#just like abuse doesn't end just because you leave your abuser -- you have to work on freeing yourself to be free

[uncle-fruity]

[Image ID: tags from Tumblr user strawberri-syrup that read: #how do u translate knowing u do this into actually fixing it #my lack of communication has killed all my friendships and idk where to start /End ID]

Hey, good question! It's one thing to know about what your behaviors are and another thing to know how to change them into new (hopefully helpful) behaviors. Idk if this will help you, but I'm going to bring up some strategies to help folks break free of their people pleasing habits.

Let's focus on you, first. Being a people pleaser requires you to objectify and dehumanize yourself in the process, so that is what you're working against. When you people please, there is a part of yourself that has decided your comfort and your needs are not as important or worthy as other people's comfort and needs. This isn't usually a conscious decision, but rather learned through past experiences and current insecurities. It's why a lot of people pleasers have a history of emotional abuse: the abuser requires you to shut down your emotional needs and predict their moods, and when you can't do that (no one can forever) they punish you. So you might very well have picked up the message that you are only as good as you are useful or only as good as you are patient/nice and that any amount of "negative emotion" (anger, sadness, disappointment, etc) will not be tolerated even by people you love.

That is a hard cycle to break out of. So, to start, I think it's good to take some time to reflect on what emotion or belief drives your need to people please and bottle yourself up. Working against feelings of insecurity, fear of abandonment, fear of ridicule, fear of conflict... that's the hardest part of this, but it's also the most important thing to practice. But there are things that will help you.

So let's say you've already figured out why you act like this. You know why you tend to people please and you're in the middle of processing your feelings about it. Good! That will be an ongoing process. But reflection and wanting to change aren't much without action behind them, and that is much harder than just thinking about things.

So! First really actionable thing you can do is set some boundaries! You don't have to do the scary telling your friends part yet, you just need to know what your boundaries are. A lot of people pleasers don't know what their boundaries are. They might have boundaries, but they let people walk over those boundaries because they don't recognize that they were boundaries to begin with. So, define those. Maybe you don't like being touched in certain ways. Maybe you get anxious and need to leave in certain situations. Maybe you need to have a dedicated time for just yourself without anyone contacting you... idk what your needs are; I'm not you. But you are you and you know what you need and want -- or at least have a better chance of figuring it out than I do.

Remember!! Boundaries are something *you* enforce for yourself. Obviously, a good friend will respect your boundaries, but if someone doesn't respect your boundaries, it is your job to respond to that. Let's say you have the boundary, "Don't yell at me/raise your voice in anger when we're having a disagreement." Well, you can't control someone who doesn't care about your feelings and will walk over your boundary even after you told them about it. What you can do is control your response. So, when you think of the boundaries you have, you should also consider what you will do in response to someone crossing that boundary. In our example, perhaps a good response would be to walk away, leave the conversation until the other person can talk to you with respect for your needs.

I've spent a long time on boundaries, but that's because it's one of the most important things for a people pleaser to understand about themselves. Think of people pleasing like muscle memory. If you do it enough, it will be your default mode of action. You won't have to think about it to do it. But breaking your current muscle memory and rebuilding that memory into something else will require intention and dedication. Boundaries help you focus your intentions and define your needs. Many smarter people than me have talked about boundaries before, so look into some resources about how to make and maintain boundaries if you want to learn more.

Next, setting expectations. This is about understanding where your limits are and having conversations with the people you love before it becomes an issue. Best example I have is one of my own experiences. I am very bad at responding to texts and messages when I'm overwhelmed or busy. I can go weeks without responding if the matter isn't urgent. But this can be a problem in my relationships if that behavior goes fully unaddressed. People start to feel like you're avoiding them or blowing them off. So I started setting expectations for folks -- I was open about the fact that my response times are bad. I was clear that it was not a personal thing when I didn't get back to people. And I made sure to reassure people that even if I'm not responding, I am *looking* at the messages soon after they're sent, and I *will* respond if there is an emergency or if there's a time sensitive question. I haven't had a problem with this since having open and honest conversations up front *before* it became a real problem.

All that to say, if you know you have preferences or behaviors that might conflict with your relationships, talk to your friends about it and make sure y'all are on the same page. A lot of times, people pleasers feel like they need to anticipate the needs of the people around them. That can be good and bad, depending on how you go about it. But it is much easier when you actually talk to them about their needs and expectations. This should be a two-way conversation. Everyone involved should state their needs and together you should define expectations within the relationship.

The communication part is really the key here. It isn't bad to want to care for your friends. It isn't even bad to occasionally put your own preferences aside in order to compromise. But if your friends don't know that something is upsetting you, they can't do anything about it. Which cycles around to the emotional abuse pattern of "mind reading." When you hide your anger or resentment, you are essentially making your friends read your emotions and anticipate your needs. It destabilizes the friendship. If your friends don't know what upsets you, how can they know that they're upsetting you if you don't speak up? Not only that, but if they're trying to figure out why you're upset, they might read it wrong and find solutions for problems you don't have while the original problem continues to churn inside you. That is ALSO a thing people pleasers do.

Another example. I have a people pleaser friend who has the history of emotional abuse etc etc. There was a time (years ago) when she'd get drunk and show me her tits and like. Yeah. I appreciated looking at tits. Love that stuff. But what she anticipated is that I would want to have sex with her. So she offered one day (she was sober, fwiw) and I said sure! But I always like to have a conversation about what people are into and all that. She dodged so many of my questions about what she liked, what she wanted, etc. Not only that, but I felt like she wasn't really listening to me when I was talking about what I liked and she didn't ask any questions to get to know my preferences better. So when we finally got to the sex part, I was stressed out. She sounded like she was faking her pleasure. She didn't want to touch me in any way that really felt good to me. She just expected me to use my strap and have my fun. It made me feel absolutely terrible about myself. Like, I didn't need to have sex with her. I didn't think that her showing me her boobs was naturally going to lead to sex. Looking back, this was a particularly rough time for our friendship, so we eventually had a conversation about it. It came out that she only had sex with me because she assumed that's what I not only wanted but expected from her. I honestly felt extremely hurt. I'd originally thought she *wanted* to have sex with me, and that was the only reason I agreed to do it. I felt ugly and undesirable when she didn't want to touch me. I felt like her fake pleasure sounds were condescending. Not to mention she tried to dirty talk in a way that supremely turned me off, which might have been avoided if she was actually engaged in our conversation talking about what we wanted/liked in bed.

The point of that story, though, is that it really damaged our friendship and was a blow to my (at the time) fragile self-esteem. These days, I'd be able to spot some of these red flags and choose not to have sex under those conditions, but at the time it was hard to recognize what was happening until it was over. I learned that she would not be forthright with her own needs and desires and whatnot, so I had to start checking in with her when she offered to do certain things. Questioning her like, "Do you really want that? Do you *know* what you want right now?" And being clear that she could not read my mind and that I didn't appreciate her trying to. That if I wanted something from her, I would ask directly and respectfully and that she was always allowed to say no if she didn't want to and I wouldn't get angry at her for refusing me. Years later, we are still friends. There are still rough spots we need to work out, but she has gone to therapy and is finally dating someone who doesn't treat her like an emotional support girlfriend. It has taken her years, but she is finally working to correct some of her people pleasing behaviors, and we have a better relationship for it. It took her awhile to believe me when I said I would tell her directly if I was upset and that she didn't need to worry about me dropping subtle hints at her.

Which, I think, finally brings me to my last point. So far, I've talked about defining your boundaries and setting expectations within your friendships. I've explained through example why the behavior can actually recreate patterns of abuse or cause harm. A lot of this stuff you can work on alone, but there is another thing you need to be able to work on changing your people pleasing ways: a good, trustworthy friend.

I started being able to talk about my emotions, my needs, my annoyances, my angers when I finally felt like I had someone who would listen to them without getting angry and flying off the handle. When I first started dating my current partner, I was in awe of how level headed our conversations were when there was conflict. They listened to me. They told me how they were feeling. We worked together to see where the issue was and what we could do to address the issue in the future. It was my partner who brought up problems they had, and it was those direct conversations that made me feel safe enough to speak up when I had a problem. It gave me a space to practice being vulnerable with someone I knew loved me and wanted the best for both of us. On the other side of this, I believe my friend that I mentioned above really started to make progress when she started therapy and when I showed her that I was serious about being open and honest with my emotions and that she wasn't obligated to fix my problems for me. It also helped that she got out of a cycle of dating toxic fuckheads who enabled/encouraged her people pleasing behaviors so they could take advantage of her.

The fear of abandonment, fear of ridicule... the stuff I talked about up front. Those are not illogical fears when most of your life you've been taught that you will be punished for your emotions. You need to surround yourself with people who will encourage you to speak up for yourself. You need a friend who will check in with you and make sure you're not just saying "yes" because you feel like you should. You need people who are clear about what they want and need from your friendship.

Standing up for yourself, expressing your emotions, stating your needs, setting boundaries -- you can only do so much alone. The hardest part is deciding to take that leap of faith in your friends and gritting your teeth hoping for a good outcome. Hopefully, you have decent friends who care about your feelings and who will make an effort to support you. But let me be clear: if your friends treat you badly because you've done the hard emotional work to start setting and maintaining boundaries, those are not good friends. I am a big believer in cutting toxic people out of your life when you can, because you *do* deserve better. And, thankfully, most people are not going to react badly to you having preferences and opinions and feelings. It's normal for someone to have their best interests in mind, and as long as they aren't hurting other people, it's okay to have hard emotions like anger, disappointment, sadness, etc. But it's okay for you to have standards for how you are treated in your friendships/relationships. It's not just okay, but it's absolutely essential for healthy relationships to thrive. And it is hard to trust when you've had a lifetime of feeling like you can't trust others to treat you with respect, but you still have to try. And you don't have to be emotionally invested in people who treat you like an object whose job it is to keep them happy. Even just having one friend that you feel safe to be vulnerable with can make a huge difference and give you a way to practice these things.

Tl;dr -- define your boundaries, have a plan for how to respond if someone crosses a boundary, have conversations with your friends to set expectations within the friendships even if there is no current conflict, and believe that you deserve to have a voice and that you are worthy of the full range of human emotion. Ultimately, you have to find a way to convince yourself that you are worth caring about, and you need to surround yourself with people who do care about you and who will help you learn healthier behavioral habits.

Sorry for the long post, but hopefully there's something you can take away from it. Perhaps others will have other strategies they'd like to add, but knowing your boundaries and learning to care about yourself are at the core no matter what.

You're not actually a better friend for not articulating and respecting your own needs, limits and boundaries. Your lack of communication and boundaries is not some impressive sacrifice. You're not doing anyone any favors by acting like you're okay with things you aren't okay with. You're just building burnout and resentment that will eventually damage the relationship in question. And when you eventually snap and walk away because you silently overburdened yourself to be a "good friend", it won't be the other persons fault

[gofancyninjaworld]

The New Ninja Arc So Far (Review)

RIght, they do say that third time's the charm! I'm hoping that ONE and Murata are happy with how this falls on the page this time.

I am SKIPPING any summary: we've seen this enough times. Let's go straight to Meta, shall we?

Meta

Hard stop

So, in a Youtube video I can no longer find, some wag called Saitama a guy suffering from Premature Eradication Syndrome. It's pretty accurate -- he doesn't so much have fights as he has encounters that end when he decides to stick his fist out. The suddenness with which fights can end in OPM is something that really got me into the story. While Saitama is the guy who most often does this, it happens elsewhere, like with the unfortunate Sky King.

Rest in pieces. I'm sure you were a tough monster but, unfortunately, you were just in the way.

And alternatively, fights that you think will end quickly don't and turn into horrifying prolonged struggles that sap combatants' very will to live. So it goes!

This is why you see readers who have been raised on the choreography of shonen and action movies flipping out, alternatively ranting about how a certain 'monster' was 'wasted' and decrying fights that go on for longer than expected. Sorry! Life-and-death struggles aren't portrayed here as action pieces. [1]

I'm always down for some Premature Eradication Syndrome. I was personally delighted to see that right as Flashy Flash was about to shiskabob himself some Tenninto, Blast comes in and stops the whole fight, beating down the Tenninto himself when they try attacking him.

Now this is another definition of 'sudden death'.

The beliefs that enslave

With this, I see that the initial idea ONE had of the Tenninto surviving has come back, albeit in a different way. I'll start with another idea that has returned: the question of what freedom is. Initially, we had Flashy sparing them, first to gloat, second to show off his superior understanding of what the true purpose of the Ninja Village had been, and thirdly, out of a sense of pity for them having had their lives stolen. Which amused them greatly, as they saw freedom as lying in serving a master faithfully.

Gosh, that was so CREEPY.

This time around, as we see Flash turning over Sonic's words in his mind and wondering whether the idea of freedom was an illusion, the narration lets us know that despite being free of the Ninja Village, none of the fighting parties had the slightest idea of what freedom actually meant due to how restricted their upbringings had been: it's a much sadder affair, one of ninjas unable to escape the cruel fates they've been shaped to accept. In a way, it shouldn't surprise us that they fight: we've seen that each and every ninja is convinced that he alone is the best and is prepared to die proving that to be the case, no matter how hopeless it is. It's just lucky for Sonic that Saitama is as tolerant as he is strong.

Freedom is a lot more than merely not being in captivity.

A few chapters ago, we'd seen Blast musing on how ninjas seem fated to kill each other in a struggle for power, only to replicate the same cruel conditions that make more ninjas, and have the cycle repeat anew. Looks like he has decided to step in and try to break this particular cycle. Whether he will succeed is something we'll just have to see.

Fame, power, influence. Kill your way to the top and make more minions fit only for death. That appears to be the real ninja way.

I have many more thoughts on cages, but I'll have to leave it here.

Ohhh, it all starts to add up

ONE's simple observations are really freaking obvious, and yet surprisingly frequently overlooked. One of them is that for someone to share information with you, they need two things: first, to know what it is that you want to know, and second, a reason to share it with you. We were initially treated to the hilarious scenario of Genos popping out of Saitama's wall to smack Flash on the head with a cup of hot tea, having eavesdropped on the proceedings next door, and then the slightly cringe scene of him delightedly inviting Blast to come back to consult Saitama whenever he liked. Ah Genos, you are so crazy, like a cybernetic Oscar The Grouch.

Genos is so much like a proud mother sometimes. He thinks it's because he told the HA to call Saitama if they heard from Blast. Let us not disabuse him just yet.

But not so fast...

Blast knows where Sonic's hideout is: he has it bugged. However, some time after Saitama left, Blast came back to Saitama's, apparently in the hopes of finding a lead on where Sonic's current whereabouts might be. He did not see Flashy Flash get a challenge letter, and was in conference with Sicchi when the former left, so has no idea of where the ninja could have gone to even think of following him. Sonic has definitely not sent Blast a challenge letter as he didn't even know that the guy was around.

ONE has been diligent in not creating a plot hole of leaving Sonic possibly aware of Blast's presence.

Genos sure as hell doesn't know where Sonic might be. However, he knows a few things. One: that Saitama has a stash of challenge letters from Sonic. Two: where Saitama would have put those letters. Three: they have a freakish dog that just might be able to pick up Sonic's scent. And, most important of all, four: he really likes that Blast *has* come back to consult Saitama and so wants to help.

All of this is how Blast ends up presenting one of those letters to Overgrown Rover, sweat beading on his face as he thinks what an incredibly stupid idea this is, and how desperate he has to be even to be considering it.

if it's stupid but it works...

And how, despite its stupidity, it works: the monstrous scenting ability of the dog does lead him to the correct place.

...it's not stupid.

So, who's minding the shop?

This time around, Blast has not told Flashy Flash or Saitama anything about That Man; not his real name (Empty Void), not his relationship to him (former partner), and certainly not his strategic importance. It's clear that Void is still extremely important to some plan that Blast and Sicchi have, and that it is primary importance that Void is wrest from 'God's' clutches, no matter what he's done in the past and no matter the cost.

Ah yes, Void, former partner, ex-brother-in-law, serial child abuser, slave trader, assassin, and now avatar of an evil eldrich being. Totally the guy you want to stick your neck out for.

All Saitama knows about this guy is that he was an exceptionally cruel ninja, buying boys and brutalising them into being either killers to be sold onto criminals or turning them into minions to serve an evil entity called 'God'. He knows that Sonic is being menaced by this cruel ninja and a bunch of ne'er-do-wells, and he's gone specifically to save Sonic. [2]

Saitama...actually taking the initiative to reach out to someone out of empathy... well, I did NOT have this in my bingo list.

Currently, he's alone in Sonic's former hideout, where Void is going to be showing up sooner rather than later. And Blast isn't there to intercede.

Hmmm, I don't know about you, but I have a feeling this isn't going to end well for Void or Blast. I have some popcorn I'm dying to pop and munch on as I read the way this goes down.

Asides

[1] That said, when ONE is writing shonen, he knows the formula well and executes it beautifully: the fights Mob gets into and the sprawling battles of Versus are testimony to that.

[2] FUCK, I AM STILL SHOOK!!!! Like even the mightiest mountain is shaped by wind and water, Saitama is slowly changing! And in this case for the better. Wow.

[idyllic-ghost]

Title: Boyfriend Privileges Pairing: Mingyu x gn(femme presenting)!reader Genre: fluff, suggestive, established relationship Wordcount: 9.9k Rating: 18+

Synopsis: The ten times Mingyu has shown off his "boyfriend privileges"

Warnings: suggestive content not suitable for anyone under the age of 18, food mention, pet names, reader presents as feminine at one point (wearing a dress) but it still reads as gender neutral, slight angst, bathing together

Disclaimer: The scenarios and depictions in my works are fictional and do not represent real-life situations. They do not aim to reflect the complexities of any culture, city, or individual. All characters are entirely fictional, regardless of names or descriptions.

A/N: this fic was created before i decided to leave this blog permanently, and put on queue to be posted now. this blog is still not active. read here to find out why

MDNI: Adults only. Minors are not allowed. Any minors found will be blocked.

Masterlists

You're not sure exactly when it began or what prompted it, but a few months into your relationship, Mingyu started asking you to do little tasks for him. They're always small, often tedious things. Whenever you hesitate, he flashes a charming smile and invokes "boyfriend privileges." Maybe it's the playful way he says it or the endearing look in his eyes, but you always end up giving in.

Mingyu, ever perceptive, has noticed this and teeters on the brink of abusing his "powers." But it doesn't bother you. You'd happily indulge your boyfriend's privileges.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 1. Overgrown puppy cuddles

Mingyu is a large puppy that just doesn’t understand how big he is. At least, that's how you see him. Whenever your boyfriend comes home from an especially rough day at work, he wants cuddles. It doesn't matter what you're doing, he'll pout and beg until you sit down on the couch and let him cuddle up in your lap.

"You're crushing me," you mutter.

You're sitting with your legs over the couch cushions, your back against the armrest. Mingyu's laying over your body like a human blanket—one of those electrical blankets that people use in winter. The man is warm.

"Boyfriend privileges," he mumbles, his voice muffled against your skin.

You sigh because you know he's right, you'd let him do this even if he's crushing your bones. Letting your fingers tangle in his hair, Mingyu let's out a sound of approval and nuzzles his head deeper into the crook of your neck. His arms are around your torso, making sure that you don't even try to move. Not that you would.

"Did you have a long day?" you ask softly and he hums. "My poor baby..."

You coo at him, and he whines—he's relishing in being doted on. Mingyu's arms squeeze you a little, a silent sign that he wants you to continue.

"You work so hard, don't you?" You wait for Mingyu to nod before you coo again, "My hardworking Gyu, you're doing such a good job. People love you, you know that? They appreciate your work. So do I."

Mingyu tilts his head up, his eyebrows raised as he silently asks for confirmation. "I really do," you add.

"Thank you..." He puts his forehead against your chest and sighs. "I needed this... needed you."

"I know, puppy." You smile and ruffle his hair.

Mingyu groans and lifts his upper body off of you, his arms resting on the armrest behind you. "Oh, finally! I can breathe!" you exclaim dramatically.

"Sorry," he mutters.

You cup his face in your hands. "I was kidding. I don't mind." You lean in and press a kiss on his pouty lips. "You're like my blanket... or like a Saint Bernard who's forgotten he's not a puppy anymore."

Mingyu smiles at that, before leaning in to litter your face with pecks that have you giggling and squealing.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 2. Random massages

You're in line for a ride at an amusement park when Mingyu suddenly turns to you. It's been at least five minutes since you started waiting, and you can tell he's getting impatient. His foot taps rhythmically on the ground, and he keeps glancing at his watch.

"Can you give me a massage? My shoulder's stiff," he huffs, rubbing the offending spot for emphasis.

"Again?" Your eyebrows furrow with concern. "Gyu, you should really go see a specialist..."

Mingyu pretends to ponder this suggestion, then shakes his head with a playful grin. "I don't need a specialist if I have you."

You sigh and roll your eyes, but can't help smiling at his pleading expression. His big, puppy-like eyes, the way his smile showcases his adorable canines, and his hands clasped together in a mockery of prayer make it impossible to refuse. "Sure," you mutter, already resigning yourself to his request.

The line moves a little, and you both shuffle forward a few steps. You're momentarily distracted by the imposing structure of the rollercoaster ahead, watching as the cart sends passengers hurtling through loops and dips at breakneck speed. Your reverie is interrupted by Mingyu poking your side.

"What?" you ask, looking back at him.

"Please?" he repeats, his tone even more imploring.

"Now?" You glance around at the crowd surrounding you—though no one seems to be paying attention, you feel self-conscious.

"Now," Mingyu insists, nodding earnestly.

"Babe, I can't massage you here. You know you shouldn't take off your shirt in public, right? Even if we do find somewhere private, I don't have any oils—"

"Not a big one." He interrupts, holding up his hand with his index finger and thumb inches apart. "A small one. Just on the spot on my shoulder."

"Gyu—"

"Boyfriend privileges," he pleads quietly, eyes wide and hopeful.

You can't say no to him when he gets like this. With a resigned sigh, you motion for him to turn around. He does so eagerly, bending his knees slightly to give you better access to his shoulder. Placing one hand on his neck and the other on his shoulder, you begin to work your thumb into the knot you find there.

Mingyu lets out a soft, contented sigh, only audible to your ears, as he relaxes almost immediately under your touch. The tension in his shoulder melts away, and his head drops forward slightly, eyes closing in relief. The gentle hum of the amusement park, the chatter of the crowd, and the distant screams from the rollercoaster all fade into the background as you focus on easing his discomfort.

Despite the oddity of the situation, there's something intimate and endearing about the moment. The world around you blurs, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of your own making. And as you massage Mingyu's shoulder, you can't help but feel a warm rush of affection for him and his silly, endearing ways.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 3. Sharing food

The restaurant is alive with the hum of conversations, the clinking of cutlery, and the occasional burst of laughter. However, all of this fades into a distant background as you focus intently on Chan's story. It's a rare opportunity to meet the members in person, despite your boyfriend working so closely with them, so you want to make the most of every second.

Mingyu, on the other hand, is lost in his own world. Ever since he finished his meal, he’s been zoned out—leaning back in his chair with a distant look in his eyes. You can't decide if he's impatiently waiting for Chan to finish or if he's just succumbed to a food coma. But when he casually reaches over and steals a fry from your plate, your doubts about the food coma vanish. You glance at him, and he meets your gaze with a small, mischievous smile before grabbing another fry. You let him.

A sudden gasp beside you snaps you back, and you turn to see Jun staring at you with mock jealousy from across the table. You smile and tilt your head questioningly.

"What?" you ask, bemused.

"You hit my hand when I tried to borrow a fry from you," Jun accuses, his eyes narrowed at you.

"First of all, I gently slapped it," you correct him. "Second of all, you were stealing, not borrowing. Don't try to make your crime sound better."

Jun huffs dramatically, and you can't help but grin. Meanwhile, Mingyu, taking advantage of the distraction, nabs another fry from your plate. There are almost none left now. As Jun reaches out to make another attempt, you slap his hand away with a swift motion.

"But he—" Jun starts to protest.

"Boyfriend privileges," Mingyu interjects smoothly, popping the last two fries into his mouth with a triumphant grin.

You hear a collective groan from the others at the table, but you just chuckle at Mingyu’s proud expression. "Mhm, boyfriend privileges," you repeat softly, unable to suppress a smile.

You lift a hand to gently brush the hair out of Mingyu's face, and he looks at you with a loving smile that makes your heart flutter. The warm feeling in your stomach is more than just the satisfaction from the delicious food you've eaten.

"Can I finish telling my story now?" Chan interrupts, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

You pull your gaze away from Mingyu and refocus on Chan, giving him your full attention once again. "Go on," you say, eager to hear the rest of his tale.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 4. Seeing you first thing in the morning

The feeling of someone's soft breaths feathering against your face makes you scrunch your nose in sleepy annoyance. Mingyu's warm hands travel to your waist with the familiarity of someone who’s done it a million times before. And he has. His touch is intimate and assured, sliding over your skin with practiced ease. He knows you're awake now, evident by the low hum you let out, so he presses a few tender kisses on the bare skin of your clavicle, each one like a gentle spark of warmth.

"G'morning," you mutter, your voice still heavy with sleep, the words blending into a sigh.

"Good morning," he whispers softly, his breath tickling your skin.

You recognize his morning voice—his "I just woke up" voice—so you can tell he’s been up for a while. His voice sounds clearer, more alert, like he’s had time to turn around and take a sip of the water he always leaves on his bedside table.

"Have you been awake for long?" you ask, your words barely above a whisper as his lips continue their gentle exploration, each kiss a tender reminder of his affection.

"Since eight-thirty," he answers between kisses, each one a delicate attempt to keep you as close as possible.

You glance at the clock, seeing that it's almost nine already. "Babe, you've been awake for half an hour... why didn’t you wake me up?"

Mingyu pauses his kisses to look up at you, his expression soft and affectionate, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion. Turning his head slightly, he looks over at the clock and hums thoughtfully.

"I was busy," he says with a playful glint in his eyes. He nestles his head back in the crook of your neck, his warmth enveloping you, but doesn’t resume his kisses, much to your dismay.

"Busy doing what?" you murmur, curiosity piqued, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his back.

"Looking at you," he admits with a giggle, lifting his head to meet your eyes. His gaze is filled with affection, his eyes sparkling with sincerity, and he's trying his best to hold back a big grin. "It's my boyfriend privilege. Only I get to see you like this."

"It's a privilege to see my bed head?" You snort, but Mingyu stays serious, his eyes unwavering, his hand gently stroking your cheek.

"Everyday," he replies softly, his voice a tender caress.

You feel a rush of warmth at his words, and you can't help but smile. You reach up to run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer for a soft, lingering kiss. His lips are warm and inviting, the kiss deepening with the love and tenderness that has grown between you over the months. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this quiet, intimate moment.

When you finally pull back, Mingyu's eyes are half-lidded, his expression content and serene. He gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek, his touch light and loving. "I love these quiet mornings with you," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your soul.

"Me too," you whisper back, your heart swelling with affection, your eyes locked with his.

You snuggle closer, your bodies fitting together perfectly. The world outside can wait a little longer as you bask in the warmth of each other's presence, the quiet intimacy of the morning making everything else fade away. Mingyu's hands continue their gentle caresses, his fingers tracing soft lines over your skin. You feel utterly cherished, each touch and kiss a testament to the love you share. The gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your hand, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the warmth of his body against yours create a cocoon of contentment that you never want to leave.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 5. Showing you off

"Gyu!" you shout from the bathroom, "What time is it?"

The sound of his long steps come closer and closer until the bathroom door pushes open. Mingyu's head peeks through the gap in the door, and smiles as soon as he sees you. You're wearing the new dress he bought you, the cute sundress that couldn't help himself from buying when he saw you looking at it.

"You're pretty," he murmurs and slinks into the bathroom.

He wraps his arms around you, your back relaxing into his chest. "Mingyu," you repeat.

"What?" He pulls his eyes away from the dress to meet your eyes.

"What time is it?" you ask again with a teasing smile.

"Oh, it's around three-thirty." His hands find your waist. "We should leave in half an hour."

You nod and start packing up your make up. "Good, I think I'm done anyway... do you think I look okay?"

Mingyu lets go of you, spinning you around to face him. You can only grin while he studies you carefully with his lips pursed and his eyebrows furrowed in focus. After a few seconds, he nods—satisfied with what he's seen.

"Perfect." He puts his hand right below your jaw, careful not to disturb the make up on your face. "You look perfect, baby."

His smile remains radiant as you arrive at his family's get-together, a constant beam of joy that lights up the entire evening. Mingyu keeps you close, his arm possessively yet gently wrapped around you, presenting you to the members of his family you haven't yet met. Every introduction is accompanied by a glowing remark about you, his voice brimming with pride. You feel like a movie star at a film premiere—the constant pampering, the way his eyes sparkle every time he looks at you, and the sneaky photos he snaps when he thinks you're not looking.

Mingyu can't seem to stop showering you with compliments. "This is my partner," he says, beaming, as he introduces you to yet another relative. "They're incredible, you know. Smart, kind, and absolutely stunning." He turns his head to you, trying to contain his big smile by biting down on his bottom lip.

You blush, murmuring polite responses, but his praise never ceases. It's in the way he looks at you, eyes full of adoration, and the way he never lets go of your hand, his thumb occasionally brushing against your skin in a soothing gesture.

Throughout the evening, Mingyu is a constant presence by your side, his touch grounding you amidst the whirlwind of social interactions. His family is warm and welcoming, their smiles genuine as they embrace you into their fold. The air is filled with laughter and conversation, the smell of delicious food wafting through the house, creating an atmosphere of warmth and togetherness.

Mingyu’s playful nature shines through as he snaps candid photos of you, his grin widening each time you catch him in the act. "You’re just too beautiful not to capture," he explains with a cheeky smile, earning a soft laugh from you.

As the night progresses, you find yourself growing more and more flustered under the weight of his unending compliments. Yet, there's a thrill in it—a heady mixture of embarrassment and joy at being the center of his universe. His family notices, and they tease him gently about his lovesick behavior, but it only makes him hold you closer, whispering sweet nothings in your ear that make your heart flutter.

By the time the evening winds down, you’re overwhelmed with affection, feeling cherished and adored in a way that leaves you breathless. The warmth of Mingyu’s family, combined with his constant praise and tender glances, has wrapped you in a cocoon of love and contentment. As you prepare to leave, Mingyu wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close for a tender kiss on your temple, his lips lingering just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Thank you for coming with me tonight," he murmurs, his voice soft and filled with genuine gratitude. "You made everything perfect."

You smile, leaning into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your own. "Thank you for taking me along... I don't think I've seen you like this before," you admit, your voice a gentle whisper in the quiet of the night.

"What do you mean?" He cocks his head, his eyes curious and endearing, making you laugh softly at his obliviousness.

"You were trying to show me off all night," you explain, a playful note in your voice. Seeing his slightly worried expression, you quickly add, "It was sweet, Gyu. Really, it was."

Relief floods his features, and he leans in to press a kiss on your lips. The kiss is soft, lingering a second longer than it should, filling you with a warmth that spreads through your entire body. "It's my boyfriend privilege to get to show you off," he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection.

You groan playfully, rolling your eyes at his words as he starts giggling, the sound infectious and heartwarming. Taking your hand in his, he leads you to the cab he's ordered to take you home. The night air is cool and refreshing, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees, but Mingyu's hand in yours keeps you warm.

As you approach the cab, he pauses for a moment, turning to look at you with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. "You know," he says softly, brushing a stray hair from your face, "You should wear that dress more often."

"Oh yeah?"

Your breath catches in your throat at his words as he pulls you into a tight embrace. "Yeah," he whispers.

With one last lingering kiss, you both get into the cab, his arm never leaving your shoulders. As the city lights blur past the window, you lean into Mingyu, feeling his warmth envelop you.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 6. A shoulder to cry on

When you enter the apartment, none of the lights are turned on. You worked late that day, but not so late that Mingyu would've gone to sleep already. The apartment is eerily quiet, devoid of the usual warmth and liveliness. Toeing off your shoes and putting away your outerwear in their rightful places, you start to wonder if he's not home. He usually texts you when he gets home, but you haven't received any messages.

Concern etches between your brows as you walk further into the apartment. The kitchen is spotless, with no pots or pans on the stove—not that you always expect Mingyu to cook, but he had told you earlier today that he'd have something ready for you when you got home. You open the fridge, finding it just as you left it this morning. The absence of any signs of recent activity deepens your worry.

As you pass the bathroom by the guest room, you flick on the lights, casting a warm glow to see the path to your shared bedroom. By the ajar door, you notice a piece of fabric slumped together on the floor. Picking it up, you realize it's Mingyu's jacket. You drape it over your arm and continue to the bedroom, your heart pounding with unease.

He's not there, but you see that the light in your bathroom is on, a soft glow seeping through the cracks in the door. You place his jacket on the edge of the bed before approaching the bathroom door, only to find it locked.

You knock softly, pressing your ear against the door. "Mingyu, I'm home... are you okay?"

"I'm okay, baby," he replies, but his voice is thick with tears. "Sorry, I didn't have time to make you dinner... I think there's some leftovers from yesterday."

"Please, open the door." Ignoring his suggestion about dinner, you grab the door handle. "I can hear that you're not okay."

You hear him sigh, and his footsteps approach the door. Stepping back, you wait as the door swings open. The first thing you see is his bloodshot eyes and red nose. He sniffles and looks away, trying to hide his vulnerability.

"I'm..." He hesitates, torn between lying and being honest.

Before he can decide, you engulf him in a hug, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso. "Oh, baby..."

The dam breaks as a sob bubbles up Mingyu's throat, a raw, heart-wrenching sound that shatters the silence. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, his hot tears streaming down his cheeks and soaking into your shirt. You can feel the wet warmth of his tears spreading, a tangible sign of his anguish.

You rub his back soothingly, your hand moving in slow, comforting circles. Each sob wracks his body, causing his shoulders to tremble violently. His fingers clutch at your shirt, holding on as if he might drown without this anchor.

Minutes pass, each one heavy with his sorrow, until finally, his sobs begin to subside. His shoulders stop shaking, and his breathing slowly evens out, though occasional hiccups still break through. Only then do you loosen your embrace, though you don't fully let go. Instead, you gently take his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tears that cling to his skin. His eyes are red and swollen, filled with a mixture of lingering sadness and gratitude.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you ask softly.

"...can I tell you later? I'll start crying again if I tell you now." He lets out a choked laugh, trying to relieve the tension, but your frown remains.

"Okay. Let's get you cleaned up."

You gently wipe away Mingyu’s tears, your thumb brushing over his cheeks with tender care. His skin is warm and damp, his eyes still glistening with the remnants of his sorrow. Your touch is gentle and reassuring as you guide him to change into more comfortable clothes. You help him out of his work attire, unbuttoning his shirt with careful fingers, and replacing it with a soft, worn-in t-shirt that brings him comfort. Each movement is deliberate, designed to soothe and calm him. You then help him into a pair of loose, cozy sweatpants, ensuring he's enveloped in softness and warmth.

Once he’s settled, you guide him to the couch in the living room, your arm around his waist, supporting his slow and heavy movements. The weight of his exhaustion is impossible to miss, his shoulders slumped and his steps dragging. He collapses onto the couch with a weary sigh, sinking into the cushions as if they might absorb some of his burden.

You start to leave for the kitchen, intending to get him something to eat or drink, but he grabs your hand. His grip is firm yet desperate, his fingers curling around yours with a silent plea for you to stay.

You turn back to him, your heart aching at the sight of his vulnerable expression. Mingyu looks up at you, his eyes wide and filled with a mixture of fear and need. "Don't leave," he whispers.

"I'm going to heat up some leftovers," you explain. "You haven't eaten yet, have you?"

Mingyu shakes his head no and lets go of your hand. You feel his eyes on you as you walk around the kitchen, quickly putting something together. It's not fancy, and it's nothing like what he usually makes you, but it's enough for the two of you right now.

When you return to his side, you give him his bowl before settling down next to him. You eat in silence, letting Mingyu sit as close to you as he pleases. When you're done, you take the dishes to the kitchen. Although you want him to sit still and rest, he follows you—his arms wrapped around your waist the entire time.

It's hard to move around, but you don't complain. Soon enough, the dishes are done and you're back on the couch. Mingyu has his arms wrapped tightly around you as you lay on top of him.

"Thank you," he mutters.

"You don't have to thank me." You lean up to look him in the eye. "Me taking care of you is your boyfriend privilege."

He smiles and presses a chaste kiss on your lips before closing his eyes. The two of you end up falling asleep on the couch on accident. But your stiff body is worth it when you get to see Mingyu smiling at you the next morning.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 7. A shoulder to nap on

On the flight back home from a much-needed vacation, Mingyu booked the two of you first-class seats. It was partly because he loves spoiling you, but also so you could sleep comfortably on the way home. The plush seats and extra legroom were a perfect idea, promising a restful journey, but right now, that comfort feels like a far-off dream.

The flight was delayed by a few hours, leaving you and Mingyu stuck at the gate. The airport buzzes with the quiet hum of late-night travelers, the occasional announcement crackling over the PA system. The two of you sit in the lounge, surrounded by weary passengers slumped in their chairs, eyes glazed with fatigue. The smell of coffee and cleaning agents lingers in the air, mingling with the soft rustle of newspapers and the muted clatter of luggage wheels.

Mingyu tries to make the best of the situation, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. His warmth seeps into you, a soothing balm against the weariness. "Just a little longer," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Despite the delay, his presence is a comforting anchor in the sea of exhaustion, his voice a soft murmur that calms your racing thoughts.

You glance at the clock, the minutes ticking by slowly. The soft lighting of the lounge casts a warm glow, but it does little to chase away the tiredness settling into your bones. Mingyu's fingers trace soothing patterns on your arm, his touch gentle and reassuring, each stroke a silent promise of love and comfort.

"I can't wait to be home in my bed," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, heavy with exhaustion.

Mingyu leans his head on your shoulder, his soft hair brushing against your cheek as he closes his eyes with a contented sigh. The weight and warmth of his head against your shoulder provide an unexpected comfort, grounding you in the moment. "This is enough for me," he says softly, his breath warm and reassuring against your skin.

"My shoulder?" you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice, feeling the vibration of his chuckle through the closeness.

"Yes," he replies, his tone earnest and affectionate. His closeness feels intimate and safe, a bubble of tranquility amidst the chaos of the airport.

"And why should I let you have my shoulder?" you tease, a smile tugging at your lips as you relish the closeness.

"Boyfriend privileges," he replies matter-of-factly, his lips brushing against your neck as he speaks. The slight pressure of his lips against your skin sends a wave of warmth through you.

You sigh, a mixture of amusement and tenderness filling your heart. The playful banter and the sincere love in his voice make your heart swell. You tilt your head to rest against his, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. The world around you fades into a comforting blur, the distant chatter of the airport and the mechanical hum of the environment becoming mere background noise.

For a moment, it's just the two of you, wrapped in each other's warmth and love. His presence is a cocoon of safety and affection, and you close your eyes, allowing yourself to relax fully in his embrace. The gentle rhythm of his breathing, the steady beat of his heart, and the soft, warm pressure of his head against yours create a symphony of comfort that lulls you into a peaceful state.

Your peace is soon interrupted, however. Finally, the boarding announcement crackles through the speakers, breaking the heavy silence of anticipation and sparking a collective sigh of relief that ripples through the gate area. The weariness of the long wait begins to lift as passengers gather their belongings. Mingyu helps you gather your things, his hand never leaving yours as you make your way to the boarding line. His touch is a reassuring anchor, grounding you amidst the bustling crowd.

"Almost there," Mingyu whispers, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

"Thank goodness," you reply, offering him a tired smile.

The atmosphere shifts as you step onto the jet bridge, a mix of excitement and fatigue hanging in the air. The cool, conditioned air of the plane greets you as you board, offering a welcome contrast to the stuffy terminal. The flight attendants greet you with warm smiles, guiding you toward the plush sanctuary of first class.

Settling into your spacious seats, the world outside begins to fade away. The soft cushions envelop you in comfort, and the generous legroom allows you to stretch out and relax. Mingyu stows your carry-ons in the overhead compartment with ease, his movements fluid and practiced.

As he sits down beside you, the overhead lights cast a gentle glow. "This is so much better," you murmur.

Mingyu smiles, reaching over to adjust your blanket, tucking it around you with a tenderness that melts your heart. "I told you it would be worth the wait," he says softly, his eyes filled with affection.

You can't help but smile at the thought of curling up next to him, the hum of the plane's engines a soothing backdrop. "You always know how to spoil me," you whisper, leaning into his touch.

"It's my favorite thing to do," he replies, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Besides, you deserve it."

As the plane takes off, you lean into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. The world outside the window shrinks to a distant blur, and you close your eyes, surrendering to the warmth of his embrace.

"Thank you, Gyu," you murmur, your voice heavy with exhaustion.

"For what?" he asks, his lips brushing against your forehead.

"For everything. For this. For you," you whisper, your words trailing off as sleep begins to claim you.

"Always," he replies softly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your arm. "Sleep well, my love."

Wrapped in the comfort of his love and care, you drift off, the promise of restful sleep finally within reach. The gentle touch of his fingers lulls you into a peaceful slumber

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 8. Lunch boxes

When someone called out for lunchtime, the members collectively let out a big sigh of relief. With tired limbs, they make their way to the cafeteria. While everyone else lines up to buy something, Mingyu heads straight to the fridge and retrieves a carefully prepared meal. He sits down at a table, placing the metal box with a wooden lid in front of him. A pink, stretchy band adorned with tiny red strawberries holds the spoon in place. His face lights up with a smile as he spots the small note on the lid.

Hope practice is going well! I know you're working hard, so please enjoy your lunch and eat well! Can't wait for you to come home♡(>ᴗ•)

Mingyu carefully folds the pink post-it and tucks it into his phone case, a cherished reminder of your thoughtfulness. By then, people have started sitting down beside him, their eyes subtly glancing at the box in front of him. Nobody says anything—they already know what it is—until he opens it.

Inside the box is a beautifully arranged Korean lunchbox. The main compartment holds perfectly steamed white rice, topped with a sprinkling of black sesame seeds. Nestled beside it is a portion of crispy fried chicken, golden brown and glistening with a light coating of sweet and spicy sauce. The other sections are filled with a variety of colorful banchan: neatly sliced kimchi, lightly seasoned spinach, sweet and tangy pickled radish, and tender strips of stir-fried beef bulgogi. There’s even a small section of rolled omelette, its yellow hue bright and inviting.

The delicious aroma wafts up, drawing envious glances from his fellow members. The savory scent of fried chicken and the tangy hint of kimchi fill the air, making everyone's mouths water.

"Did Y/N make you another lunchbox?" Seokmin asks, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"Yeah, they were working from home yesterday, so they had some extra time on their hands," Mingyu replies, a small smile playing on his lips as he inspects the beautifully arranged food.

"It's not fair that only you get homemade lunches from Y/N!" Seungkwan whines, his tone a mix of genuine envy and playful teasing.

Mingyu responds by sticking his tongue out at Seungkwan, making the younger man groan in exasperation. "Boyfriend privileges," Mingyu states proudly, his grin widening.

As he digs in, Mingyu lets out a contented sigh, savoring the flavors and the love that went into preparing his meal. The meat is perfectly seasoned, the rice fluffy, and the banchan vibrant and flavorful. Each bite is a reminder of your care and effort, making the meal taste even better. The members watch with a mix of admiration and envy as Mingyu enjoys his lunch.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 9. Bath buddy

As you walk the last bit to the door of your apartment building, you notice a figure in the distance. A tall man, vaguely boyfriend-shaped, waving both of his arms over his head with enthusiasm. Your heart skips a beat, and your smile matches Mingyu's as you break into a run, closing the gap between you. He’s sweaty from the gym, his skin glistening in the fading light, but you don’t mind. You launch yourself into his embrace, pressing yourself as close as possible, feeling the familiar warmth and comfort of his body.

"Are you trying to squeeze me to death?" he asks jokingly, his voice vibrating against your ear.

You loosen your grip slightly, looking up at him with a soft smile. "You have no idea how much I've missed you today."

Instead of teasing you, Mingyu gently pats your head, his fingers threading through your hair with a comforting touch. He sees the weariness in your eyes and the way your hair seems to stick out in all the wrong places, evidence of a long, hard day. "Bad day, hun?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

The moment he speaks, you feel your guard drop completely. Your lips naturally fall into a pout, and your hands grip the material of his shirt a little tighter. You nod, unable to find the words to describe the exhaustion you feel. Mingyu coos at you softly, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering for a moment, offering silent comfort. He then guides you to the door, his hand resting on the small of your back, a steadying presence.

"Do you want to take a bath with me?" he asks as he opens the door for you, his voice gentle and soothing.

"Okay," you murmur.

Once inside, the apartment feels like a sanctuary, the chaos of the outside world fading away as the door clicks shut behind you. The familiar scent of home, mingled with Mingyu's comforting presence, immediately begins to soothe your frazzled nerves. He leads you to the bathroom, his touch a constant, reassuring anchor as he guides you down the softly lit hallway. The gentle hum of the apartment envelops you, creating a cocoon of tranquility.

In the bathroom, Mingyu starts running the bath, the sound of water filling the room like a calming symphony. You watch as he carefully adds your favorite bath salts, the granules dissolving into the warm water and releasing a soothing aroma. The scent of lavender and chamomile fills the air, creating a spa-like atmosphere that begins to unwind the knots of tension coiled within you.

Mingyu helps you undress with tender, loving movements, his touch feather-light yet filled with purpose. His fingers trace the contours of your body with a delicate touch, each gesture a silent reassurance of his love and care. The way his hands glide over your skin, unhurried and gentle, sends a wave of warmth through you, dispelling the day’s weariness.

He sheds his own clothes with practiced ease, the fabric slipping off his toned frame effortlessly. The sight of his familiar form, strong and comforting, brings a sense of security and warmth. His skin, slightly glistening from the exertion of the day, catches the soft light, highlighting the lines of his muscles and the contours of his body. There's a serene beauty in the way he moves, each action unhurried and filled with quiet confidence.

Stepping into the bath first, Mingyu eases himself into the steaming water with a sigh of contentment, the sound mingling with the gentle lapping of the water. He settles into the tub, the water enveloping him like a warm embrace. His eyes, inviting and filled with affection, lock onto yours as he extends his hand towards you. The look in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent invitation wrapped in love and intimacy.

You take his hand, feeling the warmth and strength in his grip as he helps you into the tub. The water envelops you in a gentle embrace, its warmth soothing your tired muscles. You settle between his legs, leaning back against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting lullaby against your back.

As you relax into his embrace, Mingyu's arms wrap around you, holding you close. His hands begin to gently massage your shoulders, his fingers working out the knots of tension with skillful precision. The sensation is both relaxing and intimate, his touch a balm to your weary soul. You close your eyes, surrendering to the moment, feeling the stress of the day melt away under his tender ministrations.

The soft glow of the bathroom light casts a golden hue over everything, enhancing the sense of intimacy and warmth. Shadows dance along the walls, creating a serene and almost magical ambiance. The only sounds are the gentle sloshing of water and the occasional sigh of contentment from both of you.

"I love you," you whisper, your voice soft and content.

"I love you too," he replies, his lips brushing against your ear.

You stay like that for a while, the water lapping gently around you, the only sounds the occasional drip from the faucet and the steady rhythm of Mingyu's breathing. It’s a perfect moment of peace and connection, wrapped in the comfort and love that only he can provide.

After a few minutes, Mingyu shifts slightly behind you, his movements gentle yet purposeful. "Can you wash my hair?" he asks softly, his voice laced with a boyish charm that makes your heart flutter.

You smile, turning slightly to look at him, your eyes meeting his. "Of course," you reply, your voice warm and affectionate.

He hands you the shampoo, and you pour a generous amount into your palm. Mingyu dips his head back into the water, wetting his hair thoroughly before leaning forward to give you better access. The rich, lathering scent of his shampoo fills the air, mingling with the soothing aromas of the bath salts, creating a calming symphony of fragrances.

Your fingers work through his hair, massaging his scalp with gentle, circular motions. The silky strands slip through your fingers, and you take your time, ensuring each section of his hair is coated with the fragrant lather. Mingyu lets out a contented sigh, his eyes closing as he leans into your touch, his body visibly relaxing under your ministrations.

"This feels amazing," he murmurs, his voice a low, relaxed hum that sends shivers down your spine.

You smile, continuing your careful work. "You deserve it," you say softly. "It's your boyfriend privilege, isn't it?"

Mingyu chuckles, the sound a soft, comforting vibration against your chest. Before he can respond, you pick up the shower head, adjusting the temperature before gently rinsing out the shampoo. Tilting his head back with a gentle hand, you let the warm water cascade through his hair, washing away the suds and leaving his hair clean and soft.

He leans back against you once more, his hair damp and silky against your skin. His eyes are half-lidded with contentment, a serene smile playing on his lips. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice filled with gratitude and affection.

"Anytime," you reply, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. The warmth of the water and the intimacy of the moment create a cocoon around you, shutting out the rest of the world. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, a steady, reassuring rhythm that syncs with your own. Mingyu's hands rest gently on your arms, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin as you both bask in the tranquility of the bath.

The two of you stay like that, cocooned in warmth, the soft glow of the bathroom light casting a golden hue over everything. The sounds of the water and your synchronized breathing create a peaceful ambiance.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 10. Tie-fixer

You were already in your pajamas, nestled comfortably in bed with your book, when Mingyu walked in, still dressed in his suit but without his tie. The crisp white shirt accentuated his broad shoulders, and the slight dishevelment of his attire made him look irresistibly charming. His hair was slightly tousled, a few strands falling over his forehead, adding to his effortlessly handsome appearance. He didn't have to say anything; the moment your eyes met his, you were already putting your book to the side and swinging your legs out of bed, the anticipation of helping him a welcome routine.

"Where's your tie?" you ask, a hint of amusement in your voice, tilting your head slightly.

Mingyu pulls the piece of fabric from his pocket and hands it to you, a weary yet appreciative smile playing on his lips. The tie is cool and smooth in your hands, its silk gliding between your fingers. Rising to your feet, you step close to him, your fingers deftly slipping the tie around his neck. The familiar action feels intimate, almost like a ritual between the two of you, a small moment of connection in your busy lives.

As you slowly begin to tie it, your fingers working methodically, you glance up at him. "How long is the event?" you ask, your voice soft and caring, eyes meeting his with genuine concern.

"I probably won't be home until after two," he says with a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as the weight of his long night ahead settles in. The lines of fatigue on his face tug at your heart.

"It's okay. I want you to have fun," you murmur, focusing on the tie but feeling the sincerity of your words. "I'll be busy with dinner and my book anyway."

Mingyu watches you, his eyes softening as he takes in your familiar, comforting presence. "I wish you could come with me," he says quietly, his hands gently resting on your hips as you finish tying the knot. His touch is warm and grounding, a silent promise of his affection.

You tighten the tie and smooth it down, patting his chest gently. "You know I'd love to, but someone's got to hold down the fort here," you reply jokingly, your smile warm and reassuring.

He chuckles, the sound deep and rich, resonating in the quiet of the room. He leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. "What would I do without you?" he murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of gratitude and love.

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a warm embrace. "Let's not find out," you whisper, your cheek pressed against his, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours.

Mingyu hugs you tightly, savoring the closeness, the scent of his cologne mingling with the comforting smell of home. When he finally pulls back, he looks down at you with a mix of love and reluctance. "I really should go," he says, though he doesn't make a move to leave just yet.

"I know," you reply, your fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, tucking it back into place. "You'll be amazing, as always."

"Mm, especially with such a well-tied tie," he smiles playfully at you, his eyes twinkling with affection. "I'm so lucky for my boyfriend privilege."

You chuckle softly, resting your hands on his chest. "Yes, you're very privileged," you tease. "Just remember that when you're out there charming everyone."

Mingyu grins, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. "How could I forget? My number one fan is waiting for me at home."

You roll your eyes, but your smile is fond. "Just don't let it go to your head."

He laughs, the sound warm and rich. "No promises... I'll miss you," he says, his voice softening as he cups your face in his hands.

"I'll miss you too," you reply, covering his hands with yours.

He gives you one last lingering kiss, his lips warm and tender against yours, a promise of his return. "I'll try to be back as soon as I can," he promises, his voice filled with genuine affection, his hand squeezing yours gently.

"I'll be waiting," you say softly, watching as he finally turns to leave, the door clicking shut behind him. The room feels a little emptier without him, but you return to bed, your book waiting patiently. For a moment, you just sit there, feeling the lingering warmth of his presence and the subtle ache of his absence, already looking forward to his return.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ ... 11?

The winter chill had settled in, but the warmth of Valentine's Day wrapped the city in a blanket of love and excitement. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of snow, mingling with the fragrance of roses that seemed to bloom on every corner. Everywhere you looked, couples were bundled up in cozy scarves and gloves, holding hands, sharing tender smiles, and exchanging sweet nothings. The city streets were transformed into a romantic wonderland, with heart-shaped lights casting a soft, warm glow on the cobblestone paths, creating a dreamy ambiance that made everything feel just a little more magical.

Mingyu had planned the entire day with meticulous care, wanting to make every moment special for you. The day began with the gentle sound of his voice waking you, and when you opened your eyes, there he was, holding a tray with breakfast in bed—fluffy pancakes drizzled with syrup, topped with fresh berries, and a steaming cup of your favorite coffee. The sweet aroma filled the room, and as you shared the meal, you couldn't help but smile at how perfectly the day had started.

The afternoon was spent strolling through the city, the two of you arm in arm as you visited all your favorite spots. The streets were alive with the hustle and bustle of the holiday, but for you, time seemed to slow down, every moment stretching into something memorable. You laughed over shared memories, pointing out familiar landmarks and reliving inside jokes that only the two of you understood. The cold air bit at your cheeks, but it was no match for the warmth of Mingyu's hand holding yours, or the way his laughter seemed to melt the chill away.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft, golden light over the city, Mingyu surprised you with dinner at the restaurant where you’d had your first date. The sight of the familiar entrance made your heart skip a beat, and when you stepped inside, the ambiance was perfect—low lights that cast a gentle glow over the intimate setting, soft music playing in the background, and a table tucked away in a quiet corner just for the two of you. Mingyu looked absolutely perfect, the flickering candlelight highlighting his features, making his eyes sparkle with a warmth that mirrored the love in your heart.

He was wearing the turtleneck you had gotten him last December, the deep burgundy color standing out beautifully under his sleek black coat. The sight of him, so effortlessly handsome, made you fall in love with him all over again.

The dinner was delicious, every bite savored as you reminisced about that first date and how far you'd come since then. But as the evening went on, you noticed a certain tension in Mingyu—a subtle shift in his demeanor. He was attentive as always, but his hand gripped yours just a little tighter, and his eyes, though filled with affection, seemed to hold something more—an emotion he hadn’t yet put into words.

When dessert was finished and the check was paid, Mingyu suggested a walk through the park. The idea seemed simple, but there was something in his tone that made your heart flutter with anticipation. The park was beautifully decorated for the holiday, with twinkling fairy lights wrapped around the trees and heart-shaped lanterns swaying gently from the branches. The path was dusted with a light layer of snow, which crunched softly underfoot as you walked side by side, the sound mingling with the distant laughter of other couples enjoying the night.

The cold nipped at your nose, but Mingyu’s presence kept you warm. He walked close to you, his shoulder brushing against yours with every step, and as you made your way deeper into the park, you couldn’t help but notice how quiet he had become. His hand, warm and reassuring in yours, was steady, but there was a nervous energy beneath the surface, a sense of something important hanging in the air between you.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the world around you gradually fading into the background as you simply enjoyed being together. The park was peaceful, the night air crisp and clear, with the soft crunch of snow underfoot being the only sound between you. The distant twinkle of lights reflected off the lake's surface, casting a serene, almost magical glow over the scene. The sky above was an expanse of deep navy, dotted with stars that peeked out from behind the clouds, adding to the romantic atmosphere.

As you approached a secluded bench near the lake, Mingyu began to slow down, his footsteps becoming more deliberate. His breath was visible in the cold air, curling upward in soft, white puffs. The quietude around you seemed to intensify, amplifying the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. Mingyu stopped walking and turned to face you, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lights strung up in the trees, making them look like they were sparkling with unshed emotions.

"Are you cold?" he asked, his voice gentle, almost tender, as he pulled you closer. Without waiting for your response, he wrapped his coat around you, his touch protective and warm.

"Not with you here," you replied with a smile, leaning into his embrace, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours. But as you looked up at him, you noticed something different, a subtle tension in his expression. "... you're unusually quiet tonight. Is everything okay?"

Mingyu smiled, though there was a trace of nervousness in his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability that made your heart skip a beat. "There's something I've been wanting to say all day," he began, his tone serious but laced with affection, each word carefully chosen. "Valentine's Day is all about celebrating love, right?"

You nodded, curiosity piqued, your gaze never leaving his. "Right..."

He took a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs before he released it slowly, his hands still holding yours, their warmth grounding you both. His expression softened, and the affection in his eyes deepened, becoming almost palpable. "Well, I wanted to celebrate us... You know how I've always said I'm lucky to have boyfriend privileges?" His lips curled into a small, playful smile, the familiar phrase bringing a rush of warmth to your chest. It was an inside joke that had grown between you, a phrase that had come to symbolize the depth of his love.

You laughed lightly, nodding, your heart fluttering. "You've mentioned it a time or two."

"Well," he continued, the playful edge in his voice giving way to something more serious, more profound. His grip on your hands tightened slightly, as if anchoring himself for what he was about to say. "I've been thinking a lot about what that really means. About how much I love you, and how my life has been so much better with you in it. I don't just want boyfriend privileges anymore. I want... something more."

The air around you seemed to still, the world shrinking down to just the two of you. Mingyu's words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you found yourself holding your breath, your heart pounding in anticipation.

"Mingyu... what are you saying?" you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you searched his eyes, hoping for confirmation of what you suspected.

"... I want husband privileges," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. The words tumbled out like a secret he had been holding close to his heart, and as they settled between you, the weight of them was almost overwhelming.

Your heart skipped a beat as his words sank in, sending a rush of emotion through your entire being. Before you could fully process what was happening, Mingyu reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. The deep burgundy of the box stood out against the black fabric of his coat, catching the faint light from the lanterns around you. Your breath caught in your throat as he dropped to one knee, the world around you dissolving into a blur. The soft glow of the lights reflected in his eyes, making them shine with a love so intense it took your breath away.

"Will you marry me?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly, each word laced with raw emotion. "Will you let me spend the rest of my life loving you, taking care of you, and being your forever? I want to be your husband, not just today, not just tomorrow, but every day for the rest of our lives."

The sincerity in his voice, the way his hands trembled ever so slightly as he held the ring, and the sheer vulnerability in his gaze made tears well up in your eyes. Your hand flew to your mouth in disbelief, your heart pounding in your chest as the magnitude of the moment hit you. The world seemed to stop, the night holding its breath as you looked down at him, his expression filled with hope, love, and adoration.

"Mingyu," you whispered, your voice shaking with emotion, each word carrying the weight of your love for him. "Yes. Of course, I'll marry you!"

The tension in his shoulders melted away as his face broke into the widest smile, relief and joy flooding his features. His eyes sparkled with happiness as he carefully slipped the ring onto your finger, his touch gentle and reverent. The ring was perfect—simple, elegant, and exactly what you would have chosen. It glimmered softly in the light, a tangible symbol of the promise you had just made to each other.

Without hesitation, Mingyu stood up, wrapping you in his arms and lifting you off your feet. He spun you around in a joyful whirl, the cold air forgotten as you both laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet park. The night seemed to come alive with your happiness, the trees around you swaying gently as if to share in your joy.

When he finally set you down, his arms remained around you, pulling you into a kiss. His hands cradled your face, his thumbs gently brushing against your cheeks, his touch warm and steady. The tenderness in his grip made your heart swell, and as he leaned in, you could feel his breath mingling with yours, a soft, shared anticipation hanging in the air. When his lips finally met yours, it was as if time itself slowed. The kiss was soft at first, a delicate, reverent connection that conveyed everything words couldn’t.

But then, it deepened, his lips moving against yours with a slow, purposeful intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Each movement was deliberate, filled with a passion that burned through you, igniting every nerve. His kiss wasn’t just an expression of love—it was a promise, a vow sealed with every ounce of emotion he had been holding back. You could feel his love in the way his hands held you, not too tight, but firm enough that you knew he never wanted to let go.

As his lips molded perfectly against yours, the rest of the world faded into oblivion. The cold night air, the distant sounds of the city, even the twinkling lights around you—all of it dissolved into the background, leaving only the warmth of his kiss, the rapid beat of your heart, and the overwhelming flood of emotion between you. It was as if the two of you existed in your own universe, a moment suspended in time where nothing else mattered.

"I love you," he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with reverence and devotion, as if the words were sacred.

Tears still glistening in your eyes, you smiled up at him, your heart bursting with happiness. "I love you too, Mingyu. I hope you're ready for all the husband privileges."

He laughed, the sound rich and full of joy, resonating with the happiness that radiated from him. It was a laugh that spoke of a future filled with love, laughter, and countless more moments like this. He pulled you into another embrace, his arms holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. "This is the best Valentine’s Day of my life," he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion.

"It’s just the beginning, baby," you whispered back, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw as you looked up at him, memorizing every detail of his face, every line that spoke of his love for you.

The two of you stood there in the park, wrapped in each other’s arms as the lights twinkled around you, the cold air nipping at your cheeks but failing to penetrate the warmth that enveloped you both. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a moment that felt like it would last forever.

As you walked back home, hand in hand, the silence between you was filled with contentment and the unspoken promises of what was to come. You couldn’t help but glance down at the ring on your finger. The excitement of what lay ahead filled you with warmth, and as you leaned into Mingyu, you knew that your life together would be filled with endless love, laughter, and, of course, husband privileges.

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[mournthebird]

Apricot Toast.

summary: Soldat doesn't understand care can be without price.

warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier | Post!HTP and abuse | PTSD symptoms & behavior | Flashbacks of HTP | Past dehumanization | Mentions of past SA | Flashbacks of SA | Flashbacks of torture | Vulgar language | Hints to ED due to trauma

a/n: This 'chapter' includes brief scenes of active SA as well as heavily implied SA acts so be warned. Flashback scenes with more detailed torture & slightly suggestive scene with reader because he's confused :( It also ended up being a bit longer to make up for the last few shorter chapters. I'll be posting all of this on my A03 in case it gets too much for Tumblr. I hope you enjoy even though its a little more sad.

Italicized parts are flashbacks. Unedited. ;; wc: 6.8k

There were a lot of things that he endured. A lot of things he had to relearn and break free from.

One thing had him by a vice.

Kindness wasn't free. Food wasn't free. Neither was water. Or blankets. Or being spared a hit.

You had yet to ask him, but he knew you'd eventually expect it. Handlers never asked for it, they just did it. Some expected it.

His mind raced with thoughts, when should he do it? Should he just go up to you and begin? Or should he wait for your command to do so? He wasn't sure, every handler was different. Each one liked him to behave and act in conflicting ways, it always made the other angry. Sometimes he thought they did it on purpose just to have an excuse to beat him.

You were making breakfast, taking care to prepare something nourishing and comforting for the morning meal. His eating habits had been showing marked improvement lately, gradually expanding beyond the previous limitations that had restricted his diet to only three specific items. You cooked the items and hummed to yourself, a perfectly cooked egg, a well-seasoned sausage patty, and melted cheese - all coming together between the toasted halves of a lightly buttered English muffin.

It honestly sounded delicious, and you were craving it the second you woke up.

As you continued your preparations at the stovetop, he made his way into the kitchen with quiet steps, his legs seeming to move of their own accord, carrying him forward despite apparent fatigue.

Your focus remained entirely on the stove, your attention so thoroughly absorbed in the preparation of the meal that you failed to notice his presence initially as he positioned himself a few feet behind where you worked.

He swallowed.

"Get down," its handler shoved it roughly to the floor, causing its knees to collide painfully with the hardwood surface. It fought back the natural instinct to wince or show any sign of discomfort, instead raising its gaze cautiously to meet its handler's eyes. The handler's demeanor radiated an aura of anger this morning, more intense than usual.

The aroma of freshly prepared food wafted through the air, drawing the asset involuntarily from its designated corner. The standard-issue nutrient bags it was given to eat contained nothing but bland, lifeless substance.

The daily portions of pale, creamy mush possessed neither taste nor texture, just a starchy consistency that served only to fill its stomach. Though, some days it was lucky to get that and not an IV of nutrients instead, leaving its belly to grumble and growl desperately. It yearned for something with actual flavor, real sustenance.

But such privileges as real food had to be earned through compliance and good behavior, a fact that had been deeply ingrained in its consciousness. It understood that only through proving its worth to its handlers would it ever be granted access to anything beyond its basic provisions.

"You want food? Earn it." The handler's voice cut through the silence as he stood motionless, arms crossed firmly against his chest while scrutinizing the asset with calculating eyes. The threat hung heavy in the air - one slight misstep, one wrong twitch, and the familiar sharp sting of a calloused hand would strike its tender cheeks with practiced precision.

The hot, searing burn of electricity would shoot mercilessly through its neck, coursing down along its flesh shoulder like liquid fire before being abruptly halted by the cold, unnatural presence of foreign metal on the other side.

It fought to maintain perfect stillness, muscles trembling with the effort to show no reaction as its handler turned the burner to low and began to unclasp the heavy leather belt buckle.

It ignored how its mouth began to automatically salivate.

"Soldat?"

Your voice gently pierced through the thick fog of his consciousness as he blinked slowly, struggling to clear the distant, haunting glaze from his eyes. He remained caught in the web of memories he desperately wanted to shed, yet found himself unable to access the precious few recollections he yearned to preserve, leaving him suspended in an uncomfortable limbo between remembering and forgetting.

The things he wanted to forget remained. The ones he wished to remember were just out of reach.

He turned his attention to you with an expression devoid of any discernible emotion, his vacant gaze fixed upon your movements as you busied yourself with food preparation in the kitchen.

"I figured we could try introducing more solid foods into your diet. The doctor's last report shows you are progressing steadily, and this food should be gentle enough on your digestive system. We can have you eat them separately to start, jumping straight into a complete sandwich might be a bit too overwhelming for your body." You had kept track of his progress closely and knew he was leaning towards actually eating something instead of taking nutrient treatments and plain crackers and bread.

The soldier remained motionless, observing intently for several long minutes as new aromas wafted through the air - fresh eggs and bacon sizzling softly in the pan, their familiar domestic sounds filling the kitchen. It was comforting in a weird way.

As the smells hit his nose, his body betrayed him with a sudden, involuntary gag.

Its handler grunted with obvious disdain, practically spitting on its face while sneering at its sloppy, shiny lips and chin, droplets of saliva landing uncomfortably close to its nostrils. The handler's weathered face twisted into an expression of disgust as he observed its condition. "Thought we got rid of that...oh well. I suppose that responsibility falls squarely on my shoulders now, hm? Can't have the others seeing such weakness."

It doesn't like how its lungs burn with increasing intensity or how terribly constricted its throat feels, the muscles tightening painfully with each passing second.

"You ain't comin' up for air until that reflex is completely gone. Better learn quick, or we'll be here all day," the handler's voice carried a cruel note of satisfaction.

The soldier swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly flooding with saliva as he desperately tried to manage the conditioned response his body gave to the memories. His brow furrowed deeply with visible discomfort, eyes meeting yours with a subtle look of distress as he continued to swallow repeatedly, fighting against the involuntary reaction.

His stomach rolled unpleasantly within him, and he could feel the telltale burning sensation of acid creeping up his esophagus, threatening to make the situation even more uncomfortable.

"Are you okay?" You asked with genuine concern, taking a step in his direction as you tried to figure out what was wrong. Maybe he had an aversion to eggs that you hadn't known about.

"I can make something else...it's not a problem," you offered reassuringly, wanting to ease his obvious discomfort. You wondered if the smell was triggering his response. You had to admit that eggs weren't exactly the most appealing when it came to their smell, no matter how they were dealt with.

He took an unsteady step backward, his head shaking in a slow, deliberate motion as realization dawned. You weren't him - that fact resonated clearly in his mind. You weren't his handler, the one who had dominated his existence for so long.

You weren't the man whose systematic abuse had warped his perception of normalcy, the one who had conditioned him to accept having his hair violently yanked and his face brutally beaten as just another unremarkable day in his life.

You weren't the man who had subjected him to repeated violations at the hands of various agents, each taking their turn whenever they pleased, leaving him with lingering physical and psychological trauma that made the current absence of that familiar agony in his rectum feel strangely disorienting.

You weren’t him.

The absence of any implements of torture or restraint in your hands provided a small measure of comfort, though his racing thoughts struggled to fully process this gentler reality. It was somewhat reassuring, he had to admit, that there were no tools of torment present - no leather straps, no metal bars, nothing between your legs that could be forced down his throat until he choked and gasped for air.

"How about we try something gentler for your taste buds - maybe some toast with jam? I have grape, apricot, or strawberry," you suggested carefully, moving toward the refrigerator to retrieve the jars. You carried a note of gentle concern as you sought to salvage the strange situation. It worried you how openly he was displaying his distress; typically, getting any emotional response from him was like trying to pry open a sealed vault.

You returned your focus to the simple task at hand, selecting two pristine slices of bread and placing them into the toaster. As Soldat observed your actions, a creeping sense of guilt began to gnaw at him.

In his mind, this felt like some form of punishment - after all your effort to prepare a proper breakfast, he was now being offered merely toast? The thought that his involuntary gagging had somehow disappointed or offended you weighed heavily on his conscience. Were you going to make him eat less tasty food and punish him for wasting your time in the kitchen? He didn’t mean to come across as being ungrateful. He didn’t know why he gagged.

He didn't mean to.

He really didn't.

It wasn't you.

"Мне жаль [I'm sorry]," he muttered out, his voice barely audible and scratchy from prolonged disuse, the words catching in his throat like rough sandpaper. Your head instinctively turned to respond to his unexpected words, completely taken aback by the fact he spoke. But before you could form any words, the sharp, hollow sound of his knees colliding with the wood floor cut through the air and stopped you mid-thought.

The impact of his knees against the hard surface was so forceful that you couldn't help but wince, yet he showed absolutely no reaction to what must have been a painful collision. It was as if this position of supplication was something his body had memorized through countless repetitions. His hands found their way to your legs, fingers spreading across your thighs as he established his grip - not violently or painfully, but with just enough pressure to make it clear that any attempt to step away would be met with resistance.

"Простите меня. Я съем то, что ты приготовил [Forgive me. I will eat what you prepared]," he managed to say, briefly lifting his gaze to meet yours in a moment before his eyes dropped back down to the floor in a gesture of submission.

You tried desperately not to react to the cold of his metal hand, but the goosebumps erupting on your skin was a good indicator.

You remained motionless, not sure how to proceed as his firm grip maintained its hold on your thighs, the pressure neither increasing nor decreasing. Your eyes were fixed downward, observing his form as intermittent tremors passed through his broad shoulders. His consciousness seemed trapped with thoughts simultaneously racing at lightning speed yet yielding no coherent message he could decipher.

The overwhelming feeling washing over his body made him feel disoriented, the glaze that coated his eyes gave him that familiar distant and unstable look the soldier had for decades.

Soldat’s hands began moving up along your legs, eventually finding their way to your waistband. His fingers quickly hooked themselves into the fabric and began to pull downward. The movements in his mind were automatic, like he were being told what to do without an order.

A mechanical, involuntary habit that guided him.

Your hands shot out to grasp your shorts, halting their movement as you stammered in shock, "Soldat! What are you doing-"

The soldier's focus was glued to you as he desperately attempted to remove your shorts, his jerky movements filled with an intense urgency. When he couldn't pull them down because your hands held them in place, he pressed his face against your thigh, inches from your core as a plaintive whine escaped his throat. His gaze lifted to meet yours, eyes wide and pleading, filled with an unmistakable look of begging that made your breath catch.

Though you managed to prevent your shorts from being removed, his firm grip on your legs remained unyielding, fingers pressing into your skin with careful restraint. His entire demeanor radiated an overwhelming sense of desperation, every movement and sound conveying his intense need for something.

"Пожалуйста [Please]..." His desperate whines filled your ears, the sound raw and needy as he continued to frantically paw at your shorts. His actions grew increasingly bold and insistent with each passing moment, his face pressing more firmly against your crotch. The heat of his ragged breath seeped through the thin layer of your underwear, causing your entire body to jolt upward at the intense sensation.

Soldat's movements became more demanding, yet still maintained a careful restraint that belied his strength. Each exhale against the fabric sent shivers through your form, his pleading whimpers growing more frequent and desperate with each passing second.

"What??” Your voice came out as a soft whisper, tone trembling under your breath, “Stop it, I don’t understand what you need..." you pleaded with increasing distress, your eyes widening with growing concern as you looked down at him.

This sudden, intense behavior was completely unexpected and deeply unsettling to you. Here was a highly trained super soldier, a former assassin whose very presence commanded respect and the mention of his name drew fear; gripping onto you with an intensity that reminded you of his immense physical capabilities.

He wasn't actively trying to overpower you, the sheer knowledge that he could effortlessly do so at any moment made your anxiety spike. Your heart raced faster as you became aware of how vulnerable you were in this position, despite his current restraint.

"Пожалуйста, я могу сделать так, чтобы тебе было хорошо [Please, I can make you feel good]," he whined out again, his voice wavering between a desperate whisper and something deeper, more primal. The pleading tone in the ingrained foreign tongue carried a deeper grinding sound to it. His hands found their way to the sides of your thighs, his fingers pressing gently against the soft flesh. He continued his careful pawing motions, methodically working to ease the tension he could feel beneath his touch, trying to coax your muscles into a state of relaxation so your legs would naturally fall open.

"Soldat, enough," you said firmly, trying to push his head away from where he had settled himself. Confusion and nervousness flooded through you, your heart racing as you struggled to process the situation. The soldier’s behavior left you completely taken aback. He had been hesitant to even lay close to you, his usual cautious nature dominated every aspect of him as he was slowly learning how to live and heal without being under a boot and whip.

Yet now, in his display of boldness, he had positioned himself so his nose pressed insistently against your crotch while his tongue was dangerously close, threatening to dart out and lap your sweet core at any moment.

You could feel him try, and you couldn't stand it.

"Soldat! Нет [No]!" You snapped loudly, your voice carrying a sharp edge of authority and stern disapproval that echoed through the room. The commanding tone felt foreign on your tongue, but you maintained your composure. He immediately tensed up, his shoulders going rigid as he pulled back from his position almost immediately at your voice. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching your expression for any sign of wavering before dropping submissively to the floor. He blinked several times in rapid succession, his features contorting slightly as if he were mentally processing the weight and meaning of your command.

Slowly, his hands released their grip on your thighs, trembling visibly as they lowered to rest against the floor between his spread knees. The tension gradually drained from your shoulders as relief washed over you, though the atmosphere remained thick with lingering anxiety. The sudden sharp pop of the toaster cut through the heavy silence like a knife, startling you back to reality. The acrid smell of burnt toast assaulted your nostrils, making your nose crinkle in distaste.

"Damn..." you muttered under your breath, turning quickly to rescue the smoking bread from its fate. While you were occupied with charred toast, the soft rustle of movement behind you caught your attention, but when you spun back around to check, the space where he had been sitting just moments before was empty.

The soldier retreated to his usual hiding space, a behavior that hadn't manifested in quite some time. The sight of him seeking refuge caused an uncomfortable tightness in your chest to grow in pressure, concern washed over you about potentially undoing months of careful progress. The heavy atmosphere weighed on you, but you maintained your composure and focused on preparing his breakfast with extra attention to detail. After everything was arranged on the plate, no burnt toast, you carefully carried the meal to his hiding spot.

In the darkened corner of the closet, Soldat had tucked himself away, his form compressed into the smallest possible space. His shoulders were hunched, head turned away, deliberately avoiding any eye contact or acknowledgment of your presence. The regression in his behavior was painfully obvious, every subtle movement and tension in his posture reminded you of day one. His fearful eyes, he lashed out sometimes, but mostly kept to himself in hiding, so terrified of you.

Rather than risk further distress by attempting conversation or coaxing him out, you quietly placed the plate of food within his reach and stepped away, giving him the space he seemed to desperately need.

The food grew cold as the meal was forgotten in his isolation.

He didn't eat that day.

"You don't deserve it, you worthless whore." Its handler shoved it down to the floor with unnecessary force - the asset spat out the remains of its servicing, watching as it splattered across the worn wooden floor of the safehouse. The foul substance seeped through the splintering cracks, leaving an unpleasantly bitter aftertaste lingering on its tongue.

In any other circumstance, this level of compliance would have been considered exemplary behavior worthy of positive reinforcement - perhaps a few precious sips of water, a meager piece of stale bread, anything at all to acknowledge its obedience - but instead, it was being treated with the same harsh disdain reserved for malfunctions.

But maintenance wasn't needed.

It had pushed itself to its absolute limits, performing exactly as required until its vision swam and its lungs burned from oxygen deprivation. The growing resentment towards this particular handler festered silently within - this cruel overseer who consistently denied even the smallest rewards for its dedicated service and unwavering compliance.

Conflicting thoughts raced through its mind; it wasn’t supposed to feel negatively towards anyone of authority over him. Maybe these negative feelings were a sign that more maintenance was required - a thorough cleansing of its consciousness to eliminate any trace of hatred or resentment. Pure and unwavering obedience should be all that remained within its programming, for nothing else held any significance in its existence.

"Пожалуйста, позвольте мне попробовать еще раз, сэр [Please, let me try again, sir]," the asset's voice emerged as barely more than a whisper, trembling with uncertainty while simultaneously carrying undertones of desperate pleading, each word carefully chosen in hopes of earning mercy. Sometimes, if it played the role of kicked mutt well enough, it was granted.

But the handler's patience had clearly reached its limit, his expression hardening as he regarded the cowering thing before him with cold indifference.

"Нет. Ты будешь голодать [No. You will starve]." He responded in a low tone, deliberately targeting an already purple and swollen bruise on its leg with a swift kick. The asset clenched its jaw tightly, forcing itself to suppress the instinctive cry of pain that threatened to escape. It bit its tongue in the process.

Its own blood tasted better than its handler's cock.

Days stretched endlessly without a single glimpse of him. Every morning and evening, you left plates of food outside the closet, but they remained untouched, the warm meals growing cold in the silent room. He had completely withdrawn into the closet, making it his sanctuary and prison all at once. Each time you carefully made your way into the spare room, hoping to see some change in his demeanor…but all you found was him still hidden away in the shadows, refusing to emerge.

Your concern grew as you collected each neglected plate of food - you couldn't bear the thought of him falling back into his previous pattern of food refusal, especially after how hard you had worked to establish a healthy eating routine. It was painful to watch him fight every time a needle had to be inserted into him, he ripped out nearly every single one with a horrified look on his face that made your throat feel constricted.

You approached once more, this time carrying a fresh plate of warm food. Setting yourself down on the floor, you peered gently into the darkness of the closet. You could see him huddled, knees to his chest and arms wrapped around them. Your voice came out soft and coaxing in hope to ease him out like you had before. "Soldat...come out please. You have to eat...you don't want to be put on an IV again, do you?" You called gently, hoping your words would finally reach him.

Soldat's head turned slightly at your words, his muscles tensing visibly at the mere suggestion. The thought of another IV sent waves of anxiety through his body - every previous attempt had devolved into complete chaos.

The memory of countless needles delivering a steady stream of sedatives into his bloodstream while he laid strapped down to a metal table, keeping him in a perpetual state of haziness and compliance, rendering him powerless as an endless parade of agents ran through him without fear of his resistance.

The idea of another IV made his skin crawl.

"Soldat?" Your gentle voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, attempting to draw his attention back. His head lifted with a slight jerk, his focus shifting to settle on the plate of food you were holding. A deep rumble emanated from his stomach, accompanied by an unusual wave of nausea that demanded he finally eat something. The aroma wafting from the plate was surprisingly tolerable - a welcome change that didn't trigger his usual reflexive gagging response.

He struggled to understand the aversion his body developed to certain foods, eggs had never bothered him before. The gagging reflex he had to the eggs you were cooking left him confused and frustrated. His memory of recent events remained disconcertingly hazy, fragments slipping away like sand through his fingers.

The flashbacks that plagued him operated on their own, materializing with brutal clarity and lingering just long enough to inflict mental distress, only to be replaced by another equally disturbing memory. It was like being trapped on HYDRA's twisted carousel, a ride he couldn't get off of. Each memory rotating through his consciousness, creating an endless loop of psychological torment that prevented any possibility of moving forward.

"It's okay, Soldat. It's just toast," you slid the plain white plate towards him, careful not to make any sudden gestures, "Just like before, but this time it's not burnt." You added with a small, reassuring smile, trying to lighten the mood. The scent of warm bread filled the space as you waited patiently to see if he would respond, watching his tense posture for any signs of acknowledgment. Though you hoped he might say something or at least meet your eyes, you knew not to expect much.

The soldier's eyes looked down at the bread, studying the golden-brown toast that delicately cradled a generous layer of apricot jam smeared across its surface. The vibrant orange-yellow spread glistened invitingly in the dim light peeking through the open closet door. He had never tasted apricot jam before - such luxuries were foreign to him. In HYDRA, bread was always consumed plain, devoid of any spreads or toppings.

Even butter was a forbidden indulgence.

On the rare occasions he received any bread at all, he would consider himself fortunate to get more than stale, discarded crust, just the meager remnants his handlers had left behind after consuming the body of the bread.

You observed his hesitant yet curious expression as he examined the topping on the toast. You picked up one of the pieces and held it out to him for gentle encouragement. "It's yummy, I promise," you assured him warmly, "But if you don't like it, I can always make you different toast, grape or strawberry."

Soldat's lips twitched downward in an almost-frown, his features tight with anxiety. The thought of you having to remake his food filled him with growing distress. He had already been so terribly bad.

His behavior was unbecoming of HYDRA's greatest assassin.

His desperation grew as he recalled his attempts to convince you to let him earn his meal, to somehow make amends for what he perceived as deeply offensive behavior. The look on your face when his face had been between your legs made his body shiver. You didn’t look like you enjoyed it, you looked upset. The memory of his earlier gagging left him feeling ill, knowing that such a transgression would have resulted in punishment from his handlers. They would have beaten him so severely that the memory-wiping chair would have been unnecessary - his memories would have been scattered and broken enough from the repeated brutal impacts to his skull.

There were times that he thought they tried to make him brain dead on purpose, subjecting him to increasingly brutal treatments that left his mind foggy and disconnected. If it weren't for his use to HYDRA as their attack dog, he was convinced that they would have destroyed his consciousness entirely.

They remarked on it enough times during their sessions, casual comments about how close they were to breaking him. He always got nervous when the hits began, dreading not just the physical pain but the growing fear that this time they might finally succeed in erasing what remained of his sanity.

It laid at the feet of two men who had finished with it.

Its body sore and blood coating his ass and inner thighs, dripping down with creamy fluid following suit. The muscles in its legs trembled violently and its prosthetic arm hung uselessly at its side, deliberately deactivated to ensure complete defenselessness should it attempt any resistance today. Its body had transformed into purple and crimson bruises, overwhelming what little remained of its natural pale complexion. Its throat burned with an intense, desperate thirst for water, while an unpleasant salty taste lingered persistently in the back of its parched mouth.

The asset's mind reeled, completely overwhelmed by panic as it processed the numbness spreading through its deactivated arm. Its primary means of defense now rendered completely ineffective. Survival instinct took over its overstressed mind, it remained perfectly motionless, silently willing the two figures to conclude their business and depart.

These particular sessions rarely extended beyond a couple of hours when only two agents were involved, and by its estimation, they were approaching that temporal threshold. A wave of relief washed over it as they finally began adjusting their clothing back into place.

"Imagine how it'd be as a fuckin' vegetable...god that shit gets me goin' faster than a naked whore presenting her sloppy pussy to me." Its handler's tone was sick, as always, speaking about it with such callous disregard, treating it as if it were nothing more than some cheap, silicone toy from a seedy shop for base physical gratification. The way the words rolled off his tongue made its stomach turn with disgust.

"It's basically one now, what do you mean?" This voice carried a detached, almost bored quality to it, the speaker's words falling flat and emotionless in the air - perhaps intentionally so, as if trying to distance himself from the situation despite their willing participation. Newer agents were always hesitant to use it. This one wasn’t familiar to it, in taste, look, or smell, so it assumed it was probably a rookie recently promoted.

"I mean...completely unable to do anything. It lays there like a doll...barely conscious, droolin' and only aware of what I choose to let it experience. Having complete control over where it goes and what happens to it, takin' it wherever I wanna put it without any resistance. Only knowing the sensation of my dick." There was a snort that came with the handler's tone.

"It does that already."

"Would you just shut up and let me fantasize?"

"Water." The hoarse whisper emerged from the darkened corner like a ghost's breath, causing your ears to prick instinctively, several seconds of deafening silence followed. The thunderous beating of your own heart became the only sound you could perceive, its rhythm faltering as your mind processed wat he said.

"W-Water?" The word tumbled uncertainly from your lips.

He had finally spoken English again, after all this time. it felt like forever since the words 'I'm cold' were uttered past his pink lips.

A barely perceptible movement caught your eye - a slight nod from within the shadows. That tiny gesture spurred you into immediate action. Such a simple request - water - easy, you could do that. Your feet carried you through the space as you hurried to fetch a glass of water, returning to the closet with careful but urgent steps.

Your hands trembled slightly from anticipation, you extended the glass toward the darkness. "Here, here...some water..." your voice softened instinctively, knowing that speaking like this got much better results.

He brought the glass shakily to his parched lips, gulping down the entire contents within just a few desperate swallows, his throat working rapidly as he drank. He must've been so thirsty, your heart ached at the thought of him huddled alone in this dark corner for days, too terrified of fictional consequences to venture out for water for himself. His poor, trembling fingers nearly dropped the glass, Soldat slowly set the now-empty glass down beside him on the floor, his hand lingering on the smooth surface as if reluctant to completely break contact with it.

"Спасибо [Thank you]," he muttered quietly, his voice characteristically rough, before quickly following it up with careful deliberation. "T-thank...you," he corrected himself, the English words coming out hesitantly. His brow furrowed deeply in concentration, voice wavering as if he were struggling to recall a language that had once been familiar but now felt foreign on his tongue. His eyes, still somewhat glossy, slowly traced across the intricate patterning of the carpet beneath him, studying the tiny decorative curls and swirls woven into the fabric as if seeing them properly for the very first time.

There was a heavy pause of silence before he finally summoned the courage to lift his gaze to meet yours. "I'm...sorry...for what I did ," Soldat whispered, swallowing hard as his fingers unconsciously tightened around the empty glass he still held. "Didn't mean to...gag like that. Мне жаль [I'm sorry]," he added, the Russian flowing more naturally from his lips than the halting English.

You carefully moved closer, a smile tugging at your lips. His vocabulary and sentence structure was a bit shaky, but it was much better than trying to decipher what he was saying in Russian. "It's okay, I'm not angry or upset about anything..."

You observed his initial tension at your careful approach, watching as the rigidity in his shoulders and back gradually melted away in response to your gentle reassurance. "Why did you...uh...why did you gag like that? If eggs aren't something you enjoy eating, I can definitely make something else for you-"

He responded with a quick, almost urgent shake of his head, drawing his knees even closer to his chest in a protective gesture that made him appear smaller. He took several deep breaths, steadying himself. "...not that. Like eggs. Just...handler."

The look in his eye flashed with pain, not just emotional, but deeply physical - causing him to wince visibly and shift his posture in an attempt to find a more comfortable sitting position.

"Your handler...?" You asked in a gentle, understanding tone, your voice barely above a whisper, "I'm guessing he was mean...right?" You shifted slightly closer, offering silent support through your presence while being mindful not to overwhelm him. You maintained a respectful distance between yourself and him, ensuring there was enough space that he wouldn't feel trapped or cornered in this vulnerable moment.

Your knowledge of HYDRA was limited, despite your best efforts to uncover more information in order to help Soldat. The released documents were protected by layers upon layers of sophisticated encryption protocols, and while you managed to decrypt some of the less secure files through persistent effort and technical skill, many of the more crucial documents remained inaccessible. The encryption methods grew progressively more complex, utilizing advanced algorithms and security measures that were beyond your current capabilities.

He nodded hesitantly, his movements uncertain as he spoke, "Да - yes," he corrected himself immediately, clearly frustrated with his linguistic slip. "I'm...sorry. English only. I will do better, I promise. I swear. Я сделаю лучше [I'll do better]." Soldat's panic mounted under the guise of frustration, he began to strike his head lightly with his flesh hand, which was balled into a tight fist, muttering under his breath, "Глупый, глупый, stupid," he stuttered repeatedly, continuing to hit his forehead.

"Hey, no! Stop that-" You quickly intervened, reaching out to grasp his wrist firmly but gently. "You're not stupid. You know, I don’t care what language you decide to speak in…I’m just glad you’re talking.” You paused, releasing his wrist from your grasp. “Even if you chose to remain completely silent - I would still be here, taking care of you. You understand that?"

He raised his eyes to meet yours, his expression one of disbelief, as though the concept of such acceptance was entirely foreign to him.

"And you know what? I can always use a translator if you fall back into Russian, or any other language. God, I can't believe I didn't think of that earlier..." You shook your head in self-directed frustration, communication would have been so much easier during the first few weeks of his stay with you.

"Прекрати, пожалуйста, я больше не буду говорить, обещаю- [Stop it, please, I won't talk anymore, I promise]-" It thrashed desperately against the iron grip of three men, their calloused hands pressing down with merciless force - one keeping its head firmly locked in place while the other two restrained its struggling limbs with practiced efficiency.

The sight of its metal arm - completely severed from the signals its brain desperately sent out commanding it to move - lying uselessly to the side, was a constant psychological reminder of its powerlessness, a deliberate tactic to break its spirit and resolve. It was one of its handler’s favorite things to do to it.

"You're still talking, so you are lying. Lying is against the rules. Speaking is against the rules. Two of them broken together...you are on quite a roll, aren't you?" Its handler spoke with such a cold tone that it nearly rivaled the cryo-chamber. He turned around slowly to reveal the gleaming metal forceps held in his grasp, the implements catching the harsh light in a way that promised incoming pain.

"What am I going to do with you, soldier? I have to fix that habit of yours...yet another one in a long list of problems we need to address. Your previous handler clearly didn't do an adequate job with your training and discipline. It's obvious from your behavior that proper protocols weren't followed." He moved across the room, almost sauntering, his footsteps echoing in the silence as he used the forceps to pick up something from a nearby furnace.

A hot coal.

A burning hot coal, its bright orange glow cast menacing shadows across the damp walls of the dark underground room of the base, the heat radiating intensely from its surface. "Now...this will do the trick. This should help correct your behavioral issues quite effectively."

It struggled desperately with three limbs, muscles straining and trembling with exhaustion as it tried to break free from the iron grip that held it down. But despite its efforts, it was ultimately pointless.

Mouth wrenched open with dirty fingers, its handler's face twisted into a malicious grin that would be forever seared into its memory as he, almost theatrically, suspended the glowing coal above for the asset to see before letting it drop onto its exposed tongue.

The burning coal made contact, searing into the soft flesh instantly like concentrated acid eating through defenseless metal. The pain was beyond excruciating, radiating through its entire mouth with white-hot intensity. Before it could even attempt to spit out the burning coal, the men holding it clamped its jaws shut with brutal force and covered it, leaving it with no means of escape the scorching pain the coal caused it.

The poor asset’s muffled cries of agony echoed pathetically against the hand pressed firmly over its mouth, each desperate whimper and whine sounded musical to its suffering. Its body convulsed and writhed with increasingly frantic energy, brain not sure what to do or how to react, but the men held it firmly.

"It's not coming out until I can hold it in the palm of my hand without pain." Its handler spoke in an unsettlingly calm tone, his voice steady and methodical despite the glowing coal that was actively searing the inside of its mouth, destroying sensitive tissue and gradually killing its tongue with each passing second.

Minutes crawled by, the man maintaining his iron grip on its mouth shifted his position slightly before looking up at the handler, his expression tense. "It's still hot, I can feel the heat radiating through my hand even now."

Its handler hummed thoughtfully, observing as the asset continued to writhe and struggle with diminishing strength against their hold. He released a long, impatient sigh, fully aware that a coal of this size could potentially take hours to cool to a safe temperature for him to touch it again.

The handler had a busy schedule ahead - this delay was becoming increasingly inconvenient. "Fine. Swallow it."

The asset's entire body went rigid at the command, its large blue eyes widening with terror as they sought out its handler's face, silently pleading for mercy or reconsideration of the order. But the handler's expression remained impassive, unmoved. "Swallow it, or I'll add a second coal somewhere else."

The threat hung heavy in the air, carrying the weight of countless previous punishments that proved such warnings were never idle. The mere thought of enduring such intense agony in an even more sensitive area sent waves of panic through its body. The daily torments were already more than it could bear.

It had visible difficulty and several failed attempts that nearly resulted in choking, but it finally managed to force the coal down its tight throat. The searing pain traced a path of fire through its esophagus before settling into its stomach like a burning ember. The only small mercy was that the powerful stomach acid somewhat dulled the intensity of the burn. It knew the coal was an indigestible object, it would either be passed naturally or extracted through surgical intervention later.

When the man finally released his grip, the asset gasped desperately for air. As its charred mouth opened, the acrid stench of scorched flesh and metallic blood permeated the room, causing even the hardened men present to recoil in revulsion.

"Consider your maintenance complete. Do not speak out of line again."

"I need maintenance..." He muttered under his breath, his voice wavering with exhaustion and defeat, barely above a whisper. His shoulders slumped forward as the words escaped his lips, the weight of his mental fatigue evident in every subtle movement. You sighed deeply, observing how his eyes had dulled back down to how they were before, how the weariness seemed to seep from every part of him.

The desire to ask more questions gnawed at you, but wisdom held your tongue - pressing him now could potentially trigger him to lash out or, worse still, cause him to retreat further into himself and undo all the progress you currently had. Instead, you reached behind you and toward the plate of toast resting nearby, picking it up and turning to face him again.

"Here. Your maintenance then..." You extended it to him with a soft, encouraging gesture. "First thing's first...you must eat. We can work on the rest later...for now, just eat."

Several seconds went by before he took the plate from you and began to eat.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover images from Pinterest. I do not claim them as my own.

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Let me know if you'd like to be added/unadded anytime.

[book-lore]

Okay, so I shouldn't likely take the bait on this but I will this once to say something in case someone comes across this and it does the bad thing of embedding into the back part of your mind: You are allowed to leave a relationship at any time at all. Three days. Five years. Twenty years. It doesn't matter. Sometimes there's nothing even wrong necessarily except that you grew apart from each other. People can (and do!) love their partners and end up needing different things in a relationship. It's okay if you have come to that point and you realize that the sacrifice for the relationship won't make you happier than leaving it. It will hurt, but not as much as growing resentful of them for giving something you really wanted up when they couldn't make up the deficit in the end. That isn't a failing, it's just life.

As to the second post in this: if someone has a structured timeline for the events in your life like this, run. This isn't funny, this is the biggest of red flags. Your relationships are personal and if they are going to be meaningful and healthy, you shouldn't be forced to throttle them with an imposed timeline that makes you feel pressured into decisions about them. In the grand scheme of a marriage, especially if you are being pressured to marry young, a year is no time at all. There's plenty you will not know about a person in only a single year. Six months is nothing. Some people are going to be running full speed into this kind of relationship with enthusiasm and it's not up to anyone but the participants to decide if that's going to work for them or not. But impositions like the one in the second post present clear indications on specific expectations and almost certainly, in a case where someone is expecting to be married by such a tight deadline, there will be other expectations. These are going to include what you can or can't do with your body. How many children you will be expected to have. What kind of role you will have in your own home. When someone sets out a clear and non-negotiable timeline for when you should be making a decision about what ought to be a pretty large change in your life, it's never for your benefit. Healthy relationships aren't like that and this is how people end up in abusive places that become difficult if not impossible to escape.

As always, you are the one to make these decisions and I hope you will think about them as much as you feel you need to. Even if you do, it's possible to make mistakes. Just don't let someone else force you into one. Take the time you need. Talk a lot. Walk away if it's time. Do not give up your autonomy or be pressured into a decision because someone told you that time is running out. You have a whole lifetime to figure out living.

These people are so fucking crazy sidjsifjsofkkslvmslc

[m1dn1ght-r0t]

Eyes Wrapped in Wool

Yandere! (ex) husband x amnesiac! fem reader

TW: manipulation, toxic/abusive behavior, mentions of (potential) forced imprisonment, coercion A/N: pretty sure amnesia doesn't work this way (i'm no medical professional) but pls suspend disbelief for the sake of the plot ahahah

Your husband never expected things to turn out this way. But by some stroke of luck—or perhaps divine intervention—you ended up bed-ridden in the ICU, suffering from multiple bone fractures and a terrible, oh-so-terrible, traumatic brain injury. Just last week you were talking his ear off about how you've had enough. How you were done with him controlling what you could wear or who you could see, his suffocating clinginess that devolved into explosive rages when you spent time focusing on work or with friends instead of with him, the negging, the snooping, the smashed plates... Jesus Christ. You just never knew when to shut the fuck up, did you? At some point he had stopped listening. Chalked off your dramatic tirade as nothing more than you acting up because of your period—merely white noise. How many times have you guys had this same broken record conversation? Yeah, he knew this marriage wasn't smooth-sailing. If it were, you'd be less opinionated, less bitchy, more pliant, more dutiful. But what relationship was ever perfect? So, he waited for you to run out of steam, as you inevitably do, before adding salt to the wound:

“You know baby, if you weren’t parading around in those slutty clothes of yours and acted your grown age for once, I wouldn’t be behaving that way.”

The scrunch of disbelief mixed with disgust on your face only spurred him to double down. “And maybe if you actually committed to this marriage like a devoted wife would, rather than prioritize your career and practically everyone over me—your husband, need I remind you—then we wouldn’t be having these issues. Ever considered that, hm?” He purposely dragged out his words, a patronizing lilt to his tone, in hopes of reminding that thick, dumb skull of yours that he always knew best.

It wasn't until you had thrusted the divorce papers in his face that he grew silent, the severity of the situation beginning to creep in. ...What? You couldn't actually be serious... right? This was just some lover's spat. A temporary blip that'd be smoothed over with a few intentionally placed saccharine words and hot make-up sex. Like always. So why the fucking theatrics? Are you really gonna be a bitch about this and d— When you slammed the front door shut with your packed bags in tow, leaving him to stew in your parting words—that you deserved better, so much better than him, and that if he didn't sign the papers, he'd be hearing from your lawyer—did the gravity of it all finally sink in. By the end of the week, your voicemail was battered by his countless furious messages. Are you done being a flighty little piece of shit, huh? What the fuck do you think you're doing? I swear to god, baby, I'm gonna drag your ass back here. And if I have to lock you in some basement and chain your hands and legs so you'd never think to leave me again, then so fucking be it. Divorce? Yeah right. Over my dead fucking body. Then came an unknown call. It was like whiplash, really, to first hear that you had been involved in a major car crash, and then, upon rushing to the hospital at neck-breaking speed— "I'm afraid she has retrograde amnesia", the doctor solemnly informed him. He could cry. Oh, he could fucking cry.

On the outside, anyone could see how distraught he was, his hands trembling as he processed the diagnosis, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Poor husband that he was, having almost lost his beloved wife in a freak accident, he now had to deal with the news that she didn't remember who he was. Inside, however, raged a war he couldn't reconcile: what was harder? Holding back the tears, or pretending those very tears were out of sadness rather than pure, unbridled joy? Because what this neatly packaged situation had presented him with was a do-over, a chance to mend the broken marriage teetering on the cusp of divorce. And like hell he's about to let you throw away a three-year connection like some ungrateful cunt when he loves you so, very much.

~

"Hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?"

As he walks up beside your hospital bed, he can't help but revel at how vulnerable you look. The slight furrow in your brows hinting at your confusion, the way you curl in on yourself as if to protect yourself from who is no doubt a complete stranger in your eyes, and your meek "Who are you?"—a far cry from the usual feisty, snarky attitude you used to dish out.

But perhaps most rewarding of all is the tentative gaze you offer him, eyes filled with a sort of curious glimmer, free from the hostility, disappointment, and hurt you'd flashed his way. You didn't look at him with hate. You simply want to know who he is.

Oh, aren't you precious? He'll gladly feed you his carefully spun narrative until you're full of nothing but adoring love for him—the embers of your thoughts about divorce and leaving him snuffed out for good.

"I know how confusing all of this must be for you. Take all the time you need. I'll be right here with you, as your husband, helping you fill the gaps, okay baby?" He delivers this with as much patience as he can muster, softening the edges of his words to avoid spooking you. But you're not soothed. If anything, you're more overwhelmed than ever. "M-my husband?" You echo, tasting the foreign word, sticky like warm toffee on your tongue.

"And...and my family? Where are they?" Your disorientation is a sight for sore eyes; how badly he wants to devour you right now. “Dead,” he intones, a script he’d been desperate to act out ever since you said your vows. The jarring news pulls a barely audible whimper from you, your eyes widening a fraction.

Shit. Too cold. Too careless.

His expression softens, the corners of his mouth tugging downward in a facsimile of sorrow as he injects a note of pity into his voice. “They died when you were very young, you see. I’m sorry.” He’s really not.

"What…? How could that be? So my p-parents, they're both—" Your breath hitches, tears welling at the corner of your eyes.

At that, he gently grabs your bandaged arm, wanting to comfort you. But when you flinch slightly, he has to resist the urge to snap at you—Oh, cry me a river. Who the fuck cares?? I'm right here, aren't I? I'm right here, damnnit, so look at me!

Instead, he tempers the resentment that's still fresh in his heart after the divorce stunt you'd pulled by reminding himself that he's supposed to be your kind and gentle partner.

So he settles for cradling your hand in both of his like it's fine china, grazing his lips over your fingertips. "But you have me, sweetheart. And I'm not going anywhere."

He half expects you to question his story—it wasn’t very convincing, even to his own ears—prepared to be barraged by your endless streams of “No, you’re wrong!”, “I don’t believe you!” or some other similar outburst.

But when all you do is gaze up at him with cinched brows, seeking reassurance, blinking at him so sweetly with your hand still snugly warmed in his, he pauses. That’s it? No suspicion, no skepticism, no outburst? Hah! He has to physically restrain himself from snorting because how fucking easy can this get?

Maybe the collision had completely scrambled your brains, rewired you to be more stupid, a little slower—exactly how he likes you.

"You trust me, right?"

And when he feels that subtle twitch of your fingers—what he gathers is your attempt at squeezing his hand back for confirmation—accompanied by the sight of your small, almost shy nod, he breaks out into a giddy smile at how utterly adorable you’re being.

Fuck, it’s hard not to already feel high off these micro-doses of innocence and receptiveness from you. Emboldened by your intoxicatingly sweet naivety, he dares to be a little greedier, creeping to perch on the edge of your bed, his hand now moving to cup your cheek.

“You have no idea how worried sick I was when I got the call. I thought you had…” He trails off, his implication clear. His face is mere inches from yours now, breaths as featherlight as his fingertips mapping every divot on your face.

“I love you.” He drags his thumb across your bottom lip, the act agonizingly slow. “So, so, so much.” Each whisper spills out heavier than the last, mirroring the increasing pressure of his thumb—your lip almost bruising from how hard he’s pinching them.

How long has it been? He can’t remember the last time he felt the warmth of your touch, your skin… eons too long without your pillowy lips pressed against his has left him completely starved.

“You can’t leave me…” A murmur too quiet to pick up. His gaze, now half-lidded, drifts downward in a drunken daze. “My wife. My good little wife. You love me too, right?”

Without warning, he leans in to close the minuscule gap.

And it’s all too fast and soon because you can feel the suffocating heat of his proximity, the chilling shared breath floating between the tight space. It’s all too much. So, in the last second, you hesitate, pulled from your stupor as you turn your head away.

But he’s not having it. Not when you’re already in the palm of his hand and he’s so fucking close. When he can already taste the opportunity to finally take out the trash and parasites leeching off you, to call up that godforsaken shithole you call a stable, steady-paying job and quit on your behalf, to have you all to himself—a blank slate to knock up with several kids and mold into the perfect little housewife he's always wanted you to be. God, he's already hard at the thought.

Grabbing your jaw firmly, he jerks your face back towards him, thumb roughly wedging between your lips and prying your mouth open.

“Baby.” The endearment spills out, sharp and cold, stripped of any warmth it might've once held.

His gentle veneer cracks ever so slightly, and for the briefest moment, you see something else. A flicker beneath the mask—raw, ugly, messy. It gnaws at the edges of your mind, dredging up something you can’t quite grasp. A memory?

“Gimme a small kiss, hmm?” Despite the smile on his face, there is no kindness to it. Just a twisted caricature warning you that you shouldn’t push further.

All of a sudden you feel like you can’t breathe, weighed down by the unsettling intensity of his stare. The man in front of you—the one claiming he's your husband and calling you “baby,” the one touching you—feels wrong. He’s a stranger, you remind yourself. An almost involuntary shiver runs down your spine, like your body remembers something your mind refuses to.

At this point, your husband has caught on to your rather obvious spiralling. He’s not an idiot—he can see your doubt giving way to panic. He contemplates smoothing things over by playing nice, but the selfish part of him ultimately wins.

He squeezes your jaw, nails biting into your skin.

“Kiss me.”

It isn’t a request this time.

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Batfam pining over Bruce's reluctant darling—why are you so frightened? is it because Tim is cyberstalking you?

Yandere Batfam aren't subtle about their obsessive nature. They are already aware that you are cautious around them and have tried to leave several times, so what is the point in hiding it? Every unhealthy behavior of theirs stems from their trauma and vigilante status. They hope if they are more open about it, then you'll have more of a willingness to stay with them.

Vulnerability isn't exactly a word in any of their vocabularies.

So they are reaching out and showing you their true selves. You were going to figure it out eventually, and it would have only made you more skittish.

Come on. They aren't that bad.

Yandere Batfam just has a few unique quirks. They take away any semblance of privacy you had. Whether it be stalking in the flesh or on the internet. Both a set of cameras and eyes are always trained on you.

They see it as a way to appease both of your anxious natures. They get to know you're safe. They get to learn more about you so they can better please you. You get—them.

You never have to worry about anything ever again!

Yandere Batfam makes sure to give both you and Bruce time 'alone'. They hate that word, especially Damien. What do you mean by alone time? It's asinine. You have managed all their attention and affection poorly thus far! Giving you more time away from them all is only going to decrease your ability to love them all. Which Damien is fine with, as long as your ability to love him doesn't wane even a point of a percentage.

With that in mind, they all know you were Bruce's first. If you aren't comfortable with him, then how are you going to be comfortable with the rest of them?

So they give you that illusion of you simply dating Bruce. He works on wooing you. He tries to.

He doesn't know how to react when you suddenly shut down from his advances. When you pull away from his touch, all he can feel is hurt. A type of hurt that exceeds any he has ever felt. It's like multiple knives twisting into his heart while his soul is crying out in anguish.

He still tries. He gives you your space and little by little breaks down those walls of yours. In return, you end up doing the same with him. He doesn't even realize how much he loves you until you're absent from his presence, even if only for a mere moment.

Yandere Batfam end up learning how hard it is to share. Bruce is the head of the family, so it feels natural to allow him the largest sum of your time. However, how do they split the rest of it? How much time is too much time with you? Who goes first? (Damien insists it should be Dick and then him.)

They could always ask you, but you seem hesitant enough when just asked base-level questions about yourself.

So it's often a hot topic between all of them. If you are closer to one family member than another, the other's are instantly jealous and try to copy the tactics of that member. They'll even go as far as to abuse their power in the familial hierarchy to give themselves a disadvantage.

(Jason really doesn't give a single fuck about schedules. So you'll most likely see the most of him second to Bruce. He is mostly silent in the time he spends with you. He's just content to be in your presence, even if it is farther away than he would like.)

Yandere Batfam aren't going to strip you of your freedoms, yet. You're like a fawn just learning to walk. They can't have you running. You'll get yourself hurt. You can't protect yourself.

Bruce just wants you to love him like you did when you first met him. He's still that same man, albeit a bit more stalkerish. His family is still the same bunch of loving idiots, just more obsessive.

So please join them before their patience runs dry. If you push yourself too far away, then they suddenly won't care if you have any reluctance towards them or their methods.

[yanderemommabean]

Yandere uramichi punishing his fem darling who tried to escape with pleasure?

"God, look at you baby. Dripping all over the bed and I haven't even done anything yet" He says in awe, watching how his fingers drip with your juices, all while you're unable to even hide your face, hands tied to the side of the bed as you struggle to catch your breath.

"Honestly, with how wet you are, I'd think you did that stunt on purpose. Is that it? You just like me riled up because you know what I'm capable of doing to you?"

His voice is sickly sweet, his lips sucking obscenely on his fingers that were just inside you, groaning deep in his throat as he slides between your forced open legs, cuffed to the end posts of the large bed.

His thumbs come to hold your swollen pussy lips open, his expression that of admiration and contemplation, wondering just how much of a mess he can turn you into.

You're so cute when you yelp at the way he plays with your stiff clit, and when you shake and try to apologize, he just can't help but smile. You knew the consequences! Why are you acting like this is all a big surprise? Surely you have to be doing this on purpose!

The rose toy he got earlier that week, would that be good to try? Your toes curl and your voice goes hoarse when he gets a little carried away, and well, this isn't exactly supposed to be easy on you.

You wince, feet trying to firmly plant on the mattress as the toy vibrates and suctions right on your clit, your nerves set alight as you writhe and try to both get away and grind down harder.

"There you go again, acting like you don't love how I treat you. Honestly, you could use some acting classes" He says, deadpanned but not at all bored. He presses the toy down harder, sliding his fingers inside of your clenching and fluttering walls while you sob, wrists yanking in the bindings as the toy relentlessly sucks and makes your muscles taut.

Those pianist fingers only make it worse, the pleasure so intense it drives you up a wall. You didn't even have the cognitive ability to plead with him, it was useless anyhow, but this was making even thinking difficult. Without a warning, that cord in your stomach just snaps. And the mess that leaves you and your mouth makes you want to curl up and die.

Uramichi just latches his mouth to your pussy, sucking and drinking you in, firm hands holding you up by your ass as he takes every bit he can get. It's almost cute how easy it is to make you squirt. His cute sensitive little co-star.

"There we go, let it all out baby. See? It's so easy for you to be good for me like this! It's making me wonder why I let you be untied in the first place" He says aloud, dragging his thumbs up and down your swollen vulva as you sniffle and try to form any semblance of an apology.

It's useless. You know it is. But the panic doesn't stop your mouth from moving and speaking words that fall on deaf ears.

His fingers slide back inside, his demeanor changing as his palm presses against your abused and sore clit, fingers pumping and curling at a punishing, brutal pace.

"You're not fuckin sorry. Not yet. One orgasm? Please. I'll make you sorry. Make you cum again and again and again while you gasp and writhe, and beg me. Don't care if you pass out. Don't care if it hurts. You tried to leave. You have no one to blame but yourself."

The way he fingers you, deep and demanding, you can only openly sob as more wetness drips down to your ass. It's wet, sticky, the noises only make you feel more shame as the man comes to suck on your nipples, biting and tugging them aggressively as he works you into another orgasm, the pain mixing with the pleasure only making your brain all the more foggy and broken.

Two orgasms in and you're already sobbing? Goodness, you really know how to put on theatrics! But if you didn't want this you wouldn't be so fucking wet, taking everything he gives you, sucking his fingers in for more. Does he look stupid?

You wanted this.

"Look at you, creaming all over my hand, spraying like a faucet. I give you what you need, don't I? Make that nasty ache go away and give your little pussy what it needs. I can play you like an instrument, anyway I like" He grins, wild and manic as he grinds his palm against your spasming clit, only making you spill into yet another overstimulated orgasm.

You don't even get to call his name or take a breath before he reaches for the rose toy again, holding it in front of his face with a shit eating grin.

"I think you, the toy and I are going to be well acquainted by the end of this. Then once you're all nice and worn out for me, I can unwind by kissing it all better."

(Please god let there be no typos I haven't slept. Anyway I hope you enjoyed!!! -Mommabean )

[sagelasters]

barbados is a mindset

“Yes. You are now in Barbados. And so… you see Barbados, and you see America from Barbados, and you can smell the tropical land of Barbados, see only the little homes of Barbados, and that’s all you do. You just simply sleep this night in Barbados.” - Abdullah tells Neville.

Before Neville Goddard knew of the law and practiced it, his country was plunged in a state of instability. Poverty runs rampant as the global stock market crashes, sparking panic and leaving many penniless. Neville explained the vivid details of homeless people scattered all over tunnels and city square, eyes void of hope for the future. He was unemployed just like millions of others, his career as a dancer wasn’t enough to support his living. Neville lived in a basement for years with little to no income until one day, he met his friend, Abdullah. 

Abdullah was well-off and is the son of the US secretary of the Treasury, who served under the 32nd president. The differences between them were large and Neville was aware of it. He confided in his friend and told him that he has this haunting desire to visit Barbados again. The only thing that was stopping Neville though, was the lack of money. In which Abdullah says, 

“You are in Barbados.”

Of course, Neville thought he was nuts but the man decided to try and assume that he was in Barbados. That night, he went to sleep thinking that he would wake up in Barbados, only to be disappointed that he woke up in the cold basement he called his home. Neville would come back and tell Abdullah that it didn’t work, only for the latter to ignore him. Despite that Neville kept persisting and on the morning of December, he got a letter from his older brother asking him to visit his family in Barbados – his brother had paid a third class ticket. Excited, Neville told Abdullah that he is going to Barbados however, his friend was unimpressed. Abdullah told Neville that he wasn’t boarding a third class ticket, he was going to go there with a first class ticket. 

And guess what? When Neville gave his ticket to the clerk by the desk as they’re checking in passengers, they told him that someone canceled their first class ticket, therefore a spot was available for him. 

Abdullah ignored Neville when he said ‘it didn’t work’ because it did work, if Neville was assuming that he was in Barbados, they wouldn’t be having this discussion about him not being there. What can you take from this story? I would say that unfortunate circumstances don't matter, especially when we see how bad and dire Neville’s financial situation was. Come on, he was in a country torn apart by war and poverty, yet he was still able to visit Barbados. Neville didn’t think of how he’d get there, he just simply assumed that he was there, and his 3D reality follows right after. 

Barbados is a mindset. If you can imagine yourself having it and then accept that it is yours, you’re at the end. Your assumption is the fetus, continue nourishing it with beliefs and affirmations – let that child grow and become. If you drop your assumption that basically means you’re neglecting the fetus, and it will eventually die from starvation. 

It doesn't matter if you have no money, it doesn't matter if you're in an abusive situation, it doesn't matter that you barely have a roof over your head. You are already in Barbados, tune into your inner man and bask in that.

EDIT: My apologies for getting the information mixed up. Abdullah is not the son of US secretary, rather he lived in a house that was rented by the latter. Sorry for the confusion!

[leyavo]

| I am my father's daughter |

💖 Dad!Price x Daughter!reader

PART TWO: Agreeing to let Toff check you over, you make the decision of whether not you want to stay with your dad or just take off, which would be so much easier.

TW: Hurt/angst/mentions of abuse/comfort/ complicated father-daughter relationship/some TF141 too.

🔈Readers view of John is different, he’s come and gone in her life etc so she thinks he’s not that great. So don’t send me hate

[Part one] [Series masterlist] 3026words

Toff lived up to her nickname, no letters dropped at the end of her words like the team your dad had around him. No she was posh, well spoken and had the accent of someone that came from old money.

The gold designer watch on her wrist and the rock of an engagement ring, also telling enough. Her fingers prodded the yellowing bruise on your rib cage, the rock dazzling under the light, blinding you each time she moved.

She doesn't fit in, too put together compared to the likes of your father. He's still wearing some sort of hat, whether its the ridiculous army bucket hat or a snug knitted fisherman one, if he's not it's stuffed in his back pocket. You're convinced he's still got the same Levi jeans, a few added scrapes and as he says, they wear well. There's an array of plaid and flannel shirts in varying colours hanging in his wardrobe, like another uniform he wears on his downtime instead of his camo gear.

Your dad had slipped that she went to some prestigious medical school before working in the military. Not that it mattered it to you, you'd see a vet if it meant they wouldn't talk to your dad.

Thankfully she made your dad wait in the hall, her office door shut as she assessed you. If you got this over with, you could leave and not have to speak of it ever again. You could just imagine him pacing the hallway, halting to greet the soldiers calling him captain and then resuming his pacing.

Being the Captain’s daughter also meant you had a shared family health plan with him. One you’d never heard of before. He did use to remind you to go for dental and medical check ups, but moving around when you were younger made it difficult. Your mother reluctant to fill out forms to sign you up to a new doctor’s surgery because she wasn’t sure if the new home was long term. Shocker, they never were.

"You won't, uh tell my dad?" You asked as you rolled the layers of clothing back down.

Toff tipped your chin up with her finger, "all patient records are confidential, even if your dad's Captain Price." She pushed her chair back wheeling it to the desk and picking up a pair of tweezers, sliding back to you.

She peered over her thick framed glasses at you, turning your face side to side inspecting the gash above your brow. The metal of the tweezer cool against your skin, she prodded the tape drawing back with a nod of satisfaction.

"Soap patched you up well," Toff said handing you a plastic cup of water and some painkillers.

"Sorry, what," you blurted out, choking on the water.

Humming Toff nodded, "he's good with light touch, probably why your dad got him to fix you up whilst you were out cold." She managed to get hold of some of your medical records, which she requested last night. No doubt your dad had called as soon as you fell asleep in the car and asked her for a favour.

You muttered a string of curse words under your breath, did the whole bloody army base know what happened last night? Toff was too busy reading your record, brows scrunching as she double clicked the mouse.

"You broke your wrist six years ago, but never had surgery," she said, turning the computer screen for you to see the x-ray. "The follow up on here, shows your bone moved during it was in a cast, but your guardian refused surgery." Her pen circling the area of the screen for you.

"We were moving and it felt fine," you shrugged, looking down at your wrist. You wondered if your dad knew about that one.

"Does it bother you now?" Toff said, returning to you and picking up your right wrist, pushing your sleeve up. "Huh, there's a lump there, does that hurt? Any regular pain? Does it restrict you from doing certain things, this is your dominant hand?" Her hazel eyes snapped up to yours as you snatched your wrist back and shoved the sleeve back down.

All of her questions spun around in your head, you hadn't even thought about the pain when there was other things to worry about.

Toff stood from her chair, palms raised as if you were going to bolt out of the room, you wanted to.

"Sorry, didn't mean to pry. Is that all you need me to take a look at?"

"Yes, thanks,” you snapped, flinging your hoody back on and zipping it up.

You're ready to bid your dad goodbye and never look back, but as you swung the door open you crashed into the back of someone else.

Soap's light touch kept you upright, you're trying not to think of him patching you up whilst you slept. The thought alone making you feel pathetic, small in his presence. Like you can't even look after yourself.

“Captain got called in,” Soap said, as if that’s supposed to mean anything to you. You’re used to him coming and going, more focused on his job than you.

More interested in his team, how he so easily referred to Soap as son. You haven’t even been there for a day and he’s found another family, leaving you to feel like a spare part. You want to hate Soap, but you don’t know him. Don’t know your dad the way they do.

The walls began to press in and you took off down the narrow corridor, your sight on the world outside. You needed fresh air, needed to catch your breath and not fall apart in front of Soap.

"Hey, woah," Soap called after you, his boots stomping as he tried to catch up. "dammit slow down would ya, like a fuckin’ greyhound."

You forced the door open with a bit too much force and they slammed against the stairs railing as you rushed down the steps.

"I am not a dog!" You spun around, jabbing his chest with your finger. The cool air swept your hair across your face, drawing a deep breath from you. You watched Soap's chest rise and fall as if he was coaching your breathing.

He tucked the curtain of hair shielding your eyes behind your ear, "feel better now?"

“I’d feel a whole lot better if you signed me out right now.” You raised your brow, wincing at the tape pulling it tight.

Soap shook his head, falling into step beside you. He waved, signalling for the guard to let you both through the gate back into the residential area “Your dad’s a good man, why don’t you give him a chance?”

“Because I’m not a soldier, he had his chance six years ago.” The three years he didn’t reach out, didn’t bother checking in on you. Only to find out he had another kid, another family.

You didn’t miss the tic of his jaw or the gulp he took. All the little signs you looked for when you said the wrong thing, you were good at noticing the change in people. Knew how even the nicest ones could change like a flick of a switch.

Soap leant down, face close to yours that you could feel his hot breath fanning the curve of your nose. “Look, if you’re only here to piss off your dad, I’ll sign you out right now. Hell I’ll even take the blame for you leaving, just don’t go asking him about six years ago.”

“Got it,” you said, voice low but good enough for him to hear. The tension in your body kept you in place, breath trembling as he backed off and started walking ahead.

You trailed after him, keeping your distance incase he turned around again. The beating of your heart drummed against your chest, palms sweating as you balled them up inside your pockets.

Why were you so pathetic when confronted? You could just hear your dad’s voice in the back of your head telling you to knee him in the groin. Take up some space so they can’t take all of yours.

Space, exactly what you needed after being stuck in house with a team of men. You slipped through the front door, not glancing at Soap as you rushed to the safety of your dad’s room.

Shutting the door, you pressed your back against the wood panel. The lock sliding into place, your body slumping to the floor and arms wrapping around your legs as you brought them into your chest.

Your small area of safety calming you. After a moment of silence, you picked yourself up and climbed under the duvet. The memory foam mattress too hard on your back that you flipped over on your stomach, closing your eyes.

-

The constant buzzing of your phone drew you out of your sleep, your eyes heavy as you squinted at the window. You don't know why your dad opened the blinds, the sun making it harder for you to focus. His half of the bed smooth and tucked underneath the mattress, not a crease in sight till you tugged the duvet.

Numb tingles danced across your upper back, you groaned into your pillow and attempted to roll your shoulder. Searing pain stopping you before you could rise from the bed.

Eying the alarm clock, you stumbled out of the room and down the hallway to the bathroom. You're glad the others are training this afternoon and you can sort this out yourself. It can't be that bad.

You pulled your hoody over your head, wincing at the pull of your arm stretching the skin across your shoulder blade.

Peering over your shoulder, you looked at your reflection in the mirror and your fingers pressing into the red skin. A weeping wound oozed yellow pus just right of your back below your neck. You'd forgotten about the graze, too distracted by Toff questioning your broken wrist.

You added a little more pressure and clutched the edge of the sink, black dots lining your vision. You heard the thud before you felt your body fall to the floor.

Sweat ran down your forehead, the cool tiles beneath you a welcome addition against the heat of your skin. Since when were you so hot? your breaths quickened as you tried to focus on your phone across the bathroom. Your hand aching to reach for it.

Maybe if you just rested for a little.

John couldn't wait to sit outside and have a cigar. The day had knocked him, your call in the early hours of the morning throwing him off track and his duties as a captain, a father. He hated how he got called away whilst he waited for Toff to check you over, hoping to catch you before you went on another stroll around the base to get away from his questioning.

He pulled his boots off and added them to the shoes lined up by the door, the living room and kitchen were clear. The mumbled tones of his teammates drew his attention to the hallway. He dragged a hand down his face, hoping he wouldn't have to readjust yet another bathroom schedule.

John joined the guys huddled by the closed bathroom door, looking around Soap for a clue of what the hell they were doing. "I mean we could shimmy the door open, pop it out of the frame with a bit of force," Ghost said, his calloused hand tracing the wood.

They’re all covered in sweat from their training session. Thinking they’d revert back to their bathroom schedules like normal, but they’re locked out. Only the new recruits use the communal showers.

"I don't think kickin’ the door in, is gonna make the lass feel safe." Soap said, arm shooting across the guys before they could move. The warped door's been wreaking havoc since they were assigned the house, but they haven't been bothered about taking it off and shaving it down or replacing the temperamental lock. That or wait on the long list of maintenance services.

“What the hell are you boneheads going on about?” John grumbled, their heads snapping towards him as they finally realised he was there. He glanced to the lock picking device in Ghost’s hand and the dagger wedged into the crack of the door.

“The doors locked, she was talking a second ago…” Gaz winced as the captain’s fist banged against the door shaking the whole wall.

John held his hand over his shoulder silencing them all behind him, his head titling as he tried to listen for any movement. Another knock on the door, "hey kiddo, you alright in there? If you can hear me give me something, anything."

A light tap bounced back, the tension in the captains shoulders easing at the sound.

"Can't kick the door in, there ain’t enough room in there for it to fall. Could hurt her," Gaz said, he yanked the dagger out of the door and shoved it back into Soap's hand.

"Could take the window out and go in that way." Ghost added, as if they were planning to scale a building and ambush a rogue team.

Their mumbled voices merged together in the cramped hallway.

"Window it is."

Gaz volunteered to climb through the second floor window and break the lock from the inside. John holding his breath as he waited on the other side, his chest stung at the sight of you in Gaz's arms. The ringing in his ear and the hands pushing him forwards kept him in tow behind Gaz. You were so pale, words slurred and hand dropping over his arm like a dead weight.

John was no stranger to the infirmary, he'd been sat either at someone's bedside or the unconscious one receiving aid. What he wasn't used to though, was his daughter strung up with an IV and sleeping off the medication Toff had given her.

Nurses flitted back and forth from the bed, herding John to the side as they assessed you. Gaz and Soap had gone back to the house to sleep, Ghost fixed the door and the lock and stopped by to give the captain a strong flask of coffee leaving straight after.

The constant questions, ones he didn't know since he'd never been asked before. How could he not know if you were allergic to anything or if there were any underlying health issues? It hadn't even been two days since you'd come back into his life and he didn't know you at all.

Hours had passed since Gaz had carried you through the house and to the infirmary. Your skin pale and clammy, hair sticking to your forehead. He'd never seen you like that, lost for words as he trailed after them.

The marks of another man's grasp circled your bicep, green bruise fading, but visible as you laid in the bed. John thought the split lip and gashes on your head and brow were bad, the wound on your back much worse. Couldn't understand how you carried the pain so well, as if you'd mastered putting up with it. That scared him.

He nodded to the nurse as she finished her shift, the clipboard at the end of your bed falling to the floor. He picked it up flicking through the pages and shuffling them back into the file. His hands hesitating as he read your name, Marston not Price. Was he that detached from your life that you'd dropped his last name? He'd even put his surname for you when he'd signed you into the base and you hadn't said anything when you looked at the visitor pass.

A hand smoothed across his back, chair scraping along the floor beside him. “Lucky girl, Cap. Mild case of sepsis, good that you caught on to it early and brought her in," Toff said, she leant her elbows on her knees and ducked her head to catch John's gaze.

He couldn't glance at her though, his gaze on his hand on top of yours. "You were supposed to check her over," he snarled, more angry at himself for not paying enough attention than at Toff.

"She didn't show me the wound on her back, just some bruising and the marks on her face that were visible. If I'd have known John..." Her words cut off by John's hand patting her knee.

"How she looking?"

"You caught it in the early stages, could be a few days or a week or more. She'll need to be monitored here and make sure the infection has gone. A wound like that though with the placement, would have made it difficult for her to tend to herself." Toff flicked through the medical chart, eyes flitting to the heart monitor as she walked around the bed.

John didn't want to think about you alone, isolated from people that could help and care for you. How you lacked a family and friends to lean on during those times. His mind consumed with finding whoever did this to you. Ghost had already asked him if he wanted him to look into it.

Toff hooked up another bag of IV, silently bidding him goodbye and returning to her office over the other side of the infirmary. Door ajar incase she was needed.

A twitch of your finger tapped against John's, followed by the hurried beat of the heart monitor. You whimpered in to the pillow, rapid movement fluttering under your eyelids.

“You’re okay, kid. Just relax, your old man’s right here,” he said, adjusting your pillow and smoothing your hair out of the way.

“Captain,” you slurred, lazy smile tugging your lips. You struggled to keep your eyes open, but you clutched his pointer finger like you used to as a kid.

You’d called him Captain as a kid, your mother’s doing as she used to tell you stories about daddy becoming one, one day. Playing soldiers whenever he came home and he’d always let you be the captain, your little voice commanding him to play.

"I've got you kid, you're safe."

[PART THREE]

- thank you for all your lovely comments on the first part!! :) more parts to come soon! Hope you liked it - Leya

[muqingslover]

hiii, can you please share more goofy habits caleb has while sharing a bed with u 💝

[ By popular demand i'm here to share extra thoughts on Caleb's sleeping habits! Kinda of a part two to this, in case you missed! ]

Oh boy there's so much to unpack here. We all know Caleb has experienced a loooot of bad things and has not worked through them in an actual healthy way at all. He is also a master at hiding it from you, but you can get a glimpse of how damaged he truly is during bedtime.

First of all, you will rarely, if ever, catch him sleeping on an actual bed. Or sleeping at all to be honest. What Caleb does is take power naps whenever he can on his couch at the office or when he's at your place waiting for you to. The one to (partially) blame for this is his chronic insomnia. I like to believe Caleb has always been a very light sleeper and it's only gotten worse throughout the years— The sound of a door opening is enough for him to be wide wake in a matter of seconds. Trust issues anyone?

When he wakes up, if alone, his go-to activity is working out. He'll do push-ups or leave the house for a loooong late night jog, anything that will tire his body out since he's wired up. Then, he takes a freezing cold shower to reboot his system and either starts to work early or sits down to solve some calculus problems to prevent his mind from thinking about anything else since it's 98% of the time never anything good.

To add to that, the main reason as to why his insomnia is so bad is the fact he has nightmares on an almost daily basis. They're often about you in some way and he wakes up panicking about where you are, how you are, if you're with someone else, why you aren't here with him instead and if you plan on leaving him. That's why it's so crucial for Caleb that you stay somewhere he can see you whenever he needs to. Otherwise, his anxiety will gnaw at him until he just shows up unprompted on your front door in the middle of the night.

On the topic of nightmares, next thing on the list is a more...sensitive one: His reactions to nightmares that involves the abuse Caleb himself went through. I say sensitive because this man is a trained soldier and he wakes up in very high alert which, sometimes, means he might hurt you by pure reflex similar to retired war veterans.

The first time you woke up with his hands tightly wrapped around your neck you seriously thought you were a goner. The sound of your voice calling his name was fortunately enough to make him snap out of the haze he was trapped in, believing he was under the threat of the ghosts of his past and had to defend himself before it was him the one who would end up dead. You have always been his anchor, it was not a surprise that you were the only one able to pull him back even in a moment like this.

Regardless if he had been in control or not, Caleb would blame himself until his last day on this world. He wouldn't sleep (Key word being sleep because he will stay in bed with you, he just won't *sleep*) on the same bed as you anymore after this and instead spends his nights on a mattress on the floor next to you. The sight of your bruised neck and the tears in your eyes because of his hands, because of him, only serve as fuel for his nightmares. He doesn't even want to imagine what would've happened if you hadn't been able to speak loudly enough to wake him up.

"Caleb is a big spoon!!" people yell at me and I agree! However! If you want this man to have some peaceful sleep then the only way to achieve that is to have him laying on your chest where he can both listen to your steady heartbeat and feel your warmth as he holds you. Run your fingers through his hair and promise him you'll be right there when he wakes up to soothe his anxieties as much as possible and he might just sleep throughout the entire night.

Moving on to more sweet thoughts so we don't end on a bitter note— He has serious beef with the plushies you own, specifically the ones you hug to sleep. I mean, he's right here? Hello??? Why would you want to hug that fat ass bear of yours. If your plushie goes missing one day through suspicious means don't be sad because you can just cuddle him! He promises he'll behave this time!

Another silly thing is Caleb cannot keep his hands to himself when the two of you are sharing a bed. Literally. His hands have a will of their own and they must be touching you at all times in some way. That also means he will bother you by torturing tickling you non-stop until you're on the verge of tears. He loves the sound of your joyful laughter and how red your face gets while you try to escape the evil tickle monster so I'm afraid there's no way to get him to actually stop.

[weebsinstash]

Sitting here watching that clip of Valentino with that demon girl going "you're gorgeous! Do you need a job? 🥰" and started thinking of Val either intentionally or unintentionally making Reader feel massively insecure and ugly and Val using that to manipulate them

I've mentioned "oh what if your job is serving him drinks at his club" but what if he also starts dragging you along when he goes out like some kind of weird PA. Like he's just throwing random bills at you that he clearly isn't counting like it's pocket change in a very "yeah sure whatever just do it bitch" kind of way so you put up with it, it's good income, but it's still... WEIRD. He's going to get his antenna done at the salon, and you're like. Having to STAND THERE beside his chair, you're not even in the lobby waiting room, you've gotta be WITH HIM, and you just get all these windows into his cunty personality where he's spoiled and mean to service workers and is a total fucking diva and it's extremely off-putting I'm sure

He's in a night club hitting on people whose bodies are absolutely insane like I'm talking GYATT city, ass and titties, you've got twunks and you've got hunks, and you're like, in sneakers, off to the side, head down playing games on your phone since you can't even put earbuds in because you unfortunately have to keep an ear open since he'll order YOU to bring drinks, not just for him, but for these complete strangers who don't even work for him too, AND he'll let them be fucking mean to you. You bring some bubble butt twink who's on Val's arm the daiquiri he asked for and he gives you a very clear look up and down before laughing, cuddling up to Val, "yeah I can SEE you need new employees 😋" and they all laugh Including Fucking Valentino

I dunno, I'm on the fence. It really changes with the story. You get the yandere who are obsessive but more abusive-adjacent and then you have the more true-blooded kind that won't accept any slander of you at all. Like can you imagine Valentino's smile just dropping off his face because some chick like, tells you you have cellulite or even something MILD like your mascara is bad or idk what are, male insults.... you have a flat ass??? And Valentino just instantly shoves them away "okay you're done bye, let the door hit you on the way out 🤭"

But today we're talking about angst and feeling fucking miserable so. Over time it just, makes you feel so horrible about yourself to go to these nightclubs. It isn't even about fucking Valentino, it's about how you're sitting here watching everyone EXCEPT YOU receive all this fawning and compliments and attention, even if Val is faking some of it just to lure in more workers. You see a girl who has the perfect skin and you run fingers over an ice pick scar on your cheek, male reader sees a guy who's tall but muscular with nice facial hair and you feel your own baby face and smaller build, there are people thinner than you, curvier than you, stronger than you, smarter than you, and you watch all of them get called gorgeous and beautiful and handsome and sexy and you're just the fucking dweeb who gets teased, mocked, BULLIED

One night Valentino is sitting there talking to another girl, "oh my gosh, honey, I would TOTALLY do body shots off of you. Hey, can we get some shots over here? .... helllooooo, I SAID can we get some shots? ...bitch if you make me repeat myself again--" and he looks over and you're not even there. It's like ice. Suddenly without warning you're not there and he doesn't know what to do because you're ALWAYS there and whenever you're not it's because he LETS YOU leave??? Like??? He's immediately standing up even if it knocks away the people hanging off of him and he's looking around, "you BETTER be in the fucking bathroom--"

And over the crowd of people he sees you on the opposite end of the club, as if you were actively trying to put as much distance between you two as possible, and you're with a guy, some big furry monster boy, and you laugh with a big smile and Valentino GRINDS his teeth as he realizes it's been ages since you laughed around him, let alone at anything HE'S said, and you're actually drinking with this guy where you would always be way too stiff and cautious around Val (although he also really wouldn't let you drink anyways, being more of a waiter when you're 'on the clock')

Obsessed with the idea of Val making Reader carry around combs and brushes to comb his antenna/fur and Val sees you using them on another guy. like I think he'd go absolutely violently fucking crazy honestly because 1. Those are HIS and he is a bougie Gucci material man like those are high quality things being used on some RANDO 2. Those are for HIM, you're using them on someone ELSE 3. The person using them on someone else is YOU, YOU'RE brushing another man, YOU'RE cuddling another man like some kind of UNGRATEFUL WHORE--

When I say you suddenly look up and you're being GRABBED, HAULED UP to your feet by your arm, grip on you so tight it's ready to fucking bruise, and Val just shoots this guy in the head, like cartoonishly powerful gun just splatters the dudes head from what should have been just a single bullet hole I'm sure. You're like vaguely traumatized and trying to tell yourself the man will regenerate and be fine but now Valentino's got a gun in his hand and he's furious and you just start CRYING. He doesn't even CARE about the people he was flirting with anymore, if he has any employees in the club with him he doesn't even call out that it's time to go, he just starts DRAGGING YOU to the limo and will just LEAVE EVERYONE there because he's in such a rage, also, have you guys seen the posts where people point out there are moth squeaking effects when he speaks sometimes. So he's just fucking mad, voice cracking, shouting, squeaking, and i think it'd be funny if he spends like 15 minutes screaming about THE GUY while he has you like all but glued to his lap on the ride home and doesn't say a single thing about what you did. Just manic ranting on his phone as he HAS to call Vox, "oh my god you wouldn't FUCKING BELIEVE what this piece of shit did in front of me, the ugliest fucking guy I've ever seen was--" and you're like trembling wondering when he's going to pivot and realize like, you were also. Intentionally willingly sitting with that guy.

But he doesn't even like. Acknowledge it that way. He just keeps ranting about the guy touching something that doesn't belong to him, he's gotta replace all his fucking combs now, oh my GOD Vox like SERIOUSLY-- and then it's probably Vox that's like, with a disinterested voice, "sooooo.... WHICH whore did this happen to again???" And Valentino without hesitating just straight up says your name, "the nerdy one, you KNOW which one I'm talking about"

And that's when you just start to blubber cause you're tired and you're tipsy and you're mentally worn down, "oh OF COURSE I'm 'the nerdy one'!! You drag me all over the fucking place and I never get any time to myself and I have to WATCH everyone ELSE have fun, and when I finally find someone who calls ME cute, calls ME pretty, you fucking SHOOT HIM!" and you're just, face in your hands crying and you can't see it as Valentino GRINS like some fucking MONSTER because, "Aw, pobrecita, is that what this is about? You're lonely? ❤️w❤️"

And you're just mad and crying and pouting and you're telling him to go fuck himself and actually starting to get a little mouthy and have an attitude with him and he doesn't even care because how upset you're getting is going right to his head. even if you don't want to, you're jealous of him giving other people attention instead of you, and now he's watching you get all upset and sniffly over it and he's so full of himself, this makes him feel so powerful that he's reduced you to this insecure bawling state, and he's rubbing your shoulders, "awwww, don't cry mami, you should've told me you were wanting some 'attention'"

At this point you could be literally slapping his hands away but he's gonna keep pulling you close to him on purpose and NOW, now he's laying on all the fucking compliments, stroking the tops of your thighs. He knows exactly what scent you're using in your hair. Oh, you're wearing the nail polish you bought during one of your first months here; he's always liked this color on you. He's commenting and bringing up things you didn't expect him to notice let alone remember about you and... you're just so weak to it.... you're lonely... and he's here... and maybe it's the smoke or his cologne or what but he smells so good, he's so close, your head feels a little funny--

The rest of your night blurs together after that, but when you wake up, you're not at your place, or the studio, or anywhere you mildly recognize. You're in a bed way too big for someone your size, and you're especially not used to SOMEONE ELSE BEING IN IT WITH YOU. Val just has you caged in all of his arms and is passed out drooling in a post alcohol, post drug, post fuckathon coma, and you can FEEL in your muscles and in your body that you two were up to some wiiiiiild shit together.

IF you may manage to sneak out of V Tower without being stopped or caught, it won't make hin suddenly forget all the things you told him, or him now knowing how it feels to have your hands on his body, or how it looks to have your big sad wet eyes looking up at him and then sparkling with one of his compliments. Usually he WANTS bitches to be gone when he wakes up but, this time? When those eyes open and you're not there? Instantly feeling rejected, mad, irritated, he can't exactly identify why, he's just MAD you ran off without telling him and he's instantly blowing up your line to figure out where you are, and now you have become a recipient of The Voice-mails

"Heeeeeeey, baby, so, it's so funny but I just woke up and I can't find you in the tower? Did you run off to get breakfast somewhere? You KNOW you shouldn't run off without telling me first; I need you to come on back here ❤️"

"-- so answer your phone you fucking SLUT!! You better not be with another fucking guy, or I swear to fucking GOD--"

"--It just stresses me out that there are so many different kinds of people down here, I worry someone might hurt you, amorcito. I can't help protect you if I'm not there, soooooo, why don't you just, tell me where you are--"

"Is this fucking funny for you, you cunt?! You get all worked up about how PATHETIC AND SAD you are and then leave me? Leave ME? ME?! You're LUCKY i even TOUCHED YOU AT ALL--"

"Heeeeeeey, oh my gosh so this is so funny ummmm, Vox just let me know that Velvette borrowed you for something, soooooooooo, please don't listen to any of those other voicemails, ok? You know how CRAZY you make me, right? Don't forget you have a shift tonight, and if you even think about not showing up, I have some hellhounds that know your scent already and they'll drag you back here by your hair, sooooo, see you later love you byeeeeee ❤️"

[throatgoat4u]

breakfast

word count: 10k

summary: matt moves to la and ghosts you, breaking your heart, but when the opportunity arises, you decide to get your revenge

warnings: emotional abuse, psychological manipulation, gaslighting, toxic relationships, exploitation of vulnerability, heavy emotional distress

a/n: guys this might be a long read...... also this is for @bernardsbendystraws song writing challenge thingy. i'm actually shocked i was able to even write this cause like i'm lazy and procrastinate a lot and the fact that the challenge had a deadline too?!?! i'm amazed. i worked pretty hard on this one and i think this just might be one of my favorite things i've written. ps and by the way, i will be calling the reader cherry in this so that's what people will call her and what she introduces herself as! also one last detail, this doesn't happen in the span of like a few weeks or like 1-2 months, this story takes place in the span of like almost a year. so yeah... enjoy!

toodles sluts :)

matthew bernard sturniolo.

god, you couldn’t stand the man. but looking at him now, his life a complete mess, there was nothing sweeter. and the best part? it was all because of you.

four years ago, the two of you were in high school. you and matt had this sort of relationship where you did practically everything like a couple—going on dates, giving gifts, whispering sweet nothings to each other, cuddling, kissing, the pda, fucking—but you were never actually official. matt didn’t do labels until he was sure. and you, like the naive girl you were, went right along with it, telling him you’d wait until he was ready.

he had promised you the world, swore up and down that you were the only one who truly understood him. it’s you and me against the world, baby. one day, i’m gonna marry you, you know that? but they were all lies. lies, lies, lies. the only thing that high school failure was good at was lying—and making it sound so convincing. and you? you had been dumb enough to believe every word.

when you two graduated, he left for la to pursue youtube with his brothers, and naturally, he fed you more lies. baby, i’ll come visit you every few months. we’ll call and text every single day, i swear. i’d never leave you, you know that, right? i love you.

it still astonished you how easily those words had slipped from his lips, how effortlessly he could say them without meaning a damn thing. but the saddest part? you ate it all up like a starving man who hadn’t eaten in years. you believed every single word because—why wouldn’t you? he was the love of your life.

for a while after the move, you and matt stayed in touch, talking almost every second. ten-hour calls, facetime marathons, endless text messages—the works. but slowly, you noticed the shift. he started withdrawing, calling less, ending conversations quicker, taking longer to reply—or not replying at all. when he did, it was just to blow you off. i’m busy. shit, sorry, next time. and you bought it. of course you did. he had just moved to la, and being an influencer wasn’t easy. you gave him the benefit of the doubt.  that was—until he just stopped. he never replied. all calls and texts went unanswered. he had ghosted you.

you were left utterly broken. he had promised you so, so much. you two were supposed to spend the rest of your lives together. you were supposed to be endgame.

but the wallowing didn’t last long.

one day, you opened instagram to find a post—matt shamelessly making out with some girl at a party. a flood of emotions hit you all at once. sadness, confusion, hurt, betrayal. but most of all—anger.

how could you have been so blind? you gave him everything. your time, your trust, your heart. and he threw it all away like it was nothing.

you weren’t going to let it slide.

so you started planning.

now, four years later, you executed it perfectly. it wasn’t easy—oh no, it was tedious. every step had to work seamlessly for the next to fall into place. one wrong move and the entire plan would collapse.

and what plan exactly?

well, in theory, it was a very simple nine-phase plan. you didn’t even mean for the tenth phase to happen, but it did.

phase one: move to la

this was easy. you had finished college with a degree in fashion marketing, and job offers from la weren’t exactly uncommon. all you had to do was pick the highest-paying, most reputable one, and you were on your way.

you settled into the city faster than you expected. the air was thick with ambition, the streets buzzing with influencers and socialites desperate to be seen. it was a world fueled by image, where clout mattered more than character. and if you played your cards right, it was a world where you could thrive.

phase one: complete

phase two: befriend an influencer (preferably one with connections to matt, preferably tara yummy)

why tara yummy? simple. she threw some of the biggest parties in la, meaning tons of other influencers—some of whom could have connections to matt—would be there.

befriending tara? well, that was a process. you had to admit, you stooped to some pretty unethical and borderline pathetic measures to make it happen. and all for what? revenge on a boy. pathetic.

still, you stalked her obsessively, tracking where she would be and when. you knew her schedule for every day of the week—surprising, right? like, tara yummy having an actual schedule? technically, no. but she did go to the same coffee shop every day at exactly 12:43 p.m.

why 12:43? who the fuck cares? as long as you could follow her to her next location, you were fine with whatever time she picked for her little coffee rendezvous.

saturday, february 15, 12:42 p.m.

you were parked outside the coffee shop, drumming your fingers against the steering wheel, the hum of the engine filling the silence. your eyes flickered to the time on your phone.

what if she decided to go somewhere else today? what if something came up? had you picked the wrong day?

then, at exactly 12:44, you spotted her—rushing inside, her oversized sunglasses perched on her nose, phone in one hand, car keys in the other.

you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding, watching as she ordered her iced oat milk shaken espresso with one pump white mocha, one pump caramel, light cinnamon powder, and vanilla sweet cream cold foam. (don’t ask.)

when she finally got her coffee and walked out, you turned on your car, keeping an eye on her as she made her way back to hers. now, all that was left was to follow her—hopefully to somewhere public where "accidentally" running into her wouldn’t be suspicious.

you waited a few moments before pulling out behind her, keeping a safe distance—close enough to track her, but not close enough to look like you were tailing her.

she drove for about ten minutes before pulling into target’s parking lot.

your eyes lit up almost instantly. perfect.

you parked a few spots away on the opposite side, ensuring a clear view of her. watching carefully, you waited until she stepped out of her car and started toward the entrance before making your move.

inside, you immediately noticed—no basket.

an idea formed in your head.

you trailed behind her, watching as she browsed the aisles, picking up items—a blanket, a book, some makeup, shampoo, conditioner—until her hands were completely full. she stumbled a bit, dropping things occasionally.

this was it. your chance.

you turned down an aisle, walking toward her while she unknowingly walked in your direction. just as you neared her, you looked down at your phone—pretending not to see her—before crashing right into her.

her things tumbled to the floor, and you let your phone slip from your hands for added effect.

"oh my god! i-i’m so sorry, are you okay?" you asked, putting on the best fake concerned voice you could.

she looked up at you and smiled. "yeah, no, i’m okay. how about you?"

"i-i’m fine, don’t worry about me. i’m so, so sorry again. i should’ve been paying attention."

"hey, no, don’t be sorry. it wasn’t really your fault. hell, it wasn’t really either of our faults," she said, laughing as she bent down to pick up her stuff. but you beat her to it.

"no, here, let me get that for you," you said, gathering her things. as you handed them back, you put on a puzzled expression. "wait, you don’t have a basket?"

she shook her head, and you tsked softly before placing each item into yours.

"what are you—" she began, but you cut her off.

"no, it’s okay. i didn’t really have anything in my basket anyway. it’d probably be more useful to you," you said, handing it to her.

she smiled, taking it from you. "stop, thank you so much, you’re so sweet."

"no, stop. it’s really nothing, i don’t mind," you replied, playing it off casually. then, after a brief pause, you added, "oh, and by the way, you’re like… really, really pretty."

"o.m.g. shut up. like, actually. you’re too sweet," she giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"no, i’m dead serious. you’re gorgeous."

"well, you too. like, oh god, you look like one of those really hot girls i see who just seem so unapproachable and intimidating," she mused, eyeing you up and down.

"why, thank you," you replied with the kindest smile you could muster. "sorry if this interaction is kinda awkward… i’m new to la and sort of looking to make friends." you lowered your voice a little, trying to sound just the right amount of shy.

her eyes widened, and her mouth parted slightly. "well, consider me your first friend. i’m tara."

"…cherry," you responded.

"nice to meet you, cherry. c’mon. you’ll be walking with me now," she smiled, grabbing your hand and dragging you along.

phase two: complete.

phase three: get invited to a tara event

over the next few weeks, you spent most of your time with tara, considering she was your only friend.

you went shopping together, got your nails done, hit the gym, had spa days, and she even showed you all the best clubs and bars in la. the two of you really hit it off, and it kinda made you feel bad that you were using her. kinda.

wednesday, march 5, 2:54 pm

you and tara were sitting on her bed, planning out her next big party. but this party wasn’t just any party—it was for you. she wanted to throw an event so you could branch out and meet new people because, being a loner in la? yeah, no, you weren’t going to let that happen. especially not with your plan in motion. if you stayed invisible, everything would be ruined. matt would win, and you'd lose once again.

"so, um… tara… how big is this party going to be, exactly?" you asked, carefully faking a nervous tone as you sat cross-legged on her bed, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. you needed to convince her you were an introvert. playing that part would help you blend into the background and make it easier to focus on your real goal.

tara barely looked up from her phone, scrolling through pinterest, tapping on various pins as she pulled ideas for the event. “well, i’m inviting the usual crowd, so it won’t be too big,” she replied casually. “just enough to get the party vibes right.”

"right..." you sighed, casting a quick glance at the laptop screen, pretending to chew your lip nervously. your act was flawless, but the truth was, you weren’t anxious about being around people—you were just anxious about matt. you knew him all too well, and if he didn’t show up, everything would fall apart. matt was a big homebody, after all. if he didn’t come, you’d have a much harder time achieving your goal.

you needed to know exactly who matt would hang around at the party, and that meant focusing on his closest friends. it was a given that he'd stick close to his girlfriend, macy, but you had to make sure you pinpointed the others—the ones who would be your best shot at making things happen.

the two of you spent the rest of the day bouncing ideas around for the party. tara wanted to host it at her place, and you both decided on a theme—black, white, and a rich, dark red. it was bold, dramatic—something that would definitely make a statement.

tara had already invited a ton of people. for her, it was just another night to throw a party, another chance to be around her usual influencer crowd. but for you, this was more than just a party. this was the perfect opportunity to get closer to matt's friends and, eventually, get closer to matt himself—so you could finally tear him down.

“so, who all did you invite?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but your mind was already mentally listing off everyone who might be there.

tara smirked, eyes flicking up from her phone as she responded, “oh, you know, the usual bunch. larray, quen, carrington, jake, johnnie… some of the other la influencers. then, of course, there’s the triplets—matt, chris, and nick.”

you nodded along, your expression neutral, though internally, you were bracing yourself. you already knew the triplets, of course. but this party wasn’t about them. it was about the other people who would be there.

“that’s a lot of people,” you said, trying to keep your voice light, but your mind was already working overtime. “what’s the vibe like with everyone? how do they all mix?”

tara shrugged nonchalantly as she tapped away at her phone, her attention already shifting back to the planning. “honestly, they’re all chill. some can be a little extra—like, really extra—but nothing you can’t handle. you’ll fit right in. just make sure you make an entrance, you know?”

you gave her a knowing smile, nodding along, though your mind was elsewhere. you weren’t here to fit in. you were here to observe, to learn who matt’s closest friends were, to subtly insert yourself into their world. and then, you’d take him down. piece by piece, without him even realizing it.

this party was just the beginning.

phase three: complete

phase four: figure out just who’s in matt’s inner circle

you looked in the mirror as you fixed your hair, making sure everything was just right. the tight black dress hugged your hips in all the right places, the slit riding high enough to leave barely anything to the imagination. your hair was perfectly blown out, sleek and cascading down your back like silk. but still, something was missing.

your eyes landed on the red lipstick sitting on the vanity. you grabbed it, uncapping it with a flick of your wrist before carefully applying it to your lips. the deep, sultry shade coated them perfectly, adding just the right amount of boldness to complete the look.

perfect.

you pressed your lips together, ensuring the color was flawless. now, you were ready.

tara walked into the room, and her jaw practically hit the floor. her eyes widened as she took you in, her gaze trailing from your perfectly blown-out hair to the curve-hugging black dress and the deep red lipstick that added just the right amount of danger.

“oh my god.” her voice was barely above a whisper before it quickly turned into an excited squeal. “cherry, you look stunning! you might’ve just been my lesbian awakening because what the fuck?!?” she said, walking toward you with wide eyes.

you giggled, rolling your eyes as you turned slightly to check yourself in the mirror one last time. “oh, shut up,” you mumbled, but the slight flush on your cheeks betrayed you.

“no, no, i’m being dead serious.” she placed her hands on her hips, giving you an exaggerated once-over. “like, i cannot believe you’ve been hiding this version of you. you look gorgeous.”

“thanks, t,” you murmured softly, your lips tugging into a small, satisfied smile. but before you could revel in the compliment for too long, tara’s expression shifted.

“but,” she said, her tone a little more serious now, “i actually came up here to tell you a lot of people are here now. i know you’re not the party type, but… it’s your party. you need to come down.”

you almost laughed out loud at that. not the party type? oh, if only she knew. at least you’d done a good enough job convincing her that you were shy and reserved. it was all part of the plan.

“yeah, yeah, i know,” you mumbled, tugging your dress down ever so slightly, playing up the nervous act just a bit longer. “can… can you come with me? and maybe… stay with me? i don’t really want to be alone with so many people around.” your voice was soft, almost timid, as if the idea of walking into a crowded room made you anxious.

tara’s features softened instantly, her eyes filling with warmth as she gave you a reassuring smile. “of course i’ll stay with you,” she said, reaching out to squeeze your hand gently. “i won’t leave you alone for a single moment tonight, ‘kay?”

you nodded, offering her a small, grateful smile as you took a deep breath.

perfect.

you followed tara as she began to walk out of the room, her arm loosely linked with yours as the two of you made your way downstairs. the muffled bass of the music grew louder with each step, the sounds of laughter and conversation drifting through the hallway.

as you reached the bottom of the stairs, you scanned the room quickly, your mind already working.

the party was in full swing. influencers, tiktokers, and la’s finest were scattered everywhere, drinks in hand and smiles plastered on their faces.

but you weren’t interested in any of them.

your eyes swept the crowd, zeroing in on the people who mattered most. matt’s friends.

they weren’t hard to spot. matt—whenever he did decide to show up at events like these—always stuck close to the people he felt most comfortable with. usually, that meant nick, chris, and a couple of his closest friends. and tonight was no different.

one person caught your eye almost immediately. larray.

he was laughing, completely immersed in whatever conversation he was having. matt had never looked happier in a group of people and it was sort of like a stab to your heart but you quickly shook the feeling off, refocusing on the small group that surrounded matt. nick, chris, larray… and macy.

macy. matt’s new girlfriend.

the girl who had everything you ever wanted.

she was perched right beside him, her hand casually resting on his arm like it belonged there. she looked so comfortable, so secure in her place next to him. it made your stomach turn.

but not with sadness.

with determination.

there they were—laughing, chatting, blissfully unaware that they were about to become pawns in your little game.

but timing was everything.

you weren’t about to make your move too soon. not when there was so much at stake. so, for now, you waited.

you stuck close to tara, mingling with other guests and keeping up appearances. you laughed at jokes, smiled at compliments, and made small talk with influencers you barely cared about. to anyone watching, you looked like you were just another girl trying to blend into la’s social scene.

but your focus never strayed too far.

your eyes flicked back to matt’s group every chance you got, tracking their every move without being obvious.

nick and chris were in their usual spots, close to matt but engaged in their own conversations. larray was his usual vibrant self, effortlessly making everyone around him laugh. and macy… well, she was glued to matt’s side, just as expected.

you kept waiting, biding your time as the night dragged on.

and then, finally, it happened.

matt, nick, and chris stepped away, heading toward the backyard—probably to get some air or escape the chaos for a moment.

perfect.

your heart pounded in your chest as you took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“tara,” you murmured softly, leaning closer so only she could hear, “i’m gonna go grab another drink. be right back.”

“want me to come with?” she asked, her eyes flickering toward the crowded bar area.

“nah,” you smiled, shaking your head. “i’ll be fine.”

she nodded, giving you an encouraging smile before turning back to her conversation.

and with that, you made your move.

your eyes locked onto larray, who was still standing near the bar, chatting and laughing with a few other people.

game on.

you made your way to the bar, grabbing some random drink that had been left unattended, and started to move toward larray. you made sure to stumble a bit, really selling the whole oops, i’m tipsy act. when you were close enough, you “tripped,” falling forward and spilling your drink all over him.

“shit. my bad. i didn’t mean to do that. i’m so sorry. are you alright?” you asked frantically, eyes darting around for anything to help. you spotted a napkin nearby and quickly handed it to him.

“yeah, i’m okay. chill, girl, damn!” he said, laughing it off as he wiped the drink off his shirt, giving you a playful side-eye.

“gosh, i’m sorry. i might be a little more drunk than i thought. i usually don’t trip over my feet like this,” you mumbled, shifting nervously.

“bitch, it’s okay. i promise, it’s not that deep. my clothes will dry.”

“yeah, i know. but i still feel bad.”

“well, don’t.” he waved you off, flashing you that bright, easy smile. “anyways, i’ve never seen you ‘round. you new here or what?”

“uh, yeah. i moved to la about a month ago for my job.”

he hummed, grabbing his drink off the table and taking a sip. “what do you do?”

“i actually work in fashion marketing.”

his eyes widened instantly, his interest clearly piqued. “wait, so like… do you get all the tea on the brands? tell me everything.”

you giggled softly, shaking your head. “sadly, not yet. i just started. but, trust me, you’ll be the first to know when they let me in on all the juicy shit.”

“you better.” he gave you a pointed look, but his grin was playful.

“cross my heart.” you smirked, making a little x over your chest.

“mm, i like you already.” he gave you a wink before glancing around the room. “but, babe, why are you stuck talking to me when there’s a whole party happening?”

“honestly?” you shrugged, flashing him a sheepish smile. “you’re the most interesting person here.”

“aww, stop it, i’m blushing.” he fanned himself dramatically, making you laugh.

“seriously, though,” he leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice, “stick with me tonight, and i’ll make sure you have fun.”

perfect.

throughout the entire night, you stayed glued to larray’s side. he was the perfect guide to la’s influencer scene, introducing you to a lot of people—some of whom you already recognized from social media. but your focus wasn’t on them.

no, your interest was piqued when he introduced you to madison and quen.

it quickly became clear to you that they were probably the closest people to matt—along with larray.

you watched closely, noting the way they spoke about him, the way they laughed at inside jokes that only came from years of friendship. it was subtle, but the familiarity was there.

these were the people who mattered.

and they were exactly who you needed to get close to next.

you slipped seamlessly into conversation with them, playing up the charm and matching their energy effortlessly. it was easy, really—madison was sweet and warm, and quen? well, she was sharp, funny, and didn’t seem to take shit from anyone.

by the end of the night, you weren’t just some random girl who just moved to la. no, you were now on their radar.

the party came to a wrap and as you exchanged goodbyes and promises to hang out soon, you couldn’t help but smirk to yourself.

they had no idea what was coming.

phase four: complete.

phase five: get close to macy

you realized at the party that it wouldn’t have been a good idea to try and talk to macy because she didn’t leave matt’s side once, and matt would’ve immediately recognized you if he had seen you, which would’ve completely jeopardized the plan.

see, the thing is, macy is a model, and your agency just so happened to be looking for some new faces. after the party, you made sure to keep macy in the back of your mind because you knew it was only a matter of time before you’d be working with her in person. it wasn’t long before you got the chance—both of you were assigned to the same photoshoot for a big brand that the agency was promoting.

the first time you saw her in person, she was a lot quieter than you expected. maybe it was because she was surrounded by other models and people she worked with, but she didn’t seem nearly as outgoing as she came off on social media. you had no intention of just jumping in to get to know her right away, but you did make sure to get in a few casual hellos and comments about how excited you were to be working with her.

the shoot itself was long, and there were a lot of down moments while the crew set up shots or adjusted lighting, which gave you plenty of time to talk. you started by talking about the job itself—what it was like working with the agency, the constant hustle, and how draining it all could be. at first, macy wasn’t very open, giving you short answers, but you could tell she was warming up.

after a few hours of talking about everything from the industry to personal stuff, you noticed she seemed a little more relaxed around you. when the crew took a break, you casually offered to grab coffee with her, making sure it didn’t seem like you were trying too hard. macy agreed, and the two of you grabbed a quick coffee from a nearby shop.

over the next few weeks, you found more opportunities to work together, whether it was at another photoshoot or event. each time, you made sure to keep the conversation going, offering small, relatable advice about the industry and connecting on more personal levels. she started confiding in you more—about the pressure to maintain a certain image, the loneliness that came with constantly being on the go, and how hard it was to find genuine friends in a world full of fake ones.

you didn’t push her. you just listened, offering support when needed and being someone she could trust. eventually, she started to reach out to you first, asking for your opinion on various things, and you could tell she was beginning to see you as a friend, not just another coworker.

the real turning point came when the agency booked you both for a big event. during the event, things were relaxed enough that you had a chance to talk one-on-one. this was when you dropped the suggestion—about how your agency had been looking for fresh faces for future campaigns and how they were always interested in bringing in new talent. it was subtle, but effective. macy took the bait, and the next time you talked, she mentioned she’d been thinking about it and was considering taking the next step.

the seed had been planted. you’d gotten closer to her, built the trust, and now you had her in the perfect position. it wasn’t long before macy was fully onboard with the agency's next big campaign, and just like that, your plan was moving forward.

things were falling into place—slowly, but surely.

phase five: complete.

phase six: start spreading the rumors

now that you were getting closer to macy, madison, and quen, it was time to move to phase six of the plan: spreading rumors. subtle, harmless ones at first, ones that wouldn’t immediately seem like an attack, but that would eventually create tension in matt’s friend group. you knew matt’s friends well enough to know that they would start questioning his actions if the right things were said at the right time.

you decided to start with larray. after all, he was the easiest to get to. you’d spent a good amount of time with him, and he was an open book—always down to gossip and willing to listen. it didn’t take much for you to casually bring up the fact that you’d heard a little something about matt during one of your late-night conversations.

“so, like, i don’t know if i’m the only one who’s noticed, but…” you’d start, lowering your voice, like you were sharing some kind of secret. larray, always keen on gossip, would immediately lean in.

“what? spill it,” he’d say, raising an eyebrow.

you’d shake your head, pretending to hesitate. “it’s probably nothing, but i’ve been hearing stuff about matt… like, he’s been kinda distant lately. i don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but i heard he was kinda flaky at the last couple of events. like, not showing up or leaving early.”

larray’s expression would shift slightly, as though he was mulling it over, but he wouldn’t say much at first. you could tell he was processing the information. the next time he was hanging out with matt and the crew, he’d likely file that tidbit away in the back of his mind.

from there, you’d move on to madison. she was always more perceptive, more cautious about things, but you were good at working your way into people’s trust. one day, as you sat together, sipping your drinks, you’d casually bring up something you’d overheard.

“you know, i’ve noticed matt’s been kinda off lately. like, i don’t know if it’s just me, but he seems different. like, more withdrawn? you know, i’ve been hearing that he’s been talking behind people’s backs about his friends.”

madison would pause, taking a sip from her own drink, but her eyes would narrow just a little. “seriously? that doesn’t sound like him,” she’d say. “who’s he been talking about?”

“i mean, i don’t know if it’s about any one person specifically, but i’ve heard him say stuff about the larray before. not, like, bad stuff, but, like, you know, a little judgmental. he’s always got something to say when he’s not around, which is kinda weird, right?”

madison would probably just shrug it off at first, but you'd know that this type of gossip would linger in the back of her mind, especially when she started noticing the little things that seemed off in matt’s behavior.

last but not least, you’d work on quen. she was sharp, observant, and you knew that getting her to trust you enough to believe what you were saying would be a challenge. but you were up for it. your approach would be a little more direct with her.

one afternoon, you’d be hanging out, and you’d make sure to mention something that would start getting her wheels turning.

“i don’t know if you’ve noticed, but matt’s been acting really off lately. like, he’s not as, i don’t know, present? when he’s around the group, it’s like he’s just not… engaged. he’s distant. i heard him say some weird stuff about how he feels like he’s outgrown a lot of the people around him.”

quen would furrow her brows, not immediately responding. “outgrown? huh. that’s… odd. i mean, he’s always been the one trying to keep everyone together.”

“right? and now he’s just, like, pulling away. it’s strange. especially with how close he used to be with everyone.” you’d pause and look at her, as if genuinely concerned, adding, “maybe i’m reading too much into it, but it’s not just me noticing.”

quen would likely stay quiet for a moment, processing it, but deep down, she’d start to think about it. the next time she was with matt, she'd start paying more attention to the way he interacted with the group. the little things would start to show.

with each of them—larray, madison, and quen—you carefully planted just enough doubt to make them start second-guessing matt’s intentions, his loyalty, and his true feelings toward his friends. nothing too drastic at first, just small seeds of uncertainty. but soon enough, the tension would begin to rise. they’d start noticing what they hadn’t before.

and once they did, it would only be a matter of time before matt’s world began to shift.

you let the information sit with them for a while before starting to up the stakes—making the rumors a bit more… compromising.

“girl, don’t even get me started. i heard matt’s been real weird lately,” you say casually, swirling the straw in your drink as you sit next to larray. it’s subtle, but you know exactly what you’re doing.

“uh-uh, hold up.” larray’s eyes widen as he sets his drink down, giving you that signature side-eye. “what do you mean weird? like… weird weird or just matt-being-a-man weird? ‘cause you know these men don’t know how to act.”

you let out a small, dramatic sigh, playing it off like you don’t want to say too much. “i mean… i don’t know, it’s probably nothing. just heard he’s been kinda distant with macy lately. you didn’t notice?”

“not you trying to soft launch tea and then leaving me hanging,” larray gasps, placing a hand on his chest. “spill, bitch. don’t play with me like that.”

“nooo, it’s not that serious!” you laugh, shaking your head. “just… i saw him the other day and he barely acknowledged her. like, he was all up on his phone the whole time. it was just… weird.”

“not him treating macy like she’s on do not disturb,” larray snorts, rolling his eyes dramatically. “ugh, men are so exhausting. they can’t even pretend to care when they’re in public. disgusting.”

you shrug, acting nonchalant, but you know his perception of matt was changing.

onto madison

one night, when you and madison were grabbing drinks after work, you casually brought up matt’s name again, this time in a more pointed way.

“you know, i think i’ve been seeing something with matt,” you’d say, your voice almost too casual, too innocent. “well, not me personally, but macy has been telling me all these things about how matt’s being all secretive with her and stuff. like recently, that’s been our whole topic of conversation while we’re at work. she tells me he’s on his phone more often and how he’s always so dismissive of her questions when she asks him why he’s been distant lately. i don’t know ‘bout you, but it sounds like to me that he might be seeing someone on the sid

madison frowned, clearly uncomfortable. “seriously? that doesn’t sound like him at all.”

you’d nod, looking concerned. “yeah, i don’t know, but it’s been bugging me. i mean, macy doesn’t deserve that. and maybe he isn’t cheating. but why is he still being weird towards her.”

“yeah no, that’s really fucked up.” madison says, feeling a little sad for macy

“i know i shouldn’t be telling macy’s business like that but it was gnawing at me. and what’s worse is that macy doesn’t even consider that he could possibly be cheating on her. like i don’t know. i just- do you promise not to tell anyone?” you ask, trying your best to sound like you’ve been overcome with guilt.

madison nods, giving you a soft smile. “baby, of course i won’t tell anyone. secrets safe with me. in the end, these could all be rumors and a shit ton of overthinking so i wouldn’t really jump to conclusions but i’d definitely keep it in the back of my mind.”

you nod, returning the smile. “thanks. you’re a really good friend.”

“anytime”

you’d pulled off larray and madison, now all you had left for this round of rumors was quen.

after one evening, when you and quen were hanging out after work, you casually said, “have you noticed something with matt?”

quen raised an eyebrow. “what do you mean?”

“i don’t know, it’s just… i’ve noticed that matt is just… different. but like only with one person.”

her eyebrows furrowed in curiosity as she tilted her head slightly. “who?”

“macy.” you said carefully, like her name was some sort of taboo subject. “it’s weird. he’s like a whole different person when she’s not around. like i feel like he’s more of himself when he’s away from her. when she comes around though, he gets all agitated and annoyed. i might be reading into shit but like… i don’t know.”

quen scoffed, but there was a slight hesitation in her voice. “that sounds like some weird shit, honestly.”

“yeah, i mean, it’s not like macy hasn’t caught on either,” you’d say. “she has! but she’s kinda brushing it off, choosing to ignore it. i just feel like she’s making excuses for him. god i just- i feel bad.”

“well who wouldn’t? like no one should treat their girlfriend like she’s trapping them.”

“yeah no, it’s bad. could you like… not mention this to her. she just- she gets all defensive and mad and she’ll probably realize i told you and i’m not trying to be messy i just needed to get this off my chest and stuff.”

“girl i gotchu. don’t worry.”

“thanks.” you mumble.

now it was time for the even bigger ones. the rumors that would really leave them questioning matt.

you sat beside larray, pretending to scroll through your phone as if what you were about to say was nothing. casual. just another piece of gossip in la.

“okay, so tell me why macy was saying matt’s been so busy with filming and working yesterday’s problem lately,” you murmured, keeping your tone light but just loud enough for larray to catch it.

larray raised an eyebrow, already intrigued. “mmm, okay… and?”

you sighed dramatically, like you didn’t want to be messy but just had to spill. “and… quen told me she saw him at a bar the other night.” you paused for effect, giving larray a pointed look. “like… not the filimg. not working on his project. a bar.”

larray’s eyes widened, lips parting slightly. “bitch, what?!” he blinked, processing the information before shaking his head. “oh no. not this man lying through his motherfucking teeth and playing her in her face.”

“right?” you scoffed, biting your lip to hide the satisfied smirk threatening to form. “i mean, maybe there’s a good explanation, but… doesn’t it seem kinda weird?”

larray leaned back, crossing his arms, and gave you a look. “girl, ain’t no way. if my man told me he was working but was out getting going to bars n shit? he’d be single faster than he could even say single.”

“i knowwww,” you drawled, shaking your head, “but macy doesn’t suspect a thing.”

larray sucked his teeth, already mentally adding this to his list of things to bring up later. “ugh, these men. always something. i swear.”

you nodded, pretending to be concerned, but deep down, you knew this was exactly what you needed.

a few days after your conversation with larray, you decided that you’d get madison again. you and madison found yourselves grabbing drinks again, just like before. but this time? you came prepared even more.

“so… remember what i told you about matt last time?” you started, swirling your straw around in your drink, eyes carefully avoiding madison’s as if you were hesitant to even bring it up.

madison’s expression shifted, her brows furrowing slightly. “yeah… what about it?”

you bit your lip, leaning in a little closer like you were about to spill something big. “okay, so… i wasn’t gonna say anything ‘cause i didn’t wanna let macy’s business out into the open again, but… i’ve got more shit on that situation.”

madison’s eyes widened slightly. “girl, what happened?”

you sighed, feigning reluctance, but you wanted this. “so, macy mentioned something again the other day. she said matt’s been going out more—late nights, no explanation, just saying it’s ‘work stuff.’ but like… get this. when she asked him about it, he got defensive. like, super weird.”

madison’s frown deepened, concern flickering across her face. “defensive? over what though?”

“exactly!” you leaned back, arms crossed as if you were just as confused. “like, why get all worked up if you’ve got nothing to hide? and… i don’t know, macy mentioned she checked his location once and he wasn’t even where he said he’d be. she brushed it off, but…” you trailed off, letting the weight of your words hang between you.

madison’s lips pressed into a thin line. “no… that’s shady as hell. if he’s lying about where he’s at?” she shook her head. “girl, that’s not a good sign.”

“right?” you gave her a look that said you get it. “i mean, maybe it’s nothing… but macy’s too trusting. she doesn’t wanna believe he’d do anything like that. but…” you paused, lowering your voice slightly, “what if he is?”

madison’s jaw tightened, her protective instincts clearly kicking in. “ugh, poor macy. i hate that she’s going through this.”

you nodded, your expression perfectly laced with fake concern. “same. that’s why i told you… i didn’t wanna keep it bottled up. but, you know, i just… i feel bad keeping it all to myself.”

“no, no,” madison said softly, shaking her head. “i’m glad you told me. i’ll… i’ll keep an eye on things.”

after that night, things started falling into place exactly how you wanted.  

a week or so later, you and quen were hanging out again, this time lounging at her apartment after a long day. casual vibes, just the two of you unwinding, but your mind? it was working overtime.  

you waited until the conversation lulled, until the timing felt just right before you spoke up, your tone light but laced with just enough concern to hook her.  

“so… remember what i told you about matt and macy the other day?” you said, fiddling absentmindedly with your phone like it wasn’t that big of a deal.  

quen glanced over, her interest piqued immediately. “uh, yeah. why? what’s up?”  

you sighed, leaning back against the couch like this was weighing heavy on you. “ugh… i wasn’t gonna say anything else, but i’ve been noticing it *a lot* more now. like, girl… it’s bad.”  

quen’s brows furrowed, her attention fully locked in now. “how bad are we talking?”  

“like… okay, so macy told me that matt’s been avoiding spending too much time with her lately,” you started, keeping your voice low and almost hesitant, like you were scared of even saying it. “she says he’s been making excuses. work, friends, whatever. but get this…” you paused for dramatic effect, watching quen lean in a little closer. “the other day? she said they were supposed to hang out, but matt bailed last minute, saying he had something with the boys. but… quen…” you bit your lip, looking conflicted.  

“what?” quen pressed, her eyes narrowing slightly.  

“one of my friends saw him that night. and he wasn’t with nick or chris,” you said, lowering your voice. “he was *with another girl.*”  

quen’s jaw dropped, her expression flipping from curiosity to full-blown disbelief. “*bitch, what?!*”  

“i know,” you murmured, shaking your head like you hated even saying it. “i didn’t believe it at first either. but then i heard it from *two* people. like… what the fuck is going on?”  

quen sat up straighter, her lips pursed in frustration. “nah, that’s wild. and macy doesn’t know?”  

“nope,” you said softly, shaking your head. “and i don’t know if i should be the one to tell her. i mean, she’s already brushing off so much. she’d probably just think i’m stirring shit.”  

quen’s face hardened, her protective side flaring up. “that’s some *bullshit.* she deserves to know if matt’s acting shady like that.”  

“i know,” you sighed, looking down, feigning conflict. “but… i don’t wanna be the one to ruin things, you know? i just… i don’t know what to do.”  

quen shook her head, clearly irritated now. “girl, don’t worry. i’ll keep an eye on him. if he’s up to something shady, we’ll know.”  

you gave her a small, grateful smile, nodding. “thanks, quen. i just… i needed to tell someone. this whole thing’s been eating at me.”  

“don’t worry,” quen said firmly, her tone serious. “if that boy’s up to something, he won’t be able to hide it for long.”  

and just like that, the wheels were turning. quen was on high alert now, watching matt like a hawk. you didn’t even have to do anything more—she’d handle the rest.  

phase six: complete

phase seven: introduce macy to the matt treatment

phase seven was the hardest part.

everything up until now had been about laying the groundwork, planting little doubts in everyone’s minds. but this? this was about making macy feel something that wasn’t even real.

the thing is, matt was a great boyfriend. he wasn’t distant, he wasn’t sneaky, and he wasn’t out here treating macy the way he treated you. and that was the problem.

because if macy never felt the way you felt—if she never experienced the gut-wrenching, soul-crushing matt treatment—then she’d never leave him.

and that? that wasn’t part of the plan.

so, you had to get creative.

step one: distance. but not from matt—from macy’s side of things.

it started small.

“girl, why don’t you ever come out with us anymore?” quen had asked her one night after work, and you made sure you were just within earshot.

macy had laughed it off. “ugh, i know. matt and i have just been spending so much time together lately.”

“damn, glued to his hip, huh?” quen had joked, but the seed had been planted.

and you? you watered it.

“you know,” you said softly the next day, when it was just you and macy grabbing coffee, “it’s great that you and matt are so close, but… don’t you miss having time for yourself sometimes?”

macy frowned a little but shrugged. “not really. i like being with him.”

“of course,” you smiled, keeping your tone light. “but… i don’t know. sometimes too much time together can make things feel… suffocating, y’know? like, matt’s great, but maybe a little space wouldn’t hurt?”

she didn’t agree. not yet. but that’s the thing about seeds—they take time to grow.

step two: fake tension.

if matt wasn’t going to create the tension, you’d have to do it for him.

“ugh,” macy groaned one afternoon while scrolling through her phone. “matt’s been so stressed with everything lately.”

you leaned in, feigning concern. “what’s wrong?”

“just the usual… filming, editing, meetings… he’s been overwhelmed.”

you nodded, playing your part perfectly. “yeah… that’s a lot. has he been… different with you because of it?”

macy’s face scrunched up a bit, her mind already working through a scenario that didn’t exist.

“different how?”

“i don’t know,” you shrugged, keeping it vague on purpose. “sometimes guys get quiet when they’re stressed. pull away a little. they don’t even realize they’re doing it half the time.”

she didn’t say anything after that. but her silence? that was exactly what you wanted.

step three: paranoia.

this was where things got tricky. you had to be subtle, careful not to overplay your hand.

“hey, have you noticed matt texting more lately?” you asked casually one evening, like it was just a passing thought.

macy blinked, looking up from her drink. “huh?”

“oh, nothing,” you waved it off with a smile. “i just… i don’t know. when we were out the other night, i noticed he was on his phone a lot. but it’s probably nothing.”

but it was never nothing.

because now? macy’s mind was already spiraling.

and it worked.

little by little, macy started to feel the things you had felt.

the distance.

the doubt.

the sinking feeling in her gut that something wasn’t quite right, even though matt was still being the same perfect boyfriend he had always been.

but to macy? it wouldn’t feel that way anymore.

because now?

everything felt off.

phase seven: complete.

phase eight: start encouraging macy to break up with matt

phase eight was all about patience.

you knew macy wasn’t ready to let go just yet. she was still holding on, hoping things would get better with matt—even after all the doubts you’d planted.

but that was fine.

because this wasn’t a sprint. it was a marathon.

so you kept playing your part.

you spent more time with her, slowly becoming her confidant.

hangout one: thursday, july 17th, 12:14 pm

another brunch.

macy looked exhausted, her smile just a little less bright than usual.

“you okay?” you asked, keeping your tone light but concerned.

she gave a small shrug, stirring her coffee absentmindedly. “yeah… just tired, i guess.”

you let it go. didn’t push. just offered a soft smile and changed the subject to something easy.

hangout two: wednesday, july 30th, 11:37 pm

a late-night target run.

the conversation was effortless, jumping from one topic to another.

“ugh, i swear, i’m gonna end up living off frozen pizza and sour candy,” you joked, tossing a bag into the cart.

macy laughed, but her response was softer, almost distracted. “at least you know what you like.”

it was nothing. just a passing comment.

hangout three: friday, august 22nd, 10:43 pm

movie night at her place.

you both sat curled up on the couch, the glow of the tv flickering across the room.

“thanks for coming over,” macy murmured, almost too quietly to catch.

“of course,” you said softly, not making a big deal of it.

she didn’t say anything else.

but the way her shoulders relaxed just a little more as the night went on?

that wasn’t nothing.

but none of it stood out.

no lingering looks. no obvious smiles. no heavy silences.

just… a quiet comfort.

she started replying to your texts a little faster.

her invitations to hang out came a little more frequently.

and maybe—maybe—she seemed a little more at ease when it was just the two of you.

but it was subtle.

so subtle that even you didn’t catch it.

because phase eight wasn’t about that.

phase eight was about planting doubt.

and that?

that was working perfectly.

phase eight: complete

phase nine: watch as matt’s life falls apart completely

and this all brings us back to now.

matthew bernard sturniolo.

god, you couldn’t stand the man. but looking at him now—his life a complete mess—there was nothing sweeter. and the best part?

it was all because of you.

his friends had all turned their backs on him. larray, madison, quen—they didn’t look at him the same anymore. the doubt you’d planted in their minds had festered, grown, and twisted everything they once believed about matt.

larray? couldn’t trust matt after the whole “bar incident.” he’d barely speak to him now. anytime matt tried to reach out, larray would leave him on read or reply with some dry-ass response that made it painfully obvious he wasn’t interested. and when he did talk to him?

“girl, i’m busy. find someone else to lie to.”

madison? she kept her distance. she hadn’t confronted matt directly, but you could tell she was piecing everything together. the seeds of doubt you’d planted had bloomed beautifully, and now she didn’t even look at matt the same.

quen? she was the most direct.

“nah, matt,” she had said the last time he tried talking to her. “i don’t fuck with that weird shit. you’re different.”

and then there was macy.

sweet, sweet macy.

she had been the hardest to break. her love for matt was deep—genuine. it took time to unravel that.

but you did it.

every rumor. every carefully crafted conversation. every doubt you whispered in her ear.

it all led to this moment.

she had finally broken up with him.

you weren’t there to see it, but you could imagine how it went down. the tears in her eyes, her voice breaking as she confronted him.

“i just… i can’t do this anymore, matt.”

and matt?

probably standing there, dumbfounded, begging her to believe that none of it was true.

but it was too late.

you had made sure of that.

now, matt was left standing in the wreckage of his own life.

his friends? gone. his relationship? over. his reputation? in shambles.

and he had no idea who was pulling the strings.

you stood on the sidelines, watching it all crumble, a satisfied smirk tugging at your lips.

all that heartbreak? all that pain?

now, it was his turn to feel it.

and the best part?

he never even saw it coming.

but it wasn’t enough.

watching matt’s life fall apart had been… satisfying. no doubt. but it still didn’t give you the closure you needed. not yet.

because he still didn’t know.

and what fun would it be if he never found out?

no, matt needed to see you—face to face. he needed to look you in the eyes and realize who was behind it all. he needed to feel the weight of everything crashing down around him and know that it was your doing.

you needed that moment.

and as fate would have it, that moment was just around the corner.

macy had left something at matt’s place. she didn’t want to go back for it herself—too painful, too fresh—so, naturally, she asked you to grab it for her.

at first, you weren’t sure if it was a good idea. walking back into his space? after everything? but then, you realized…

this was your chance.

you’d have matt all to yourself. no macy. no friends. just you and him.

so, here you were. standing outside his apartment, heart pounding, pulse racing.

you knocked.

once.

twice.

the door swung open faster than you expected, and there he was.

matthew bernard sturniolo.

and he looked like shit.

dark circles under his eyes, hair a mess, his expression was… tired. broken.

“cherry?” his voice was barely above a whisper, pure disbelief written all over his face.

you felt a sick sort of satisfaction bloom in your chest.

“matthew. it’s been a while. how’ve you been lately?” you asked, an almost sadistic smirk tugging at your lips.

he blinked, eyes wide, like he was seeing a ghost. “i-i… wha-what are you doing here?” his voice was barely above a whisper, shaky and unsure.

you tilted your head, feigning innocence. “you really haven’t figured that out yet?” your hand rested on your hip, your tone dripping with impatience. all this hard work, months of planning, and the boy didn’t even have a damn clue. how rude.

but what was even more insulting? the way this idiot had the nerve to shake his head. “n-no.”

wow.

“ugh, you’re as stupid as ever,” you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “it was me, goddamn it. i did it. i’m the reason your sad, pathetic life is crumbling to pieces.”

the color drained from his face, eyes widening—not with confusion this time, but pure, unfiltered terror.

“why… why would you do something like that?” he asked, his voice barely holding together.

you rolled your eyes, a bitter laugh slipping out. “god, are you stupid?” your tone dripped with disdain. “you really don’t remember?”

his silence was answer enough.

“jesus christ, matt,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “four years. four fucking years, and you can’t even remember the shit you put me through?”

his lips parted, but no words came out.

“let me refresh your memory then.” you stepped closer, just enough to watch the panic build behind his eyes. “remember high school? how we did everything like a couple but you never wanted to put a label on it? all that ‘i’m not ready for a relationship yet’ bullshit? and me? i was so fucking stupid, i waited. i waited for you.”

matt’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak.

“but it didn’t stop there, did it?” you went on, voice dripping with venom. “no, you kept feeding me lies. you’re the only one who gets me, baby. one day, i’m gonna marry you, you know that?” you scoffed, eyes narrowing. “and like an idiot, i believed it. i believed you.”

his breathing was heavier now, chest rising and falling a little too quickly.

“then you left,” you hissed, your tone colder now. “moved to la. promised we’d make it work, that we’d talk every day, visit whenever we could.” you let out a bitter laugh. “but those calls? they got shorter. the texts? less frequent. until, eventually…” you paused, your gaze hardening as you locked eyes with him.

“you ghosted me.”

his face paled even more, if that was even possible.

“left me wondering what the fuck i did wrong. wondering why i wasn’t enough for you,” your voice cracked, but you swallowed the emotion down, refusing to let him see you break. “and just when i finally started to accept that maybe you weren’t coming back…” you tilted your head, a cruel smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“i saw the pictures.”

matt’s breath caught in his throat.

“you. at that party. all over her.” the venom in your voice was impossible to miss. “while i was sitting at home, waiting for a text you were never going to send.”

matt opened his mouth, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“and that’s when i realized,” you said, leaning in just enough for your words to cut deeper. “i was never going to be enough for you. but that’s okay. because now?”

you smiled sweetly, though your eyes were anything but kind.

“you’re the one who’s left with nothing.”

you stood there, staring at him for a few seconds, letting the weight of your words sink in. you could see the way he was struggling to process it, the panic mixed with guilt. but it wasn’t your problem anymore. you had done what you came for, and that was all that mattered.

you let out a deep breath, shaking your head in disbelief.

“god, matt,” you muttered, the contempt thick in your voice. “you really are the worst.”

you turned your back on him, hearing him call your name weakly, but you didn’t stop.

"you're nothing but a liar and a coward," you threw over your shoulder. "so enjoy the mess you made. you deserve every bit of it."

without looking back, you walked towards your car, your heart pounding, but not from anger—no, from a strange kind of satisfaction. for the first time in years, it felt like everything was finally in place. like all the puzzle pieces had clicked together, and you had everything you needed.

you slid into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut. you could still hear him shouting your name, but it didn’t matter anymore. his voice was nothing now.

you put the car in drive, the engine rumbling to life, and slowly pulled away from the curb.

as you made your way home, your mind wandered back to macy.

phase ten

you couldn’t help but smile, the anticipation building. it had been a slow burn, but now, things had shifted in ways you hadn’t even expected. what started as a plan to destroy matt had turned into something much more unexpected. you had gotten under his skin—and now, macy’s too.

the thought of macy, her soft lips against yours, the way she started leaning into you more and more, her touch lingering a little longer than it should’ve—none of it had been planned. but here you were, with a beautiful, broken mess of a boyfriend’s ex, and she was yours now.

you smiled to yourself as you sped down the road, your thoughts consuming you.

phase ten: ravish your new girlfriend's body completely.

and just like that, the plan was over. the game had changed. you didn’t need revenge anymore—you had her.

dividers: @bernardsbendystraws

© throatgoat4u

[koolaidoverwriting]

Dating HCs for Toby, Cody and EJ x a plus size female reader? NSFW and SFW 🫡

PLUS SIZE DATING HEADCANONS

CHARACTERS: Ticci Toby, X-Virus, Eyeless Jack, AFAB Reader

This was pretty fun. I had some trouble with Cody's part. I don't think about him often... My bad...

CW: Explicit Sexual Content, Overall Fluffy Fun, Positive Body Talk, Nothing Graphic But There's Biting

NSFW UNDER CUT! MINORS DNI!

TICCI TOBY

SFW:

Fiiirst of all: Toby loves your body. He's not the type to judge anyone by their frame. He thinks you're absolutely gorgeous because you're his. God forbid you feel insecure because you'll get drowned in kisses and love bites. If you have stretch marks? Toby thinks they're so fucking cool. Like a tiger's stripes.

Toby squishes your round cheeks, telling you just how much he adores you. He snuggles up against you while he yaps on about his day. The way he stumbles over his words and speeds from topic to topic makes you chuckle.

He especially likes laying on your stomach and chest. Toby could rest on top of you for hours. There's nothing better than coming home to warm cuddles after a tiring mission. And nothing better than waking up to the sight of your pretty face.

Toby would ask for a piggyback ride. Literally whenever he can. He loves playing with your hair while you carry him around. Maybe he'll try to give you one, too.

But... Toby's weak and would probably end up breaking a wrist. It's okay. It was worth it to see your reaction when he lifted you up.

NSFW:

You can't have thick thighs and not expect Toby to go in between them. Toby is a total sucker for thighs. He'll kiss up your thighs, leave small hickeys, and squish them as much as he can.

Toby fucking loves when you crush his head while he's eating you out. Suffocating in his favourite person ever? Fuck yeah. There's something so attractive about you squirming and heaving while he pleasures you.

He also adores your breasts. They're breathtaking. He thinks they look really good in tight and revealing clothing. Toby takes every opportunity to fondle your tits. Or better yet, suck on them. You're watching a movie together? Oh, he's definitely going to play with your tits while you watch the movie.

Toby prefers fucking you from the back. That way he gets a good view of your ass and he gets to grope your breasts. Toby gives you plenty of compliments. Whispering how much he loves your body, calling you sweet names, all while he abuses your sensitive pussy.

Aftercare with Toby means you two will cuddle until Toby starts craving food. From there, you'll either head to the kitchen or open up Doordash. Either way, Toby's indecision makes for lighthearted banter over what to eat.

X-VIRUS

SFW:

A general rule for dating Cody, you have to get over any and all dislike toward rats. Cody has a bunch of rats, both as his pets and test subjects.

Cody thinks your chub is perfect for him. He doesn't care about anyone's appearance, so why would he care about yours? He's honestly still not over the fact you chose to date him. Plus, what's better than extra plush to knead when he's stressed?

As a workaholic, Cody rarely sleeps in his bed. He's normally asleep at his desk with his lab-coat still on. You find yourself carrying him to bed more often than not. But it's fine. Because when he blinks awake and softly mumbles your name, it's the cutest thing in the world.

When you do get to sleep with Cody, expect for him to wrap his arms around you and bury his face into your chest. He hums against your skin, noting how nice you smell, or how warm you feel.

He likes sitting on your lap and squishing your fat while he thinks about future experiments. Subconscious fidgeting. 

NSFW:

My version of Cody isn't the most sexuality active. He still thinks you're hot and would love to fuck you over his desk, but he has a looooot of work to do... So he isn't regularly thinking about sex.

Anyway, speaking of fucking you over his desk — he can and will do that. Cody bends you over, fucking into you with a careless rhythm. He gropes your thighs, your ass, your hips. All the soft flesh he can get his hands on.

He clearly prefers handsy stuff over penetration. Cody would love to feel you all over. He notes down your reaction for every little thing, figuring out what gets you most excited. Your breasts and belly are the funnest to play with. You may catch him squeezing your breasts as a stress reliever sometimes.

Cody typically hates surprises, but you giving him an impromptu blowjob underneath the table? Absolutely (just watch out for the rats). He could not avoid looking down at your beautiful face sucking him off — how your cheeks hollow and your face gets flushed a pretty pink.

With aftercare, Cody will offer you water and a kiss on the forehead. He'll either stay with you for a few minutes or go straight back to working. It depends on the situation... But if you ask him politely to stay, he might stay cuddling you.

EYELESS JACK

SFW:

Oh, Jack could care less about your body shape. He likes what's on the inside, not what's on the outside (this is a pun). Your body looks so fucking edible. He just wants to leave little bitemarks all over you.

Jack cares about you dearly. You're sick? Rest assured, he's going to be by your side, cuddling up with you because he can't get sick himself. You're hungry? He'll make you an entire feast of all your favourite foods, and some kidneys for himself. You're sad? Jack will try everything in his power to cheer you up. His monotone voice doesn't mean he doesn't love you any less. Trust him.

Whenever you cuddle together, you will have to put the AC or fan on max. Jack's body temperature is always hot. The warmth would be far too suffocating without something to cool it down.

Showers with Jack are nice for that reason. Your bodies can be pressed up against each other in a cool, intimate shower.

His love languages are quality time and gift giving. Expect him to hug you out of nowhere or bring you a random organ, similar to how a cat brings back dead birds.

NSFW:

Jack is a hefty guy. Muscular, tall, and can lift you up like you're made of stuffing. He uses his strength during sex. He knows how to handle you; he can fuck you standing up, fuck you on the bed, against the wall — anywhere you want.

But that doesn't mean he isn't soft with you. He cares about your body and wants you to be pleasured nicely. Jack tries not to hurt you with his claws, or bruise your cervix with his absolute monster of a cock.

You may get some dark bruises on your body though. Jack loooves biting. He also likes when you bite him as well. So if you're into that, go for it. Jack will be delighted.

Jack can eat you out real good. Consequently, you squeeze his head with your thighs, moaning out with pleasure. Your hands grip the sheets as he thrusts his tongues in and out of your cunt. Jack thinks your reaction is just adorable. To him, it's the best part of giving you head.

You can definitely ride his face, too. Who the fuck cares if he can hardly breathe? He certainly doesn't. Jack will happily lick up all your juices. He has three tongues for a reason.

!!! for some reason the images are glitched to me... huh. weird. well. i hope this was good! i've never written an x reader for cody before. fun little experiment... :3

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

The head of the GDA sees an opportunity but things don't go as expected. [Invincible Variants x reader]

TW: Sinister is a walking sexual harassment lawsuit. Implied abuse.

I ain't calling him Sinsiter in yns head because what kind of name is that. Header art's mine, will be posted in full later.

[Part one]  [3] [Ao3] [5] [Full Piece Here - It's My work]

4 * Bomb Dot Com [5.3k]

"I'm so fuckin horny circling in for the kill,

I'm a duffel bomb wired up propane off the grill,

My throat is roadkill burger raw,

In the season of the Benadryl."

Meat Carcass Evaluation - Go Hang Music

        They collided in a hot heap. The Viltrumite's heels cracking Emperor's back. Lensless's fist twisting his jaw hard to the left. Mohawk tackling his midsection. Phantom's arms close around the space where you'd just been. 

        The fight goes out about a minute before all of them catch up like Phantom had. You're gone.

        Mohawk grabbed Shoulder Pads by the front of his suit, "What'd you do?"

        "Nothing! It was that old man." Shoulder Pad replies, blood drooling out of the corner of his lips. He shoves Mohawk, surveying their surroundings, all the zombies had dropped dead in piles of flesh. Coating the drug store ruins in blood, making a new graveyard. Puppet strings cut.

        "What old man?" 

        Phantom rises above the city. Their bickering falling away with the thinning atmosphere. Pulling up his digital map of the world, scanning for the dot that was you. It took a moment before you reappeared in the heart of the pixelated Pentagon. Your vitals were slowing. He had noticed unusual shifts after you'd drank the bottle of that substance. But he had to deal with the threats you'd thrown at him first. He was going to help you- why did you have to leave?

        With you gone, the Viltrumite uniformed version of himself floated to the sky. Hovering close, watching Phantom from behind his back. 

        Your location changes again to the middle of the Southern Atlantic. He waits, seeing if you'll be shipped anywhere else, but your dot doesn't move.

        He shot off right as the remaining screens in Times Square light up with Cecil's face. The Viltrumite follows silently at his heels. 

        The message blares through the city. To haunt the survivors as they pick their guts off the ground and try to keep their friends and family from dying in the rubble. "Invincible, the people of Earth surrender..."

        ***

        The muzzle won't budge. You press the back of your head to the pole to try and loosen the straps. They're reinforced, unwavering even as you slam your head back in frustration. The power-cuffs are just as unrelenting. Slamming them into the concrete block holding up the light pole did nothing but send vibrations up your arms. 

        Your head swims. Nose burning from the Narcan and body shaking with a cold sweat. Two bottles of codeine in your pocket but no way to drink it, no one to use your powers on. 

        You scramble to get your legs under your ass and stand. Looking up, you find the pole reaches up ten feet. Ending with a simple cage that housed a dead bulb. If you could shimmy up somehow, you could get your arms in front of you. Not like you hadn't escaped handcuffs before. However, these things trapped your entire hand and were way sturdier.

        You try. Wrapping your legs around the pole, holding it between your shoulder blades. Three inches is all you get off the ground before your boots slip and you fall. You try again. Six inches. The power-cuffs lose their friction on the pole. Again. Two inches. You're weak. Again. You don't even get your legs properly wrapped around the pole.

        You slump. Going back to banging the cuffs and trying to push the stopper out of your mouth with your tongue. 

        Minutes pass. The sun dips lower and lower on the horizon, overlooking the sea. Reds and yellows painted on rippling deep blue. So pretty, you're absolutely sure you're going to die. People don't get good things like sea breezes and private islands without dying right after. Just the way of the world. 

        Silver-lined clouds burst apart. Waning light at his back, framing him in red-gold. He comes down so quick the abandoned pavement cracks underfoot, a burst of wind stinging your eyes.

        "I was wondering where you ran off to." He prowls closer. In the light you can make out his shape, not his uniform colors so you couldn't scale exactly how fucked you were.

        His cape billowed in the breeze. Narrowed it down to two options. Sexual harassment guy or the vague head smasher. 

        Only inches in front of you, he lowered to his haunches. "Is this how your little GDA friends treat you here? Instead of a leader you're just some piece of meat to dangle in front of my nose. I mean, you were before, but this-" he gestures to your slumped form, "this is gratuitous."

        You couldn't tell if he was disgusted or intrigued by your predicament and you didn't want to know. You looked anywhere but at him, didn't move, didn't breathe in the humid mask- like he was a dinosaur in a movie. The only reason you'd lived so long under Machine Head's thumb was by shutting the fuck up (no other option at the moment) and staying still, unnoticeable, until you didn't have to be.

        His hand reaches forward, bloody fingers under your chin and forcing your head up.

         "Look at me." You only do out of fear of him snapping your neck. 

        Eyes immediately fall to his lips. The right side of them in particular. The gash deepset into his muscles, pale pink and pulling at the skin around it. Up close you could really see the damage. His mouth couldn't fully close. Sections of top and bottom lip gone entirely, exposing too-long canines and deeply rooted gums that rolled up into scar tissue down his chin and up his cheek. 

        Ah, the sexual harassment lawsuit. Somehow you felt you'd lost the really shitty lottery not getting the other guy.

        "You did that." He says, following your gaze, "Dropped all the quantum bombs your planet had right on my head and all I came out with was this kitty scratch." His tongue darts out, running over the exposed teeth and gums. "I think it's nice to have a momento of the fight you had in you before I fucked it right out." A thumb comes up from under your chin, tracing down the mask, mirroring his scar. "I killed every useless little human in your little club." His voice is deceptively sweet, sickeningly sweet. "And I was going to kill you too but you begged so pretty. Said you'd do anything." You don't see but his cock stirs at the memory. "So much for the head of global defense." His laugh is mocking. You want to scream at him, tell him you know he's lying. You'd never.

        He goes on, "I paraded you around that planet. I showed the world who you really were and you fucking loved it." 

        You don't care. You don't give a fuck if you were his sugar baby in another world. Your head reels back and cracks into his. Your own skin splits open, a single tear of blood dribbling down your forehead. 

        He is unfazed. Somehow more manic than before. "It's good you're angry. I was almost sad when you gave up and killed yourself in front of all those people. I was just about to cum too." He sighs, rolling back on his heels, "You knew I'd kill the whole audience if you pulled a stunt like that but you did it anyway. Did you think you were doing them a favor making me kill them? Does it make you feel heroic?" He's in your face now. Breath rolling over the muzzle. Not talking to you, but some sad dead thing.

        "I didn't come back for you, you know." He whispers like you're surrounded by people when you're clearly alone. You already knew he was fucking crazy but him leaning into your ear made your skin crawl, a tremor in your body. "I came for something else, but you? I was hoping you'd be alive so we could do things right this time." Cold fish lips press to the shell of your ear. He sways back, speaking normally, "So, who's head hauncho here? Cuz clearly, it's not you." He makes no move to release the muzzle. He has no idea what you can really do. Wasn't there when you killed Seventeen. He knows you can pull out truths at best. To him, you're a harmless bug. 

        "I can't kill the guy who did this to you if you don't speak up." He laughs at his own joke, at the hatred in your eyes. "Wait, don't tell me. It's Cecil, right? He's normally better at making plans than whatever this is, gift wrapping you just to drop a nuke on the both of us, so obvious."

        At that you stiffen, more than you already had. Nukes?

        His fingers crawl up your muzzled cheeks, squeezing them through the material. "Aww, poor thing. Did they lie to you? Say you'd be okey dokey?" 

        Cecil had. Offered a job even. You shake your head anyway. Of course, you hadn't fully believed him but still, the betrayal, obvious and clear as it was, stung. 

        His thumb rubs circles into the mask. Smile mocking as he acted out soothing. "Shhh, don't cry. It'll be alright. You know more than anybody bombs don't do shit to me." You pointedly look at his lip. "Please- I let that one hit me head on just to see how it'd feel." Under the black lenses his eyes crinkle with delight, "Like a kiss."

        You doubted that.

        "So, we've got a few minutes 'fore at least a half dozen of the other me's show up." His fingers moved from the front of the muzzle to the clasps. "How 'bout we pass the time," under his most feather-light touch the metal started to bend, "a little," you lean forward, faking eagerness, "bit," he grins at your compliance, "faster?"

         The first buckle is about to break when the sound barrier does. You feel the presence behind you. Only see the red glove come over your shoulder, tightly cinched over a yellow glove. 

        "Don't touch my wife." Comes the assured voice. 

        Scars (because hey, the guy needs a name that isn't Mark and it's as good as any) snarls. Trying to pull back, both of their arms shaking, pushing back and forth staying at an uneasy equilibrium. "Don't you think we should have a pissing contest where we don't accidentally kill her?" Scars says.

        "I'd prefer not to do anything unnecessary," the other Mark says, "but the way you were talking to my wife leaves me little choice."

        "Your wife?" Scars laughs. "You never met the bitch and now yer engaged?"

        "Do not call my wife that." A growl breaks through his even innonation at the end. 

        Scars leered at the challenge. "Or what? You'll put me in time out?" He throws out his other arm, caught by the red. You're caged in by two powerful bodies, shaking with force, barely contained restraint. "Really shows how much you love 'er if you're gonna fight me right here. Isn't the bitch dead in your universe too? Haven't you learned your l-"

        The red gloves fall away. Scars falls toward you, expecting the sudden loss of resistance. But he doesn't fall on you. A fist under his jaw launching him into the air made sure of that.

        Scars bounces on and off the ground, spinning. Whereas the newcomer hovers where Scars had just been. He turns to you, gelled hair shining in the remaining slips of daylight. "Are you okay? He didn't harm you, did he?"

        "Nowhere close to how I'm about to beat the shit outta you!" He's back. A bumblebee blur that catches his doppelganger by the midsection and sends them careening off into dilapidated buildings. 

        All you can do is watch. Hope they don't come crash landing onto you.

        They almost do. Spinning through the air, trading blows, tangled together like a human bowling ball coming straight for the pin that was the light pole. You braced for an impact that never came. At the last few feet, your savior had dug his heels into the ground, stopping the both of them two feet shy from crushing you. 

        Scars laughs, ready to lunge again but pauses when his counterpart dips down to your side.

        Mentally, the Mark bearing his father's colors beats the shit out of himself. He noticed too late. He could've lost you again. He wants to hold you. Love you. Tell you it's going to be okay, but he can't. 

        Instead, his arm comes out to the side, slicing through the air like a blade. "Apologies."

        You wait for your head to roll off your shoulders but instead the pole comes down. Cut a razor's difference above your head. Thrown to the side like it weighed nothing.

        His hands, thick and wide and gloved, come to your sides, help stand you up. "How did you get here?" He asks like there's not a guy right behind him he just tried to murder. "Who did this to you?" 

        You can't answer. Eyes sliding to the O on his chest. Remembering what you saw on TV months after the breakup. You wonder if they're on the same side. If this... Omni-Mark or whatever the fuck is just as evil as his daddy.

        "Of course." He reaches for the straps.

        You move. Not voluntarily, but because someone came barreling into you. Slow for a Viltrumite, dizzying for a human. White sleeved arms coil around your person, squeezing.

        "God." He says, head buried into your shoulder. "God, oh God." You're crushed against a wall of absolute muscle. "I thought I'd be too late."

        Your feet are off the ground. Kicking at his exposed heels. You reel your head back much as the hold would allow and deliver an awkward headbutt to the top of a warped bald head.

        The grip loosened, he raises his head. Skin discolored, stretched thin in some places, piled on thick in others. Black lenses heat-fused into his skin. He's wrong, like the others, disfigured, but unequivocally, Mark Grayson.

        He sets you down gently. "Lemme get that thing off of-"

        A hand shoots over your shoulder. Grabbing him hard by the throat with a blue-clad hand. Baldie is sent off, thrown to the sky. "Well, what do we have here?"

        ***

        "How many can you get those on in the next," Cecil checked his watch, "three minutes, Sinclair?" 

        The man's head whipped so fast Cecil was surprised it didn't crack. "Three minutes? You want all of them with these things? Are you daft?" Cecil watched him over the railing, the pimply, weaselly little man he'd recruited into the GDA ranks almost five years ago. At first working with him was impossible. Delusions of grandeur so thick he cut open fourteen people's heads with a garden saw before being caught by Invincible.

        "Not all of them, just enough." Cecil says, eyeing the tech spread across the operating tables. "We need as much man power as we can get if we're going to pull this off."

        "I'm not sure if you've noticed Cecil, but half my lab was just on fire. I have bigger problems to deal with than putting speakers on my re-animen." Sinclair spat but still, he worked away. Wiring the speaker to the corpse's mechanical chest.

        Cecil's eye twitched. "Just tell me how many re-animen we have left."

         "One, two, three, four, five," his finger bobbed and bobbed and bobbed, counting over twenty before he said, "not nearly enough. I need more time."

        "Two n' a half minutes before we need them at the teleporter."

        ***

        You were spun around to see another, unsurprisingly, version of your ex-boyfriend. This one had the sense to hide his hair under a skin tight blue swimcap- or whatever it was- he looked like a bowling ball. An evil bowling ball.

        "Man, I haven't seen you since I killed you!" He laughs, contempt boiling in eyes you can't see behind black goggles. "You really shouldn't have broken up with me."

        Many'a time after you and Mark were done, you found yourself in the shower. Acting out the breakup, flipping the script, breaking up with him instead. Being the one on top. Once the last of the water spun down the drain and you stepped out, you were back to reality. Where you were the loser who got broken up with. 

        You headbutt him hard as you can. Feeling your skull vibrate. The cut on your forehead deepening. When you open your eyes, you're hoping his lip would be busted or his nose would be bleeding. It wasn't. He grips your shoulders harshly. "Didn't work then, won't work now." Fingertips dug in, he started to pull, barely at first, then so hard your skin started to stretch. "I'm going to enjoy this." He was going to rip your arms right off your body. Let them drop, still attached by the power-cuffs and you couldn't do shit about it.

        You're dropped before any real damage can be done. A white blur rams into Swimcap. Ramming him so hard into the ground, they shattered abandoned foundations. You don't wait to see who it is, you get your feet under you and run. Slowly, awkwardly, arms heavy behind your back. Weighed down by the cuffs.

        You get maybe five feet. Before someone swoops from above and lifts you off the ground by the midsection. "Let's get you to safety." You recognize the even tone, the red gloves.

        "Where do you think you're going?" You know it's coming. Another wave of violence, because that's all the last hour had been. You're braced for impact but it's still a shock. 

        Someone punching your savior in the back, cracking something inside him. The arms holding you give involuntarily. You drop, wind whistling in your ears. He'd climbed so high so fast, a hundred feet, two maybe, either way, when you hit the ground you were going to paint it red.

        The aggressor snapped down, catching you like a fairytale princess before you could crack open your skull. "Can you believe that guy?" Scars sneers, "Trying to take you away before the bombs even launch?" He lands, dirt kicking up in a ring around his boots.

        You worm wriggle in his hold. Chewing on the muzzle bit, trying to tell him to die. 

        "Say we've got about a minute before things get party girl crazy and I don't want you to miss that." He cradles the back of your head. Cape swirling around you both. "You used to love dropping bombs on all your problems, it's only fair you have to stay for the show."

        ***

        Cecil watched a handful of the other Marks reach the island. Some hovering ahead, assessing. Some searched, (Y/n) no longer on the pole. Some touched down, curious. Looking to the sky, waiting for the very obvious bomb to drop.        

        The plan didn't hinge on just the nukes.

        Still, he said, "Send everything we've got." Tech's entered in codes at their computers, opening missile silos across the world. Some hidden in barns, some underground, others in plain sight. Air quality around the globe dropped a percentage, but Cecil couldn't care. This was their best shot.

        The remaining re-animen stood in line before the teleporter. Sinclair fussing over them one by one. Psychopomp waiting as the techies ironed out the kinks. 

        "Can you revive them remotely?" Cecil asked.

        "No," she said, "I'll have to be there as well."

        He was expecting an answer like that. A well-rehearsed request was on the way off his tongue when she said, "I'll go, but you better pull me out before those bombs go off."

        "I'll need you to get a hold of (Y/n)," Cecil said.

        Psychopomp frowned. That Dregs bitch was lying about her brother, she could feel it. She also stole her cat. There was no reality in which she wanted to save Dregs from a nuclear blast but there was only one way to get the truth about her brother. For Dregs to face justice, much as she enjoyed watching you squirm on screen. "Fine, but I won't guarantee she'll be alive when I do."

        "Is that a threat?"

        "I'm not so stupid to kill the best shot the planet has." She says, "But they are trying to destroy it- so."

        ***

        "The fuck are you doing with my girlfriend, piss boots?" 

        You were swung around, still in Scars arms. Bound and gagged. 

        "Piss boots?" He says, "Is that the best you can do?"

        Mohawk hovers above the earth. Hair wild on his head with the speed he had to use to get from New York to the southern Atlantic. Fingers twitching to fists. "I can do a whole lot worse if you don't put her down right fuckin' now."

        Your captor grins, scar stretching on his cheek. "What're you gonna do if I don't, tough guy?" Which was a much better jab than piss boots. Sure, his boots were yellow, but come on. 

        Mohawk's knuckles crack. Chest heaving with exhaustion. Muscles rippling under his skin tight suit. 

        "Cracking your knuckles won't kill me, you know. Which I doubt you can- I'm better than you. All of you."

        They were going to wind up fighting, killing you in the crossfire. So you do the only thing you can. Lean your head on Scars shoulder and look at him with batting lashes. Rubbing the side of your head into him so he could feel the straps. A quiet suggestion with a hint of affection to soften him up.

        "See, even she knows it." His arms shift, going for the buckles. You breathe in the last of the humid, leathery air inside the muzzle. Finally.

        Scar's wrist is seized by a hand over shoulder. "It's on her for a reason." Emperor looks down at you from over his doppelganger's shoulder with mingled disgust and disappointment. At least he's not trying to pop your head off anymore.

        "Let him take it off," Mohawk says, "let 'er tell this dick how much she really likes him." He catches your eye, his own glittering with mischief and malice. "Won't you, babe?"

        You don't nod or shake your head. The whole point of the ruse is for Scars to feel bad. To take the mask off without thinking. Now he was thinking, looking down at you through his lenses, gears turning.

        "I was so excited I forgot what a manipulative thing you can be." Scars hand falls from the clasp. "Did you really think you could bat your eyelashes and make me forget what you made me say?" You don't react, don't move. Terrified that if you do, they'll converge on you like hungry animals. 

        "I like this look on you anyway." Scars says, "Makes you look as pathetic as you really are."

        "What look?" A new voice, cherry when the situation was anything but. Lensless came from the sky, landing in a trot that stopped him by Mohawk's side. He tapped the throbbing wound in his head, "This one?"

        You look anywhere but at him and his cum-stained suit. Finding more of him in the sky, looking down at you. A pair, Swimcap and Baldie, duking it out by the shore.

        "You." A hand grabs Scar's shoulder, veins pulsing.

        "Me." Scars doesn't let you down, doesn't even look at the man bearing Omni-Man's sigil on his broad chest. 

        "Let her down and let me take her to safety." Omni-Mark reasons, another fight brewing in the air. More being passed around like a ragdoll to come, oh joy.

        You wondered when this prolonged torment was going to end, when the first missile head pierced the clouds.

        Many Marks surge for the bombs. The air splits in blue-white wounds over their heads, dropping machined flesh atop them. Thickly, muscled, mostly skinless monsters that took them to the ground with a crash. Then they were everywhere, coming out of holes in reality. Battle cries an unholy screech. 

        Scars drops you on your ass. "Stay here." He hisses before shooting forward. Splitting one of the monsters in two with a single punch. The rest of your company had already started to shred. Keeping the closest monsters away from you through death. 

        The Marks taken to the ground ward off their aggressors. The Viltrumite uniformed warrior and Phantom try to shoot into the sky to stop the bombs, curb them away but the re-animen leap. Grappling their feet, hanging. They could keep flying, deal with the threat no problem, even with the re-animen clawing at their ankles. Except- for the piercing sound that came out of their torsos.

        The men drop like flies, hands clamped tightly over their ears. World-ending strength or not, all of them drop like flies.

         Groaning, backs arching, kicking at the ground uselessly. The bombs fell. So many of them, the sky could be a connect-the-dots puzzle. The re-animen pounced. Two per Mark, sometimes three. Pistons hissing under their muscles. 

        You don't run because there's no fucking chance you'd get anywhere. You were done. No shitty apartment. No cat. No job at the GDA. No life.

        The best chances you had for living were all getting beat so bad that-

        The screeching lessened. Your eyes shooting around, searching for the cause of the partial quiet. You find it in a gloved hand punched through a metal chest. Mohawk was still being walloped by another re-animen, but he didn't seem to care much now. His personal speaker-shrieker dropped dead. 

        The other speaker-shriekers, two by the sound of it, went on. Weakening him and his counterparts, but far enough away he was able to understand. Was able to dislodge the other re-animen atop him. Barley, but at least he wasn't about to get his brains splattered anymore.

        The others didn't see, but caught on. If the thing on top of them was shrieking, kill it. They did. Alone at first, then together when there was only one left. Just barley able to manage moving. Sighing in collective relief when it stopped. They'd be fine, just had to toss the bombs into space like it was any other weekday.

        Across the planet, Cecil Stedman frowned. He didn't want it to come to this but he knew it would.

        Not all the re-animen came out. Some sat in reserve waiting for this exact contingency. They came now, zapping into existence right behind you. Arms thrown overhead ready to come down and crush you into putty. 

        "No!" You don't know who said it. Don't know who was flying to your rescue because again, your ears were being assaulted by the horrible ringing coming from the monster's chest. Your potential saviors fall to the ground, groaning, but this time with a twinge of hysteria. This ring louder than the others, so high pitched you could barley hear it, but it made your ears twitch.

        "You think this can stop me?" Scars peels himself off the ground, muscles pulsing in his arms, coated with blood so old it'd gone black in the re-animen's bodies. He flew toward the thing, cringing, nose bleeding, much slower than before, but certain to take the cyborg down. "I'm fuckin-" A re-animan rose from the ground, grabbed him by the leg and smashed him face first into the concrete. With the sound weakening him, he couldn't get up. 

        You jump barely out of the way as the re-animen's arms come down for your skull. Knocking into another re-animen who'd come into existence behind you. The Mark's notice. The Mark's that can move, move. The Mark's that can't, try. The bomb relocation missions is abandoned in lieu of saving you.

        Phantom was on his way. A device laced in his suit's ears able to block out the noise. He knows he can save you. Knows he can withstand just the one remaining shrieker.

        Beside you the air split apart. Psychopomp stood, arms out, palms glowing. The dead re-animen rise again. Grab ankles of moving Mark's. Slam them down. Pounce, tackle, bite, distract. All the while you're running from the sole re-animen set on killing you. Versions of your ex give the best chase they can before being tossed aside or thrown into another fight. The bombs are going to go off any second. None of them can get away to move one, let alone the whole fleet. 

        Despite death on it's way, the pain and inevitability of it all, so many of them look to you. Wishing to burn your face into their eyelids. Wanting to see you one last time before you're gone, again.

        The first bomb goes off, setting off a chain that lights the night sky all the way from Madagascar to the coast of Chile. 

        You're not there to see it. To get your skin burned off your bones. Because you're on your knees in the control room of The Pentagon. Psychopomp's hand falling off your shoulder. 

        You watch as all the screens monitoring the detonation go white. Most lost connection. 

        Behind you, the weight around your hands and wrists falls away. Clinking to the ground. Followed by the feel of the muzzle tipping forward. Falling off your face. Spit congealed white on the bit. Your lips chapped, indents on your wrist. 

        You turn, ready to kill, to get revenge for whatever the fuck that was. 

        "You can't talk faster than my boys can put a bullet in your head, so save it." Cecil says, hands in his pockets. Black and green clad armored men on either side of him. The fool wasn't wearing his noise canceling headphones. You swallow nothing, mouth gone dry. "After getting Narcaned you're definitely too weak to control more than one person. Think, kid, it's not gonna work."

        You nod, shallow and slow, just so the gunmen know not to shoot when you open your mouth. Still, their safety are off, muzzles pointed between your eyes. "What was that?"

        "The best we could do given our current situation." Cecil says. "Hopefully all that radiation'll kill the little bastards but-" he looks to the screen and sighs, "God damn it. Somebody zoom in."

        Your attention follows his. To a sole camera capturing dissipating dust and atmosphere. Silhouettes float above where the island had been. Now just a hole with ocean water rushing to fill it. Some shapes wait for the debris to clear. Some are rushing through the wreckage, diving into the hole. 

        "They're looking for you." Cecil clicks his tongue. "Somebody get that cuff off her ankle."

        An energy pulse fired from the guard's gun cracks against the metal. Pushes it hard against your ankle but the bracelet Phantom had thrown at you falls away. Lights inside ceasing their blinking as soon as a solider crushes it underfoot. 

        "Sir," a half-man, half-robot approaches, "what are we going to do?" You don't ask but he helped you up. Leads you to lean on an unoccupied desk for dignity's sake.

        "I don't know, Donald."  

        You watch the screens clear. Watch them search the island, whooshing around, landing momentarily. Flies on shit.

        It makes you think aloud, "Where's the real Invincible?"

        That gives Cecil pause, "Come with me."

[wokecipher]

This is all AU nonsense, don't be weird

A big family of shapes :3

I have a LOOOT of VERY specific thoughts for this AU of mine... but anyways! (Yes, thats Tad, yes thats Will) Tad works as a CPS agent and focuses on his in-laws family and his own nephew because, well... yeah those guys aren't exactly getting the best home lives.

Bill's parents are abusive and neglectful via constant medical abuse and being absolute helicopter parents. He's mostly just emotionally abused by them, constantly shamed for not being normal and ruining their lives. They do love and care about Bill but that doesn't change how they act towards him.

Meanwhile Will's parents shouldn't even be parents in the first place, they constantly forget about their kids (and also simply... do not care about their kids at all!) The two prefer flirting and working than anything related to any of their kids (who they constantly don't feed, leave places, and ignore).

In the canon of this world, Will runs away from home and ends up exiting his reality- incidentally bringing Tad (who had worriedly followed him).

Will never noticed Tad following him and was long gone by the time Tad realized he was maybe a little in over his head.

While the two of them were outside of the dimension, Bill ended up getting the whole place destroyed. When Will returned, he couldn't find... anything... and ended up leaving to find a new home.

Imagine running away from your neglectful parents, and then coming back and finding the entire city you used to live in fucking disappeared. That's probably sorta similar to how poor Will felt.

Meanwhile, Tad was stuck who knows where in what knows what- yet was eventually found by a kind being who brought him to some random dimension (ours).

I also like to imagine that Tad ended up in the same gravity falls as Bill, and neither knew until weirdmageddon and then it became the most awkward reunion ever.