

“Okay, how many fingers do you need?”

You hold out your hands and she instantly begins to manipulate them. 

“This one…this one needs three! One, two, three!” She pushes your thumb and index finger down so the other three remain up, then she pushes down the pinky of the other hand. “And this one is four!”

“So, three and four? What are we doing with three and four?” You ask, trying to not laugh at her determined face.

“We adds them!” She chirps, before starting to jab at your fingers, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven! That’s seven fingers! Mommy, it’s seven! Three plus four is seven!” 

“That’s right, it is seven. Which number is seven?” You direct her back to her game, where she triumphantly picks the correct symbol. The Muppet congratulates her before presenting a new equation. 

Minnie squeals in delight before ripping the device off the ground and shoving it in your face, “I know this one! Mommy! I know this one! It’s three! Mommy! It’s three!” 

You can’t even process what the question is before the screen is out of sight. Your daughter holds her Starkpad above her head, treating it like some war prize as she starts spinning and dancing around the living room. 

“It’s three! It’s three! It’s three!” 

You laugh at her antics, heartwarming at her pureness. How could anyone ever think she’s a danger?

“Are you sure it’s three?” You tease as you watch her. 

She whips around to you, eyes scrunching up into a glare, and barks, “It’s three!”

“Okay, okay, it’s three.”

You push yourself up into standing just as Mouse returns to her spot. She drops her Starkpad to the ground a little harder than you would prefer, but that is why it has a big bulky case. She plops down in front of it and happily smacks the number three that is floating around the screen.

You let yourself watch her for a few seconds, silently bombarding her with all the love you feel for her. You want to wrap her up and live in this bubble forever.

Except, there is one element missing from your perfect moment. You wish there were a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and a chin on your shoulder. You want to lean back against a muscular chest and lose yourself to eternity like that. 

Instead of indulging those thoughts, you tell yourself to stop fantasizing and you make your way back to the kitchen to check on dinner.

Vegetable curry has been simmering on the stove for most of the day. It has been a while since you had the energy to make the dish from scratch, but you had a craving this morning and went all out. You’ve made curry for Minnie before, and she did not complain - though you think that is because her portion was mostly rice and hot dog cuts. You plan to do the same again tonight, and if she wants more sauce, you’ll give it to her. 

You check your seasonings and give everything a stir to make sure nothing gets stuck at the bottom of the pot. The rich aroma tickles your nose, and you are glad you don’t have to wait much longer to treat yourself.

As you debate adding a pinch more salt, you catch Minnie sneaking towards you out of the corner of your eye. Her movements are slow and dramatic, and you pretend you don’t notice her. This ruse works, and you appropriately jump in fear when she suddenly tugs on your shirt.

“Up!” She demands and you oblige, scooping your daughter onto your hip. As soon as she is high enough, she cups her hands around your ear and leans into whisper, “Daddy saids the food smells yummy-yummy.”

She quickly dissolves into giggles, and it is infectious, so you end up smiling. 

Matt hasn’t been over for dinner in a hot minute, and you are hoping to have a nice quiet family night, before he goes out on his Patrol. The plan is to watch a movie after your meal and Minnie has already prepared for this by dragging multiple blankets out to the couch. You just know she is going to demand a cuddle pile, and now that you and Matt are intimate, it isn’t something you are nervous about. 

You just want to have a good time.

“Can you tell Daddy everything is almost ready?” you ask, even though you know Matt can probably hear you just fine. 

Mouse, always eager to be helpful, nods and relays the message directly into your ear. You try to not grimace, and so it won’t happen again, set her down on the ground. 

“Can you plug in your Starkpad so it can sleep for the night?” 

She streaks off to do her newly assigned task, leaving you to start setting the table. When you were at the store, you bought Matt a bottle of beer - a brand you know he likes - and you set it at his designated spot. You’ve grown accustomed to just drinking water and juice, but you don’t want to push that on to him - not when he’s a guest and coming over after a long day of work. 

As you start to make everyone’s plates, you hear the water in the bathroom turn on. You know Minnie knows the routine for getting ready for dinner and you just hope she isn’t trying to wash Scooby’s paws again. You are worried he’ll end up moldy and you aren’t sure what you will do if that happens. You peek into the living room and are relieved to see your daughter’s best friends have been relocated to sitting on the coffee table, facing the television. 

You finish setting everything up just in time, it seems. Minnie runs from the hallway right to the door as you go to wash your own hands, and you rush to get all the soap off so you can help her open the door. 

Matt is standing on the other side, looking handsome as ever in a gray suit. He looks like he’s had a busy day - his hair is windswept, and he is sporting a strong five o’clock shadow. There is a garment bag draped over his arm and his saddle bag looks a little bulkier than usual and you wonder if he ran some errands on his lunch - picking up his dry cleaning and such. 

You barely have time to take in his appearance before Mouse is launching herself at him.

“Daddy!” She shrieks and Matt oh so easily swings her up onto his hip. “Daddy! We’re having vege-tuhble kermies for dinner! I helped make it! I cut up ALL the carrots! By myself!”

“By yourself, huh?” Matt confirms, a bright, warm smile taking up his entire face. “Soon you’ll be making us dinner.”

You step aside so he can come in and help to take his things to hang while Mouse soaks up his attention. 

“No! Mommy makes dinner because…’cause she makes the bestest foods. I just help!”

“You are a very good helper,” you interject, “You keep a very clean workstation. A professional chef would be proud.”

Minnie beams at the praise, then a microsecond later, is wiggling in to be let down. Her feet hit the ground and she takes off running back toward the living room, probably to collect something to show off to her Daddy. 

Matt takes the small break to turn his attention to you. A hand goes to your cheek, and instead of a brief ‘hello’ peck, he kisses you like he wants to turn and pin you to the wall. It catches you off guard, but you easily melt into it. You clutch at the lapel of his suit jacket and try to not moan as he nips at your lips. You open your mouth for him, but being the tease he is, he pulls back just enough to whisper against you.

“Been thinking about that all day.” 

The words send your blood rushing - some north to your cheeks and the rest to your cunt. 

He’d been thinking about you? About wanting to kiss you? Or has he been thinking about more than that - because you must admit, you’ve been thinking about it. You’ve had more than a few thoughts about what you want to do to him the next time you two are alone together and those thoughts were certainly very explicit. 

“Matt…” you totally do not whine out but instead of replying, his grin just turns cocky. He pulls away as Minnie returns to the entryway, and you decide you need a drink of your water. You escape and Mouse starts showing off her latest masterpieces to Matt. 

Food coloring, cotton balls, and popsicle sticks have proven to be a massive hit and Minnie has made a whole collection of things for Matt - there’s butterflies and flowers, a house with clouds, and various abstract pieces. You are sure his office is already filled to the brim with his daughter’s art, and you would not be surprised if he started to hang things from the ceiling when he does run out of room. He seems to treasure every little thing Minnie has given him and it warms your heart so much. You hope that love never runs out. 

Somehow, Matt ushers Minnie back to the dining room while she shoves different papers into his hands and gets her up in her booster seat. 

“I’m going to put all these in my bag, so they don’t get dirty or lost, okay?” He tells Minnie, who nods way too enthusiastically. 

“Keep them clean!”  And then, just like that, she switches from being excited her Daddy is there to being a hungry toddler. She whips around to face you and asks in an almost impatient manner, “Can I has my hot dogs now?”

You give her the go ahead as Matt returns to the table and takes his place. You quickly tell him the placement of everything, including his beer, then quickly add, “If you don’t like it, I have a few different things I could make you. Or we could order something.”

A brief panic runs through you when Matt scoffs. You think you’ve insulted him - having him come all the way to Chelsea to eat a dinner he won’t enjoy and having to find a substitute. 

“I love curry and this smells delicious. I wouldn’t trade it for the world - in fact, I’m hoping some of those leftovers on the stove are for me to take home and lord over Fog tomorrow.”

You flush at his sweetness and mumble out you’ll pack him some to go. This seems to please him, and he starts to dig in. Ever the little parrot, Minnie mimics him by shoveling food into her mouth with a big grin and you can’t help but laugh a little. 

“It’s nummy!” Your little one declares, and even if she’s just eating plain rice right now, you’ll take it as a win. You know well she won’t eat what she doesn’t like.

“Speaking of yummy,” Matt starts, slow and deliberate, with his head angled towards you, “I was hoping we could go somewhere yummy together.”

You blink slowly at the statement, rolling it over in your mind and trying to dissect the meaning. Did he want to go somewhere for dessert? Maybe get ice cream or something? “Somewhere yummy…?” 

“Mhm,” he hums, then his smile becomes a bit more sly. Even though you know it isn’t true, you feel like, behind his glasses, he is hungrily looking you up and down, “Somewhere like Uvas.���

The name doesn’t automatically generate anything for you, but after a moment, it dawns on you. Uvas in a Spanish restaurant near Central Park known to be high end and impossible to get into. It’s been in the local tabloids a few times for turning away minor celebrities who don’t meet the dress code. You’re mouth parts slightly in shock.

“What’s Oo-vuhas?” Minnie asks around her fork, her big eyes looking between you and Matt. “Do theys has yummy foods?”

“Oh, they have yummy food,” Matt teases. He then leans forward a bit in his seat and stage whispers to her, “It’s where I want to take Mommy for a date.”

“A date?” Minnie scrunches up her face at the word while your mind is still spinning. 

Matt wants to take you on a date? To Uvas? You have never been anywhere that fancy or expensive as a date. Hell, you’ve never been somewhere that fancy, period. The nicest date you’ve ever been on was Hard Rock Cafe - which says a lot about your dating life.

“A date,” Matt confirms, smug and knowingly scheming. You can hear it in his voice as he tells Minnie, “That is where Mommy and Daddy go and have dinner together as grown-ups.”

Up goes Minnie’s hand into her mouth, but it stays there only a split second. Her eyes get impossibly bigger and filled with wonder, and she whispers, “Like Lady and Tramp?”

“Exactly like Lady and Tramp.”

“Mommy!” Minnie says a little too loudly, pointing her fork at you. “You gotta go to Oo-vuhas and be Lady and Tramp! You gotta!”

And at that moment you know you can’t say no, and that Matt knows that. You can’t tell your daughter you don’t want to be like Lady and Tramp. Not that you don’t want to go on a date with Matt - the idea gets you giddy and makes your stomach flutter - but you thought if it happened, it would be a coffee or something. Not somewhere where you can’t even afford to look at the building. The idea makes you a little nauseous, because you are sure you’d make an absolute fool of yourself.

But Matt looks determined and sure of himself. You are certain he asked in front of Minnie so that she could help bully you into saying yes to such a lavish date. 

Luckily, your mind is working in overdrive, and you choke out, “I don’t have anything to wear. They have a dress code, don’t they?”

You don’t expect Matt to push his chair out and get up. Your throat instantly tightens up and fear shoots up your spine. Have you offended him? He clearly wants to do something with you and you’re over here hesitating. You must be coming off as a complete bitch. 

You start to stand up yourself as Matt disappears into the entryway. You don’t think he’d just leave without saying goodbye to Minnie.

Maybe you can talk to him - explain that somewhere a little less grand would be ideal to start.

Before you can start to follow him, Matt is coming back to the table, holding up the garment bag he brought with him, still looking like the cat that got the canary. 

“I thought you might say that,” he starts, his voice almost a little musical, “so I got you this.” 

You stare dumbly at him, shock and confusion overtaking your system. 

He got you something to wear? To Uvas? 

No one has ever bought you clothes before - except your parents. Even when you were pregnant, the small amount of gifts you got were all for Minnie. 

You distantly hear Minnie start saying something about presents, but it is all muffled under the sound of blood pumping through your ears. You step forward hesitantly and reach out for the zipper of the bag, your hand shaking slightly.

You expect it to be a joke. You’re going to open the bag and there’s going to be a clown costume inside, or a skimpy dress people like arm candy to wear, or something akin to a Burka. 

You don’t expect a black floor length sheath gown. The silhouette is simple, but you can tell just by looking at it the quality of the dress is top notch. The fabric has a nice weight to it, and it is incredibly soft to the touch that you have the distinct feeling that it did not come from a dress warehouse or a department store. 

This type of dress would come from a boutique uptown and would cost a few hundred dollars. 

You are so caught up in admiring the dress, you don’t notice Minnie come up beside you until she is also touching the dress. Panic that she might have crumbs or curry on her fingers runs through you, but you force it down.

“It’s like a princess dress for Mommy!” Mouse cooes and you feel your face start to heat up.

You’ve never worn something so nice before and certainly nothing that would be fit for a princess, but it seems like Matt and Minnie are on the same page.

“Well, I want Mommy to feel like a princess.” 

You want to hide your face, but you know you can’t, so you cover your mouth instead.

“Matt, this is beautiful. But this is so much, I can’t accept this.” 

You know that while Matt is a lawyer, he’s still struggling a bit financially. If he had his way, you know he wouldn’t charge anyone for his services, and even though Nelson, Murdock, and Page has paying customers, they still have to stagger out their bills. 

He shouldn’t be spending his hard saved money on you. 

Matt sighs your name before gently draping the garment bag over the back of his dining chair and stepping towards you. Both his hands go to your waist, and you freeze up as he steps close enough to press his forehead to yours. Your heart begins to wildly beat when his hands slowly begin to rub your sides. 

“Let me spoil you. To make up for all the dates I’ve missed. Please?” His lips dip into a small frown and you feel like you’ve kicked a puppy. 

He’s gone out of his way for you, and you are being so ungrateful. 

But it is so hard to say yes. Guilt is pooling in your stomach, and you just want to disappear into the shadows and be forgotten about. That is so much easier than Matt holding you, saying such sweet things.

You don’t want to ruin everything. 

You close your eyes as you have a war inside yourself. All you have to say is ‘Yes’ and you’ll make Matt happy, but the monster inside of you keeps dragging your mind into a pit. 

Matt wants to treat you like a princess, but how crushing will it be when he decides that is no longer the case? Can you take that?

The corners of your eyes start to sting and your monster starts to mock you for getting worked up over something as simple as being asked on a date. 

Why can’t you be normal?

Why can’t you accept this?

Why can’t -

The thoughts cease as Matt’s lips press against yours, soft and sweet and tempting. You respond hesitantly.

“Let me take care of you,” he breathes into your mouth, making you shudder. “You deserve it.” 

“You deserve it!” Minnie chirps from beside your knees and you very suddenly remember where you are and what you were doing. You try to pull away from Matt, thinking Minnie hasn’t seen the two of you like this yet, and it might confuse her, but he keeps his hands firmly planted on your hips, not letting you go. You don’t try to fight it, instead, you turn your head away, trying to hide away in your shell. 

You know there is no way you will win this. Matt is determined and he clearly has Minnie on his side, so, very hesitantly, and feeling like you are going to throw up at any moment, you nod into Matt’s shoulder.

“Okay.”

Mouse lets out a deafening cheer and you feel her dart away.

“LADY AND TRAMP! LADY AND TRAMP! LADY AND TRAMP!”

Matt laughs at her excitement over something she doesn’t understand, while you tuck yourself into his hold, wondering how long you have before he ends up shattering your heart into pieces.

---

tags:

@two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @astridstark13

 @lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

@Specialagentjackbauer  @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath @roxytheimmortal 

 @allllium @waywardcrow @thatkindofgurl @waywardxrhea 

@anehkael @akilatwt @lostinthefantasies @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @ethereal-blaze

 @nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird  @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil

@ladyoflynx @hobiebrowns-wife @sarcasm-n-insomnia @lillycore 

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare 

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @nommingonfood @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 23: Extreme Makeover Backyard Edition

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty three of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 9.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this one 18+ because it handles some heavy subjects!  Angst, Cursing, Nudity, Mentions of Abuse (sort of- it's more the reader being used without knowledge of it and I'm not sure what to call that), Numbness, Depression, Mental Health, Brief mentions of graphic death, Brief mentions of graphic torture, Mention of gore, Mention of death, Mentions of character going through some HEAVY EMOTIONS and INTERNAL TRAUMA, Fluff, Sexual References, Family Problems. Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Reader POV

You fall on your hands and knees in the soft grass of Legend's front yard, falling from the sky like a comet as it's glow fades and burns for the last time before striking the earth. You don't remember how you left Stan's apartment, don't remember flying here, don't feel anything, not the humidity that comes with the rising sun, not the cold kiss of dew against your skin, all you feel is the cold creeping numbness that trickles through your veins.

The memories of what you did come in flashes, but they do nothing. They do not evoke remorse nor pain, they haunt you, but do not bring tears to your eyes.

You open and close your hands, letting the blades of grass crush beneath your fingertips, but you don’t completely comprehend where you are, or how the hell you got here. All you feel is weakness tugging at your every muscle, threatening to drag you under the rising tide. You felt electrified, but so tied at the same time, everything and nothing. What happened seemed centuries ago and also seconds ago.

There was no anger, no remorse, no pain, no horror, no shock, there was nothing, only the chill that clung to your skin on the warm summer morning. You could see Stan’s death in your mind, watch his body collapse in on itself under your power and yet it did nothing to you.

You're not sure of anything anymore. Who you are, who Rosemary is- everything you knew is gone and you're not sure what's left behind, not sure what will come crawling out of the shell you were now. You knew you should be afraid, but another voice in your ear whispered so should they.

Someone grabs you by the shoulders, hauls you up off the ground, raising your gaze from the wet grass.

Ben looks furious, mind you, he always seemed to be angry when it came to you. You wondered if that was because he loved you or if it was because the two of you were fated to kill each other one day.

Or maybe it's a healthy combination of both.

He's wearing his jeans again, his dark hair falling forward into his eyes that burn with the force of his rage, but as soon as he sees the dried blood coating your cheeks, hair, and body, you watch worry begin to spark behind his glowing green eyes.

You register that deep down his anger and worry comes from a place that he'd hidden from you for eighty years, his love for you, the love that he was no longer hiding. But the chill still rose in your chest like the first frost of winter.

"Fuck." Ben mutters, moving his hands along your body, boldly looking for injuries, but he doesn't find any. "What the fuck happened? Why did you leave?"

You don't answer him, instead you take in a shallow breath, filled with the smell of fresh cut grass and Ben's musk. You're trying to find your voice, but it's difficult for you.

"Y/n are you alright?" He asks it, firmly gripping you by the shoulders, trying to shake you back into reality. You can hear the way the anger in his voice has shifted to something else.

"It's not mine Ben." Your voice is no more than a whisper as you stare blankly at him.

"Whose is it?"

You can't answer him, the only thing in your mind is Stan's words to you, the secrets he kept for forty years coming to light, the terrible things that he and Vogelbaum did. You want to tell him, tell him about what you know, but you can't find the words, can't find the thoughts to follow them.

"Sweetheart?" Ben furrows his eyebrows together, tilting your face to look at him. His hand softly strokes against your cheeks not understanding why you’re acting like this. “Are you alright?” 

His voices sound like you’re underwater, a murmur, a buzz, just a shadow of the deep rumble you love so much, the voice you thought you'd never hear every again.

Ben says your name again, with such urgency that it snaps you out of it for only a moment. The smoke clears, but what’s left barely has the strength to cling to him as you collapse into his chest. Your body shakes uncontrollably, tears soaking through his thin t-shirt, unable to do anything else, but clutch him tighter against you.

"He's our son Ben. They stole my-" You can't find the words, can't find your voice, it sounds hollow. "Stan he and Vogel-." But your voice breaks again and you shudder against Ben's chest, the numbness coming back to drag you under.

Ben doesn't hesitate, he picks you up as if you weigh nothing, tucking your head under his chin as he goes and turns back towards the house. You barely register his picking you up, can’t seem to focus on anything, breath coming in shallow gasps, body still shaking. Ben tightens his arms around you as if trying to comfort you as he walks through the front doors.

“Is she alright?” Rosemary’s voice is close, but you don't raise your head from Ben's body.

“Fuck, there’s so much blood.“ Hughie adds and you can imagine him standing beside her, his eyes wide.

Guess that means he survived Mindstorm.

Your only hope was that Lou was already in bed, that she wasn't watching Ben carry you soaked in blood through Legend's house.

“It’s not hers.” Ben replies gruffly, still moving towards the staircase. He wasn't stopping and you were thankful for that, you didn’t want to talk to anyone and didn’t want to have it out with Rosemary. You were so tired, tired of fighting and of trying. You didn’t want to yell at her, didn’t want her to yell at you, all you wanted was to slip deeper into the darkness.

"Shit, she's just as fucking unhinged as Soldier Boy is." Butcher mutters under his breath wherever it is he's standing.

“Wait mom talk to me-“ Rosemary tries again.

“No.” You murmur into Ben’s neck. Stan’s revelation rings in your ears once more, betrayal momentarily clawing its way from the pit before the cold feeling comes back to drag you under.

Because it felt like she had betrayed you. All these years you thought that Vought left the two of you alone, but no, it was a lie. And if she'd done that, what else had she done to ensure your freedom?

“Please-“ She sounds broken, and it strikes something inside, because she's never sounded like that before. Rosemary was strong, stronger than you ever were.

But then the word makes the memory of Stan’s body snapping and twisting beneath your control come roaring back, his pleas for the mercy he didn’t deserve exhaled on his dying breath, as you turned him into nothing more than a lump of flesh.

You gasp, another shudder shaking through your body and you don’t answer and don't raise your head.

"Wait Ben-" She says his name, but Ben doesn't stop.

"She doesn't want to talk right now." Ben's tone is controlled, but you can hear the trickle of his rage just on the edge of his inflection. "And I'm not going to make her." He continues walking down the stairs and Rosemary does not follow.

Ben doesn’t put you down on the bed, instead he takes you to the adjoining bathroom. It’s bigger than your bedroom back at your apartment with a walk in shower big enough for five people to stand in, a giant vanity with two sinks, a jacuzzi, and a bathtub big enough for three. Legend never spared any expense when it came to that sort of thing.

Ben slowly places you on the vanity but when he pulls back you grab the front of his shirt. “No.” You breathe suddenly terrified. The terror of Ben leaving cuts through it all, followed by a wave of horror and fear.

If he leaves they’ll come for me again. They’ll come take me or Lou.

You were afraid to be alone, didn’t want him to go, not after everything that happened.

“Shhh.” Ben soothes you, brushing your hair back, “It’s alright sweetheart I’m just getting a washcloth.”

You relent, hand unfurling from his shirt, and he comes back with it, wetting it with warm water before he begins to drag it over your face as gently as possible. His eyebrows are furrowed with concentration, but you don’t move, you only stare at a point over his left shoulder not really comprehending what’s happening.

What happened to Stan comes back in flashes, black and white photographs followed by the bits of conversation that unmade you, the revelations that would haunt you for the rest of your life.

Ben sighs. “Well. I don’t think this is helping at all.” He throws the washcloth into the sink and gently cups your chin, turning your gaze on him.

You blink a few times to focus your eyes.

“Look sweetheart I know you don’t want me to leave, but you gotta get in the shower. I can’t get it all with this washcloth and the last thing I want is to put you in bed covered in blood.” He searches your gaze trying to make you understand what he was asking but you don’t respond.

He leans his forehead against yours. “Honey please you gotta say something. You’re scaring me.” Ben’s eyes meet yours, wide and for the first time in years you see genuine fear.

You let out a shallow breath, but don’t say anything. You can’t find your voice. Instead you gently touch his chest just over his heart. It’s a small gesture, but it’s enough for Ben.

Ben closes his eyes for a minute as if trying to make sense of it all. “Okay.” He breathes, opening his eyes again to look at you, care and concern charging the air between the two of you. “Can I take off your clothes?”

You nod once, eyes still focused on the white tiled wall behind him.

“Okay.” Ben gently pushes the leather jacket back from your body. It falls back on the counter in a bloody heap, staining the white countertops with flecks of dried reddish-black blood. “I need you to stand up for me sweetheart.” Ben says, holding you firmly by the waist and pulling you off the counter.

You stand there for a moment, unsteady on your feet, staring blankly ahead of you.

“Arms up.” Ben whispers.

You raise them above you head and Ben removes your shirt and bra before moving to your pants. “Hold on to me.” He places your arms around his shoulders as you step out of your shoes, pants, and panties.

If you’d been in your right mind maybe you would have worried about this moment, worried about Ben seeing you naked again after all these years. He’d only ever seen you the one time, but somewhere deep down registered that this was different. It wasn’t sexual. There weren't any expectations and there was nothing to be embarrassed about. This was Ben keeping his promise and taking care of you the way that he always had.

He steps over to the bathtub, running his hand under the stream of water to check the temperature.

"Come on.” Ben gently leads you over, your small hand in his and helps you step over the side of the tub and into the warm water.

Steam rises around your body, but the water feels lukewarm. Your gaze levels at the water that streams from the spout on the edge of the tub, not looking up at Ben as he switches the water to the handheld shower head.

"Tilt your head back for me honey." Ben murmurs, touching your chin with your free hand to tilt it back. "Eyes closed."

You do as he says and feel the water trickle through your hair and down your back, followed by the gentle scrub of Ben beginning to work shampoo through the strands. He works quietly, catching the suds that threaten to fall into your eyes. Your hands are folded in your lap, eyes still closed, feeling the steady way he cleans your hair and then your face.

As you sit there the memory of everything that happened with Stan begins to trickle in, causing an uncontrollable shudder to shake through your body. Ben's ministrations were doing little to make the cold feeling dissipate, if anything you could feel it sinking into your bones.

"It's alright sweetheart, I'm almost done." Ben says, and you feel his thumb stroke against your cheek for a moment before he continues to wash your hair.

"Sit here for a second. I'm going to go get you some clean clothes."

You open your eyes and watch him go. The water in the tub is red now, the last remnants of Stan's blood scrubbed clean from your body.

The fire would destroy any evidence that you'd been there and washing the clothes that you killed him in should take care of any other problems.

When you're dried off and in your own clothes, you stand in the bathroom and catch a glance of yourself in the mirror. You look hollow, broken, eyes miles away, skin a little paler than normal. You don't look like yourself, but you also don't feel like yourself.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." Ben says and you feel him pick you up again, carrying you to the bed as if you weigh nothing.

You mechanically go through the motions of getting under the covers, pulling them up almost over your head as you curl in on yourself, making yourself as small as possible. You shut your eyes to try and make the images of what happened go away, but you can't fight the ebbing darkness that comes to welcome you home. It's familiar. The same one that you fell into when Ben broke your heart and you thought he died. The pit was opening beneath your feet once again, and you wondered if you'd be able to pull yourself out this time.

Ben changes into a pair of faded sweatpants, before he crawls into the bed behind you under the covers, putting his arm up over your waist to pull you into him. You turn in his arms so that you're chest to chest and can bury your face into his shirt, inhaling the familiar scent, trying to rid yourself of the images and of the things you learned a few hours ago.

"It's alright Sweetheart, I'm right here." You can feel the rumble of Ben's voice in the palms of your hands where they curl against his soft shirt. The weight of his arm over your waist is familiar as is the heat of his body, the warmth you expected to wipe away the cold feeling that crept along your spine drowning everything else out of your head.

It's quiet for a few moments. Ben's hand is gently trailing up and down your spine, but sleep is miles away for you.

"I'm trying real hard not to be mad at you Sweetheart, especially when you're like this but-" Ben sighs, rubbing his hand up and down your back. "You lied to me. What were you thinking going off alone and-" His tone has shifted into more of a growl, the one he gets when he's about to yell at you.

If he had yelled at you, you wouldn't have reacted, you were just so tired of everything, couldn't focus on anything.

Ben's body tenses. It was as If he was physically trying to hold himself back from being upset, but you couldn't answer him. It had seemed like a good idea when you went, seemed right, but now you weren't sure.

What you had learned changed you, and you weren't sure if you'd ever be able to go back to the way you were.

He's quiet for a minute, before finally he presses a kiss to your forehead, and you bury yourself further into his chest. "I love you." He murmurs. "I promise I'm not going to go anywhere."

But you barely hear him, the only thing you hear is the low buzz of fluorescent lights and Vogelbaum's voice telling his staff to keep you quiet.

Soldier Boy POV

He didn’t know what to do. In all the years he’d known you, Ben had never seen you like this. He’d seen you upset, angry, sad, but never this.

It had been three days since you came back covered in blood, three days of you laying in bed refusing to speak, curled up into his chest.

Ben had tried to get you to eat something, but when you wouldn’t do it by yourself he had to spoon feed it to you, as if you couldn’t remember how to eat.

It scared him.

Ben hadn’t ever felt fear like this before in his entire life, but now, seeing you so distant and cold, he was terrified. He worried that you’d never come back.

Mindstorm had told him the truth about Homelander and as angry as Ben was about that, he couldn’t understand how Homelander was also your son. He’d never heard you say anything about them taking something from you for genetic testing, never spoken about willingly giving up your genetic material.

So then how the fuck did they get it?

There was something sinister that danced on the edge of his mind, something that seemed too horrible to consider, something that meant that Ben had failed to protect you, had failed to keep the promise he made eighty years ago.

But deep down Ben wondered if it was true, because as much as he knew you hated killing people, this seemed different than you usual reaction.

He held you closer to him, curving his body around your back as you slept soundlessly. You were holding on to his hand while you did, fingers entwined with his, holding it against your chest while you found some peace.

Ben was honestly waiting for another nightmare. Each time you’d fallen asleep over the past three days you’d woken up gasping for air, shaking uncontrollably, with tears rolling down your cheeks. Ben did what he could, brought you into his lap and held you tight, reassuring you that it was okay, that it was only a dream.

He was trying not to be angry, but he was. He was furious when he got back to Legend’s two days ago and discovered that you were gone, that you’d left to go off and do God knows what with Homelander flying around. Rosemary refused to tell him where you were only told him that you left but that you’d be back. Ben hated that you made him wait around like a fucking woman waiting for her husband to come home.

He had intended on yelling at you, at making sure you knew how pissed off he was that you did the one thing he told you not to do, but then he saw you land in Legend’s front yard looking like you had taken a shower in someone’s blood and he couldn’t. Not when he feared that the blood was yours and not when he saw how broken you were.

Ben had loved you for a long time, understood you, saw how strong you were, saw that you always spoke your mind no matter what, and to see you like this was… petrifying. He didn’t know what had happened, didn’t understand how something you learned could effect you this much.

He too was still reeling from the revelation that Homelander was his son, felt an even greater sense of betrayal because Vought should have let him give the team to his son, pass it off like a king giving up his throne. And after the night that he had spent with you all those years ago, Ben was ready to give it up, to walk away and give you the life that you always wanted away from the spotlight.

Ben figured that Stan had told you Homelander was your son, and maybe that’s what this was. Ben had been dreading the conversation with you when he got back to Legends, the conversation in which he was going to have to tell you that Homelander was your son too. He didn’t want to hurt you all over again with news like that.

I guess I don’t have to.

Ben thinks to himself listening to the soft beat of your heart, pushing his face further into your hair where it hangs over your shoulders. But he's not sure that this is better.

When he wakes the bed is empty.

“Sweetheart?” Ben says looking around the bedroom. He strains his hearing to see if you’re in the bathroom or upstairs but he doesn’t hear you. Fear grips his heart.

Fuck. Where did she go?

Thunder shakes the house, rattling the windows as Ben looks around the room, brief flashes of lightning illuminates the vintage furniture, but you aren't sitting on anything. The sliding glass doors on the back wall of the bedroom are open, allowing rain to sweep through onto the carpets, water flooding towards your now cold side of the bed.

Shit.

Ben all but jumps out of the bed and rushes to the sliding glass doors, looking beyond into the darkness of Legend’s backyard. Lightning skates across the night flashing bright white, and catching where you stand in the grass. You’re looking up at the sky, soaked to the bone, but seemingly unnerved by the weather.

“Sweetheart?” Ben shouts over the sound of the thunder, but you don’t move. “Are you okay? Did you have another nightmare?”

“It’s not a nightmare.” You murmur into the storm, your eyes still focused on the sky, looking up at something that he can't see.

“What do you mean?” Ben gets closer to you, his feet sinking into the wet grass, rain saturating his clothes every second he stands out there with you. Ben was trying to understand, was trying his best to do what you needed, but he was worried that he was failing, that maybe he needed to take you to a hospital. He wasn't sure how to explain that to anyone if he did take you to one.

If anything he thought that you'd want to talk things out with Rosemary, but you hadn't wanted anything to do with her at all. That was the most surprising, that you didn't want to speak to her, didn't want her around. She had tried to come down to the bedroom, but you hadn't looked at her, you'd only clung tighter to Ben and said no. He wanted to know why, what Stan had told you to make you not want anything to do with her.

He was happy that Lou hadn't come down with her, he didn't want Lou to see you like this, didn't want it to haunt her the same way it was haunting him. He had heard Lou ask about you when he was laying in the basement beside you, and she had found him in the kitchen getting you something to eat and had hugged him tight and asked where you were. There were tears in her eyes when she did so and Ben told her that you weren't feeling well, but that he was taking care of you. There was a hand-drawn card on your bedside table from her filled with a picture of Lou holding out a bouquet of lavender to you that she asked him to give you.

“It really happened.” You close your eyes, head tilted up at the sky.

Lightning crackles across it, striking close to where you're standing, but you don't move an inch.

Ben stops mid-step. Your words sink into his soul, burn against his ribcage, anger surging up to replace the chill of the rain that clings to his skin. Because it meant he failed. It meant that the promise Ben made to you all those years ago was worthless, that he'd failed to protect you.

He thinks about all the time he wasted with other women, chasing after them, ignoring you. He thinks about all the moments he should have spent with you instead.

Maybe I would have figured it out if I wasn't so damn selfish. If I hadn't fucking cared about those stupid movies, or commercials, or the shitty interviews. I failed because I didn't put her first and I allowed this to happen.

“Stan told me.” You continue. "I wasn’t supposed to remember, but my mind knew. It was trying to tell me all these years but I just ignored it. Fucking pushed it away because I thought my mind was messed up from living this long. But it really happened."

“When?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that he said they did it when you were on location shooting a film. That they were too afraid to take me when you were still there.”  You're still not quite looking at him.

Ben felt the words like a punch to the gut. Why did I ever shoot any of those stupid films? Why didn't I take her with me? Why didn't I make up some stupid reason why I needed her there with me? Why didn't I tell her sooner how much she meant to me?

Ben remembered the first time you had the nightmare in front of him, he had just gotten back from shooting a film overseas, one that he could barely remember only that he literally had sand in every crevice of his body after each day of shooting. He remembered how happy he was to see you when you answered the door of your small apartment, how you smiled at him, but you seemed more tired than usual. Ben had missed you more than he knew, he had tried to call while he was away, but you hadn't picked up. He remember thinking that was odd. You always picked up the phone or at least always called him back, but you hadn't.

“They knew I’d say no. Knew that I wouldn’t want to raise a child under Vought’s watchful eye and instead of respecting that, they-" You stop mid sentence, your body has begun to glow bright purple, not just your eyes, there's a thin film of purple radiating out from your body, tracing your outline with a heavy hand, glowing brighter than the lightning that flashes across the sky. "Stan wasn't even ashamed. He was proud of what they made. Proud of what they did to our son."

As soon as you utter the word 'son', the ground begins to shake under Ben's feet, grass shreds in the air all around him, and the storm grows worse by the second. There's a terrible cracking sound and the trees on the edge of Legend's property snap, loosing their limbs to flashes of purple energy that wash away into the darkness with the force of your power.

Ben could feel the same power trying to push him back from you, push him inside the house, but he fought it, continuing to take more steps towards you.

“After all these years he wasn’t afraid of me. He was afraid that you would show up and make him pay.” Ben can see your body shake. “Everyone was always just afraid of you. All those years I worked so hard to make sure you didn’t kill anyone and for what? So they could take advantage of me?”

Your body begins to rise off the ground, glowing brighter and brighter. Until Ben almost has to look away, his body still being forced backwards. In all his years of watching you use your powers, he's never seen you do anything remotely like this. This didn't seem like just telekinesis and Ben wondered who else had killed you over the years, if it had happened before and you just hadn't cared to tell him, or if it had happened in the years he'd been away.

"Sweetheart please." Ben tries to say again, but it's swallowed up in the howling of the wind.

"All those years I gave Vought everything. I let them dress me, tell me what to say, inject me with that shit. I was everything they wanted me to be, and they used me just like I was a fucking doll for them to play with!" Ben can hear your teeth clenching together in rage, your powers spiking again so that now there is shredded earth, grass, and trees, whirling around the two of you swirling together in a vortex that flashes with purple energy. "But no more. They're all going to pay."

"Y/n-"

You were still rising off the ground getting further and further from Ben's reach and he was scared. He'd never seen you like this before, never seen you lose control or seen you this angry. Sure he pissed you off and you'd occasionally throw a couch around the room, but this was almost insane.

Fuck I should stop pissing her off.

Ben could feel his own rage surging in his chest when he understood exactly what Vought took away from you, when he understood exactly what Vogelbaum had done. But at the same time he was ashamed that he hadn't been there for you, that he hadn't been able to protect you from them, and that he hadn't known the first time you had that fucking nightmare and woke up screaming when he was in bed beside you.

"Sweetheart!" Ben finally shouts, grabbing your hand. As soon as his skin touches yours he feels like he's stuck his finger in an electrical socket,  as if the energy from your body jumping into his is almost painful, but he doesn't let go. He couldn't lose you to this, whatever the hell this was, wouldn't allow himself to lose you again.

Your glowing purple eyes flick to his. "Are you going to tell me that I shouldn't do that?" Your voice is cold. "That my revenge isn't as important as yours?"

"No." Ben shakes his head. "It's important. It's justified. I hate that they did that to you, that I wasn't there to stop them. That I didn't understand until now."

"It's not your fault what happened to me." You shout back, eyes flashing bright purple. "This isn't about you. This isn't your fight!" The vortex swirls faster around the two of you now, blurring everything beyond. "This is about what I need to do!"

"Yes it is!" His hand tightens in yours. "It is my fight if it involves you. I love you and that's what it means. It means us working together-"

"I don't need you to protect me! I am strong enough to do this on my own. I am so sick of people underestimating me and what I can do."

"Y/n please, listen to me!" Ben pleads. He could feel you slipping away and it scared him more than anything he'd been through in his entire life. He wasn't afraid to admit that. The look on your face and the display of power was so different than the person he knew.

You watch him silently, body glowing brightly in the night, floating off the ground as you stare down at him.

"I don't want you to do this alone." Ben says. The storm was still raging, thunder shaking the ground, lightning surging all around him. "I'm asking you to let me help you. Please."

"What?"

"You say that I hide what I'm really feeling, but you do too. You still hide things away from me. You think that you have to be perfect, controlled, some version of yourself that has everything together all the time, but you don't." Ben gently tries to pull you down an inch from the sky. "You've done that since we were kids, always done what you think is expected of you. That's why you almost married that asshole, because you were afraid to just let it go. So I'm asking you to do that now, to let go of all of it, because I promise that I will be right here for through every step of it."

"But-"

"I know I made promises when you chose me, and I'm sorry I let you down, I'm sorry that I let this happen, that I wasn't able to protect you from them." Ben's voice breaks and for a moment he sees a flash of the two of you in your bedroom the night that he asked you to come with him, how young and innocent you were, how much you cared for him reflected in your eyes. "So I'm promising you this now. That I will protect you, that I won't let anything happen to you and that you never have to be alone ever again. Because I love you. So please, just let go and let me in.

The whirlwind slows around the two of you, still ripping up the ground and the grass in the backyard.

"I have to be in control." You say in almost whisper.

"Why?" Ben asks.

"Because if I'm not I don't know what will happen!" You snap. "Someone dies, or you leave again, or they come to take Rosie or Lou away and I can't-" You shake your head, the glow on your body fading for a moment. "I'm not strong enough-"

"Sweetheart, you don't have to be." Ben says, and this time he pulls you from the air so that your bare feet swish in the grass again. His hand falls under your chin to raise your face to his. "That's why I'm here. You don't have to do this alone anymore, you don't have to carry this all on your shoulders. I am here and I am not going anywhere."

"But-"

"Please. I'm asking you to give me your pain, your anger, your burdens, your sorrows. Give me all of you. It's not going to scare me away." Ben whispers, taking your face between his hands. "I know that in the past I haven't been as dependable, but nothing is going to scare me away. I love all of you, even the pieces of yourself you keep from me, that you think you have to, to keep me here with you."

Fuck I sound like a pussy, but it's true. She's all I have and all I've ever wanted. And why shouldn't I say this to her? It's what she says to me. It's what she tells me and I believe her. I believe her when she says that I can rely on her, that I don't have to be strong all the time, that I can break.

He searches your face, brushes his thumbs across your rain soaked cheeks. I just want her to know that she can too and trust that I'll be here for her.

The vortex stops, the pieces of earth, trees, and grass falling to earth, the purple fading from your eyes as they do. You're no longer glowing, no longer a beacon in the night, you're just you, the woman that Ben loves more than life itself, and the woman that he thought he would never have ever again.

"I love you too." You whisper leaning into him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to lean your forehead against his.

He can feel the curves of your body against him, your wet clothes sticking like a second skin, hair stuck to your head, but you're just as beautiful as you always have been. And Ben understands that this time, he's not going anywhere, that he's going to stay with you for the rest of his life, and nothing can keep him away.

Reader POV

"Mindstorm told me." Ben says dragging his hand up your arm. You were laying on his chest in the bedroom, hair still wet, but now wearing dry clothes.

The residual thrum from your use of power was still charging through your cells, but lessened. Honestly you didn't remember going outside, didn’t remember standing in the storm, didn't know how long you were out there before Ben came out.

You were glad he did. You weren't in your right mind when you were out there, and if he hadn't come out you were sure that you were going to charge Vought yourself, tear it down and send it to hell where it belonged. You still wanted to, but you wanted Ben to do it with you. He was right, you didn't have to do it alone, and you didn't want to.

You nestled further into him, remembering what he shouted outside, remember how he held your face with the storm raging around him. He looked so afraid. You had only seen him look scared a handful of times in your life, but out there in the storm was different. It shocked you back into reality, brought you back from the pit, made you feel like you again for the first time in days.

And what he said hauled you further out of the darkness. You had said it to him countless times since he came back, that he didn't have to hide away what he was feeling from you, but for him to say it to you meant that he was listening. To you, Ben saying that made all of this more real, that he really wanted every part of you, that he loved you as much as he said.

The storm still raged outside, thunder occasionally shaking the windows, and lightning flashing behind the closed curtains, but you stayed curled up against Ben. Your head was tucked under his chin, arm wrapped over his bare chest. He hadn't put a shirt back on after the two of you changed, but you weren't complaining about that, there wasn't anything to complain about when it came to that. He was just so wonderfully warm, that you didn’t think you would get used to it. You also hoped that you didn't turn radioactive because of him, but you being here with him, laying on his warm chest made it worth it.

"Did he know about what Vogelbaum did?" You whisper.

Ben's muscles tense beneath your body when you ask that question. You knew that it hurt him, that it made him feel like he'd failed to protect you, but you didn't blame him for that. Even if he had been around, you knew that Vogelbaum would have figured out a way to do it, to get around him. And you didn't like it when Ben felt like he failed, it made you think about all the terrible things that his father used to yell at him when he was a kid. Ben had told you bits and pieces, over the years, and it was enough to make you want to travel back in time and kill his father yourself.

Honestly, you thought about killing him all the time when you weren't a supe as well.

"No. He didn't know that. All he knew was that Homelander was our son." When Ben says the word son he hesitates as if it's difficult for him.

It was also difficult for you, understanding that you had another kid and one that you didn't have anything to do with for forty years was hard. You suddenly understood how Ben felt about Rosemary.

"I should have known." You mutter into his chest.

"What do you mean?"

You sigh loudly. "At the premiere, Vogelbaum was pushing for me to come to the lab, said he was working on raising the "next generation of heroes" or whatever. And then Stan tried to come by and get me to do the same thing after you died, but I broke his nose."

"I remember." Ben mutters.

"What do you mean you remember?" You sit up to stare at him.

Ben raises an eyebrow. "I might have been there with Countess, but do you really think I wasn't listening to everything that was happening around you? He was dancing with you, I was making sure that everything was okay." Ben clears his throat awkwardly. "I mean I know that there was a lot happening that night, but I still wanted to make sure that you were okay."

"I wasn't."

"Yeah I-um- I know." His eyes flick away in shame.

"Ben?"

"Yeah?" He murmurs.

You gently turn his face back to look at you, fingertips under his chin. His green eyes are downcast, brows furrowed, lips pulled down into a frown. You knew how much he was still beating himself up for everything that happened in the past, and it was difficult for you to pretend that you didn't still feel the sting. But you knew he wasn't going to do it again, you believed that.

"It's okay. We're starting over. Just you and me." You brush your thumb over his bearded cheek. "No one else. This time what we're doing, it's different, it all feels different. Don't you think so? I mean I still love you just as much as I always have, but I-" You could feel yourself blush just a little, you weren't sure if Ben could feel that too.

"I know. It does." Ben whispers gazing at you. His fingers push back the strands of your hair that have fallen forward into your face. The way he's looking at you is the same way he did the morning you woke up on his chest after you slept together for the firs time. "I love you too Sweetheart." His lips find yours, gently pulling you up further on his chest so he can kiss you deeply, show you how much you mean to him, and you can’t help but smile into his mouth, feeling warm and happy for the first time in ages. His love dragging you out of the darkness that loomed over you and consumed your heart when Stan told you the truth about Homelander's heritage. 

You sit up, folding your legs beneath you, pulling Ben's right hand into your lap, gently tracing the lines with a finger tip, noting the rough callouses that he'd developed over the years. You weren't really sure what to say next.

Ben sits up so that he's leaning towards you. "Are you feeling better?"

"A little." You continue to trace the lines. His hands were so much bigger than yours, everything about Ben was big, but you liked his hands, mostly because how small yours were when you held his. "I think destroying Legend's backyard was just the right amount of therapy."

"That was a little much, but I'm glad you're feeling better. I was-" Ben swallows. "I was really worried about you."

"I know." You whisper. "It's never been that bad before. The last time I got close was-" You stop mid-sentence.

"Forty years ago?" Ben asks quietly.

You nod.

"I figured." Ben scoots closer towards you so that his thigh is brushing against yours. "I'm-"

"No." You squeeze his cheeks, eyes narrowing. "No more saying sorry. Not again."

"Okay." Ben's gaze is still apologetic. He waits for a minute, watching you in the silence. "What are we going to do about Homelander?"

"I don't know."

It was the truth, you had no idea what to do with your supposed son. You had seen the coldness in his eyes, heard about the horrible things that he was doing to other people, the horrible things he had threatened to do, and you'd seen the way he didn’t seem to care about human life.

Then again maybe I can't judge him, not after what I did to Stan. You think, your frown deepening. Stan deserved what I did to him and my only wish is that Vogelbaum somehow survived getting his head fucking blown off so I can make him pay.

"Do you think we should try to talk to him?" Ben asks.

"I don't think that's possible."

"Why not? He's our son, somewhere deep down he's got to be willing to do that." Ben's voice rumbles up through his chest. "Maybe they brainwashed him into the person we saw at Herogasm, maybe he's just being controlled and told what to do just like we were."

"I don't think that’s possible."

"Why not?" There's an urgency in his eyes that is unfamiliar to you, almost as if he's pleading for you to understand.

But why? Yes he's our son by blood but we don't know anything about him. We haven’t been in his life for forty years, we don't have any connections to him.

"You saw how he was at Herogasm. How he was almost happy to kill Butcher, how he was happy when he tried to kill you and me. I don't know what kind of person is okay with that. I mean you and I have killed people and we feel remorse after, or there's some kind of justification, but there was something in his eyes, it's almost not human. It's predatory, it's-" You shake your head trying to comprehend it. "I don't know what the fuck Vogelbaum did to him, but there's something inside Homelander that's not able to be saved."

"You don't know that."

"Ben, do you think that I want to believe that? To believe that our son is not a good person?" You drop his hand from your lap. "It's taking everything I am not to go to him, not to try and work this out. I keep trying to tell myself that maybe all he needs is family, but I don't know."

"My old man said that blood mattered. That it was the only thing that defined family-"

"Now you want to listen to your dad?" You sigh looking at Ben who is frowning at you. "We both know that he's not exactly the best role model."

"Well neither am I okay?" Ben snaps, his eyes flashing. "Maybe he just needed someone and there was no one there. I mean I wasn't there for Rosemary, but she had you and she turned out fine!"

"That's not your fault Ben. It's not your fault that you weren't there. You can't forget that they sent you to Russia to replace you with him."

"I'm not forgetting I'm just saying that they did the same fucking thing to me!"

Your next thought fizzes to a stop in your brain. What is he talking about?

"What are you talking about?" You try to reach for him, but he pulls back from your touch.

"They force fed him all that shit about what it was to be an American, they made him a supe, they brainwashed him with all my old fucking films." He spits. "But in the lab when we got the serum the first time, they did the same thing to me. They told me that I was going to be a god, that I was going to be the symbol that America needed to get through the war, that I was everything that would save America from destruction."

"Ben." You say again, this time taking his hands and he doesn't pull away. "Ben listen to me. You were older when you became a supe, we both were. You knew what reality was, you knew what the world was like when the scientists started spouting all their crap. You were old enough to understand. Homelander was raised in a lab, he didn't have a family, he didn't have friends. He was told that he was a god every day and he's not. He was raised to believe that he was something more than human, something unbeatable."

"But-"

"They told me that too." You push his hair back out of his eyes, trailing your fingers against his forehead. "That I was a god, that everyone would want me, would look at me and understand that I was beyond human. And at the beginning maybe I believed it for a few years, but that doesn't make him anything like you or like me. He's twisted, his mind is gone, any semblance of humanity he had has been warped away into something dark. He never had any light to begin with."

"You don't know that."

"I do. I can see it in his eyes. I saw it when I fought him at the Herogasm. There's nothing left to save. He's done terrible things."

"I have too." Ben mutters.

"No. You lost control, we all do. It's unrealistic to think that it won't happen, especially not for people like us who have lived this long, but him? He did those things of his own volition, because he believed that he should or maybe it was because he believed that no one could stop him." You cup his cheek, pulling his face forward into the space between the two of you. "The things you've done you feel remorse for. I was there for you every time you messed up. I saw what it did to you, saw how broken you were when you hurt someone."

"Because I'm a hero." Ben sighs. 

"Messing up once or twice does not make you less of a hero Ben, it makes you human." You lean your forehead against his, cupping his cheeks with your palms, feeling the way his beard tickles against your skin. "But Homelander, I don't think that there's anything human left."

Ben's hand comes up to hold on to your left wrist. "Then what do we do?"

"I don't know." You sigh. "I wish I did. If you really want to try to talk to him, we can, but I don't think that it's a good idea."

"He's still our son."

"He's our blood, but I don't think that makes him our son." You murmur.

You really didn't know how to deal with any of this. You wanted to believe that there was some semblance of humanity left in Homelander, but you didn't think that there was. You hated that Ben believed that he was like his son. Maybe that was some weird misogynist thing and Ben kept thinking like father like son in his head, but there wasn't any way that Homelander could be anything like Ben. Ben wasn't around for him, wasn't in his life, but maybe.

Ben pulls you back down on his chest once more, and you nestle into him once more, your head directly over his heart, the warmth of his skin comforting against your cheek.

"I think Noir knew." You breathe, tracing your hand over Ben's right pec.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Stan kinda hinted that he did, said that Noir was obsessed with me after I saved his life-"

"When did you save his- oh." Ben sighs.

"I think I should have seen that coming, given how much he kept showing up to my sparring sessions, the interviews, even some of the commercial shoots I had he seemed to always be around." You frown with a sigh. "I can't believe that I didn't know he was stalking me."

"What?"

"Stan said he kept breaking in to my apartment when I wasn't there, that he stole my necklace, you know? The one my dad got me for my birthday-"

Ben sits back so he can look you in the eye. "You're shitting me right?"

"No. That's what Stan said." You shrug. "Might have been just Stan trying to take some of the heat off, but that's what he said."

"That piece of shit." Ben almost growls. You can see the flash of jealousy and possession in his eyes that makes your heart thud a little faster in your chest. He clears his throat. "You-um- you never liked him right?"

"What?"

"The two of you were never that close?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Well you did save his life."

"Ben I've saved plenty of people from your temper. But no, I never liked him that way. Irving was sweet, but he was always so eager to prove himself to Stan it was just sad."

"Good."

"Why?" You sit up further, smirking at him. "Does that make you jealous? For you to think that Noir and I were together?"

Ben's eyes darken. "Watch it Sweetheart."

"Watch what?" You bat your eyes innocently. "I'm just asking a simple question."

"You keep poking the bear and you're not gonna like what happens."

"Poking the bear?" You snort sitting up and poke him in the ribs. "Are you the bear in that scenario?" You poke him again with a wicked smirk.

"Yes."

"Hmm. Well I think you're all talk. Because I have definitely poked you several-"

You're on your back in a second with Ben hovering over you, his green eyes shining as he flashes a roughish grin at you. One of his hands is pressed into the pillow next to your head, the other is at your waist, slipping beneath your t-shirt to rub circles over your hip bone with his thumb. "You were saying?" His voice is the low rumble that makes it hard for you to think.

You clear your throat. "I was saying that," You thread your hands behind the back of his head, working your fingers into his hair. "You have nothing to be jealous about."

"Really?"

"Mhhmm." You smile sheepishly. "Because it's always been you. No one else. Not Howard, Not Noir, just you." His hair is soft between your fingertips, his gaze unbreakable.

Ben returns your smile and collapses on top of you. You gasp out a breath, in a loud 'oof' sound as he does. His arms go around your waist and he buries his head in your chest breathing deeply. "I like it when you say that." He murmurs, turning his head so he can look up at you from your chest, with a smile that catches you in your heart.

"I know." You continue to scratch your fingertips through his hair.

"Sweetheart?"

"Yeah?" You breathe as you close your eyes, comforted by the weight of his body on top of yours. It was familiar, almost like he was a weighted blanket that took all your anxiety away. You felt safe with his arms wrapped around your waist, as if no one could touch you. You needed that now, needed that after you learned that without Ben someone had taken you from your home.

"I know that I can't say that there hasn't been anyone else." He whispers. "But you're the only one who mattered. You're the only woman that I've ever loved, and I swear that as long as I live I'll never love anyone else. You are all I've ever wanted and everything I thought I'd never have."

"You have me Ben." You whisper, beginning to fall asleep. "You always have, you always will."

And with those words you drift into the first fulfilling sleep you'd had in days, wrapped in the warm cocoon of Ben's love, allowing it to send you under into oblivion.

A/N: I know this one was mostly fluff and talking, but I thought that the reader deserved that after everything with Stan, and also after she well -you know- made a tornado in Legend's backyard. We're going to pretend that no one else heard it. 😂

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist please let me know :)

And if you'd like to read something a little more bantery then try my series: Take A Chance On Me

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[fcthots]

jason x depressed!reader with "Do you want me to wash your hair?"

You're in your bed, trying to take a nap. You were exhausted, but couldn't fall asleep, and even if you did, it wouldn't go away. Picking up your phone and seeing all the missed texts and calls made it worse. The tv was on some show that you used to love, but now it was just pissing you off. Sleep wouldn't come and everything was making you upset or angry, but you also felt numb. Everything was stupid and you felt trapped in your own head.

Until you heard the door open.

You weren't worried about it being an intruder or anything. Jason made sure your apartment was equipped with oracle approved safety measures when you moved in, but that meant that there were very few people it could be.

You don’t move from your spot, only your eyes and greasy hair peeking out from the blankets. Maybe you didn’t have the energy to get up and run to the bathroom to get ready, but that doesn’t mean you particularly liked anyone seeing you this vulnerable.

He gently opens your bedroom door. The lights are off so he can't tell right away if you're awake or not. He squints until he spots your eyes watching him. He sighs.

His footsteps feel louder than they are. You avert your gaze from his and instead focus your eyes onto his feet walking closer to you.

When he finally makes it to his destination, he doesn't look at you right away. "I'm gonna turn on the lamp."

You shut your eyes and reopen them after you hear the click of the lamp. You squint at Jason's feet again.

His voice holds no judgment or accusation. "Why weren't you answering your phone?"

You want to respond, you do, but you have no excuse to offer him. Your mouth feels heavy with the weight of your guilt. You worried him. He has other things to do and now he's checking on you because you wouldn't pick up the fucking phone and send one text message. And why? Because it was too stressful for you?

He lightly peels the covers back from your face.

"Come back to me. Don't lock yourself up in there. I'm not mad. You didn't do anything wrong. Stop trying to punish yourself."

You finally look at his face in order to squint at him in faux offense. He knows you too well.

He trails his thumb gently up and down your arm. "You good to answer questions?"

You think about it for a minute and nod, despite the fact that you don't exactly feel like like answering questions, afraid of what they will be, but this is Jason after all. He's always mindful of your limits. The hand stills.

"Cool. Do you know how many days it's been since this started? Ballpark?"

You avert your eyes. You feel shameful for not telling him when it started, knowing he asked you to tell him when it happens.

He starts trailing his thumb again. "Try and stay out your head for me. I promise I'm not mad, I'm just trying to figure out how bad the episode is."

You sigh. "Three?" Your voice comes out cracked from disuse.

He watches his hand move against your arm. "Close enough, although I think it may have been 4 days, maybe 5."

You grunt in acknowledgement.

He sighs, not out of exasperation, but in thought. "Do you want me to wash your hair? Like in the sink."

"No. The rest of me is gross too, I don't wanna wash just my hair."

"Well do you feel up to a full shower?"

You feel like you want to cry, but you won't. "No...but I don't want to just wash one part. I don't wanna use all the energy I have left only to get one thing done, but I don't have energy for the rest."

He softly brings his hand to your face. His thumb trails over your cheekbone. "That sounds overwhelming" after a beat, "and exhausting."

You groan and try to hide yourself under the covers, dislodging his hand.

He peels the covers back again. His voice holds sincerity. "How about I give you a bath then? You don't have to do any of the work. I'll do everything. How's that? Sound good?"

You take a moment before tentatively nodding your head.

Jason takes his time helping you up. He supports most of your weight which seems silly because you can technically walk just fine, but you don't pull away all the same. His arm feels warm around your waist as you walk.

"I'll make you something to eat after you get out, assuming you haven't eaten in a while." He's right. You nod. Something eats away at you.

Your steps get slower as you feel heavier with guilt. "You know it won't fix me, right? None of it can." You don't look him in the eyes as you speak.

You watch the furrow of his brows from the corner of your vision. He stops walking so he can look you in the eyes. "I don’t care. I don't care if I have to do this every day for months at a time. I don't care if I have to cook every single meal for you. I'll do all of it and more because I care about you."

"I'm already too much of a burden, I won't allow you too do that for me"

"But you can't make yourself do it right now so what's the plan? To rot away? No. Not happening. You are not a burden. I want to help you. Let me help you."

For him, you'd do anything.

[bbydoll18xx]

This Is Me Trying

'I just wanted you to know that this is me trying.'

Azzi Fudd x Reader

Based on this request (sorry it took forever lol)

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.1k

Themes: depression, mild alcohol abuse, hurt/comfort

A/N: hiii so here i am trying out writing for someone other than Paige, and I really hope you like it! If this is a decent success I may write for other people as well :) And of course it was time to write a fic to go along with my most favorite song of all time (folklore stans rise up)

Lets do thisss

also sorry this is lowkey kinda depressing i am a sad girly

~

Your lack of sleep was showing in deep purple bruises under your eyes that no amount of even the heaviest concealer could adequately cover. You haven't slept well in days, and today’s shift had not helped your exhaustion. The day was filled with incessant neediness, people cussing you out, and an endless amount of shit.

Literally and figuratively. 

You walk into your apartment, just wanting nothing but to fall into Azzi’s warm and loving arms, but you’re met with the still darkness of an empty home. Your girlfriend was in Las Vegas playing against the Aces, and she would not be home until tomorrow afternoon. 

She had promised to call you after the game, but you weren’t sure if you would even make it through your shower, much less wait up for her by the phone for another three hours. 

Your eyes fill with tears, the feeling of overwhelming loneliness mixing with your exhaustion, and as you throw your stuff on the floor, dredging your body into your bathroom, letting the downpour of water drown out your own tears. 

You had become quite accustomed to hiding your feelings behind bright smiles and fake laughs, desperate to clutch onto the need to prove to everyone that you were okay.

Even if you really weren't.

Your girlfriend had enough stress on her, and the idea of her needing to worry about you, too, was enough to send guilt shooting through your entire body. 

You had kept up your facade all throughout college, choosing to take long, solo car rides until you had to pull over, the tears swimming in your eyes nearly blinding you. And when you were strung along to the bars with Azzi and the rest of her teammates, you drowned your sorrows and fears with liquor, numbing your thoughts and your body until you were delirious. 

You were the golden girl. 

You knew what jokes to crack for which group of people you were around at the time. Your grades were stellar. And you had bagged the prettiest, sweetest girl in probably the entire universe. 

So, you resented yourself for feeling anything other than being on top of the world, because it was actually quite the opposite.

It got worse once you graduated. 

Azzi was often gone, traveling for away games, and that left you alone to process the unimaginable emotions that came with your budding nursing career. Feelings of loss and incompetence clouded your brain constantly.

Today was no different. 

You had lost a patient, a kind, gentle woman who finally let go, taking her last breath while gripping your hand, completely alone. 

It broke you, and the devastating reality had sunk into your chest, crushing all of the air out of your fragile lungs. And you were now gasping for air, leaving you feeling bereft and vulnerable, like an open wound. 

Maybe that’s all you’d ever really be, and you could not help but think that you were the festering wound in yours and Azzi’s relationship, threatening to slowly tear it apart until the two of you were left standing in the tattered shreds of what used to be. 

You wanted things to be okay so, so badly, but the overwhelming feelings of loneliness and longing had set in, chilling you down to the bone. And you were scared. 

So you would just continue on pretending. 

Azzi comes home the next day, and you put the mask back on the second she walks through the door. You’d be lying, though, if her presence didn’t make you feel the tiniest bit whole again. You melt into her arms, drinking in her presence, as she rubs your back soothingly, her face pressed into the crook of your neck. 

Maybe everything would be okay, if only you could be honest with her.

~

Azzi lays in bed next to you, and you indulge in the way her smell has permeated the soft bedsheets again, after days of the scent slowly becoming less and less potent. She smells warm and comforting, and you nuzzle into her, desperate for her to fix every little part of you that was screaming out in insecurity and despondancy.

A low sigh escapes your throat, secretly wanting your girlfriend to pick up on your mood, and because she knows you better than anyone else, she does. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” She questions, her tone filled with concern and worry. She places a hand on your cheek, coaxing you to look into her eyes, and the glow of the lamp on the bedside table illuminates the kindness emitting from her deep brown irises. 

“I–” You begin, taking a deep breath and then stopping. Trying to put all your emotions into coherent words was quite the task. And honestly, you were terrified of how Azzi would react. 

Her thumb strokes your cheek, as she sits up fully next to you in the bed, eyes still peering into yours. 

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” she murmurs gently, and something clicks inside of you.

It was Azzi. You could tell her anything, and it would never even come close to dimming any of the love she felt for you. 

In that moment, all the anxiety you felt about coming clean seemed silly, like it had been built up in your head to great heights, and here it was now, crashing down all around you.

“I’ve been really depressed,” you mumble, your cheeks feeling warm from her touch and the prickling of shame. “For a long time, actually. And I really fucking miss you. I hate feeling like a needy girlfriend, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.”

The confession pours out of you, and as the air stills between you, your heart races as you watch Azzi’s face contort into a look of hurt and confusion.

“Oh, baby,” she breathes, scooping you up and setting you into her lap, legs draped over hers as she interlaces your fingers with hers. 

“I’ve been missing you, too. And I didn’t want you to feel like you had to sacrifice your career for mine,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss onto your temple. 

Your shoulders sag in relief, and you connect your lips in a kiss. There were numerous unspoken words shared as your lips entwined in a sheer display of passion.

As you break apart, you gaze back into those dark brown eyes, pupils now blown wide. “Guess this means we’ll have a lot more time to be doing this,” you giggle, wagging your eyebrows at Azzi.

She shakes her head fondly. “Just want my sweet, happy girl back,” she whispers in your ear.

Little did she know, you already were.

~

I really hope everyone enjoyed this. I have been toying around with a lil Pazzi fic, so let me know if you'd be interested :)

xoxo katy

Taglist:

@fullladypanda-blog, @omg-imtumbling, @tenaciousglitternerd, @oldcrdigan, @paigebuxkets, @the-other-half , @patscorner , @dietcokesmom , @tndaqltoifwy

Want to be added to my taglist? Comment or send me a message!

[p0ckykiss]

five ways to say "i love you" - jeonghan

summary - how jeonghan shows his love to you, through all five love languages

-> sick y/n, worried jeonghan, fluff, established relationship, soft jeonghan!!!!, whipped jeonghan

seasonal depression is a real thing. at least, according to you it is. personally, jeonghan had never experienced it. its entire premise just didn't really make sense, is all. watching the leaves change colors and fall was beautiful, and when winter rolled around the corner, so did the holidays and days off. if anything, wasn't that a reason to be happier?

a sneeze interrupts his train of thought, and jeonghan feels a pang in his chest at the sight.

it's officially been three days with you being flu-struck, and you both hoped it would've gotten better by now, but if anything it only seemed to have gotten worse. the time reads a quarter past two, and jeonghan can't help but sigh. 

you've been stuck on the couch since noon, curled up in your warmest blanket trying to watch the latest sitcom episode. your drowsiness is palpable, and every time you reach for a tissue to blow your nose, jeonghan flinches.

if seasonal depression corresponded with your well-being, then maybe jeonghan relates to it more than he thinks. and though jeonghan is chock-full of sympathy, his urgency to comfort you proves stronger.

and so jeonghan begins to rack his brain for different methods to make you feel better. and somehow his memories digress to the day you both took the love language test, even before you started dating. much to his embarrassment, jeonghan doesn't actually remember what your love language is, and he's way too prideful to ask. luckily, the nostalgia ends with the spark of a lightbulb, and jeonghan smiles. he knows exactly what to do. 

— 

the quest to rediscover your love language begins with the first type: words of affirmation.

slowly, jeonghan saunters over to you, trailing his fingertips over the leather of the couch, then over the fabric of the blanket, gently and gradually, until they find their way to your shoulder, and jeonghan leans down so you're promptly face to face. the quiet chatter from the TV fills up empty space, but it's not enough to force jeonghan to speak loudly. so he doesn't. instead, he inches ever so closer, until he can make out every beauty mark on your face, and he breathes, hardly above a whisper, "you're so beautiful."

in an attempt to play the compliment off, you merely roll your eyes. you blame your illness, though, when you can't contain the slightest inklings of a smile forming, nor the red flush that threatens to overtake your cheeks. you pair a gentle slap against jeonghan's arm with the statement, "i look like shit," and the accusation, "you're just saying that to make me feel better."

if it was even possible, jeonghan moves in closer, propping one hand on the couch arm for support so he could lift his other hand to rest perfectly under your chin. jeonghan swipes his thumb over your skin, hot to the touch, but he can't tell if it's from a blush or from the fever. "you might be right," jeonghan concedes, humming as he takes in every detail of your current state—rosy nose, puffy eyes, dry skin, messy hair—and yet jeonghan can't seem to find any flaws. inspection complete, jeonghan searches for the one thing he knows he can find. ever so faintly, glimmers dance in your eyes, and when jeonghan catches them with his own, like he's done before a million times, he repeats himself. "you might be right. i could just be saying that to make you feel better." jeonghan tucks one of many stray hairs behind your ear before reaching down to cup your hands together, "but that doesn't make it any less true."

and jeonghan can see it, can physically see it, how all of your insecurities instantly crumble, like a house of cards collapsing upon itself, melting away to make room for new walls, sturdier this time, built from affirmations and confidence and care.

a verbal response isn't required. all you do is smile, subtly, so that your lips barely curve up, and you close your eyes. but even this speaks volumes, because it's your cue of absorbing all the good things around you, no matter how small. it's also jeonghan's cue to add one final speck of positivity to your realm with a sweet kiss to your forehead, before he takes his leave to give you your much-needed space. 

—

mindless chatter continues to emit from the TV, and when jeonghan peers into the living room, he spots you tucked away in your same spot on the couch, only this time your head rested lower and your mouth hung open, blissfully asleep and temporarily free from the virus that ailed you.

jeonghan is quick to shimmy on his coat. braving the bite of winter air, it was time to do some shopping for part two, giving gifts, in his mission to determine your love language.

months of taking extra shifts, saving up, determined observations, and heavy research all culminated into this one moment. he was battling not one, but two, life-or-death decisions. the first was to pick which gaming console to buy, and the second was to pick which game to correctly pair with said console. his dedication to this plan, despite being executed weeks before the planned date, does not fail him, and fifteen minutes later jeonghan is walking back into your home as if nothing even happened.

luckily, you are still asleep, which gives jeonghan enough time to wrap up (literally) this phase of the journey and get a head start on the next: acts of services.

— 

about a million things fly through jeonghan's head when he watches you ease out of your slumber, the most prominent thought being how adorable you look, but the most important thought being how sick you still must feel, and how it's engraved in jeonghan's soul to fend off your demons.

unable to contain his excitement, jeonghan approaches you with his arms tucked behind his back, very conspicuously hiding something. you don't even get the chance to sit up before jepnghan kneels beside you, looking up with the largest pair of star-filled eyes. 

jeonghan brings both hands forward, so the two presents display themselves proudly between you. "i was going to wait until christmas," he shuffles the gifts into your arms, "but i can't stand seeing you like this." jeonghan balls his fists into his lap to prevent himself from tearing away at the wrappings himself. "i hope you like it."

piece by piece, bits of red and green foil fall to the floor. no amount of congestion or itchiness in your throat could suppress the yelp that burst from your voice. "jeonghan," you begin, but the growing lump of emotion in your chest was making it damn near impossible to finish your sentence. "you really didn't have to."

jeonghan beams. "yes i did. i know how much you miss your old switch."

"you mean the one i threw out the window because i couldn't pass that one stupid level of super mario?" 

it's clear that you are very unfond of the memory, but jeonghan simply finds it all the more endearing. "that's the one."

the grin on jeonghan's face has yet to falter, and suddenly the swells of appreciation that lap at your heart transform into guilt. you imagine all the sacrifices jeonghan must have made in order to afford this, all the late shifts he had to seek out, just to buy you a replacement for something you broke in the first place. you swallow a lump of equal parts of exasperation and admiration down your throat, ready to air out further protest because you really don't deserve this, and you sure as hell don't deserve jeonghan.

and jeonghan can imagine all of your internal turmoil, of course he can, which gives him all the more reason to assure you that you do, in fact, deserve the entire world. it's also happily up to jeonghan to deliver it to you. one warm hand placed on your cold ones and a couple of soothing circles rubbed atop of them later, and jeonghan has effectively drawn you out of your own bubble.

"whatever you're worrying about," jeonghan exhales, "don't." when jeonghan senses the tension releasing from your body, he drives his point across with a home run. "plus," he nods at the game he bought to accompany the console, mario kart 8, "we can play together this time, too."

there's no reason to argue, you conclude, especially not against jeonghan. a deep breath resets your mentality, and you try your best to return to your usual self, biting back a smile. "you know I won't go easy on you, right?"

"oh please," jeonghan ruffles your already messy hair, "in your condition, you'll be begging me to go easy on you."

frowning, you take a moment to envision this unlikely scenario. unwilling to even entertain the possibility of losing to jeonghan, you dodge the challenge altogether. "how about we play another time," you mutter.

and at that, jeonghan jumps to his feet, grabbing the switch and the game in one fell swoop. "i knew you were gonna say that," he giggles, "which is why I prepared something else."

after quickly shooting a prayer to whatever gods were out there, you tentatively say, "please don't tell me you got another ridiculously expensive gift. this is more than enough." you're more than enough, you want to add, but don't.

jeonghan all but skips to the kitchen. "i wouldn't exactly call this a gift." a painfully slow thirty seconds pass until he returns to the couch in the living room, to you, carefully balancing a plate of various desserts in one hand, and cradling what appeared to be a lighter in the other.

you squint, double checking if you were actually seeing what you thought you were seeing. "what exactly would you call it, then?"

figuring that calling it an act of service would be much too blatant, jeonghan settles on "lunch."

"lunch?" you eye the plate, definitively making out two chocolate bars, a sleeve of graham crackers, and a bundle of marshmallows.

once his rendition of a charcuterie board is secure on the coffee table, jeonghan maneuvers his way onto the couch and under the blanket, shoulder to shoulder with you one and only. "you haven't eaten all day. and i know you probably don't want to eat a proper meal," jeonghan gestures at their awaiting food, "but I also know you crave sweets when you're sick."

it should be second nature by now, really, with how many times jeonghan so casually demonstrates just how well he knows you, maybe even more than you knows yourself. but jeonghan leaves you in awe every time, regardless. 

s'mores are your designated comfort food. the entire process is just so enjoyable, from prepping the ingredients and assembling the structure, to trying to eat the whole thing in one bite lest the remnants ooze out the sides. and so you both do just that.

lacking anything close to a fireplace or a firepit, you roast marshmallows skewered with chopsticks above the dim flame from the lighter. as per the laws of physics (or something like that), the first marshmallow never goes well, and you both end up with a big black burnt chunk of goo. you effectively hurl yours in the trash, but jeonghan dares to take a nibble off his own. he learns that curiosity does, in fact, kill the cat, and jeonghan scrambles to wash out that terrible ashy aftertaste on his tongue. then he hears the faint sound of you snorting, and he concludes that it was worth it.

you tackle the issue of melting the chocolate next, but it's jeonghan who requests to handle this part because he doesn't want to risk you getting burnt. 

and so you watch as jeonghan carefully heats the chocolate piece by piece over the fire. and you note all of jeonghan's habits you've picked up on over the years. how jeonghan's tongue peaks out from the corner of his mouth when he's super concentrated, how he furrows his brows when he tries to see better, how he forgets to blink when there's one specific thing on his mind. and you feel yourself likewise melting like the chocolate, because even to this day, you still can't fathom how you were so lucky to have jeonghan to call yours.

"i hope you're hungry," jeonghan announces, grinning ear to ear. 

you reciprocate the expression. it's assembly time. 

you make a mess. it was inevitable, honestly. there was only so much precaution to be taken from your comfy position on the couch, legs and feet all tangled up in each other. and you wouldn't have it any other way.

laughter outshines any noise from the long-forgotten sitcom playing on the TV. each bounce of your shoulder from an accompanying chuckle is followed by the blanket sliding down, just a bit. jeonghan tries to be slick when he drapes his arm around you, a front to make sure he can pull the blanket back up every time it threatens to slip. but this is you. you, who notice everything that jeonghan does for you. you, who's grateful for all of it. you, who don't think you can love jeonghan any more than you already do.

—

an impromptu nap is essential for their post-s'more recovery. the last two love languages, physical touch and quality time, are much harder to gauge. considering jeonghan's affection is usually on full display 24/7 and the fact that he counts his entire lifespan with you as quality time, he can only hope you treasure your moments together as much as he does. and honestly, at this point, jeonghan is much too tired to care about his quest to uncover your love language. the only mission on his mind is to get you as close as possible, and so he seeks to accomplish just that.

pulling you into his arms, you both slump onto your sides, feet dangling off the edge of the couch, hands wrapped around shoulders and backs, and eyes locked unwavering onto the other's. jeonghan slips his bicep under your neck, fashioning a faux pillow, and rests your head against his chest, just above his beating heart.

you squirm in a weak attempt to create some distance between you. (you're not successful.) "i'm gonna get you sick."

jeonghan only snuggles closer. "i don't care," emphasizing his point with a chaste kiss upon your forehead, and then, oh so gently, on your nose, both cheeks, and finally, still ever so softly, on your lips. 

you've both long since outgrown the butterflies in your stomachs. what used to elicit sparks of electricity at every touch now resound in echoes of warmth. and lying here, in jeonghan's embrace, in jeonghan's comfort, in jeonghan's life, you feel so safe. you'd spend eternity with jeonghan if you could, but right now, when the passage of time has all but stopped as you continue to hold each other in your own beautiful world, what you have right now is all you want.

—

you both wake up as you were, still entangled in each other's body, each other's affection, each other's hearts.

you let yourself drown in the serenity that was jeonghan before you ask the question that's been tickling the back of your mind the whole day. "what was up with you today? you were oddly kind, even more so than you usually are."

an instant flush of red rises upon jeonghan's cheeks, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think jeonghan was the sick one, not you. "this is gonna sound stupid," jeonghan says.

and to that, your first instinct is to reach for jeonghan's hand and intertwine your fingers, still perfectly warm under the blanket. "nothing you say is ever stupid." it's true. on a scale of endearing to adorable, never once have you thought jeonghan resembled anything close to the word stupid.

jeonghan bites his lip, as he confesses, "i hated seeing how miserable you were, and i wanted to cheer you up, but i forgot what your love language is, so i thought i'd do one of each to see which one you like the most, but you were equally receptive to all of them, and i feel dumb for not knowing what means the most to you."

when you don't immediately respond, jeonghan sighs and chides himself. "i told you, it's stupid."

but you just laugh, sporting a grin so wide your eyes turn into mini crescent moons. "yoon jeonghan, you're ridiculous in the best way possible." you unlace your finger in favor of cupping your palm around jeonghan's cheek, still blazing from embarrassment. "did you know that?"

jeonghan flits his gaze downwards, uncharacteristically shy towards the one person he's bared his entire soul to. "could you still remind me what your love language is?" he sheepishly requests, adding on, "just for future reference."

you just smile, and you hope your words are enough to convey the intensity of the way your whole body swells with an undeniable warmth every time jeonghan does anything. "as long as it's with you," you use your thumb to tilt jeonghan's head back up, ensuring he can see just how sincere you are when you say, "i love it all just the same." and then you lean in, breaths already mingling, lips centimeters from meeting, hearts seconds from colliding, when you whisper, "i love you all just the same."

[webslingingslasher]

hi so uh could I request a really short (like less than 1000 words) blurb for Peter of him just comforting reader with physical affection cause she's having a depressive episode please (I really need a hug omfg)

i’m at work but i really think you needed this, call it a gut feeling.

peter’s love language is physical touch to the max.

he needs a hand on you at all times, riding in the car? hand on your thigh, if you’re sitting behind him, his hand is wrapped around your ankle. watching a movie? you’ll be tucked into his side, or he’s resting his head on your chest, at the very least your legs are tugged over his lap so he has something to run his hands over. out at dinner? he’s holding your hand across the table almost the entire time, unfortunately you make him give it back when the food arrives. eating out with friends? his favorite, because then he has a reason to sit in the booth next to you and there’s nowhere that’s off limits. hands on your thighs, knees, hands, elbow, neck, face, anywhere he deemed necessary for his touch.

most times you push him off, and he doesn’t take it offensively because even he can admit when he’s being a little too much. there’s only so much you can take of being trapped under his arm in new york summer weather before you shake him off and tell him not to touch you for ten minutes because you’re about to scream. or when you’re out at dinner with friends because he really does have wondering hands, you can see when it’s getting a little much so you have to take his hand and rest it on the table with a pat or grip it in yours so tightly it’s sent into rigor mortis.

there is one time you don’t push him away, when he doesn’t think it’s possible slump into him further, the one time he truly can’t tell where you start and he stops.

he just wishes you weren’t so sad when you needed him like that.

peter thinks you fell asleep on him and he doesn’t mind one bit, sometime after finding you buried under your covers. which he knows is your hiding spot when things just get a little too rough. you’re good most times, but every once in a while you forget how special you are, and he knows when you don’t respond to his texts or snapchats or don’t show up to school.

you didn’t text him much last night and he figured you were tired or sleeping early, then you weren’t at school this morning and he would’ve thought you were feeling sick until it hit ten thirty and you haven’t responded to anything in over twelve hours. his suspicions were confirmed, you were sick, but not with a bug or virus.

peter did the only thing he could think to do, not that you’d believe him in that moment anyways, and sends you three words.

I love you.

if you were to only look at one message from him he wants it to be that, so he doesn’t send anything else for the rest of the school day.

he went straight to your place and let himself in, heading for your door where he knows you’ll be collapsed in bed and have to fight his own upset that you haven’t ate or drank water today because it’s the wrong thing at the wrong time.

sometimes he doesn’t like being right, seeing you swallowed in blankets, facing the wall with your eyes shut, he sees tear marks and doesn’t have to ask, he stopped asking months ago, it was always the same answer.

“why are you crying, hm?” he’d brush your hair away so it doesn’t stick.

and you’d sniffle and blink more tears to fall and whine, “i don’t know, it just has nowhere to go.”

“what has nowhere to go?”

you’d cry harder, “the sadness.”

sometimes there was no good reason to be so sad and it makes it worse, like you needed to justify how sad you felt.

peter took in the darkness, you pinned blankets over your windows, it was as black as you felt. he doesn’t even think you’re sleeping, just… dreading your existence.

in case you don’t know he’s in here he speaks soft and slow so he doesn’t scare you, also because cheerful doesn’t really fit the mood.

“hey, trouble. feelin’ okay?”

he knows you’re not okay, okay. but it’s not about being fine, it’s about checking in with each other because you’d swore you’d tell him if it ever wasn’t okay.

peter can’t hear you, he puts his knees on the bed and shuffles towards your back. “what’s that, mumbles?”

your fingers claw at the blanket around your mouth, “‘m okay.”

peter is the fixer, he fixes everything, you even call him your little engineer. but this is one thing he can’t and never will be able to fix but he’ll gladly hold your hand and cheer you on from the side while you fix yourself.

“wanna hug?”

and you don’t know why these cuddles, these touches, these actions of love that feel the most warming and comforting to you. he always loves you, that’s his thing, but when it’s times like these when you’re so emotionally raw and vulnerable you want to curl up and hide, peter embreases it and doesn’t tell you to hide it, it’s human and he’s happy you trust him enough to see that side and he’ll never take it for granted.

you nod, peter scoots enough to pull at your hip and pull you on your back, he’s looking down at you and doesn’t take offense when you look away.

“wanna be on top?”

sometimes you wanted peter to crush you with his weight, he used to hold back because he didn’t want to actually hurt you until one night you called him out, “peter, please I just need to feel… i don’t know.” so he let himself settle all the way down on your chest and heard how your breath caught, you gripped at his shoulder when he tried to move back up, you gasped it but you needed it, needed it for a few minutes.

“thank you, just… please stay here.”

that’s when it was really bad, you needed him to drown out the whole world, the thoughts, the insults, anything that wasn’t screaming at your brain for breath, and when he moves that first real gulp of air feels like heaven and even if it’s for one second you have two things to be grateful for.

most times, you crawled high into his lap and looped your arms around him so tight he felt like he couldn’t breathe, your face tucked into the crook of his neck, sometimes you’d dot kisses, sometimes you’d cry, and sometimes he feels nothing but eyelashes every few minutes as you blink and shut them, each attempt of opening them like, ‘you ready yet? no? alright.’

or nights like tonight, when you curl around him and doze off because you had a night where instead of sleeping for fourteen hours you stayed up blinking at the wall.

and because if you’d learned anything about his love language, he wouldn’t let go until you asked.

[cleolinda]

I grew up in a haunted house and I didn’t notice

This is not a story about boo ghosts or shadow people. If it were, I would have figured it out, at least.

When I say "I grew up in a haunted house and I didn't notice," you have to understand that there was a lot going on with this house. It's not the house that I've written about currently living in, the one with newspaper and soda cans stuffed where insulation should have been, the one with constant home-repair calamities. No, my childhood home was a crumbling pile of red brick built in the 1920s. Narnia was in the backyard, and the back deck was my ship on the high seas. The house was surrounded by banks of flowers, lilies and irises and roses, and it was full of creepy shit I didn’t even blink at. I loved it.

It didn't look haunted, or even particularly historical. It was almost disappointingly normal—I lived on a street with a house that had a turret, for God's sake. No, it was just old and small. There's a lot of pre-Depression houses getting torn down in these suburbs; my town has been awash in construction for the last 20-30 years as people buy up cheap old houses, raze them, and squeeze mini-mansions onto their tiny lots, all to get their kids into a good school system. It gives me a chill to think of it, but yeah, that might happen to my childhood home someday, small and plain and unassuming as it is. My pirate ship has already been renovated into an extra bedroom, the new owners told us.

When we moved into the house in 1983, though—it had clearly been renovated in the '60s or '70s; the wallpaper was hideous, and the upstairs bathroom was carpeted. Shag-carpeted. The house had closets the size of shoeboxes; my bedroom, the one with the peach wallpaper, didn't even have one. The room down the hall had four, including one cut into the wall, under a slanted ceiling tucked beneath the roof, that looked like you'd stash a witch there when the Salem HOA came by. There was a fan in the attic—well, first of all, the attic was just one more room on that upstairs floor. It was directly across from the (carpeted) bathroom, and that room (lit by one ominous, hanging bulb) was just a short corridor with storage spaces on either side, hidden behind big sliding doors. And the fan at the very end was built into the brick outer wall of the house. Like our house was functionally open to the elements, between the blades of that fan. I have no idea what the fuck anyone was thinking when they built that, and how the fuck anyone kept the wildlife out.

We certainly couldn't. Squirrels lived in the roof and bowled with acorns. It was like listening to a pinball machine at night. I have an abject horror of cockroaches because sometimes an adventurous one would fall off the ceiling in the middle night, onto me, while I was trying to sleep. (Like, try to imagine that—you’re awakened from a dead sleep by a vague, paper-light skittering sensation up and down your arm. When Pennywise comes to me, he will show up as a cockroach.) But wait! There was more! We had herds of crickets in the basement that felt compelled to jump at people. Sometimes there were centipedes! Those were polite enough to only come out at night. In the dark.

By the way, that basement was totally unfinished. I don't mean that it just had exposed beams or concrete walls. I mean that the basement had uneven, mostly shoulder-high masonry walls, and then it was just open on three sides, extending under the rest of the house. Like just dry red Alabama earth and rocks and grainy dust tumbling around in this vast, dark—it wasn't even a crawl space, a child could have stood upright in it. This child? Oh fuck no. And the washer and dryer were down there. I had to creep down there, down a rickety plank staircase, past the staring dark caverns of my own basement, through a low-lying fog of aggressive crickets, go BEHIND THE STAIRCASE, and then do my laundry there. There was also a firewood pile by an old fridge, and only God knew what was under that.

None of this was haunted. All of this was completely normal to me. This isn't even the haunted part.

So let's go back upstairs. The ground floor was lovely, homey, fine except for the time the living room ceiling fell out due to water damage. Upstairs was where it got weird. I've talked about being mildly bullied as an unknowingly autistic child; home was where I felt safe. In my bedroom upstairs, I had all those My Little Ponies and my easel with all my crayon-drawn fantasy maps and all the stories I wrote. It didn't matter if roaches fell on me in the deeps of the night; home, that's where I was happy. So when I was a young kid and I felt like a vampire was following me down the hall at night, I assumed I was just being silly.

I was aware of vampires in the 1980s as, like, the Count on Sesame Street (ah ah aaah), and Count Chocula, and Count Duckula on Nickelodeon, and the Bunnicula books that I loved. As a kid, I wasn't aware of movies like The Lost Boys or Near Dark, or any vampires that weren't broad caricatures of the Bela Lugosi look. I loved Spooky Stuff—I'm from the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark generation—but vampires didn't scare me.

But when I had to get up in the middle of the night to go down the hall to the (carpeted) bathroom, I always had the sensation that something was following me as I was going back to my room. Something Dark. Not terribly tall, maybe not even much taller than me. And somehow, I visualized this deep in my mind as a vampire. Kind of a silly one, you know, the white-tie formal wear and the ribbon medal and the cape. I wasn't desperately scared that a Chocula was behind me, but I knew that I needed to get back to my room quick, and, at all costs, I must never look back. I must never look over my shoulder or else I would See It, something silly massing in the dark—and, brother, Eurydice would have been safe with me. Never stop running, never look back.

And I'm sure all kinds of kids develop little superstitions like this. It's probably a developmental thing, like having an imaginary friend (which I also had at some point). Even as a seven year old, I was thinking, This is silly, I'm just making it up (but not looking back costs nothing. Not looking at monsters is free). And I continued to think this, until I laughingly told my younger sister this at Sunday Family Dinner one night. We were both in our thirties at that point. And my sister started crying. Like just staring at me in wide-eyed horror, her eyes filling with tears. And she told me that when she had a bedroom upstairs, there was Something in there.

I won't belabor the exact setup, but at one point, we got it into our heads that we'd like to switch bedrooms, just for a change. I was 14, and I moved to her ground floor bedroom with the flowered white wallpaper and the big bright windows, and she went upstairs and took my room with the peach wallpaper and the cool slanted roof-ceiling (and no closet).

There were three other rooms on that upper floor (and I promise you this is important):

1) One was a small, windowless room that we used as a playroom, with weird cerulean blue carpet and sky blue wallpaper, one dim light fixture, and a little door in the wall that led to dark nothing. Like, you opened it, and you were confronted by a mass of pipes and machinery and just enough space to edge leftwards in the dark. Towards what? Fuck if I know, I sure as hell wasn't going in there. I think it was supposed to be for access to the HVAC system. I don't know. It was fucked. But when I was a young child, I had cooked for my baby dolls at our plastic play kitchen right next to that door, nbd, because apparently you put me in a creepy situation and I just go, yeah, we live like this now.

(I had not ever felt alone in that playroom, but I had also been too young to articulate that. Of course I wasn’t alone! I was with my dolls!)

2) The next room was the (shag-carpeted) bathroom. It had a big mirror over the sink counter, very typical, facing a vertical mirror that was behind the bathroom door. I've heard two mirrors facing each other can create a portal for the spirits, if you believe in that kind of thing. I once did the "Bloody Mary" thing there and nothing happened, idk.

3) The next room was the bedroom with four closets, where an older family member lived with us, and when she moved out, my sister moved to that room.

?) The fourth room, not really a room, was the dark, narrow attic.

So, Grownup Family Dinner at my current house, a few years ago: my sister told me that Something had lived in the Four Closets Bedroom with her. I'm not sure if she actually said it lived in the little Hide A Witch closet or if it was just kind of... ambient. I don't know what it looked like, or if we're talking about ghosts or Something... Darker, or what. I don't think she's entirely sure herself. She doesn't like to talk about it in detail a whole lot. What I know is that she felt it was there, and she had chosen that room to sleep in as a young teenager, and not a lot of sleep was to be had.

"I never really sensed anything, like… demonic," I said, puzzled. "Just the Chocula that followed me." And my sister was like, ARE YOU LISTENING TO YOURSELF??

"What about Rebecca??" she sputtered.

Oh, yeah: Rebecca. (A name I've changed at my sister's request.) I had a friend as a teenager who liked to mess around with ouija boards (AM I LISTENING TO MYSELF?), and we did a session at her house one time wherein we discovered that the ghost of a girl? young woman? named Rebecca lived (so to speak) at my house, and she had been murdered by her boyfriend. How we arrived at these specifics, I don’t remember, but I had told my sister about it because I thought it was interesting, and also, I was kind of a shit. My friend also decided she had her own ghost named Dusty. It was all one big [citation needed, footage not found], but it was also part of our family lore.

So, many years later, my sister told me that she had long felt—without knowing about the Chocula—that there were two spirits on the upper floor of our childhood home: the dark one, and a younger, lighter one. I sat there at the kitchen table and thought about it.

"You know, I did kind of feel like there was someone up there, when I was a kid," I said. "Sometimes I would go into the attic, and it felt scary, but like there was something there watching that was okay? Like having a lamp on in a dark room, kind of. It’s weird, because it’s just a feeling, I remember it very clearly, but I didn’t really question it or wonder."

I thought a bit more.

"Oh yeah—there was also the time I just really felt compelled to go color in the playroom by myself at midnight, and it kind of felt like someone was there."

My sister stared at me, saucer-eyed, pale. Like I'm not sure I had ever seen anyone "go white" until that moment.

"Yeah, I just woke up and had this idea—I was maybe nine years old? That it would be super cool to do stuff at night when I was supposed to be asleep, so I got a flashlight and went into the playroom—"

"IN THE DARK??"

"Well, yeah. If I had turned on the light, someone would have seen it and told me to go back to bed. So I set this flashlight on the floor and got out the crayons and colored in one of my coloring books a while. Maybe the She-Ra one?"

Thinking back on it now—of course I was sitting right by the scary door. I think we all, you and I, saw that coming.

"And I had the same feeling I had in the attic. Like someone was sitting on the floor across from me, friendly, I guess I would say female, and it was cool. Like, it was chill."

My sister looked like she was about to pass out.

"I don’t really know how I could sense this then but not really say anything about it, or even think about it, until now," I said, shrugging. "I’m probably imagining it."

I’ll throw in here that one of the dolls I had in that room was a Raggedy Ann. Like, just for extra hilarity, Wee Cleo is hanging out, coloring, at midnight, with a ghost and a fuckin’ Annabelle.

So: My sister is adamant that our childhood home was haunted. And apparently I was entirely blasé about it (maybe possessed?), but then, I was dealing with a lot of suburban wildlife. My problems with that house were far more immediate. And crawly. Nor can we prove that the house was haunted—I certainly haven’t looked up any homicide records—and I don’t think that Vibes, In Retrospect, are valid evidence on my part. But I find it interesting that I knew what she was talking about. I find it interesting that I was like, "Yeah, that was chill." And I find it interesting that when I went away to college, and I lived in a dorm suite where sometimes I’d be the only person there while my roommates were out,

I remember noticing that it was the first time I’d ever felt alone in a room.

Who was that imaginary friend I'd had?

--

I asked my sister to read over this, partly because I wanted to see if she’d be willing to describe the Something Dark.

"Oh, I’ll tell you anything you want," she texted back, "but that’s not how it happened."

[unemployedstonerlizard]

--korrasami as parents drabble--

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TW: Mentions of miscarriage, dead parents, body dismorphia, and slight depression. But only slightly! Nothings too bad.

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☆ So this au I'm thinking of is based after a fanfic where Asami got Korra pregnant in the spirit realm, after adoption and sperms donations failed. I'll link it if I can find it, very well written so I highly recommend!

☆ Korra could not be prouder to be a mom. Sure, Asami is gentle and motherly, but Korra is a whole other level of mother. Constantly talking about how great they'll be when they grow up, making a big deal out of everything they do.

"Asami! Asami Senna just threw her toy!"

"...okay?"

"'Sami she threw it so far! She's gonna be so strong!"

☆ In the southern water tibe, they usually name their children after an influential family member in their life. Korra named their daughter after her mother, Senna, and Asami named their son after her mother Yasuko.

☆ They definitely live in the southern water tribe in their first few years, trying to give them a steady upbringing and keeping them away from the prying eyes of the press. Korra and Asami share a room with the babies, all wrapped up in Sabre Tooth Moose Lion furs.

☆ When Korra was deemed pregnant, she wrote a letter to all of the nations leaders, explaining that if they needed assistance with the spirits to contact her. But if there was a political affair or an international struggle to "fucking deal with it themselves". (Asami had to apologize for her verbiage a week later.)

☆ Asami runs things at Sato Industry from home, finalizing and shipping documents and instructions to the people below her. I imagine she's curled in a chair, baby in her lap and her scribbling away on the papers, trying not to get ink on Senna's head.

☆ Since Senna and Yasuko are identical, Korra has a hard time figuring out who is who. Asami seems to be the only person who knows which is which, and Korra has to take a minute.

☆ Korras snuggling game has only intensified with being a mom. She'll use her firebending to heat up her body temp and hold the babies to her chest, all three of them sleeping soundly, such a cute sight for Asami.

☆ Korra almost immediately started working out after giving birth, feeling a little dysphoric seeing her once chiseled body now plump and stretched. Asami has to talk her into loving it, letting her know she's still as strong as she's always been.

☆ Shell kiss up the soft tummy, caressing the stretchmarks under her fingertips. Korras muscular arms wrapped around the pale body on top of her, sighing as the kisses left butterfly's in her stomach.

"Sorry, 'Sami...I'm trying to get them back."

"Hmm? Get what back love?"

"My abs. I knew you liked them."

Asami would coo, leaving another kiss. "Baby, you'll always be perfect to me. You gave birth to our two miracle children. I love you so much, with or without abs."

☆ When the twins sleep, Korra sometimes watches them from above the crib, watching their little chests rising and falling. She gets scared to touch them while their sleeping, and her mind goes to hazy, unpleasant thoughts at the former attempts and her past. She wonders if she'll be a good mom.

☆ Asami wishes she could show her parents their grandchildren, watching Tonraq and Senna play with the babies makes her heart shatter, so much so sometimes she has to leave the room. Being a mother brings her closer to Asamis own, and will wrote letters down in her journal to her mother about the twins.

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This is my first time writing a drabble, I'm not sure how much is too much or too little. Any advice/feedback/comment is welcome!

Also I cannot find that fic for the life of me, I think the author deleted it </3

@whatifitookalilnap

[rogersideup]

Nice to be Kneaded

Chapter fourteen

Cinnamon Roll

Series Masterlist

Previous part: Cardboard Castle Next Part: Everything will be Okay

Word Count: 7,758

Warnings: Please read. My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions of medical equipment, loss, abuse, PTSD, anxiety and depression. This chapter contains dialog and storytelling of the loss of a pregnancy. If this is a topic that weighs heavy on your heart and is too difficult to read, please skip to the next chapter. 🤍

The whole of the month you got to spend with Steve in Greenwood completely unapologetically was as magical as it could've been. Perfect was an understatement.

It felt like good stepping stones to really get life back on track after the blip. Although you had already gotten a good grip before your arrest, motivation to do better now that you had Steve back at your side was at an all time high.

He got to see all the work you did on the bakery while he was gone, and needless to say the hours you'd devoted worked really well. Business had never been better, and operations have never been smoother.

Though he did have to go back to New York for a little while before he could officially make the move over to the house next to yours, his absence was nothing like the first time.

This time, you knew he was alive and well. The two of your texted all day long, and would have conversations on the phone for hours on end about everything under the sun and nothing at all.

You'd send each other pictures of what you were doing throughout the day. Coffees in the morning, lunch with the Avengers, cakes you decorated that day, dinner with the girls, his fitting for a new suit, your outfit for that one bridal shower.

And in the loneliest hours, your sunflowers would glow. Sometimes if he was having trouble falling asleep in his bed all alone, he'd press his watch to see if you were awake.

Since there was a time difference, your necklace usually lit up around the time you were just getting home from work, so you were happy to make his sunflower glow. The two of you even made a little code.

Once was to say hi, a simple message to let each other know you we're thinking of them. Twice in a row was I miss you, three times was I love you.

Usually at night he would send one to say hi, and make sure you were there, and you would send one back. Then he'd send two to tell you he missed you, and you would send two back. Lastly he would send three, and you'd send three back.

It made you smile every single day. Such a simple, and easy way to know he was always with you even when he physically wasn't anywhere near.

Since he had been gone for two months, and you sill had a month and a half without him, you also took the time to really strengthen your social circle. With the loss of Georgia as your best friend, you found it a good time to really focus on other people in your life who meant a lot to you.

You felt comfortable with your friends now, confiding in them felt easier, hanging out with them felt like less effort, and every day you just felt better.

Steve did a lot to help you find acceptance in the blip, and in turn, he found his own as well. He reminded you that it was okay to start moving on from what was lost and start living your life to the fullest again. And that you did.

You still missed Georgia, especially this time of year. With a particularly traumatic event anniversary looming upon you and rapidly approaching, you found yourself wanting to knock on her door to talk about it. She was the only one who really knew the whole story, the only one that showed up for you that day when you needed someone.

Even though you desperately wanted to talk about it, somehow you couldn't let the words roll off your tongue to anyone. Not to Steve, not to your friends, and your therapist was blipped. Unfortunately, a lot of people turned to therapy after the loss of half the people in the universe which mean the waitlist to get a therapist in your insurance network was miles long.

You were close with your friends now, even best friends with some, but everyone's lives were so chaotic nowadays that you didn't want to trauma dump on them. And sweet Steve, states away in a city that was busy and a job that was even busier while packing up his stuff and arranging to move far away.

Deep down you knew if you told him he'd feel guilty for being so far, and once he knew, you knew he'd look at you through different eyes. Perhaps confiding from thousands of miles away would be easier, he'd had more space to process, and you wouldn't have to look him in the eye when you'd tell him why you've been so sad lately. But maybe from thousands of miles away, he didn't even have to know.

The last thing you ever wanted to do was burden anyone with your emotions. You didn't want to exist loudly in a room during a time that made you want to slip by completely forgotten.

And quite honestly, letting the words leave your mouth and settle into his ears made what happened to you even more real. It wasn't just a tale between you, your last lover, and Georgia.

It would be a real tragedy you'd have to face once more, over and over and over again.

Every morning you'd wake up and the date was displayed proudly on your phone screen, and every day counted down until the grand finale of your grief. Every day closer to the date was a day closer to putting that date behind you.

So, you decided to just be strong. Two more days and it would all be over again until next year. You'd put a brave face on, go to work to distract yourself, come home and go on a walk to distract yourself, dinner and a TV show to distract yourself, then go to sleep until it was time to do it again the next day.

The plan was working, in fact it had worked so well that you never allowed yourself time to process any of your emotions until it hit you like a tone of bricks the day before the anniversary.

It happened mid afternoon while at work while reading a custom cookie request for a baby's first birthday party. Wild one. Jungle animals, pretty monstera leaves, number ones with the little boy's name on them.

A knot formed in your throat faster than you could swallow it away, and tears filled your eyes and the need to cry stung your sinuses. The way you abruptly stood up from in front of the computer and announced you had to go scared pretty much every employee in the store at the time, but your body told you this was an emergency. It was like the building was on fire and every nerve was bouncing around in your brain telling you that exiting was your only means of survival.

You cried on your way home, you cried all the way up the stairs, you cried until you could change into comfortable clothes and get into bed. You laid there in silence and starred up at the ceiling for awhile. Day two of your period happening to fall during this time seemed like the universe laughing in your face. More pain, and heightened emotions. The palm of your right hand over your lower stomach, the palm of your left curled around your necklace.

Everything in you wanted to squeeze it to send Steve a little glow, you even wanted to call him to hear his voice for even just the slightest bit of comfort you could get, but once again, you just couldn't.

Steve was a smart man. He'd know a message from you around this time of day was out of the ordinary, he'd ask you about it, and you wouldn't be able to get yourself to lie to him. But you couldn't tell him what happened yet, still not ready for it to be true.

So you got out of bed and flipped through the hangers in your closet until you found his hoodie. You let it cover and warm your body like the big hug he'd give you if he was here right now, then crawled right back into bed. One hand on your lower stomach, the other clutching the sunflower.

You thought about him for awhile, how he'd react if you just doubled down and talked to him about what happened. The biggest part of you was terrified he'd be left feeling differently about you in the worst way possible, like telling him about the way a past man in your life had treated your body would make you unfavorable for him. But the smaller part of you knew he'd speak comforting words to you over the phone, and support you in anyway he could from so far away. He'd remind you that he'd be back sooner than you knew, he'd offer to fly over the moment he could. You really didn't want to bother him.

Fuck. You missed him. Okay, he gave you the necklace for a reason, you should just use it.

You squeezed it twice. I miss you.

You observed it in the palm of your hand for a while, waiting to see if he noticed you had sent him a little message.

Then, it lit up twice. I miss you too.

A long exhale passed your lips in an effort to take some calm breaths to convince yourself everything was okay. It's been three years now, that's 1,095 days you've survived since than, you have every means necessary to make it 1,096.

Then, your necklace lit up three times. I love you.

You squeezed it three times back. I love you too.

That little reminder was enough to snap yourself out of it for a while. You watched a movie in bed, took a shower, then called it a night early around 7:30pm. But you couldn't sleep, your mind was racing way too fast alongside your heart. A little while later, your phone rang beside you and you didn't even open your eyes to pick it up, you already knew who it was.

"Hi, baby" Steve's voice filled your room.

"Hi, love. How are you?" You asked, trying to sound normal. It didn't work.

"I'm good!" He answered. "I called you so you didn't get scared."

"Scared?" You questioned, throughly confused.

"Your front door is about to open, but it's fine. Don't worry about it." He said.

"...my front door? Is about to open? And I shouldn't be scared?" You reiterated.

"Yeah, it's totally fine. Pay it no mind." He confirmed.

You could hear the lock and knob rattling from downstairs, then the familiar sound of the door opening and closing.

"Okaaaaayy? Do I want to know who's in my house right now or should I just continue to pretend like this is totally fine and normal?"

"No it's definitely totally fine and 100% normal." He reassured. "Hey, why are all the lights off right now?"

"Are you in my house or is this like... some sort of Avengers secret spy thing and something is about to try and kill me but it's going to be fine because I'm on the phone with you?" You asked, heart rate increasing by the second.

"Everything is fine, including the footsteps up your staircase." His voice dropped to a whisper.

"Steve..."

"I'm coming in"

You bedroom door knob turned before it opened, revealing a slightly disheveled Steve in cozy clothes with a backpack on his back and flowers in his hand.

"Surprise!" He greeted you with a big smile, and sleepy eyes.

"Steve! What the h- why are you here?!" You happily jumped out of bed and practically tackled him in the biggest hug you could manage.

"Cause I missed you!" He enthused, keeping his balance despite how much force you had used to knock into him.

"I missed you too!" You squeezed him tight. A hug from him was exactly what you needed right now.

“That conference thing next week got canceled and I had nothing on the schedule until then. I was already contemplating it, then you said you missed me so I hopped on the Jet and now here I am!"

You giggled before rocking up on your tippy toes to reach his lips for a kiss. "I'm so happy you're here!"

"I was just going to come in and walk up but I really didn't want to get the police called on me today." He explained.

"Yeah, that definitely would've scared the shit out of me." You agreed with a smile as you got a good look at his face. He looked tired, his eyes were sleepy and swollen, his shoulders and posture was relaxed, and his voice was raspier than usual. "You seem tired, are you alright?"

"Yeah I'm fine!" He assured you. "I did some agility training this morning and it kicked my butt. I'm just tired and sore."

"You? Sore?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Unfortunately." Steve grinned, then he noticed your face. Your nose and eyes were red, they lacked that usual sparkle he was used to. The smile he loved so much seemed like it was the first time it occurred all day long. "Woah, Sunflower what's wrong?"

You watched his face change from happy to concerned in a split second. He set the flowers down on the dresser, and slipped his backpack off before setting it against the wall. "Oh, nothing I'm okay."

"At what point are we going to learn that I'll never believe that?" Steve denied your claim.

You raised an eyebrow at him as he sat down on the edge of your bed and pat his lap, prompting you to sit. Unfortunately, even with him right in front of you, you still couldn't get yourself to talk about it. Only half the truth was going to have to make due for now.

Sitting sideways on his lap, you hid your face away in the crook of his neck and let his strong arms squeeze you tight and support your body as your curled up into a little ball. Right here, hiding away against his body and behind the protection of his arms was where you felt safest. You wished in that moment that you could spend the rest of today and all of tomorrow here.

"Didn't even realized how much I needed this until right now." You confessed, melting into him him butter.

"Talk to me, Sweetheart. What's going on?" Steve asked, pressing kisses to your forehead.

You sighed, feeling bad that this was supposed to be a happy surprise but you're ruining it for him. "Sorry, just- hard day at work, cramps, hormones making the hard day even harder." You explained.

"Really?! Didn't you just get your period like..." he counted on his fingers. "Four weeks ago?"

"Cruel isn't it?" He forced more smiles out of you.

"So cruel." Steve agreed. "What happened at work?"

"Super busy as usual, I just kind've felt like I was drowning all day and unable to keep up."

"I'm sorry, Baby." Steve pouted before kissing your cheek. He had a strong suspicion that there was more happening beneath the surface, but he also understood that it was getting late and his presence was unexpected. You probably needed more time to warm back up. "How can I make you feel better?"

"This is more than enough." You smiled, squeezing him tightly with your arms once more. "Thanks for coming."'

"Anything for you" He squeezed you back.

Since it was already pretty late and you were both tired, you got into bed and cuddled up close. Once again, you were amazed by Steve's ability to be by your side when you needed him most, even if he might not have realized how impeccable his timing was. His heart beating calmly and slowly against your palm did wonders to ground you, and the loving exchange of words and slow kisses calmed your mind from running too far ahead of itself.

Steve eventually drifted off, but sleep never arrived for you. Most of the night was spent staring up at the ceiling and holding Steve in the embrace he subconsciously had you in.

He had woken up a few times in the night completely unnoticed by you, or maybe you just didn't have the energy to acknowledge he was awake, but each time he caught you with a hand on your stomach and your eyes glued to the ceiling. At one point he even tried to help you. He trapped you in his arms and you hid your face into the crook of his neck once more, your legs tangled up with his and his warm hand cradled the back of your head. You kissed his neck in appreciation and really tried your hardest to turn your brain off.

Then, when Steve woke up the next morning you were out like a light. Your body was completely on top of his, and so relaxed you might as well have been a piece cooked spaghetti. He stayed with you for a while, making sure to massage your back and play with your hair, but he realized after a while that there were no signs you were anywhere near ready to wake up and function for the day. As carefully as he would diffuse a bomb, he slipped out from underneath you and tucked you back in super tight before kissing you goodbye and going for a run.

By the time he finished a disgusting amount of miles and actually tuckered himself out, he showered and made his way back to you. Carrying his feet up the stairs, he found you dressed for the day, hair done in a cute little clip, sneakers on your feet, but also slouched over with your head in your hands.

The sound of the door opening alerted you to pick yourself up, but it was no use. You couldn't even hide that you were miserable.

"Good morning, baby." You stuck your arms out for a hug.

"Morning" He leaned over and gave you one without question, before squatting down in front of you. "Still not feeling good?"

His face was full of so much sympathy it made you want to curl up into a ball and cry, but that wasn't an option right now. Not when your girls at the bakery called for help even though you blocked today off just for yourself. "Is it really that obvious?"

"You look beautiful," He kindly smiled as he took his hands into yours. "but you don't seem like yourself, and I can tell you didn't sleep much last night."

"I didn't, that's for sure."

"You have to go to work?" He questioned sadly.

You nodded with regret and apology. He flew all the way here just to see you, but all he got was the worst version of you and now none of you at all. "I'm sorry, the girls asked me to come in, they're drowning in work just like I was yesterday."

"No, don't be sorry." Steve reassured you, his kind smile persisting. "If you need help with anything just let me know, alright? You know I'm happy to help."

"Thank you, Stevie." This time you smiled. "I feel really bad that you came all this way to see me and all you've gotten is...this." You referred to yourself.

"Hey, don't say that." He furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm not here to only love you when you're at your best, Sunflower. I love you just as much like this as I would if you were happy and bouncing off the walls."

"I love you so much." You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his neck.

He kissed your cheek, then you pulled away. "You know if you ever want to talk about anything I'm here for you, judgement free right?"

"I know, and I appreciate that." You nodded, contemplating your words and desperately trying to find the right ones. Remembering the last time your trauma caused you to feel too scared to talk to him, a light clicked in your head when you remembered he thought it was his fault. "I'm going to be honest and say that today is going to be a hard day, but if you just give me until tomorrow I promise I'll be better."

"So there is something wrong?" He questioned gently, your hands shook in his hold so he rubbed the back of them with his thumbs.

You nodded. "I'm sorry. I just- I don't know how to talk about it. And I have to go to work for a while so I don't even want to open up a whole can of worms right before I have to go. It's been so busy I feel like I can't even breathe, plus with all of this it just feels like everybody wants too much from me-"

"Hey, it's okay, just take a deep breath." Steve reminded you. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, I'm not going to make you. There's no timeline, you don't have to be better by tomorrow."

"I'm sorry" You apologized again, taking a deep breath.

"You're okay" He squeezed your hands. "I love you, and I want to support you the best way I can."

"I love you too. I'll see you when I get home?"

"I'll be here" Steve reassured you.

Work was fine for a little while, you were able to completely shut off the brain noise as you helped catch up on cake orders and played barista in the front. But a few hours before closing there was a huge rush, and it never slowed down until you had to cut off the customers from coming in at exactly closing time. Then there was so much to do that you couldn't even think about anything happening in your personal life if you wanted to. There were a million different things happening at once, each of your employees had a million questions for you, each question distracted you from every task from the long list you so desperately needed to complete.

You got yelled at by more than one customer, and it definitely wasn't a pleasant experience. Words of how you're a terrible person with worse business ethic were spat at you, reminders that you're a bitch and you lost customers over not serving chocolate chip cookies after closing time.

One woman even made a comment to you after calling you incompetent that made you hold back a laugh from deep within your soul. "I came all the way here to get the same treats Captain America eats and this is what I get? Steve Rogers would make sure everyone in line got something instead of cutting people off and sending them home empty handed."

You could've explained that every single one of your employees was already putting in more hours than normal. They were all exhausted, on overtime, and you were trying your hardest to not ware them all out more than you already have. You could've said the bake case was almost empty anyways, there wasn't even enough to serve everyone in line. You even could have even given them one of the last few pastries in the case to make up for the inconvenience, because really you did feel bad.

But instead, you condemned her for being rude to you. You stood your ground and asked her to leave. Normally you wouldn't stick up for yourself like that in the bakery, you always had a professional response to everything and any situation that was thrown your way. But there was an anger bubbling inside you since you woke up this morning.

Three years ago the universe took a lot from you, and today when you just needed to give back to yourself, you were met with nothing but people taking more from you.

Steve was at home waiting for your time, the girls needed your effort, the customers needed more than you could offer them. They called you names, you worked yourself to the bone, and you were harboring guilt all dealing with a plethora of your own issues. So yes, you yelled back at her.That wasn't something you were going to feel bad about. She had it coming.

However, the anger from the day boiled inside you as you closed the bakery and made your way home. Saying you were overwhelmed and overstimulated was an understatement, and knowing you had an opportunity for just a few moments of alone time was the only thing holding you together.

You rushed into your house like a tornado, the front door slammed behind you in your residual gusts of wind. Not even bothering to lock it, you bolted up the stairs, straight through your bedroom and right into your bathroom where you subconsciously slammed the door once more. The bath was filling with steamy hot water and bubbles from your favorite soap in an instant.

Being so laser focused on a long hot bath, and being so stuck in your own anger made you miss the way Steve was sitting on your couch. You missed him locking the door behind you with big wide eyes, you missed him calling after you, you missed the way you had slammed not only your bedroom door, but also your bathroom door right in his face as your ripped through your house.

Quite honestly, Steve was feeling deeply concerned. He had never seen you anything but quiet and gentle before. Even on your saddest days you walked gently as if the ground was made of wispy cotton candy, you moved calmly, everything you did was quiet. But this? This was like the Tasmanian Devil from looney toons had possessed his girlfriend. This had him timidly knocking on the bathroom door before he entered, which you also somehow seemed to miss.

He poked his head in but didn't dare to enter. You were ripping your shirt off and kicking your shoes off your feet at the same time. "Everything okay?" He asked quietly.

"Jesus Chris-"You shrieked and jumped out of your skin. "What the fuck- dude. Don't sneak up on me like that."

"I'm sorry, I thought you heard me." Steve defended himself. "I was calling after you, I knocked on the door."

"Okay well, obviously I didn't hear you." You snapped, immediately feeling guilty but also feeling completely unable to take down your attitude down a notch.

His eyebrows raised, feeling surprised by your reaction towards him. "Are you okay?"

"Im so tired of being asked that as if I'm some ticking time bomb." As you continued undressing, you glared at him. You fucking hated that question, especially at this moment when it was very obvious that you were not. But, you could tell that your defensiveness was making him defensive, and that made you all the more anxious but you just couldn't stop. "But i'm just peachy! Thanks for asking!"

"I'm not what you're mad at." He reminded you. "I'm not the enemy."

He was right, but telling by his tone he was definitely not happy with you. "Can I just get some time to myself?" You took some deep breaths, but your tone was still putting up its fight. "Maybe like an hour? Please?"

Though Steve knew you were going through something, this was the first time the two of you even had anything close to an argument. He was trying not to feel hurt but he couldn't get Georgia's words out of his head. They played over and over again like a record with a deep scratch in its grooves.

She'll love you so hard, but shut you out when things get emotionally tough in her head. So much so that it'll suffocate you.

"You're shutting me out." Steve mumbled. He didn't know if it was to himself or to you, but either way it slipped passed his lips.

"I'm not shutting you out, I just need an hour to pull myself together because I can't regulate my emotions right now and I don't want to hurt your feelings by saying something I don't mean." You explained, pulling your hair up into a bun while your heart raced out of your chest.

"Should I not have come?" Steve asked, hurt in his eyes.

"What?" You asked, slowly remembering something you had overheard but completely blocked out from your memory.

"I feel like I shouldn't have come here." He said again, this time he hurt your feelings.

That one line from him set you right back into the way things used to be with your ex. You shut down your own feelings to protect yourself, and started pushing him away. "Are you feeling suffocated?"

His head snapped up and his eyes burned holes into your body as you sank into the bath. "I'm sorry I don't understa-"

"If you feel suffocated you can just go home, breathe some fresh air somewhere I'm not." You spat, trying not to cry.

"You heard that conversation with Georgia?" He asked, finally piecing together the puzzle.

"My window was open, I had no choice." You explained. "I know that she probably planted a little bug in your head. You've probably been worried about it every day since she said that to you."

"Sunflower you can't just-"

"Can't what?" You spat, arms resting on the side of the tub. "Tell you I'm not in a good place and I need a day to just feel better again? Communicate that I need some alone time to avoid exactly what's happening right now? Tell you I already feel bad about how you came here just for me to be in a not so great mental state?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out so it snapped shut.

"I'm trying Steve. I'm trying to be better, trying to not be so... suffocating but right now I'm giving all I have. This is it. And if it's not enough, you can just go home and we can deal with this later. I have nothing left."

"I'll leave if you want me to, but I can't get the Jet out of the hanger until the morning." He grumbled.

"The Jet?" You questioned, the cracks in your heart shattered even deeper in your chest.

"You told me to go home."

You chuckled as to disguise the way your heat shattered at the confirmation of your worst fear. Greenwood didn’t feel like home to him, and you were holding him back in the small town when his heart beloved in a big city. "Well I thought we were both in agreement that your home was one door over."

Steve immediately realized the damage he had done and instantly felt terrible for misunderstanding you. The guilt squeezed his chest making it hard to breathe, now he was the one who needed some time to himself just to reassess the damage that had been done and formulate a way to properly fix it.

"It is but I thought you meant-" The words continued escaping him. He couldn't even formulate a proper sentence anymore. Honestly, each of his words dug him a deeper grave that he had to lay in so he just decided to shut up. That's probably what you wanted from the moment he accidentally scared you in the first place.

"If you don't feel like this is your home, it doesn't have to be." You scolded him. "And if I'm suffocating you, you don't have to stay here. No one is forcing you to put up with any of this."

"Yet I'm still here, aren't I?" He pointed out.

"I need an hour." You firmly set your boundary. "Minimum."

"That's fine. I'm just... I'm gonna go home." Steve mumbled.

"Guess I'll find out where that is later." You said your peace before letting the whole of your tired body sink into the hot water.

Steve watched your lip wobble and your eyes close as you settled into the tub. One single tear fell down your face as you took some deep breaths and waited for the sound of the door to slam shut. It never did, instead there were footsteps towards you and the gentlest of kisses on the crown of your head before he left and the door clicked quietly behind him.

You used a little battery powered remote to turn off all the bathroom lights, and let the tears fall quietly as you kept your eyes closed and made peace with not being okay for a while.

The warm water, small dark room, and a cozy scent felt like the best sanctuary away from the craziness of the world. The warmth and pressure of the deep water felt like the hug you really needed all day, and the lack of stimulants made you feel as though you could catch your breath again.

Meanwhile, Steve went home and set a timer on his phone for one hour and one minute. If you needed a minimum of an hour, that's what he would give you before letting you know what he so desperately needed you to hear.

Just as your mind relaxed and you felt like you had a good grip on your emotions again, Steve's alarm went off.

The completely dark bathroom illuminated with a soft golden glow, even with your eyes closed you could see it through your eyelids.

Slowly opening them, you counted three lights. I love you.

Your hand moved up from its spot on your lower stomach, and gripped the sunflower on your necklace.

You squeezed it three times. I love you too.

Watching his watch light up gave him enough courage to get off his ass and actually execute the very plan he thought of the moment he stepped out of your front door.

A little while later, your bath ran cold and your eyes grew heavy so got out and dressed yourself. You dragged your heavy feet down the stairs for a calming cup of tea to help you sleep, they shuffled on the hardwood floors of the first level and stopped in place when you saw a sleepy and sad Steve on your couch.

His blank stare at the tv was distracted by your entrance, so he sat up and started explaining himself. "You told me to go home, but my home is wherever you are so I settled for the couch."

Everything in you ached, and you hated every second of the little argument you just had.

"You don't have to talk about what's happening, and we don't even have to talk about what happened upstairs until you feel better, but I don't want you to be alone." Steve explained, keeping his voice mellow and calm.

In that moment, you surrendered. Your white flag waved high up on a pole, and you chucked all your fears out of the window.

What happened to you was real whether people knew or not, and you and Steve were already on a pretty rocky road. Whether this would patch up the potholes or open up a sinkhole didn't really matter to you anymore. You were just desperate to not feel so alone inside of your own head.

So you walked towards him and dove into his arms. Much like he did last night, he held you safely against his warm body without question.

No longer asking if you were okay, he just let you be sad. He knew now that not everything needed a solution, but you definitely needed support.

You stayed there for a little while, finding the strength to let him in while simultaneously basking in his body heat. Really, he thought you weren't going to speak another word until tomorrow morning. But when he heard your quiet voice tucked between his neck and shoulder he almost couldn't believe it was coming from you.

"Three years ago my ex shoved me down the stairs." You started. After that you almost stopped, you could've just left it at that. You even waited a few moments to see if he had a response to that, but it seemed like he was more so waiting for you to continue. "We had a really bad argument right in the hallway, well, it started in the bathroom and he led me to the hallway. Something I said really pissed him off and he shoved me backwards. I lost my balance, fell down every single step."

Steve's arms wrapped tighter around you, unsure of when or if he was supposed to say anything to you. But some arm rubs seemed to do the trick as you settled deeper into his body and opened your heart to him.

"When he recalls the story, he said I tripped over my own feet and for a little while I believed him." You added.

"We're you okay?" Steve practically whispered.

"We got into that really bad argument because he had gotten me pregnant on accident" You revealed, feeling nervous to the point of nausea.

Once again, he didn't know how to respond to that, but he let out a little grimace hoping that where he thought this story was going would end up a thousand times better than what was in his head.

"It was an accident but I was excited, I always wanted to be a mom and I knew I could do it whether he wanted to be present in it's little life or not. He wanted me to terminate the pregnancy pretty early on, but I convinced him to let me take charge. I would do everything on my own, he's never have to lift a single finger, that's what we agreed on." You explained. "I was 12 weeks along and we found out it was a boy. I was so happy, but he just... blew up. He said I was trapping him- intentionally trying to ruining his life because I had everything I wanted in the palm of my hand. It was that same day I just so happen to trip over my own feet."

"I'm so sorry." Steve already knew this had a bad ending, he couldn't even brace himself for it.

"Baby lost his heartbeat before I could even make it to Greenwood Medical. Georgia was out of town when it happened, I didn't want to upset my mom with the news and loss of a baby in the same phone call, and my ex said if I needed to deal with the consequences of my own actions so I was alone in the hospital room for four days after an emergency extraction and sustaining a plethora of other injuries until Georgia could come him." You continued the story. "She brought me home from the hospital and took care of me night and day for a whole week before convincing me to file a police report. But the second he found out that I was trying to take legal action against him, he packed all his stuff and left. We couldn't even find him to serve a restraining order against him after that, nobody even knew he was in Arizona until a year after he left."

"When he was found, was a restraining order served?" Steve questioned.

You nodded. "I'm usually okay. I can think about the baby without getting sad, I remember those 12 weeks through rose colored glasses even though I was so terribly sick every day. But this is the one time of year I can't beat it. I get angry that it happened, I just wanted to track him down and scream in his face, I just feel mad at the world when I see happy moms with their kids. And this year, my period just feels like a cruel reminder that I'm definitely not pregnant."

Steve kissed your head as he tried to find the right words to make it better, but nothing could. Quite honestly, if he had been through anything like that, he was sure he wouldn't be as put together as you were regardless of the argument you two had, and the fact that you felt like you were falling apart.

A lot of situations clicked into place through your admission. Your fear of the hospital, your subtle reaction to him asking if you wanted kids, your hand that never seemed to leave it's spot on your tummy while you stared up at the ceiling last night.

"I usually spend this day alone, but everyone needed a lot from me today. Work was stressful and customers were yelling at me when I already had very little to offer the world. I didn't mean to shut you out, and I definitely didn't mean to be rude. I just... snapped and I'm really sorry." You finally apologized feeling so much lighter already. "You didn't deserve my attitude, and you weren't what I was mad about."

"It's okay, I knew something was wrong and I let my own hard head get in the way." He accepted. "I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions and not really hearing what you were saying."

"I completely understand, if you didn't know I get that my behavior probably seems completely irrational and dramatic." You sympathized. "I think you handled it pretty well."

"Nothing about your behavior today has been dramatic, and I definitely didn't handle that well." He denied. "But I know now, and I'll do better next time. I'm so sorry that happened to you, Sunflower. I don't even know what to say, but I'm sure you've heard every bullshit greeting card invalidating response under the sun already."

"Oh trust me, I know I'm young and I could just pop out another one whenever I want to." You chuckled at the accuracy of his statement. "Don't worry, I know Jesus or god or whoever is up there has a baby ready for me whenever I'm really ready to be a mom."

Steve physically cringed at those two statements, "Is there anything I can do for you to make this day better?"

You shook your head with an artificial grin. "Your patience and understanding has been more than enough."

He kissed the top of you head, and thought long and hard about words he could speak to bring you comfort, but you spoke again before he did.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my pregnancy sooner. I wasn't trying to hide it or keep it a secret, it's just.... It's hard to talk about. And I found that when I told people I was always met with these pitiful looks and sentiments that always made me feel worse than when I just kept it all bottled up. It's also something that I definitely would've been punished for in the past and I'm just trying really hard to unlearn all of the fear that comes along with rebuilding healthy relationships. I'm never trying to push you away when things get hard or shut you out, sometimes I just get scared and I don't know how to handle it."

"Well I think you're doing a really good job." Steve softly grinned down at you. His praise warmed your heart and your cheeks. "I can't imagine any of that was easy, so thank you for sharing that with me."

"You make it easy." You let out a sigh of relief.

"You're always safe with me, Sunflower." Steve reminded you. "Always. I mean that. I'm here for you whenever you need me for anything no matter what. Nothing will ever change the way I love you."

"Our love for each other has been pretty unconditional so far hasn't it?" You giggled.

Steve thought about what you said before smiling in agreement. "Yeah, we have been through some crazy stuff together haven't we?"

"I'd say so." You agreed.

"Did he have a name?" Steve questioned.

"The baby?" You reiterated.

"Yeah" he nodded with a grin.

"I never got the chance to give him one" You denied, "but I was calling him cinnamon roll."

"Awww cause he was a little bun in your oven?" Steve pouted because it was just too cute to handle.

"Exactly"

"Well in all the time cinnamon roll had with you, all he ever knew was the best mama in the whole world." Steve acknowledged, not wanting to dismiss what your grief was reminding you off today.

You lip trembled despite your genuine smile, and your eyes filled with tears. "Damn it honey, I just stopped crying."

"It's okay to cry" He smiled with you, giving you another squeeze. "Shedding some tears is wonderful way to spend the day regardless of the pain. It's just a reminder of how much you really loved him and I think that's beautiful."

"Thank you, Stevie, for everything. You're the best person I've ever had in my life, and I love you so fucking much." You dug your face back into the crook of his neck feeling an overwhelming amount of love for the baby you never got to know and the man holding you close.

"I love you too." He gently rocked you.

"I think you'll be the best dad in the whole world one day." You thought out loud.

"And you're the best mom ever."

Once again, that statement made the tears fall past the surface point. Steve let you quietly cry in his arms until he unintentionally lulled you to sleep.

But tonight unlike any of the night of the previous three years, your tears were full of joy. And instead of drifting off and thinking of the loss and the what if's, you thought of something much happier.

You reminisced on all of the times, the years, you settled for scraps. The times of your life you begged of any ounce of affection and support, you thought you had to earn it. When you did, the attention was laced with rejection, resentment lingered through every word and every touch.

And now you got to fall asleep in the safety of the arms of your favorite person. His words came without incentive, you didn't have to beg for his touch. You didn't need to earn the tender moments or reassurance.

It all just came so easy.

Though religion was something that escaped you early in life, you were convinced this new life you had was good enough to be heaven sent, and Steve was the closest thing to a real life angel you'd ever see.

You slept soundly that night knowing that one day whenever you were ready, you'd have a little cinnamon roll to love for the rest of your life.

And maybe a honeybun.

Maybe a popover.

And with full confidence they would be half you, half angel.

Next Part: Everything will be Okay

Please note that I understand I’m covering heavy topics in this series, but I wholeheartedly believe it’s important to highlight an experience that is unfortunately very common in womanhood. To be anything but a cis white man is to fight in a world that wasn’t made for you, and I think writing only experiences of sunshine and rainbows for readers is a disservice to capturing living a human life. Much love and lots of light to everyone reading 🤍🌟

Tag list: @patzammit @bemysugarbean @buckymydarlingangel @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @happinessinthebeing @differenttyphoonwerewolf @themotherof10 @lokislady82 @talesofadragon @spikeluv84 @xxxalicerogersxx @Avid-fic-reader-05 @royalwriteroftheuniverse @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bitchy-bi-trash @crazyunsexycool @openup-yourmind @selella @kattreffic @benedict-squirtle @magnificentsaladllama @natashassandwitch @theroyalmanatee @calwitch @avengersinitiative2012 @rogersbarber @daddywattpad4945

[moestavern]

The HOMOE Masterpost

Shoutout to @butchbarneygumble for oking me to steal this idea from their Moeney Masterpost! Go peep that btw.

I see almost no one acknowledge all the gay shit these two have going on so i have to ship them all by myself and honestly that's unacceptable given how much this show implies between them. And with a ship name like Homoe? You have got to be kidding me they were handed to me on a golden fucking plater.

Blah blah i know these are jokes or w/e but its a show, no one here is real, you are not affected by me wanting these middle aged men to kiss each other (more than they already do) so lets get on with it!

This is currently only clips from the show, i will go through the comics/books/etc. if anything's hidden in there and ill add it to this post in the future.

This is gonna be a long post so everything is gonna be under the cut.

Episode: (S2E11) One Fish, Two Fish, Blow Fish, Blue Fish

Homer Kisses Moe. Moe responds with "not in public". So in private then?

H: Oh words wont do it- I love you Moe M: Not in public

---

Episode: (S8E3) The Homer they Fall

Just this whole episode.

H: Are you an angel? M: Yes Homer, Im an angel. All us angles wear Farah slacks. H: But you stopped the fight. Wont everyone be mad at you? M: Eh, lettem be mad. The only thing that matters to me is your'e safe. - D: Homer, your manager obviously loves you very much.

---

Episode: (S9E16) Dumbbell Indemnity

Dancing together + hints throughout. "if you squint" kinda stuff but ill take my breadcrumbs.

---

Episode: (S11E6) Hello Gutter Hello Fadder

Homer and Moe consider one another life partners.

Ma: Well, the one sure cure for the blues is to talk it over with your life partner. H: You're right! - H: I cant believe it Moe. The greatest feet of my life is already forgotten. M: Geez, Homer. I never seen ya this depressed. As your life partner, Im very worried.

---

Episode: (S11E10) Little Big Mom

When Lisa calls the tavern, Moe asks if Homer is going to another bar like its a cheating situation. Look at me however you want that's how im taking this. Moe's clingy.

M: Hey uh- is Homer there? L: No, he isn't. I dont know where he is. M: Im a little worried. He usually stops in for an eye opener on the way to work. L: He told us he'd been going to the gym. M: Uhahaha- Wow. Anyway, you dont think he could be at another bar do ya? Because i couldnt take that- i- i just couldnt. *crying*

---

Episode: (S11E16) Pygmoelian

Homer tells Moe his acting is a turn on.

M: The one hole ive never been able to fix is the one in my soul. H: That was amazing Moe. Im actually a little turned on. M: Yeah, hey i gotta gift.

---

Episode: (S16E7) Mommie Beerest

The thing i dont say is that i primarily ship all three of them together especially during late seasons. Reading "Moe takes the place of marge" jokes as shippy is- a bit of a stretch? whatever, it includes Moe telling Homer "i love you" and Homer calling Moe "Honey".

H: What would Marge say? M: Do whatever you have to do to save Moe's. I love my Homie. H: Ok honey, ill do it! Ma: What's going on here? M: Nothin- Nothing.

Also Homer and Moe sharing a bed 1/2.

---

Episode: (S17E5) Marge's Son Poisoning

If i had a nickel for every time Moe and Homer were called life partners id have 2 nickels. Which isn't a lot but its weird that it happened twice. (This has to be a lie, im certain there is a third time this has happened, i have yet to find it again) "They're lying, they're trying to hustle" um stfu- idc that's his life partner. he said so.

RT: God dern it son- what tha hell kinna sissy are you? M: Hey are you calling my life partner a sissy? Cause a hundred bucks says he could whoop you in arm wrestling.

---

Episode: (S18E6: Moe n' a Lisa)

Moe tells Homer he loves him.

H: Seriously Moe, I think you have a gift. M: Thanks Homer, I love you man. H: OoooOH you love a man.

---

Episode: (S20E8) The Burns and The Bees

Moe explains bees having sex to Homer and Homer thinks Moe is talking about the two of them.

H: But how are we supposed to combine the DNA of two strains of the same species? M: Actually Homer *whispering* H: *gasp* You and me? M: No. The bees. H: Oh! Yeah yeah. That's what i meant too. I... have no... inclination...

---

Episode: (S21E30 The Great Wife Hope)

Moe takes Homer dressed as Marge to his class reunion. He says he took Barney the year before.

M: Lets go Marge. My class reunion starts in an hour. H: Uh, Moe, i have a confession to make. Im just Homer dressed as Marge. M: Yeah, but last year i took Barney dressed as Marge. Think how much better they'll think you look. Hmm? H: Well you better not leave me and talk to your old friends all night. M: Keep talkin like that and ill leave ya here right now.

---

Episode: (S21E21) Moe Letter Blues

Homer kisses Moe.

H: Moe, i dont know rather to punch you or kiss you. So im gonna do both.

---

Episode: (S24E2) Treehouse of Horror XXIV

Look, i know its a demon that looks like Moe and NOT Moe. But cmon what was this???

H: Listen, pal, you seem like an honest guy. Is there any other deal you can accept? D: Three way. H: Hm- You, me, Marge? D: Demon, demon, you. H: Sigh- I guess its one of those things a dad has to do. - H: Now before we start, what's the safe word? D: Cinnamon H: Oh! I like that. Now, id like to try something new, if you dont mind. D: Cinnamon. Cinnamon! Cinnamon! Cinnamon!

---

Episode: (S25E12) Diggs

Ok- so the way Bart describes his feeling for Diggs is really queer and Homer immediately compares that to his feelings towards Moe.

B: I met this kid. Little older. Kinda strange. I dont think other people get him but i just wanna hang out with him all the time. H: *gasps* Its even better than i thought. You found your Moe Szyslak!

---

Episode: (S27E10) The Girl Code

Homer kisses Moe.

M: Hey what tha hell? Get your kisser off my head puss! H: What? Its how greek men say 'hello'. Non sexual guy kissing is the best.

---

Episode: (S28E4) Treehouse of Horror XXVII

Moe kisses a picture of Homer twice.

Thanks @leibi97 for remembering this one for me!

--- Episode: (S28E13) Fatzcarraldo

Homer calls Moe his "sweet wonderful bartender"

H: i had a great day and i really wanna celebrate with the boys so dont wait up for me my sweet wonderful bartender, Moe. M: Alright but whos the boys? H: Marge's boobs. See ya!

---

Episode: (S29E16) King Leer

Homer carrying Moe into the store. But also i like this episode over all from a Homoearge standpoint.

M: When i cross this threshold i begin a new life! *Picked up by Homer* This is the first time that ive ever been carried into a store. Look at me now lady foot locker! Look at me now.

---

Episode: (S32E15) Do Pizza Robots Dream of Electric Guitars

Ok guys THIS is what im talking about when i say in later seasons i kinda ship all three of them.

Ma: Did you see how he ate his breakfast? He doesn't shuffle his pancakes like a deck of cards. He doesn't air drum while driving, or race the dog in butt scooting across the carpet. And he always won. He's not my Homie anymore. B: We didnt notice any of that. Ma: A wife knows. M: And a bartender. Hes just- hes just not the same. He dont spin Barney around on the stool no more. He dont drink beer from a crazy straw just a sensible straw. What are we gonna do about our little man Midge? Ma: Were just gonna have to love him that much more. M: I didnt think that was possible. - B: Im used to seeing mom upset about dad, but Moe. That really shook me.

---

Episode: (S35E7) Its A Blunderful Life

They love each other :)

M: How dare you show your face in here. H: Moe, its me, and beneith all the drinking and the jokes we have a real relationship. And that means something. M: What are you gettin at? H: C'mon man. Deep down, we kinda love each other. H: *thrown through window* M: Love you too

---

Episode: (S35E15) Cremains of the Day

Moe and Homer share a bed 2/2.

M: Oh cmon Lenny, ghosts aint real. eh

Holding each other.

---

Episode: (S35E17) The Tipping Point

Dont- Even- Get- Me- Started

M: Exact change huh? Thats it? H: Aw, i really wanna tip ya Moe, but i promised my wife id quit. M: Heres a thought Homer. What if you took the moolah outta your pocket but you just stopped before anything happened? Ya know, everything but the tip. H: That dosent seem like it could lead to anything. M: Sure it couldnt. H: *slowly hands Moe ten dollars* H: We shouldnta done that. M: Does that mean- that you wanna stop? H: No *hands Moe more money* *moaning* It feels so good *hands Moe more money* M: Dont stop you generous man *handed more money* *moaning* Aw yeah give it to me big boy H: *handing Moe more money* You like that? M: Oh thats the spot H: I can do this all night M: Right there H: Tell me you want it M: Oh god- Oh god- Oh god- Oh god! H: Yes- Yes- Yes- Yes! *Wallet sprays money on Moe* C: I need a new bar. - M: *following Homer out of the bar* Where ya goin? H: I cant stop tippin Moe. Im hooked on tha rush! I gotta monkey on my back and hes got his hand out. M: But, what about us? H: No one service worker can satisfy my needs. God help me im a tip-phomaniac.

---

Jesus ok i dont know how to conclude this post. I will make updates to this. I know im missing stuff.

This is about a 3rd of my "moe is bi" list so maybe ill make that its own masterpost.

Someone asked me today what ship dynamic they are and i told them "the dumb one/the evil one/the woman". My spouse and i have been watching Futurama and they pointed out to me it was the same dynamic when i said i saw something between Fry/Bender/Leela as a trio.

[chibi-celesti]

Time For Your Tune Up(Sebek Zigvolt)

A/N: How could I leave out the most extra(in terms of OCD), but ultimate ride or die for his Diasomnia family, first year to ever live?!

Sorry if the ending felt off. I wanted to close Sebek’s story off with something bittersweet, and this was the end result. Hope you enjoy!

Btw, You think his pee-paw Baul would be proud or depressed that he helped a human like this? 🤔

~TFYTU~

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!!!”

“I DIDN'T EVEN GET TO EXPLAIN ANYTHING!”

“STILL THE ANSWER IS NO!! If you are that desperate to take it, do it yourself!” He says while blushing like a dumbass.

Leave it to Sebek Zigvolt to be the most stubborn individual to ask. Yumei thought about asking him since they could relate to being half human together, he would be more understanding.

That was his biggest mistake.

“Fine, fine…” Yumei feigned defeat. “I’ll just ask Tsunotarou then. At least he was gentle with me last time!”

“YOU DID WHAT?!?!?!”

“Tsunotarou helped me last time? Are you jealous~”

“I-I AM NOT JEALOUS!!” (bullshit) “I AM ENRAGED THAT YOU MADE WAKA-SAMA TEND TO YOUR NEEDS!”

“What are you gonna do about it, then? Hmm~”

‘This little shit!’ The loud mouth first year fell for his trap hook, line and sinker. Refusing to fall or admit defeat, Sebek dragged the boy away to somewhere more private. Leading them both into an unused classroom. He ushered the Reyvateil deeper into the classroom, away from the doors and windows for privacy's sake.

Standing before him, Sebek ordered Yumei to give him the bag. He gave it to the greenette despite the skeptical look he gave him. “Now, you said that this needed to be administered inside you.”

“Yup.”

“Show me where exactly. Please.”

‘This was a first,’ Yumei thought. He lifted his school shirt up a bit to expose his mark by his ribcage under his armpit. He turned his face away in embarrassment. “You go in here, Sebek.”

The other only stared at it then pulled the necessary Life Extending Agent from the bag. ‘He stuffs things THIS BIG inside himself?! And Waka-sama did this too?’ He gauged the other with his eyes, who waited patiently for him to start. ‘Never thought that this would be his price for bearing half human blood…’

Sebek hugged Yumei close. “Hold your arm up.” He commanded. There was little resistance as the other complied, giving Zigvolt easy access to the port. A wince as the procedure began shook their tangled forms.

“Ow…”

“Weakling-Ack!” He got pinched on the neck.

“You're not the one getting something stuffed inside you! Ow!”

“Hold still then!” Sebek ordered, angrily. “You're making me nervous.”

“I’m trying, asshole.” Weakly, Yumei wrapped his arm that was in the air around Zigvolt's shoulders. Hiding his face, and taking in some comfort from him.

“Just…about. There. We are finished.”

The bluenette wiggled his arm to get the circulation flowing again before tucking his shirt down. “Thanks again.”

“Don't thank me, Yumei. You still need to do better to take better care of yourself.”

“If it helps,” He said, smoothing out the last few wrinkles on his shirt. “It's only an every three month process.”

“Th-three months?!”

“Yeah. How else did Tsunotarou manage to help me out one time? It was three months before Winter Break at best.”

“I-I see…”

...

“Well then, Yumei. Consider yourself no longer needing Waka-sama's aid!”

“Huh?”

“I SHALL BE YOUR AID TO ADMINISTER THE AGENT INSIDE YOU FROM NOW ON!!!”

Yumei's face exploded in the color red. “NOT SO LOUD SEBEK!”

Later, time jump:

“Sebek.”

“Mother.”

Mrs. Zigvolt looks to the sleeping Yumei recovering after a long stressful day in the Fae Ward. Nestled in his arms was a little bundle of joy, a baby he and Sebek had taken in after a bad storm rocked the side of Briar Valley and nearly claiming a small village. The little one's parents were lost to him, but Yumei offered to take him in. He stayed with him all through out the tiny one's own check up.

“Your partner did well out there saving as many of our people. I'm proud of him.”

“Thank you!” He smiled. “If only grandfather could have seen this…”

“He is one with the stars. He is no doubt proud of what you've become.” She then gently patted his head. “And while he may not be happy at first like he was with me, I know he would warm up to your Human, eventually.”

Sebek nodded. “It's…not an easy task. I do wish there was more I could do to prolong the inevitable.”

“You still have about 15 years together.”

“Even so.”

“Then,” She pushed him towards her son's new family. “Take a chance and live this life with him and your new son.”

“...I will, mother. Thank you.”

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 2: Late Night Visitor

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter two of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (once or twice), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. Reader is described as being "curvy." I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

1934 Philadelphia

The subtle scratch of your pencil against the smooth page of the sketchbook filled your quiet bedroom. One look at the ticking clock on your bedside table stated that it was past midnight, but you didn't care. The dark circles under your eyes the next morning were well worth it, tiredness forgotten as the haze of creativity dulled the weariness of the day you'd had.

It was your fifteenth birthday, and although your parents had thrown you a lavish party to prove that the y/l/n family had not been touched by the destruction of the depression and were not concerned with the horrors of war overseas, there was only one person that you wanted to be there.

Ben wasn't of course. He was still at boarding school number five, and you imagined that a number six was already in order, given his track record.

You smile to yourself when you think of your best friend. You hadn't seen him in two months, not since you walked with him to the train station and he tried to act like he didn't care that his father was sending him away again, but you knew he did.

The things that Ben's father said and did to him made anger surge behind your ribcage. You didn't understand how his father could be so callous, so uncaring. You also hate that it drove Ben to drink, though Ben didn't seem to drink quite as much when you were around, because he knew that you didn't like it.

The party would have been more entertaining if he was there. Yes he did tend to get drunk and flirt with whatever walked past him, but he always had a way of cheering you up. And he had a wonderful knack for keeping your mother at a distance, who prayed that Ben would stay away from you, but never did.

If he was there your mother wouldn't have hovered over you all night, slapping away your hand every time you tried to take a piece of cake or hiss something at you when you pulled at the itchy pink dress that she brought home three days ago, your least favorite color. When you got dressed for the party you felt like a porcelain doll in a China cabinet, made to be looked at, but never touched.

It wasn't too far off. Being the only daughter of one of the richest families that lived in Philadelphia your reputation and pedigree were two of the most important things to your mother. It meant that in a few years you would be married off to another rich family, have rich babies, and then put your own daughter through the same cycle of hell all over again.

Suitors were already beginning to trickle into your life, sons of your father’s business partners each screened by your mother before the introductory meetings where you felt bored, stiff,  choked by the thick fabric of the dresses your mother picked out, and plastered with makeup. All of course the best of Europe, which you had no idea how your mother managed to get given that there was a war on.

Ben was the only thing in your life that wasn't planned and you loved him for it.

You look up at the dark corner of your room to get a view of the long shadows that creep along the bedroom floor, and cut through the light coming from the gas lantern on your bedside table. You try to distinguish the sharp edges and smooth curves and watch them take shape beneath the ministrations of your pencil against the page.

Art was your only escape, the only thing you did that your mother approved of.

"A proper lady should have a hobby." She had sniffed, but then narrowed her eyes at the graphite and ink stains on you hands.

Part of the fun is the mess. You had thought to yourself watching her disapproving look.

A tap on your window makes you lift your gaze from the page and look towards the window seat that faces out the third story of your home onto the street below.

Ben is crouched there on the ledge that juts out only a foot from the outer brick wall a wide smile on his face that you can't help but return. You had been friends since you were both eight, when your parents threw yet another party and you found Ben in one of the side rooms trying to avoid his father. When his father tried to come in to find him, you lied and said you hadn't seen Ben.

And when his mother died two years later, Ben would show up some nights, scaling the large tree outside your window to stay with you. He never wanted to talk about it and you never asked, instead you talked about everything else until you both fell asleep.

You felt your heart thud loudly in your chest and a familiar warmth tracing lightly against your skin when you lock eyes with him. It was hard to be in love with your best friend. But you were, and you couldn't tell him. You didn't want to ruin the only meaningful relationship you'd ever had in your life. Ben knew everything about you, you trusted him and you couldn't imagine what it would be like to live your life without him, didn't want to.

Sometimes you hoped he felt the same way. When you woke up before him in the morning and the light from the window made his hair lighter and he held you close to his chest because in his sleep he had wrapped his arm around you. You liked to pretend that he did it on purpose, not just because there was barely any room between the two of you in your bed because now you both weren't as small as you used to be. You don’t know when Ben got so broad, tall, and muscular, but now it was impossible to ignore, especially being pressed against his chest when you woke.

 It was improper to be that close in bed together of course, but you didn't care. You didn't care what other people thought about him or you. He was your best friend, and although you wished for more, you wouldn't turn your back on him just because other people thought he was trouble.

Which he was.

You put your sketchbook down and go to the window to unlock it. "Ben what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't miss your birthday." He smirks as you take his hand to help him into your bedroom.

"What about school?"

"Wasn't a good fit." Ben pushes his dark hair out of his eyes and you try not to think about what it would be like to do it yourself.

"Uh-huh. What you're really saying is that you flunked out of another boarding school just to make it back for my birthday. Right?" You laugh.

"Thought it would be a nice birthday surprise." He leans forward with a smirk. "Would you like to unwrap your present?"

You roll your eyes and raise a hand to push him back, but he catches it against his chest.

"Come on. You're telling me that you didn't miss me? Not even a little?" Ben pretends to be hurt.

Of course you missed him. When he wasn't there it felt like apart of you was gone, but you couldn't tell him that. You knew that Ben didn't feel the same way. He was just flirty, all the time.

"No."

"Liar." He says. "How was the big party?"

"Oh it was the bee's knees." You snark. "I danced with Howard Stine and he stepped on my toes, my mother didn't let me eat and bought me a ridiculous dress-"

"Let me guess, pink?"

"Pink and ruffly. I looked like a giant cupcake."

"I'm sure Howard loved it." Ben sing-songs.

"Shut up." You punch his arm. "He's not that bad-"

"With a boring name like Howard, imagine how boring he'd be in-"

"Big talk from a guy named Benjamin." You interrupt.

The look in Ben's eyes darkens for a minute. "I'd be happy to prove you wrong."

You shake your head at him to stop the flush in your cheeks and avoid the way your breath catches in your chest at his words.

It would be so easy to give in to him, but you knew that Ben didn't see you that way. Ben had chased after anything and everything that caught his eye. If you were to give in, you were afraid of what would happen after. Ben was your best friend and if you crossed that line what would it mean?

"You're incorrigible."

"If that's another word for gorgeous then yes, yes I am."

You turn back to the bed and where your sketchbook waits, trying to calm your racing heart.

"But you don't want your birthday present?" Ben asks from behind you.

"What happened to you being the present?"

"I am a gift, but I did get you something."

You turn and see that Ben is holding out a package wrapped in gold paper a little bit larger than a book. Surprise momentarily spikes at the back of your mind. Ben had gotten you gifts in the past, but you hadn't expected one this year, especially since he just got out of boarding school.

"Did you steal it?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Not this time."

You take the box from his hand and sit down on your bed to peel back the paper. "I can't believe you actually wrapped this."

"The saleswoman did. Now she was really-"

"Don't need to know." You shake your head with a smile, eyes still on the gift. When you finally pull back the paper you can't help but smile. It's a box of watercolor paints, a package of brushes, and a small pad of watercolor paper. "Ben-" You look up at him with a wide smile. "Thank you!"

 "Do you like them?" Ben asks hesitantly, he looks almost nervous.

"I love them! I've never tried to paint before."

"I know. I remember said you wanted to try. Plus I thought you could do some nice nudes of me in color-" Ben smirks.

"Ben!" You snort.

“I’m just trying to help you learn how to draw anatomy.” He wets his lips with his tongue arching an eyebrow in a challenge. “Of course there are more fun ways that I could teach you that.”

“Ben!” You flush bright red.

“Sorry. Sometimes you’re too easy.”

“I don’t know why I put up with you.” You shake your head at him with a smile.

An odd look crosses his face, but it disappears as quickly as you see it.

"Honestly, thank you. I can't wait to try these out." You look back down at the paints, admiring the silver box they came in.

"You're welcome."

Ben hovers by the window at the edge of your room as if debating whether or not he should stay. After all these years you noticed that Ben had trouble with the idea that you genuinely wanted him there. You knew it stemmed from his father's constant disapproval and his father's constant need to push him away, and it made your heart break for him.

And yes, maybe Ben did fill his life with brief flings and alcohol, but he was still your Ben.

"You’re going to stay right? Because you’ve already missed my birthday and I’d like to know how you got kicked out of boarding school number five.”

He nods once a small smile quirking the edge of his lips before he removes the dark jacket with the embossed prestigious logo of the aforementioned boarding school. It catches on his shoulders and you look away before he can see your blush.

“Are you hungry?”

Ben shakes his head.

“Ben, when was the last time you put something in your stomach besides alcohol?” You raise an eyebrow. He couldn’t lie to you and you knew he was only saying no because he didn’t want you to have to creep downstairs in the dark and also because he didn’t want to admit that he was hungry.

“Earlier.” He says it with a shrug, looking down at the coat in his hands to avoid your gaze.

“Well I was going to go see if I could find some of that birthday cake anyway. I haven’t eaten since this morning and all I had was half a grapefruit.”

“Another diet?” Ben frowns.

“Mother thinks I can slim down a little more. Says that I’d get more suitors if my hips were not so big.” You try not to dwell too much on it, you’d been dealing with your mother’s constant berating  since you were born. The corset you’d worn at the party was so tight that it left bruises on your hips and under your arms, but your mother had been pleased with how it looked. “She won’t be happy until I’m thinner than a chicken bone I suppose.” Instead of looking at Ben you stand and turn to look at yourself in the full length mirror in the corner. You never thought that your hips were too big or that your chest was, yes you were more curvy than any of your friends but you liked it.

"You shouldn't listen to her."

You shrug.

"I'm serious y/n. You're-" Ben stops talking.

"What?" You turn to look at him again eyes wide and open.

"Well you're-" Ben looks nervous again, tightening his hands on the dark jacket. He swallows. "You're not fat." Ben finishes.

"Well I don't think I'm fat Ben, but thank you." You can't help but be a little disappointed with his answer, you were hoping that he would say that you were beautiful.

My mother thinks I’m fat. You try not to wince when you think it, but instead you focus back on Ben.

"Alright, stay here. Try not to wake my parents up."

"Trust me that's the last thing on my mind doll."

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know. :)

Taglist: @roseblue373

[raainberry]

Blue Hour

“The blue hour is the idea that everything is about to end or, on the contrary, that everything is about to start again.”

Jihyo x gn!reader

Fluff

synopsis - it was only supposed to be a fling

wordcount - 1.9K

T/W - Blood (mentioned (1) once)

A/N - missing the killing me good era😔 i actually don’t know how to feel about this one but i miss my girl so

Twenty to thirty minutes.

That’s how long it takes for the sun to fully rise. To show itself in the morning.

It takes the same amount of time to fully disappear. To hide itself in the evening.

In each case, the moon isn’t too far away. You remember seeing it every time before she showed up.

And every time after she left.

Nature’s schedule is strict. So was her’s, leading the two of you to only meet at night: in between two blue hours.

“It’s a little cloudy today.”

The sound of her voice broke your staring contest with the moon, finding the glow in her eyes to be more interesting. The latter shone brighter than yesterday, you noticed as she leaned against the railing beside you.

Your own smile pulled a little more at your lips as well, excited to see hers again. You’d only part for half a day’s worth every time, yet it always felt like it stretched as each day passed.

“I didn’t get to see much of the sunset on my way home.” She pouted. “Did you?”

She hoped the rooftop of her apartment building had offered a better end to your day than it did hers. After all, the sunrise and sunsets she’d witnessed from here so far were nicer.

You shook your head in response, though, making her frown. “Just a glimpse.”

“Maybe it’ll be better tomorrow.” She said, still hopeful.

Her optimism made you smile. The sun could stop shining for all you cared, she would do its job better anyway. She was one little sunshine, a true ray of light you wouldn’t have dared to approach if she hadn’t done so first.

“I doubt it. Fall is coming soon.” You reminded, but she shrugged, looking at the darkening horizon with the same spark in her eyes.

“The sun still sets during Fall, don’t be so depressing.”

“But it’s not as pretty.” You pointed out, pulling her eyes to you.

Maybe that’s what you were looking for, she realised, giggling at the sight of a familiar smirk on your lips.

“And what if I’m there?” She asked, grinning and posing with a hand under her chin for you.

She fluttered her eyelids, giving further into her own banter; her grin warm, playful and inviting as she urged you to join her point of view.

You couldn’t help but laugh at her antics, giving in to the harmless corruption with a soft kiss on her happy lips. She managed to steal a few more from your own, smiling into each one despite having to chase them.

When you managed to pull away, she pointed fun at your flushed cheeks, something you expected by now. You sported the shade proudly, her teasing never bothered you, but sometimes you did wonder how she managed to turn you into such a mess.

Maybe it was because things were still recent between the two of you. Or maybe you were just too far gone and—in all honesty—too down bad for her.

Either way made sense, so you never bothered to look further.

“Why do you still blush like that, we’ve been doing this for weeks, you should be used to it.” She teased, but her words landed in a different tone on your ears.

They made you think.

For weeks, you repeated…

“I am, that’s the problem.” You slipped out just under your breath. It was too late to retain the words, so you tried to keep them out of her ears.

It’d been weighing on your mind for a bit, how uncertain your relationship with Jihyo has been.

Whatever was going on between the two of you, it wasn’t exactly conventional anymore.

It was, only until about three weeks ago, when it was all supposed to end. You should not have seen her face past August 31st. That’s how flings worked. How summer flings worked at least. Or how you thought they worked?

You weren’t really sure of anything regarding love and affection. Relationships had taken a whole new meaning the second she laid her lips on yours that one night at the bar.

The feelings, the thoughts, the moments… It was all new.

She was new.

Maybe infatuation was the right word at the time. Now it just felt weak. Unqualified. Wrong.

You couldn’t tie the bond you’d developed down to such an ephemeral idea.

Not when your feelings for her settled in your heart with intentions so far out of field.

“The problem?” She repeated after a while.

Way to ruin the mood, you mentally congratulated yourself.

“What exactly is the problem, Y/N?” She asked, holding onto your sleeve with a couple fingers.

A timid and discreet gesture that didn’t go unnoticed. Your eyes fell down to her hand, and you couldn’t help but feel some of that hope she’d showcased minutes before.

Meeting her eyes again, you noticed the spark was gone, replaced by a clouded gaze similar to the blue sky above. It seemed heavy. Not as dark, only busy.

Was she worried?

“I just… Don’t know where this is going. That’s all.” You tried to shrug it off, pulling your hand away to get the sleeve out of her grip.

The busy streets below kept an awkward silence away from the two of you, allowing you to feign interest about their noise and random happenings.

The distraction could have been sweet if only it weren’t from your own mind.

It was hard not to think it all over. It was hard to focus on the rational part of it. The one telling you to leave tonight before getting hurt more than you already were.

It was hard because of how loud the other part was.

The one happy with just a glance from the woman beside you. Happy with just standing next to her. Seeing her smile, hearing her laugh. Satisfied with her kiss, her touch… As long as you learned more about her.

More than you should.

You sighed into the night, feeling your rationality push through.

“Would it make you feel better if I said I don’t know either?” She broke the silence.

Your eyes found her again, catching her smiling down at her own hands. That smile seemed heavy as well, as if she was forcing it out to avoid any other reaction.

“Not at all.” You said truthfully, causing a chuckle to escape her lips.

You didn’t understand why, especially when her eyes started watering instead of just… crinkling in joy.

Her teeth suddenly pulled on her bottom lip, nearly drawing blood as she tried to find words. The right ones. Ones that would make you stay even longer.

Her lips alone weren’t enough for that anymore.

“But… Don’t you want to figure that out together?”

A breath caught in your throat. Then another, after a second. It felt as though you didn’t know how to breathe anymore. Like her question shook much more than your heart.

You looked at Jihyo once more, hoping it would fix it like it did everything else, but her focus remained on her own fingers.

“I know I want to.” She said, picking at her nails, a giveaway of her nerves. “I just thought it was obvious.”

Her eyes finally raised to meet yours, sadness written all over the smile she tried to send you.

“Do you actually?”

Your voice came out a whisper, and it didn’t surprise you. You weren’t sure you wanted to know her answer to that question. You gave her a chance not to hear it. To get away and break the rules with no consequences for a little longer.

Truth was you’d let her.

“I think I like you.”

There it went again; your breathing.

“You think?” You chuckled, but only to fight the tears suddenly pooling in your eyes. “Jihyo, I can’t do this anymore.”

You stared out ahead, your gaze landing on nothing and everything all at the same time. So many lights, buildings, so many trees and people… Yet nothing registered.

All you could process, all you could feel… It emaned from right next to you.

The skies above reminded you of it. The familiar blue drowned its details as time deepened its shade. You watched it happen so many times with her you could blindly tell the time.

08:10pm.

That’s when she decided to take your hand in hers, pulling you away from the overwhelming sights.

That’s when you felt the warmth of her hands against your cheeks as she made you look into her eyes instead.

You focused on the lights reflecting in them instead, trying to avoid her thoughts. They could hurt.

“Tell me something, Y/N…” She trailed off, her eyes desperate for even a sign of your focus on her. “Do you regret any of what happened between us?”

“Yes.”

You watched silently as the effects of your answer painted her features.

They tensed up. Eyebrows lowered, lips narrowed, yet eyes watered, holding a sense of hopelessness you witnessed for the first time… It was messy. As if even she didn’t know how to feel.

You, however, could tell.

She wasn’t angry. She was exasperated. Frustrated.

“Can you feel it too now? Do you see why I regret it?”

You should have known she wouldn’t answer the way you wanted her to.

You knew she was stubborn.

You should have expected her lips on yours.

Just like you knew you’d melt into them with a single kiss despite yourself.

Your will never mattered when it came to her. You always ended up folding to hers, giving into a second kiss before intiating the third one.

And you rarely pulled away first.

“Why?” You practically begged through breaths she’d stolen from you.

The gentle brush of her thumb against your skin, the warmth and care she seemed to hold in her eyes for you, the silent words you could make out in them… It almost made you break down right then and there.

It all suddenly became so obvious.

“Because I like you.” She smiled.

It was bright again. It made you believe her a little more, although you still weren’t convinced.

Maybe she sensed that, as she wasted no time to argue her point.

“That’s why I’ve been making excuses to keep seeing you.”

“My flight back was delayed, can I stay at your place?”

“The company’s letting me choose the flight date and I don’t actually have to go back to work for another week…”

“Can we stay friends? I’d love to just hang out with you. Maybe come see me in Seoul some time?”

“It just happened, let’s just put this on reunion excitment.”

“Yes, friends don’t kiss each other. But friends with benefits do. So no, it’s not weird.”

Maybe they were not all excuses. Some you definitely had a hand in. Yet you remained clueless for some reason.

Love really makes you dumb.

“I thought you were playing me.” You mumbled.

“Then you don’t know me at all.” She said, amused.

“That would be because I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Yet you learned to, didn’t you?”

You nodded, looking down in embarrassment. You couldn’t help but feel ashamed of the drama you’d caused.

You scolded her for not being honest, but you were just as guilty.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled again. “This is all new to me, I guess I freaked out a little.”

Your confession caused a few giggles to escape her lips, to your delight. The sound made you smile as you admired the happiness radiating from her features again.

The intensity of your emotions made it feel as though it had been months since you last had the chance to.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. My intentions could have been a little clearer.” She admitted. “I want to date you.”

You chuckled at her small clarification, finding the moon in the dark blue sky again.

It shined a little more. The blue was turning into its darkest shade yet, as the day finally left room for the night.

The blue hour was over, and it made you smile.

You had all night to spend with Jihyo. The woman holding your smiley cheeks so softly in between her hands.

For the first time since you met her, you couldn’t wait until the next one.

Because this time you won’t have to forget about her once the sun comes out of hiding.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Let's say you have complete creative control.

How would you write a Marinette (non-Akuma/Amok) corruption arc?

If I had complete creative control, I wouldn't do a corruption arc for Marinette, I'd do one for Gabriel. But I'm assuming you want me to pretend I would do one for Marinette, so I will because why not? How I'd do it would depend heavily on when the writing team gave up and shoved the story into my hands. For the purposes of this hypothetical, I'm going to have to lean into the bad writing, so read on at your own risk.

Current state: as of the end of season five, Marinette seemingly knows that Adrien is a sentimonster. Marinette also has anxiety issues and there's a new butterfly villain on the loose whose knowledge regarding Adrien and connection to Gabriel are unknown. We also have Felix's previous less-than-heroic actions and Nathalie's status as Gabriel's former right hand lady. With all these less-than-awesome people out there, fully aware of Adrien's vulnerability, we have a pretty fantastic setup for an arc where Marinette gets ever more paranoid and controlling in the name of keeping Adrien safe from this new villain. Basically have her spiral into Gabriel 2.0 where her love for Adrien is used to justify terrible things. Not a setup I'd want to watch, but it does fit the show's treatment of The Power of Love so, you know, do with that what you will.

Season three up to near the end of season five: Something to do with Lila making Marinette lose all faith in her friends because, if you're going to write them as terrible friends, you may as well own it. Have Marinette feel like she's sacrificing everything for people who treat her like a villain or a child in spite of all she does, so she decides why bother to be the good guy? Why make all these sacrifices when it never works out for her? I'd probably have her stop showing up to fights like Chat Noir did in Kuro Neko, only if Ladybug did that it would be a much bigger deal. You could even have her full out quit and give Chat Noir her miraculous and the miracle box as a bit of a "fine, you do it and see if you can do it better" thing. Basically anything that lets her go fully selfish due to pressure and poor treatment since it's really not fair that Adrien's the only one who's allowed to miss battles and give up his miraculous when he doesn't feel appreciated.

A variation on this could be quitting because of something like her friends are putting too much pressure on her re:Adrien combined with the show's love of never letting her make the right call when it really matters, so she snaps from all this pressure on every side.

Pre season three: I don't think there's really a great lead up to a corruption in the earlier seasons. Things were pretty great back then. Idk, maybe have her snap from frustration with Chat Noir never taking things seriously, so she starts mimicking him, leading to people getting hurt? (Reminder, I think this is a writing issue when it comes to Chat Noir, but it's there and I said we were going to lean into canon's bad writing for this so here we are.)

And there you go! My takes on evil!Marinette. As I said at the start, I'm not interested in writing any of these. While I do think canon has the setup for them, they rely too heavily on things canon should never have done. Things that don't fit my image of Marinette's core character.

I'm also not big on corruption arcs for heroes. For me, they fall under the same category as the broken partnership/team trope: interesting concept, but one that's rarely executed in a satisfying way. They also tend to be too depressing and/or tragic for my tastes.

My two major hobbies are writing/reading fiction and studying world history/cultures. World history isn't all doom and gloom, but there's a lot of harsh, tragic, and sad things to be found in the past. As such, I've never really enjoyed fictional stories with a hopeless feeling to them. I turn to fictional worlds to escape reality. To go to places full of satisfying endings that are, at worst, bittersweet. If I'm reading a tragedy, I want something that's all or mostly historical fact. Not a matter of judgment, just one of personal preference.

[gale-dragon-writer]

Guardian Zestial Pt 2

Zestial, of course, flourished as one of the strongest and oldest Overlords of the Pride Ring. He's been gaining souls at a nice steady rate, despite losing some during Extermination Day. His territory has been expanding nicely, especially since one of the neighbouring Overlords was killed during one of the said events. Honestly, Zestial barely touched the extra power that Lucifer had given him since the Deal, he'd just been using all the other perks.

As far as the Pride Ring is concerned, Zestial seemed to have taken a child under his cloak to train her as an apprentice or something along that line and she just happens to resemble the Princess of Hell. Even if some knew about the closeness Zestial had with the Morningstars, they were either dead (mostly because of Extermination Day), didn't have any proof, or knew enough not to question it.

One day, while Zestial is out for a midnight stroll, he runs into an unexpected foe. The attack was fast and Zestial bearly launched a counterattack, dipping into a bit into that extra power to ensure he dealt a great amount of damage to whoever the opponite was.

Zestail heard a strange yelp of pain before turning to see a pair of glowing red eyes vanishing and the sounds of hurried footsteps moving away from him. Zestial narrows his eyes before he goes to inspect where he heard his attack made contact. All he could find was a nice pool of blood and the trail of it that came from when the attacker fled.

Zestial follows the trail of blood, to finish the job, but when he gets to the end, there isn't anyone. Just a tattered piece of red cloth from what the Overlord could assume was the attacker's clothing. Zestial picks up the cloth and decides to keep it as a souvenir, and as something to use to find out who tried to kill him should they attack again.

More time passes, Charlie becomes an adult so she doesn't need any bodyguards by this point (mostly), but she still likes to spend time with Zesital. Mostly for tea, having fun with some magic, and singing their favourite songs and show tunes (fight me on that last one, I dare you!).

Extermination Day was still one of the worst days in Hell, but other than that, things seemed "fine"... At least until Lilith and Lucifer separated... Much like Lucifer and Charlie, Zestial was hurt and confused by this. The Overlord did his best to try to keep the Morningstars together, but Lilith's leaving drove a nasty wedge between father and daughter for reasons that Zesital didn't know.

Zestial did his best to figure out and fix what happened, but neither Lucifer nor Charlie wanted to discuss it. Zestial knows he can't push either to tell him, so he does his best to keep the two grounded.

Lucifer falls into a depression like in the canon, but Zestial makes sure to check in on him. The Overlord usually brings tea, food, some photos of Charlie, necessities, and some conversational topics to keep the Lord of Hell grounded.

Charlie, on the other hand, throws herself into creating solutions to Extermination Day that Heaven would agree to. Like her father, Zestial makes sure that she's taking care of herself without pushing while tossing in some ideas on her plans.

The Carmine Family are somewhat aware of the Morningstar Family issue. They don't know the full details but more than the rest of Hell. Due to the Deal, Zestial can't tell them more than what's already known. The Carmines try to help/spend time with Charlie when she's around, and while they don't think that her plans will work they try to be supportive when they can.

About three years after Lilith vanishes, Charlie spends one Extermination Day at Zestial's office building. The Princess was trying to distract herself from what was happening outside by talking with her Guardian about a property that she bought last month and her many plans to try to use that property to hopefully save Sinners. The two toss around a few ideas to pass the time until the day is over.

After the Extermination has ended, Zestial sees Charlie out and they find an injured female Sinner slumping right across from the front door of the building. Of course, Charlie jumps in to help the Sinner, conjuring up a first-aid kit as Zestial takes a careful look around for anyone wanting to take advantage of the situation.

After Charlie patches the Sinner up, she helps her towards Zestial's building. The Overlord spots someone with a weapon closing in and effectively terrorizes the would-be attacker. The Sinner is completely scared after witnessing this display, but it doesn't last long when Zestial quickly opens the door to his building for Charlie and the Sinner, to usher them in.

Charlie takes the Sinner inside for a more proper medical patch-up. The Sinner is rather confused by Zestial's oddly polite actions but does not put up a fight when he helps with healing her

They later learn that the Sinner's name was Vaggie.

Zestial could sense some fondness Vaggie had for Charlie but decided to wait until he had a clearer picture before he acted on this.

Which he did when the two started dating a year later, and gave Vaggie the whole "You break her heart and I'll break you" conversation in an oddly pleasant manner. In all honesty, it made Vaggie think that Zestial was Charlie's father, at least until she learns that her new Girlfriend is the Princess of Hell.

It doesn't change Vaggie's feelings for Charlie, just throws her for a loop.

When the Carmine Family find out about Vaggie, of course, Odette and Clara go all big sisters and Carmilla tests Vaggie's battle prowess (after she has properly healed up). Zestial watches this from a distance while sipping some tea, much to Charlie's embarrassment.

Long story short... Vaggie likes the well-meaning but tough family Charlie has. Though she doesn't understand where Lucifer is in all this and everyone seems to dodge the question when asked. So Vaggie drops the inquest and just enjoys her time with Charlie.

It didn't take long before the girlfriends got on the idea of rehabilitating Sinners and making a hotel to accomplish this.

Soon the Happy Hotel was in the planning stages on the property Charlie bought. Zestial told Lucifer about this, the Lord of Hell wanted to do something to help but wasn't sure how anymore so he gave Zestial some sentient magic and told him to give it to Charlie to help with her hotel.

Zestial does just that, telling Charlie it was a gift from Lucifer. Charlie is a little reluctant to accept but she does. The Happy Hotel is magically constructed all on its own, and Keekee materialises at the front door with a meow of a hello.

With that, all that was left to do was plan the rehabilitation and try to recruit Sinners into the program. Zestial wishes them luck. The Carmine Family send them their good luck as well and mentions that if the hotel needs a security system, they're willing to install a good one. Just in case, (because, yah know, they're in Hell).

At the same time, there were some issues with some of the other Overlords that needed Zestial's attention, but he was sure to tell Charlie that if she needed any help of the defending kind to call him on his cell. (Hey, Zestial is old but given that he prefers to learn and wait until he knows more, I'm sure he would own a cellphone).

Zestial HATES it when there are new Overlords that gained a lot of power in a short timeframe, trying to bite off more than they can chew. They're nothing but annoying, a waste of time, and cause nothing but problems because of their inflated egos.

It would be so easy to just off them for their ignorance, but Zestial knew better than to create a power vacuum. It would just cause more problems. So he just "teaches" them a lesson. (Aka, he puts Valentino and Vox in their place to remind them of how Hell works. Velvette isn't in Hell yet by this point, so she never witnesses Zestial's powers).

To be continued in pt 3

Here's Pt 1.