#the face of a definitely very mentally well man. who is okay

[jennycalendar]

their dynamic this episode is feeding me. he is so mad that he's going to fall in love with this woman and he is literally powerless to stop it. like he cannot at all talk his own way out of this! every time he meets her it further cements his doom and he is so ANGERY about it and it's so STUPID because WE ALL KNOW HOW THIS ENDS

[pedgito]

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | Joel Miller x reader — Series Masterlist (part i)

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summary | Moving in with you soon-to-be stepfather is the least of your concerns while under the unfavorable regime of your mother—but then there's Joel, Tommy's brother, who always know just how to soothes your worries.

author's note | this was originally supposed to be a tommy x reader idea that morphed into joel and here we are. special thanks to @chaotic-mystery and @swiftispunk for lending me their beautiful minds and helping this make more sense <3

content warning | 18+ smut, DDDNE - this is very loosely stepcest, so if that's not your thing, ignore. that's the only warning i'm giving on that, additional warnings: no outbreak, step-uncle!joel, age gap (20/late 40s), religious trauma, parental trauma (mentally, with one instance of physical), und*rage drinking, contradiction all over the place, joel is a broke man who makes horrible decisions, reckless behavior for reader, mast*rbation, voyeurism, one-sided flirting, joel can keep your secrets <3

word count —9.2k

PART TWO, PART THREE (tbd)

“Married?”

There’s the wiggle of your mother’s fingers, the shine of the small diamond under the natural light streaming through the window to your shared two bedroom apartment—being twenty and still living your mother wasn’t ideal, but it was all you could manage at the moment. You force a grin and take her hand, examining the jewelry.

Tommy had actually talked to you weeks ago, a prerequisite to going through with the whole ordeal, making sure that it was okay with you. It wasn’t that you minded Tommy, he was a good man—too goddamn good for your mother, who always seemed to find a way to ruin something. Everything. You wanted to warn him, but even as much as you despise your mother on most days, he made her happy.

“It’s been a year,” You comment offhandedly, “you’re sure he’s the one?”

She snatches her hand away with a bitter gaze and fiddles with the engagement ring, pacing her way around your shared living room.

“Can’t you just be happy?” She pleads, so petulant and whiney. Like a child, “For once?”

You shrug, “I like Tommy, he’s a good guy. It’s just—he’s the only man you’ve dated since…”

“Baby, I know what I’m doing.”

Your eyes flick up under a lazy gaze, seemingly unconvinced. But, you mask it well.

“So, are you going to elope then?”

She shakes her head, suddenly shaking with a subtle excitement that has her bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“No, honey—we’ll be planning a wedding. Small, of course. You know Tommy doesn’t have much family.”

Just a brother, whom you’d never met. You never heard about anyone else.

“And—“

That’s a tone you don’t like.

Anticipation. Hesitation.

“We’ve been looking for a house.”

“Oh?”

So, she was kicking you to the curb. Time to leave the nest, grow up—blah blah. 

But, she continues.

“And in the meantime, we’re going to move into Tommy’s childhood home!” 

You cringe externally at the excitement, “What’s wrong with our place?”

“We’re gonna be saving every penny we can, cutting costs where it seems easier. Joel is offering to let us live there for the time being rent-free, given we take care of the place.”

Joel. You knew a name. Not a face. A personality. Only that he was Tommy’s older brother. Worked with him, spent weekends with him. That was it. He seemed like a lonely man from a distance.

“So, you’ll do just that,” She remarks, a definitive look that allows no argument, “we’ll be out of here by the end of the month.”

“That’s next week, mom—“

“Then, I suggest you get to packin’.”

Unbelievable.

“You can’t be serious—I don’t even know him. Do you? Have you even met him?”

“Once or twice,” She shrugs casually, “He’s a private man, but he’s nice enough. I’m not questionin’ it, honey. Tommy is a good man, I can assume Joel is, too.”

Your mother spots the disdain the moment it crosses your face, a finger held up in reprimand.

“You are as ungrateful as they come,” She bickers and then follows the shame, “what would he say?”

Your eyes drag up toward the ceiling, feeling the echo of a scripture you’ve heard time and time again—different words, same meaning, “Thou shalt love thy—“

“—neighbor as thyself,” Your mom finishes, a prosperous grin on her face, “Go on, wash up before bed.”

Even as you graduated and started college, still living under the conveniences of your mother, she felt the need to guide and protect, preaching whatever bullshit she’s swallowed down the past twenty years of your life.

She wasn’t like this before, in fact, it was strikingly opposite. But, she’d had you young, regretted her choices, and while trying to be a good mom had found something to cling to, to help guide her back to some semblance of sanity and safety. 

Unluckily for you, it means years and years of strict teaching and rules that made no sense to you now. Hell, they had stopped making since long before that, given the way your mom has relaxed on her morals since she met Tommy, a man that was nowhere near religion or under the constant fear of something other.

You questioned it everyday—tried to fight it, but then the guilt creeped in.

It was your own mother’s doing; a rigorous and methodically set out schedule when you were young, everything followed by prayer or reminders from your mother. He’s always watching. As you grew older, into your body and started to question—it was never outwardly, but your mother took notice and found that shaming you for your inherent provactiveness was easier than guidance. In fact, punishment was an even easier route, most of the time.

“They’re having a cookout tomorrow,” She calls over her shoulder as you depart quietly to your room, somehow more exhausted from a five minute conversation with her than anything else you’ve done all day, “so, best behavior, alright?”

You don’t even try to hide the roll of your eyes that time, sighing softly and answering with a tired, “Yes, of course.”

It would have been hard to predict how that day would change the trajectory of your life completely.

—

The house is beautiful, really. Deep in the back of a suburban neighborhood, right in the middle of Austin. It was lively—kids playing, neighbors conversing over gates from their lawns, music blaring through the streets. 

But frankly, it was fucking weird.

You're halfway up the driveway when Tommy opens the door, spots your mother first and swoops her up into a hug that lifts her off her feet, a squeal escaping her.

When it’s your turn, it’s a gentle but quick hug. An even softer pat on the back as he welcomes you in.

Welcoming you to what would soon be home. 

Temporarily, at least.

“Come on,” He calls back toward you both with a nod of his head, “we just got finished on the grill and the game is about to hit kickoff, y’all are just in time.”

You step past the threshold, enveloped in the homey smell of vanilla and citrus, something a little savory—which you assumed was the food, and some of the scent from fresh cut lawns from the neighborhood seeping in through the open windows. 

Tommy’s closing the door behind you before he comes around your side, yelling out with his hands cupped around his mouth.

“Joel, get ‘yer ass in here!” Tommy yells, slightly jarring as you flinch at the loud sound. Tommy seems to notice and offers an apology with a kind rub of his hand against your shoulder, “Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. He’s hard of hearing—“

“I’m not,” The man grumbles as he rounds the corner from outside, walking through the sliding door with a tray of freshly cooked patties lined up in rows, “my hearin’ is perfectly fuckin’ fine.”

Tommy seems careless to dismiss it as your mother offers Joel a polite greeting which he returns with what you can immediately spot is a forced smile. Then, Tommy introduces you. Your smile is just as forced, but out of the inherent nervousness of the situation, offering a small wave that Joel returns with a nod.

“Food’s done,” Joel offers as a change of subject, “game’s starting so—“ He waves vaguely at the array of food, “have at it, I guess.”

“Did you wanna say grace, baby?” Tommy asks, looking over at your mother.

“No—no, I’m sure you and Joel don’t do that,” Your mom looks at you, rubbing a surprisingly gentle touch over your cheek, squeezing gently, “We can say it to ourselves right, sweetie?”

Your eyes avert toward Joel who looks more uncomfortable now then when you walked in. You nod regardless, shrugging away from your mother’s touch. She doesn’t argue and returns her attention toward Tommy, thankfully.

You move curiously, examine the different toppings and add-ons, sides, and different treats. It was far more than you were used to—a nice change to your mothers botched box dinners and takeout ordering that always ended up wrong. 

Joel moves mechanically, eyes on the screen as he slaps his burger together, sliding you the bag of buns like clockwork, almost as if he sensed it. It was the only tangible acknowledgment he’s made aside from the nod. But, beyond that—it was silence.

He was an odd man. Quiet, reserved—part of you understood. It was uncharted territory, two mostly strangers in his home. You’d be a little annoyed too.

But, you remember your mother’s words. So, you make an attempt.

His hip is digging into the counter at the edge of his kitchen as he holds the plate to his chest and eats his burger, messily and starved, scarfing it down in very few bites. He catches you staring at him curiously, shamefully taking the first small bite of your own burger. He doesn’t react at you, but he does consciously wipe the mess of grease around his mouth as he sets his plate down, aiming to set himself up with another burger.

“It’s nice,” You say suddenly, the lack of elaboration apparent and Joel raises his eyebrows in unison, “—your house, it’s…nice.”

Above the low rumble of music playing on the radio—something you can determine is a rock song, of what band or song name you have no idea, and the sudden voice of Tommy yelling over a fumbled pass, which Joel also echoes his frustration with as he catches the screen over your shoulder. You jump, turning over your shoulder to look. 

Joel seems to notice the way you startle, “‘M sorry,” He apologies kindly, “and…thank you.”

It was hard to settle and feel comfortable, knowing that normally, in any other situation, your mom would be judging them—the music, the course language, the entertainment of boys throwing a ball around and tackling each other. It wasn’t in her taste or her faith to condone such things. 

But suddenly, with Tommy, none of it mattered. It was jarring, to say the least.

Joel leaves you after that, taking a seat on the separate recliner from the couch your mother was sharing with Tommy, somehow entranced in the game and Tommy’s answers to her questions. Everything was overwhelming and in the midst of another yelling match at the screen with your eyes locked on the sight as you blindly walked backwards into the counter behind you, you felt your elbow hit a can and suddenly the liquid was spilling over your feet.

You yelp in surprise, catching only the attention of Joel. You scramble, picking up the can before sliding it into the sink, stepping out of your now ruined sandals and feeling suddenly overwhelmed by everything—the noise, the smelly, sticky mess of liquid all over you and your clothes.

Joel’s footsteps are heavy but swift, his plate sliding over the island as he rips off a wad of paper towels over your head and turns on the faucet, “That’s my bad—forgot my beer was there,” You look up at him wide-eyed, feeling him guide your hands under the stream to wash away the mess, “you alright?”

It feels like someone was twisting your gut in their grip—you’ve never heard those words aimed your way before and the anxiety engulfs you. Joel was already crouching down by then, scooping your ruined sandals into his hand and nodding toward the backdoor, “We can wash these off and leave ‘em outside to dry.”

You nod dumbly, watching him run them under the water, but his eyes examine you closely and the quick rise and fall of your chest, “You can follow me outside, if you’re needin’ a break.”

Again you nod, but you’re sure that time. You step over the small puddle on the floor and your face scrunches up in disgust, sensing the presence of your mother as she comes into view.

“Oh, honey—you made a mess.”

“She’s alright,” Joel stresses, “I left my beer there, s’nothing some napkins and water can’t clean up.”

There’s a silent reprimand behind her eyes, something you would hear about later or something she was storing for another time, “C’mon,” Joel’s voice saves you and you follow, shying away from the piercing look of your mother, feeling the wave of relief after Joel closed the backdoor behind you.

“Accidents happen,” Joel offers as a reminder and a sense of comfort, placing your sandals on the concrete as he reaches for the hose, turning the spout and watching as it sputtered out slowly before it steadies and he spray them down before catching your feet, washing away the foamy liquid.

You jump slightly, mostly from the change in temperature against the humid, sticky heat of the sun as it beats down over the house, “You got that look,” Joel says offhandedly, reaching over to turn off the spigot and wrap the hose up.

You glance up at him, stepping out of the puddle of water, “What look?”

“Like someone stuck you in a cage full of bears and you ain’t got a clue how to respond,” The comparison makes you laugh, not because it was ridiculous, but because it was true. “I got—I got a place you can sit for a while, if you need the silence?”

There’s a weight lifting off your chest, one you hadn’t realized was there until he says the words.

You nod and Joel crooks a couple fingers your way, beckoning you to follow. 

Joel leads you back into the house, but takes a sharp right to the set of double doors leading to a separate room—bookshelves and stacks of unorganized papers, a desk cluttered with random items and an old desktop, an even dustier radio stuffed away in a corner.

“It’s my office, don’t use it much anymore,” Joel explains, but taps at the open double doors, “but it’s a good place to block out noise, if ‘ya need a minute.”

You step past him curiously, leaving a trail of wet footsteps that Joel would eventually clean up later. It was cluttered in the room but somehow brought a sense of comfort, clearly a place that Joel seeked out himself from time to time.

“There’s books, magazines���feel free to use the computer,” Joel waves vaguely, “although, I dunno how well it works, haven’t turned that thing on in ages.”

“Thank you,” You tell him sincerely, watching him nod as he closed the doors behind him and gave you free roam to look around, be curious.

And naturally, you were.

He had a large collection of music—CDs and cassettes, a shelf full of vinyl albums. Books, tons—something you assumed he’s collected naturally over the years. Most of it seemed fairly boring, non-fiction books on various topics; how-tos and instructional guides, nothing exciting. Your gaze tracks to his desk, running your fingers along the chair before you’re pulling it out and taking a seat, the plastic creaking with age.

You press a key on the keyboard but the computer refuses to come to life—you chew at the inside of your cheek, looking around at the pattern of squares on the wall, like missing pieces plucked from the wall—like dust collecting around picture frames that were no longer there. Your fingers dance along a drawer, twirling in your seat as you pulled at the handle and find a drawer full of thick files. But, on the top, a book with a sticky note is sitting alone, completely out of place.

Leave it, you tell yourself. 

Still, your fingers reach for it.

It’s a thick book, a soft-matte touch from cover to cover. It was mostly unsuspecting, a plain cover of a mirrored forest, the post-it stuck over the title but you’re too scared to remove it. You flip it over, reading over the summary on the back. The summary is dull, unsuspecting, but as you flip through the book, skimming from chapter to chapter you realize it is not that.

And to be fair, you knew this type of genre was something people were interested in, never laying eyes on it yourself. But, to see it stuffed away in the desk of one Joel Miller, is a fair surprise—you examine the text, hanging on every word as you delve deep, deep; into a scene of voyeurism amongst a group. Somewhere between that and the next chapter you get lost, only resurfacing when you hear a knock at the glass door to the room.

The book snaps shut as you spot Joel, who’s peeking his head in with an emotionless gaze. He could just be checking to make sure you’re not snooping too deep, but then he’s walking toward you at a leisurely pace, a fresh beer in his hand as he squints, looking at the book in your hand.

He plucks at the post-it and chuckles slightly.

“Forgot that thing was in there,” He tells you, “Tommy bought that—year ago, I think? One of his stupid gag gifts.”

“You’ve never read it?”

Joel shakes his head, lips pulled in a tight line of indifference as he sipped at his drink.

“If you like it, you can take it with you.”

And then he realizes his misstep, your eyes meeting awkwardly.

“I mean, I’ll be here permanently come Sunday, so—”

Joel smiles slightly, a subtle quirk of his lip, “Well, least I know you’ll bring it back.”

You follow his movement, his fingers gripping the aluminum can and the perspiration from the can wetting his fingers, sweating down his wrist and you subconsciously lick your lips before your teeth are dragging, digging into the flesh of it. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with the movement and Joel catches you, your intrigued gaze and volleys it with a question.

“Did you want a sip?” He says, mostly as a joke.

He remembers the time Sarah had come to him, piling onto his lap and with her constant stream of questions—he’d let her have the tiniest sip as she kept pressing on it and Joel knew there was no use in fighting the steadfast energy of an eight year old.

She hated it, immediately retching in disgust. Joel gave her a chuckled “I told ya so, kiddo.”

This was different, though. 

“I’m not twenty one,” You counter, mouth quivering down into a slight frown and your shoulders shrugging instinctively, “and my mother would kill me.”

But, you want to—not even driven by an act of rebellion. It was genuine curiosity.

Joel tilts his body, peeks around the corner and spots the pair still sat on the couch.

“What she doesn't know won’t hurt her,” Joel crosses that line for you, your hands cupping around his larger one as he guides it to your mouth, “s’not like you’re gonna go get piss drunk, right?”

You giggle softly at that, lips pressing into the can as he tilts it into your mouth. The vision of him is…overwhelming. Stood over you in the mostly unlit room, barefoot and jeans rubbing at the top of his feet, dark cotton shirt pulling over his shoulders and a few weeks of facial hair unkempt and outgrown. 

If your mother were to see, it would have been you.

Your fault. And again, maybe it was.

But Joel, he towers. You’re nearly eye-level with his waist but admittedly, they never leave his face. You sip gingerly, fingers curling around his own as you tip your head back and consume more, until your cheeks are puffing out with the liquid and you swallow, immediately grimacing at the taste as you pull away, sputtering out a soft cough as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Joel defends, not even bothering to wipe the rim as he takes another sip, somehow finding that more intimate than any of what had just happened between you both.

Neither of you say anything and you shake your head, fingers curling around the book in your lap.

“I’ll take your word for it,” You nod, but Joel can see the disgust for it on your face.

“Go on, take the book home,” Joel offers, “ain’t gonna be missed ‘round here.”

You smile sweetly, licking over your lips and tasting the remnants of the alcohol, a sign of sin amongst the many you had just committed, but the lack of guilt was startling. You couldn’t even begin to care.

When you leave, the book is tucked away in your bag and hidden. Joel is already cleaning up by the time your mother is rushing after you out the door and to the car, leaving a curious Tommy to linger around, helping Joel sparsely before he’s bugging Joel for a lighter.

Joel had quit smoking long ago, but still had a few lighters tucked away in his study.

Tommy searches around aimlessly, sifting through cups and drawers until he’s pulling open one, pausing, calling over to Joel curiously.

“You finally put up that book I gave you a goddamn century ago?”

His answer is your name as he turns the faucet off, wiping off the final dish.

“She seemed interested so I let her borrow it,” He calls over to Tommy, who’s leaning up with a wide-eyed but amused expression—it was clear that his brother was sometimes just as oblivious as him.

“Joel, you never read the damn book, did you?”

“Was I supposed to?”

Tommy makes a face, a smug smile fading in for a brief moment.

“Tommy, what was the book about?”

Tommy eventually finds the lighter, snatching it up with a ‘aha!’, trailing back over to Joel before he finally answers him.

“Thought I’d spice up your nightly reading, brother.” 

Joel can piece his words together; the innate smugness and tone that was edging toward a full-on chuckle, it wasn’t an appropriate piece. And given the stuff he did know of your mother, the worst choice of a genre for you to sneak home with.

“Did I do a bad thing?” Joel asks, “I mean, that girl is an adult—”

“Twenty, yeah. But, her mom—”

“Your fiance,” Joel clarifies, “she’ll be your step-daughter soon too, you realize that?”

“She can be a little—”

“Judgemental?” Joel finishes for him, drying his hands off with a dish towel before it toward the empty counter, “Freakish? She’s got your ass goin’ to church every Sunday, ain’t seen that before.”

Joel sighs, a clipped noise as he scratches at his forehead.

“I’m not judging, I swear. But, her moving here—I’m not feedin’ into that whole schtick.”

Tommy holds his hands up in defense, “She knows—”

“I fuckin’ hope so.”

—

The vision of the scene is imagined under the safety of your room that night, squinting to read the text under the dim light of your bedside lamp, words amongst feelings that weren’t foreign but often weren’t welcomed. You’ve had boyfriends and kisses, experiences like any other girl has, but you’ve shoved it away for far too long—it was years of high school, shying away from boys and girls only to finally find the freedom to branch out in college, but under the constant reminder of you mother’s generosity to allow you to finish schooling without the stress of work or the responsibility of earning your keep. He’ll guide you, she’d always remind you. A constant reminder that you were under his watch, more of a threat than anything. And your mother knew that.

The hand tucked under your chin switches to the other, your now free hand trailing down your chest and under the sheets, slipping past the snug waistband of your underwear. The scene was vivid, descriptive as the man pulled the female characters legs apart, exposing her, doting her with the kind of words that made your stomach swirl and your gut twist, dragging your middle finger down the center of your pussy and sighing at the slick that was already there, gathering up the wetness until you could guide it over your clit in quick, hurried circles.

You snap the book shut, biting on the corner of your pillow as you squeeze at the squishy fabric, squirming under the feeling of your impending orgasm, muffled moans slipping from your stuffed mouth as you feel it crash over you in a wave, eyes squeezing shut so tight you start to see the light. 

The comedown is slow, rolling over onto your back and silently slipping the book under your pillow and the guilt you usually feel is filled with nothing. You were empty, thoughts filling with vague images of someone, a man—faceless, but if you dug hard enough you’d know. 

So, you do. 

And with his face comes something you felt so often but pushed away.

Desire.

And for the one person you know you shouldn’t. 

—

The move takes place a few days later, endless hours spent packing boxes and putting the rest away in storage, several trips back and forth from the apartment to Joel’s house.

You often had to remind yourself it wasn’t Tommy’s. It was Joel’s—but Tommy was his brother and he wasn’t going to turn him away, so if there was anyone to respect, it was Joel.

The house had three bedrooms; Joel’s, the one Tommy and your mother would share, and the room with a door painted purple and covered in various things. Butterflies, flowers—it was off-limits and you didn’t attempt to make anyone budge on that matter. It was a sore spot for both of the Miller brother’s and when Joel offers up the attic, you’re quick to take it.

He’d even taken the time to make it somewhat liveable. A fresh coat of white paint, storage for clothes and some of your belongings you’d decided to bring along, a space for your bed and plenty of the furniture you couldn’t part with. Besides, it was nice having a level away from everyone else.

“The ladder does get stuck from time to time,” Joel admits as he stands a few feet away from you, watching as you look around curiously, “so, just give a holler. Hopefully one of us’ll be home if that happens.”

You laugh softly, dropping your bag to the floor and crouching, unzipping it and reaching in for a very specific item, pressing it into Joel’s hands as he’s expecting. His fingers curl around the side of the book and there’s an unspoken tension that fades as he speaks.

“Our secret, alright?” Joel’s eyes don’t leave yours, waiting for the confirmation of a nod.

You nod meekly, “She’d kill me, you know? I mean, not physically, but I’m sure she’d have an opinion on it.”

Joel nods in understanding, “Like I said, our secret.”

And given how rough the day was on everyone and once your bed was finally assembled in your room, you find yourself passing out without a moment of idle thinking, the exhaustion taking you the moment your body hits the sheets.

You wake up when the day has already gone, crickets chirping outside and the distant buzz of street lights outside the window above your bed. It’s dead silent in the house otherwise, aside from the hum of the central air and fan tucked in the corner of the room. You roll over and tap at your phone. It was a few minutes from midnight, one day fading into the next without waiting for you to catch up.

You rise groggily and rub at your tired eyes, placing your feet on the hardwood floor before deciding to take a walk down to the kitchen, feeling the dryness of your mouth as you licked at your lips. You’re careful as you open the entrance to the attic and lower the ladder, careful and quiet footsteps as you make your way down and close it, surprised at the growing hum and voices coming from the living room.

You edge close, soft and gentle footsteps as you pry the cabinet open and reach for a clean glass and turn on the faucet, filling it up halfway with water—that’s when you hear the hmph that warns you that you weren’t alone, spotting Joel turning over his shoulder to look at you. 

He seemed half-asleep too and you suspect he fell asleep on the couch, insomnia or exhaustion getting the better of him, you offer a quiet apology as you sip at the water.

“You’re alright,” He assures, rubbing two hands over his face and through his grown out locks, curling around the side of his neck and around his ears, “I was heading to bed anyways.”

Unlikely, you think. 

“What are you watching?” You speak softly, arms crossed your chest as the glass cup dangles from your fingertips, bare thighs pressing against the edge of the couch and Joel adjusts slightly, subconsciously making room for you. 

“Dawn of the Wolf,” Joel answers through a long yawn, “you seen it before?”

You tilt your head with a raised eyebrow, “Joel, come on—”

“Right,” He chuckles tiredly, “It’s some cheesy action movie I’ve seen a thousand times, it’s a—sometimes I just throw it on for background noise, hate sleepin’ in silence, you know?”

“Could you make it a thousand and one?” You ask curiously.

The bed he was heading toward was suddenly forgotten, watching as you eagerly climbed over the side of the couch and curled up on your own cushion, smiling slightly as he reached for the remote and started the movie over.

“Were you actually heading to bed?” You ask as the opening credits begin to play, “Because, if you were I won’t be offended—”

“I mean, I could. Probably need to, the havoc this couch does on my back.”

You offer a kind but lazy smile, half of your mouth arching up, “Besides, I’d ask way too many questions.”

Joel never does move, though. Almost like he’s resigned himself to that position until the movie was over, watching you occasionally with that familiar glaze over your eyes. It was the last movie he’d watched with Sarah before she passed, a few weeks shy of her fifteenth birthday.

By now, it was more of a foolproof method to help him sleep.

It was mostly poorly choreographed fight scenes and a dialogue heavy relationship between the two main characters that progressed unrealistically fast, forcing a laugh behind your palm after the male character professed his love after two days of knowing the other character and even Joel shakes his head at that. But, as the penultimate point of the movie comes, it hits a peak.

They’re sitting around a fire, obvious and unspoken tension lingering that snaps in an instant, one touch on the other and they’re on each other—Joel leans forward, reaching for the remote to skip past the scene, “No, don’t,” You tell him gently, your hand pressing against his palm.

The remote loosens in Joel’s grip and he settles, feet crossed over the coffee table.

Your head tilts, “It doesn’t even come across real,” You comment, “or believable, I guess.”

The sex—or lack thereof, a swarm of lust-filled gazes and strategically placed camera angles. It was mostly heavy pants and moans and Joel coughs into his balled fist to break the silence. You snicker softly and pull your legs up near your chest, head resting against your hand as you watch.

“Probably because it doesn’t work like that,” Joel comments after a while, pulling your attention to him suddenly, “sometimes it’s just—”

“Fucking,” You answer crudely, “for the sake of fucking.”

Joel looks like he wants to keel over, his face contouring in surprise as the words slip past your lips. It’s a sight, a matching set of pajamas he’s sure your mother gifted you, covered in some pattern that mimics the innocence that lies within you, a soft pastel color on satin fabric and that definitive cross that dangled at the center of your neck, slipping just between the press of your breasts—and yet, here you were, speaking to him like sin incarnate. 

“What?” It was amusing, in a way, “I got a strict mom, doesn’t make me a total prude.”

“Okay,” Joel feels the line drawing itself in the sand, or in this case, the middle of the couch, “you’re right—but we can move on from that.”

You offer a soft hum of acknowledgement, smiling at the way Joel continues to shake his head, biting back his own amusement in response.

Somewhere between there and the end of the movie, you both end up asleep on the couch, your feet tucked away in Joel’s lap and his hand resting over your ankles. It was easier falling asleep knowing Joel was near, oddly enough.

—

Things are set into motion very quickly after the first couple days. With wedding planning in full swing and your mother returning to her night shifts at the hospital, it was a sudden newfound freedom that you’d never experienced. Tommy and Joel were gone often too, sometimes for days at a time to work on site, only popping in every so often for little things. Showers, food, before they were back out for another twelve or so hours.

And with your semester of college over, you were left with the void of summer to fill up your time. It does take some convincing, but eventually your mother isn’t hovering as hard. Truthfully, you could thank Tommy for some of that.

“She’s not even a teenager anymore, she’ll be alright.”

It didn’t ease any of the restrictions she put on you in the past and it didn’t make you feel any better for feeling like you had to lie, hide—doing normal things that even if she did as a young girl, would find any reason to shame you over.

But, you were thankful with her infatuation over Tommy because it gave you a break.

Late nights at the beach with friends or last minute trips to the drive-in, it was a sorrowful peek at what you could have had for years, but only had the luxury of exploring recently, somehow always ten steps behind, still feeling that familiar strum of nervousness run through your body at the sight of a crush, somehow even more unavoidable now.

And Joel, well he hasn’t helped either.

Eventually, his own curiosity gets the better of him and he does read the book. His reader’s perched on his nose as he leaned back in the recliner, knowing that if he’s caught onto your schedule well-enough, you’d find yourself downstairs within the next few minutes.

You blamed the insomnia, but you always liked Joel’s company. At night, without the scrutinizing gaze of your mother when she was around, it was easier. 

You’re spreading peanut butter on a plate of sloppily sliced apples when you hear Joel flipping through the page of a book, the cover obscured by the knee he had propped up to lean it on.

“Anything interesting?” You ask casually, screwing the top back on the jar of peanut butter and leaning up on your toes to return it to the top shelf, ignorant to the eyes that catch your backside and the stretch of your top as it exposed your ass and the small piece of your underwear that peaked over the waistband of your shorts. 

You could blame it on the heat and that was partly the reason, but Joel notices the longer you settle in, the more comfortable you get, the conservativeness becomes less and less. It was subtle, shirt pulling up over your midriff or the collar of your shirt dipping a little lower than usual.

This time it was the shorts that hugged your ass and gave him an idea of every curve your body had been hiding and he felt his throat closing up at the thought, clearing it instinctively.

Joel sips on his beer, nursing it more like, as he shrugs and flips to the next page.

You’re curious, sliding the plate into your palm and making your way toward him, finger sliding over the cover and lifting it. Joel doesn’t stop you, but he rolls his eyes at the grin that breaks out on your face, tongue pressing into your cheek and you know–he knows.

“Good, isn’t it?” 

If he only knew how many times you found yourself knuckle deep inside of your cunt with a whisper of a sigh on your lips, shame for the obscure pictures of the characters slowly morphing into him—it wasn’t like you had tried for that, your own subconscious betraying you. 

Something in the bridge of your words and the look on your face has him pushing his glasses up his forehead and into his hair, swiping an apple off your plate and into the thick peanut butter before he’s shoving the fruit into his mouth and biting into it with a loud crunch.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” You smirk, walking backwards slowly until your calves hit the couch and you took a seat, turning it to a random channel playing some televised drama, legs stretched out in front of you and the gentle slope of your shoulders on display as you shoved the apple slice past your lips, licking up the remnants of peanut butter on your finger and Joel almost forgets what he’s doing, feeling the book slip from his hands and hit the glass bottle still half full, sending it pooling into his lap and you look over with a tickled expression. “Too much, I guess?”

“You’re a little shit, you know,” Joel comments as he tosses the book aside and departs quietly, bedroom door shutting behind him as he turns in for the night. There wasn’t an ounce of bite in his tone.

Joel doesn’t know what he expected of you—maybe something more docile, but you were anything but as time grew on and you realized that under the obvious distraction that your mother was dealing with, you found yourself pushing that line more and more.

There’s a particular night when an argument with your mother ends up with Tommy and Joel getting caught in the blowback of it, leaving both of the men at a loss for words. It was the first time they had seen the real, full extent of a meltdown from your mother. Tommy had seen glimpses, blips—but, Joel. It was a first.

It started over a simple question, harmless.

“It’s one dinner—I’ll be there and back before midnight. I don’t see the big deal?”

“Big deal? Honey, we’ve got plans tomorrow. Dress shopping, cake tasting—I was cooking a nice dinner tonight that we could all enjoy, as a family. Seein’ as we’re all somehow, by the grace of god, under this damn roof at the same time for once. And you leavin’ looking like that? I don’t think so.”

Family. Joel seems to find distaste in the word, his eyes flicking toward his brother briefly. He doesn’t understand her final point either, jean shorts and a tank top in the humid Austin heat in the middle of June seemed like a perfectly reasonable option, but it clearly struck a nerve.

“I don’t even know why I’m asking,” You counter, “I mean, this is Joel’s house, after all. Shouldn’t I ask him for permission?” You turn to him, a low blow at your mother, “Joel, do you care if I—”

Joel hesitates for half a second and you thought he might answer.

A sharp, but swift blow to your cheek has you stopping cold, eyes pulling up to anywhere but your mother and of course, they land on Joel who’s jaw is clenched so tight you think it might snap, matching Tommy’s shocked expression but Joel's was laced with an undertone of rage, simmering slowly.

There was nothing but silence, shoving past her with a charge of your shoulder and then past Tommy who has just enough time to side-step and catch your mother as she turns after you, the realization of her actions settling with her, her open hand balling into a closed fist before she drops it.

Joel was quickly discovering that this living situation was a lot more than he’d bargained for.

–

Tommy had taken your mother out for the night, rented out a hotel after dinner and allowed her the space to cool down but Joel had stayed up, mostly in anticipation that you had forgotten the spare key he’d given you in the quick flee, walking halfway down the block and then some, desperately waiting for your friends to swoop in and save you.

It was just supposed to be dinner at the local diner in town, but catching up with a classmate you hadn’t seen in weeks quickly turned into a night drive that reached well past midnight, eventually pulling out front of Joel’s house, receiving the less than gentle kiss the boy had been building up to all night.

Joel hears the low roar of the engine outside of his house, lowering the volume on the television as he walked toward the door and glanced through the window, fingers curling the small curtain that covered it and there’s a moment where he decides—do something or do nothing, but even then he doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

Not as you lean over the console of the car and into the lap of the faceless person in the driver’s seat, his hand all over you—Joel knows, you’re hoping that your mother would catch, that she’d end up more furious than she was earlier and then some.

The horn beeps as you fumble inside the car, the heat of the moment broken as your back dug into the steering wheel and his breath was hot against your neck and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with this, watching the glow of television through the front window of Joel’s home, knowing he was awake.

There’s a shadow that crosses the window and confirms your suspicion—you weren’t ever truly free, there was always someone watching. Joel seemed like the likely suspect and that was worse than your mother when you actually took the time to think it over.

The departure is quick, shoes scuffing against the pavement as you meet the front door, jiggling with the doorknob before it’s being opened from the other side.

Joel’s eyes follow you as you walk inside, toeing your shoes off near the door and finding that you don’t even have the energy to make a remark at him, nothing funny, nothing snide. You look over your shoulder briefly and find him watching, not so much staring, but he was following your movements. You’re right around the corner as he finally speaks and you stop, closing your eyes as you take a slow, deep breath.

“She’s not home,” He informs you, “left with Tommy about an hour ago.”

It was unwanted information, unneeded. You mumble an acknowledgement but he’s speaking again when he notices you move, forcing you to turn on your heels and look at him.

“Are you doin’ it to piss her off?” Joel asks. His intention was unclear, whether he was trying to get under your skin or not, but with the rage still lurking in the back of your mind, it takes on a mind of its own.

“What do you care, Joel?”

“She ain’t my favorite person, I think you know that. But, if she’d caught you just know, she’d have your ass—”

“She didn’t,” You retorted. It’s the first time you see Joel frustrated, his brow creasing and the hands at his side slide into his pocket.

“You’re actin’ out,” Joel concludes and there’s a squint of your eyes as they narrow that tells Joel he’s right, “and under my roof—”

“Oh, so that’s what it’s about,” You tell him, arms crossing over your chest as you step toward him, floorboards creaking under bare feet as you approach him, “what—are you gonna punish me then?”

“Not my business,” Joel tells you, “I ain’t like your mother. But you keep doing this, actin’ out. Something bad is gonna happen soon enough.”

“Then—what?” You ask, trying to surmise a path to both please him and shut him up—unfortunately for him, you know just how, “Would you rather me act out with you?”

“Now, that ain’t what I—“

“Make sense, don’t it? My mother would be so grateful you’re keeping your eyes on me, watching after her little girl.”

“I suggest you tone it down,” His voice is different—nothing you’ve heard before and it should scare you, but it doesn’t.

“Or what?” You retort carelessly, “You’ll do it for me?”

There was that face again, jaw clenched. His gaze never left yours, only following you as you grew closer.

“You can teach me all the stuff I’ve missed out on,” You smile slightly, “I mean, you’ve done alright so far.”

He says your name and for a moment, it scares you. But, it was a warning—don’t cross that line, don’t blur it.

“I’m messing with you, Joel.” 

It’s a believable lie, one you can even convince yourself of.

His breath hitches slightly, breathing out through his nose as he nods at your response, “Just, be smarter. Alright?”

Your aggressive approach breaks, offering a sweeter smile as you back away, hands falling to your side. He can see the smear of your gloss at the corner of your mouth, half-tempted to swipe it away and clean you up.

“I will,” You appease, “can I go up to my room now?”

Joel offers a lazy glare of dissonance, not giving you an answer before he’s brushing by, off to his office that you hadn’t been able to spend much time in since the cookout. 

If he could be stubborn, so could you.

—

The tension between your mother doesn’t settle, but she does attempt to be civil. You often thwart off any attempt at a conversation that would lead into anything other than necessary communication. It feels wrong, you know it is—but you couldn’t bear the thought of trying to explain to your mother how you were beginning to believe her so-called beliefs were a complete joke, pushing an insane and untenable rhetoric on you.

Joel isn’t as warm either, keeping his distance beyond the night you had lost your footing with him and slipped, offering him an opening that would lead you both down a dangerous path. It had mostly been a joke but you could never admit to yourself how badly you wanted him to agree. The idea of it.

There is a point where under almost constant supervision of one of them, all of them flitting out of the house at some time or another, that you find a window (figuratively and physically) to sneak out of, preparing yourself for a night that your mother would have shamed you about until you found yourself six feet under. It was hypocrisy, actually–knowing your mother was doing similar things at an even younger age, with much less mindful thinking. 

And you might have pushed it a little too hard when you reach the front door that night, the floor spinning as you fumbled with the lock again—though, of course, Joel was saving the day.

“Do you ever sleep?” You gripe, eyes squinting as you stumble inside and out of your shoes with a wobbly wave of your arms, reaching out blindly for anything but finding nothing, almost tumblring over the motion but Joel is catching your arm silently, holding you upright. 

He knows that smell, you reek of sweet alcohol and cheap booze.

“I was makin’ sure you got home,” Joel admits, “that a crime?”

“Yes,” You slur softly, “and crime—” You giggle slightly, stumbling closer and pressing your hand into his chest to steady yourself, “means punishment.”

Joel looks down carefully, watching your fingers curl over the collar of his shirt and the sensation of your body, warm and so soft as it pressed against his own.

“Unless, you’d rather punish me,” You offer, the deep buzz of alcohol inflicting your mind and thought process as you pull at his shirt, feeling the stitching rip slightly under your grip and you make a delighted noise, instantly leaning forward to press your lips to his neck.

Joel should’ve pulled you away minutes ago, but again, he’d allowed it to go a step too far.

A step closer to breaking—closer to complete corruption.

Joel wraps his hand around the back of your neck and squeezes, pulling you back easily despite your desperate grip, eyes blown out and wide as you peer up at him, so dazed he isn’t even sure it’s you talking.

“You can,” You admit, mouth parting open as you lick your lips, “I want you too, Joel.”

Joel’s nostrils flare as he forces your hands away more sternly, throwing them at your side until the dejected look forms on your face, stumbling back sadly.

“You need to sleep this off,” Joel tells you

But, you already have the idea in mind as you shove him away, stepping around him awkwardly until you can reach the couch, your limbs falling lazily against the cushion as you curl up, hazy gaze meeting his one final time before you eyes close and for once, Joel fides security in his room and tries to calm his rapidly beating heart—a mix of worry and guilt, knowing if he’d had enough alcohol and inhibition in his system he wouldn’t be as strong, given so easily into that temptation as you had.

But, if routine proved you right, it wouldn't be the last time you’d speak to him that night.

—

Joel was a creature of habit.

The nights that he is able to sleep have been few and far between and he can hear you moving around upstairs, early hours of the morning when he’s in and out of an exhausted daze and in your own similar nature, he hears it. There’s a creak and slow footsteps that traverse the floor above him, but there was no world where he could face you right now. He’s not sure when you decided to move upstairs that night, a curious but lucrative thought in the back of his mind.

Do you remember?

He spends the last hour flexing his achy fingers to distract him from the subtle ache in his pants.

Joel wasn’t a father anymore, the part of him was buried away and long-forgotten, the pieces of that part of him dissolved away through the years of tears and alcohol and constant repression. 

Watching after her little girl.

It’s asinine, knowing you were anything but. He had no intentions of being that sort of figure over you, you didn’t need watching—or guidance from him, even. A protector? Maybe, but that wasn’t his job either.

Keeping your eyes on me.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, in fact. And as the realization clicks, he knows he’s fucked.

He’s barricading himself in the bathroom before he puts himself through the suffering of another nightly conversation with you, especially after how things had left off hours before, turning on the shower in a hurry as he hears the latch to the attic release and your impending arrival.

He strips, pulling his shirt up from the center of his back and over his shoulders, working hastily at his jeans and climbing into the shower, palms pressed against the tile wall in front of him as the stinging, hot water hits his back and soothes the soreness that lingering in his joints. It did nothing for his cock which had gone from half-hard in his jeans to standing proud, insistently.

He couldn’t ignore it—and he knows under the safety of the constant stream of water, muffling out the ragged sigh that escapes his lips as he fists his cock in a tight grip—he hasn’t ached like this in years, knowing he was well past his prime, in his mind. 

Unfortunately, the unraveling of it all would come down to the slippery lock on the bathroom door. It only stuck half of the time, eventually worming its way out of place and leaving the steam to slip through the cracks, but Joel is oblivious.

You find your footing as you step off the ladder, still reeling from your drunken stupor as you make your way down the hall, spotting the faint flickering of a light from the bathroom that told you Joel still hadn’t changed that lightbulb, but also that he was in there—it couldn’t be anyone else. You only vaguely remember your actions from earlier, but you didn’t forget the look on his face—the frustration. The want. Your footsteps are quiet, praying feverishly that they wouldn’t creak under the pressure of your feet as you peek your head into the crack, eyes scanning the mirror placed over the sink and suddenly, they stop.

Freeze, more like.

The shower curtain is shifted back just enough that you catch the front of his chest, so broad that it doesn’t even capture the full width of him, muscles in his shoulders straining as your eyes follow the length of his arm and down, until your eyes connect with the sight of his cock, fisted in his hand as he jerked himself earnestly, unabashedly with impatience. His head is hung too, water damping his hair over his forehead and obscuring his face.

You can hear him, though. God, you could fucking hear him.

His knuckles curl into the tile wall where his other hand still rest, balling into a fist as he punched it out of frustration, grunting with how tightly he was squeezing himself and the pace at which he was fucking his fist. 

It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen such a sight, but with Joel it was bigger, intimidating—in every sense of the word.

His cock, for one, was larger than any you’ve seen before.

And with shame, your mouth watered at the sight. 

His groans, a gentle guh that sounds like a prayer of something else but is strangled, his movements becoming jerky as his speech becomes slightly clearer, “God—fuckin’,” He heaves, the sound of wet skin and water under the speed of his movement, “—girl, always testin’ me.”

You swallow at the mention, fingers curling dangerously around the door frame—one misstep, one slip and you’d swing that door right open, revealing yourself. 

He leans his head up suddenly, eyes closed as his arm works furiously. Your ears are locked on his face now and you see the way his lips form around your name as he utters it, so quiet you barely hear it but it was you. There was no mistaking that.

He comes a few moments later, his thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock and circling as he shot his load into his palm, knowing that he could make a mess if he wanted to but decided not to, using his slick covered hand to drag over his cock a few more times as it softened in his hand.

Fortunately, you’re long gone by the time he’s reaching for a towel, back upstairs like you’d never even been there in the first place.

There was no denying it now, though. It wasn’t in your head—the temptation was real, tangible, and just within reach. 

Because with that temptation came doubt, followed by mistakes.

And really, you wish you were strong enough to resist.

Unfortunately, you weren’t. So, you plan. 

He was already a broken man, but you needed him shattered.

-

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[1-800-kami]

4:23 pm | the adventures of dad!gojo

content: 0.9k words, fem!reader, dad gojo, megumi is your son, silly crack fic

gojo satoru is a man with very little fears.

in actuality, people are afraid of him. a mere gaze from those cerulean blue eyes of his sends people running off to the opposite direction, so the adjective “intimidating” was quite the understatement to describe him. some might even say that he’s the strongest, so he possesses no fear at all.

despite that, gojo has one thing he’s deathly afraid of: you–his wife, when you’re angry.

“suguru, help me out here!” geto can physically feel his bestfriend’s panic through the phone. gojo explained the situation in a fast ramble–geto could barely understand what he was saying, but he thinks he got the gist of it: you went out to run some errands and entrusted gojo to take care of your two year old child, megumi, while you were out. gojo conjured up the genius idea of keeping megumi entertained by handing him a paper and markers–so that they could surprise you with megumi’s amazing artistic abilities once you came back home.

it had gone “so well”, gojo said earlier, picking up the paper and studying it. “i think this is a drawing of a cat? or a dog, i don’t really know.. still, it’s made by my son, and it’s the peak of art and i think everyone should see it!”

gojo was so busy trying to decipher what megumi had drawn that he didn’t realize that his son still had the markers in his hands. when he peers over to look at megumi again, he just about screamed.

“gumi- no- GUMI!” he shrieks, snatching the markers away from his son’s hold. megumi, not having a paper to draw on anymore, decided to use the wall as his canvas instead—sketching a poorly drawn house with a bright red marker. “you’re not supposed to draw on the wall! aw fuc-ahem, freak… your mom’s gonna kill me…”

“gosh suguru, some advice would help!” satoru’s never been so afraid in all his years of living. you’re coming home pretty soon, and he has no idea what to do. he’s already imagining the look on your face–and it’s pushing satoru to the brink of passing out. gojo satoru–the renowned sorcerer who’s fought the king of curses, been sealed away in a box and has had multiple near death experiences–all of these things have happened to him yet none can compare to the fear of facing his wife when she’s angry.

“hmm? what is it, nanako?” satoru can hear his bestfriend trying not to laugh over the phone. suguru knows an easy solution to his problem, but he thinks that leaving satoru in the dark is funnier. it’s rare to see the strongest sorcerer like this, so geto revels in it with pure amusement. “you’re hungry? okay… let’s see what i can make for you, yeah?”

“you heard her, satoru~ one of the twins are hungry. i’m afraid i have to go… good luck about the markers, yeah?” suguru hangs up before satoru could say a word. he curses under his breath, but feels his heart stop when he hears the door unlock.

you’re home.

“mama!” megumi yells, clapping his hands and slowly crawling over to the front door. you happily greet your son, placing the grocery bags on the table.

you walk over to your husband, kissing him on the cheek before noticing the piece of paper that he’s holding. “oh? what’s this?”

you grab the paper from his hands and satoru regains a little bit of his composure once he hears you coo at your son’s drawing. “thought it would be nice for me and megumi to surprise you while you were gone… it’s a drawing of a cat-”

“horsey!”

“...a horse. yup, that’s what i said!” he sheepishly ignores his son’s glare, mentally preparing himself to tell you about the wall.

“i love it! oh my gosh, megumi, aren’t you just a little artist?” you say, ruffling your son’s hair with a big smile. “this is definitely going on the fridge.”

“...there’s one small problem, though…” satoru refuses to meet your gaze.

“what did you do this time, satoru?”

“hey, it technically wasn’t me!” he says, this time being the one to shoot the glare at his son. “so hypothetically…what if i told you that gumi thought it would be a nicer idea to use the wall as a canvas instead of the paper?”

“...”

satoru perceives your silence as his death sentence. “look, i’m sorry! i was trying to figure out what he drew and i forgot that he still had the markers in his hands-”

“satoru-”

“and the next thing i know, he drew on the wall before i was able to take the markers from him-”

“toru-”

“and suguru wasn’t giving me advice either, but then-”

“satoru!” your final yell finally breaks him from his ramble. he’s surprised to see that no, you don’t have a look of murder on your face. in fact, you’re actually smiling—looking more amused than anything.

“satoru, they’re washable markers.” you take a baby wipe from your purse and walk over to the wall, wiping away the bright red marker strokes easily with a few swipes. you’re trying not to laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “did you not know that?”

now he’s the one stunned into silence. “...”

“no, no… i definitely knew that…!”

“yeah, sure you did.”

being a father is so difficult.

[bloodibambiidoll]

I'm asking waayyy too much BUT ITS THE LAST ONE I PINKY PROMISE( for today. . .)

Anyyywaayyssss, okay so what if weird girl!reader was hanging around n climbing trees or something (bc I do that-) and JJ sees her and he's like "girl wtf r u doing up there" and blah blah blah it's there first time meeting too (it would be fun if rafe sees this and they're not dating yet n he gets a lil jelly hehe)

VERY RANDOM BUT MY HEAD JUST WORKS LIKE THATTT

Ty bb🪽🫀

Omg yes!! This is such a cutie idea!! I actually had this pic saved on her Pinterest board bc she absolutely climbs trees. Sometimes she just climbs a little too high… Jealous!Rafe, fluff, lovesick!Rafe 18+MNDI!

(Also in another world Jj & Weird!girl would be so cute actually)

“What’re you doing up there?” The sound of someone’s voice nearly has you falling off the tree branch you’re perched on as your hand flies to chest and a surprised gasp leaves you. You look below you to see a head of messy blonde hair and ocean blue eyes squinting up at you through the sun. You’ve never met him, but recognize him of course, it’s not like the island is particularly big so you’ve seen everyone at least once. Jj Maybank, he’s from the cut so it makes sense that you’ve never really crossed paths. He’s cute though.

“Umm… I’m doing pretty much exactly what it looks like I’m doing, sitting in a tree.” You let out a little small chuckle as you look down at him. “What are you doing down there?”

“Well, I’m exactly what it looks like I’m doing, walking on the ground.” You snort at that, giving him a playful roll of your eyes. “I know, I’m hilarious. I was just makin’ sure you weren’t stuck up there or anything.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say stuck. I’d say I may have flown too close to the sun climbing up this high.” You shrug as you kick your dangling feet back and forth.

“Soooo… you’re stuck then?” Jj smirks up at you as he adjusts the cap on his head so it’s facing backwards. It gives you a better view of his face, he’s cute. Maybe if you weren’t already so invested in Rafe you would definitely be interested in him.

“I mean, mentally? Yes. Physically? No. I could get down whenever I want, actually.” Your voice is sickly sweet and Jj wonders why he’s never talked to you before. He’s seen you around and he’s always thought you were hot. That whole semi creepy but still angelic vibe you give off really does it for him.

“Yeah? You need some help?” He chuckles and leans his hand against the trunk of the tree, out stretching his neck and accentuating his jaw. He looks like he’d be nice to bite.

“She’s good, Maybank.” Your head whips around to see Rafe walking down the dirt path with a stone cold look set on his face. “I can help my girl. You can fuck off now.”

“Rafey! Hi!” You smile wide as you wave down at him enthusiastically. You sent him a picture of you up in the tree telling him you might need a little help getting down and he immediately dropped everything to come to your rescue.

“Rafey, huh? That’s adorable, truly.” Jj smirks at Rafe and it has him breathing out hard through his nostrils. He’s been trying really hard not to beat every man who looks at you to a pulp but seeing fucking Jj Maybank smirking up at you while you giggle is making him see red.

“Shut the fuck up, Pogue. Didn’t I tell you to fuck off? I suggest you do before we have an actual problem.” Rafe takes a few steps towards him, his eyes are like blue fire as he glares at Jj like he wants to burn him alive. It’s kind of hot. If you’re being honest with yourself.

“Okaaaay, I think that’s enough. I’m good Jj, thank you for offering to help me, you’re sweet.” You give him a saccharine smile and it makes him swoon just a little. You are so cute that if he wasn’t trying to stay off the cops radar he would probably stand here and fuck with Rafe even more.

“Yeah, no problem, sweetheart. See ya around, let me know if pretty boy over here decides to fuck you over, I don’t mind being your rebound.” Jj bites his lip as he winks at you before turning to walk off. Rafe wants to chase after him and wipe that smug ass look off his face by shoving it into the dirt.

“Raaaafe.” You snap your fingers to get his attention and it pulls him out of his rage filled trance. He looks up at you, smiling down at him so sweetly and he almost forgets who Jj Maybank even is. Almost. He still wants to kick his fucking ass.

“Hmm? Yeah baby?”

“Can you help me get down now?” He giggle and Rafe swears it’s his favorite sound other than when you scream for him while you fall apart in his cock.

“Oh shit, yeah. C’mere.” Rafe moves so he’s directly under you with his arms outstretched. “Jump down, I’ll catch you.”

“I don’t know, Rafe. I’m pretty high up.” Your expression turns nervous so Rafe leans up so he can hit the bottom of your shoe with the tips of his fingers.

“You’re not even that high, see? Just fuckin’ jump. Promise I won’t let you fall.” He shakes his hands above his head and gives you that semi goofy, reassuring smile that’s reserved only for you.

“Okay. Fine.” You let out a dramatic sigh before bracing your hands on the branch so you can push yourself down into Rafe’s arms. A little squeal leaves you when he grips onto your hips and pulls you against his chest. You wrap your arms around his neck so you can plant a messy smooch on his lips. “My savior!! How will I ever repay you, fair knight?”

“Pft. You’re so fuckin’ dramatic.” Rafe snorts as he lightly sets you down on the ground.

“I’m dramatic? You were about to beat Jj’s ass for trying to help me!” You laugh, jokingly pushing your hand into his shoulder.

“Nah, he was doing more than just trynna help you.” Rafe grabs onto your hand so he can pull you closer against his chest. “He was fucking flirting with you and you’re mine.”

“Yours, huh? Guess I missed the letter in the mail that said we were official.”

“Oh my god, you’re so dumb.” Rafe throws his head back with a groan but you can see the smile painted across your lips. “I thought I made it pretty fuckin’ clear that you’re my girl.”

“Hmmm… I don’t know, might need you to spell it out for me.” Your giggle makes butterflies erupt in his stomach and Rafe never believed in that butterflies in your tummy bullshit until he met you.

“Ugh. You’re a brat, you know that?” You shrug, letting out a satisfied hum. “Fine. Be my girlfriend?”

“Uh, duh, I already am.” He rolls his eyes and you give him a satisfied smile. “Just wanted to hear you say it.”

“You’re sooo in for it when we get back to my place. Brat.” He grips onto your neck, pulling your lips against his in a rough kiss. “Car. Let’s go.”

“Okay, okay, sooo bosssy.” He smacks your ass and you yelp, running full speed toward his truck.

“Oh hell nah! Get your lil ass back here!!”

Taglist: @babygorewhore @strawberrydolly333 @starkeysprincess @sturnioloshacker @nemesyaaa @rafeinterlude @loserboysandlithium

All things Rafe & his weird!girl here

Divider is @strangergraphics

[genderkoolaid]

I feel like you would get this, seeing this comment section kinda hurt. The OP they are responding to is a non-binary trans man who was talking about feeling uncomfortable because they still feel attraction to lesbians and have felt very excluded. He’s wary around certain lesbians because they center their ideology around hating men regardless of gender identity and has faced a lot of anti-transmasculinity and transmisogyny. While most lesbians are wonderful amazing people there’s no denying that some do hold an innate hatred for men, not saying they need to like men. I fully understand lesbians and predatory cis men but there’s definitely lesbians who would date trans men. It can be scary for a trans man to come out or start transitioning because at what point do they become too masculine or too much of a man for their friends. There were even people in the comments saying the same anti-man statements who identify as a he/him nonbinary lesbian. This topic is very hard to hear for me as a closeted genderfluid person because my best friend is a man hating lesbian and I dread the day I can actually begin transitioning and she turns her back on me like these people. Queer spaces in general can be hard to occupy as a multi gendered person because of those people as well as mlm/nblm spaces that say ‘fem aligned dni’. In general I don’t think we should police labels and everyone has their own interpretation and I think labels are just a suggestion anyway but I suppose that makes sense for a genderfluid bisexual person.

These people just straight up do not understand the gender diversity that has always existed in lesbian spaces (by which I mean spaces built & catering to queer women & those seen as women).

There have always been trans men in lesbian spaces. You aren't obligated to fuck them, but they have always been there. There are pages and pages of writing out there not only by trans male dykes, but by the lesbian cis women who love them and still identify as lesbians while in relationships with them. There are trans guys at dyke bars right now as we speak having a great time.

Its not surprising to me that there are he/him NB lesbians supporting this. There are a lot of people out there who, because they don't identify As Men, mentally distance themselves from those who do despite any similarities. It's okay for THEM to be lesbians, and it's transphobic to erase THEIR lesbianism because they are Non-Men™! but once you cross that line you become the enemy. It's very "no you gyns I'm TOTALLY different than those gross tbros i promise im not a man at all and i will never want to be one so im allowed in the club!" The same people also throw multigender people under the bus. Trying to figure out your nonbinary in this environment is hellish (I speak from experience) because people pretend like they are super accepting of nonbinary people, until you realize that if you ever think of yourself as even slightly male people will start seeing you as a predatory invader trying to Force Lesbians To Date Men! Very "complex gender for me but not for thee"

Anyways. Twitter is not a good place. Anon, I hope you find better friends. Not every queer space is this hostile to us, I promise. There are people out there who genuinely work to make our community better and I hope you find them.

[neos127]

sim jaeyun x gn!reader | wanderlust

genre. fluff + established relationship wc. 1.1k cw. slightly suggestive notes. title rlly has nothing to do with the fic but the song is what i was listening to on repeat writing this so !

the cold blast of the air conditioner made goosebumps arise on your skin— or maybe it was due to the touch of jake who kept his warm hand on the inside of your thigh. you couldn’t really tell which of those two factors was making you shiver, but the inside of the car suddenly felt chillier despite the heat outside.

jake had parked at a nearly empty fast food parking lot, settled under a light that seemed to flicker every couple of minutes. the stereo played some song you had recommended to jake earlier that day, explaining how it had captured the ‘vibe’ of your late night drives very well. jake decided to test out that theory, having nothing to do that night so he decided to pick you up around eleven.

after finishing you greasy fries and burger the two of you sat in the car in silence, watching cars zoom by on a highway in the distance, basking in each others presence. you had been lost in thought until your boyfriend decided to light every single nerve in your body on fire by resting the palm of his hand on your upper thigh.

“the song is perfect for that late night vibe. you were right.” jake finally spoke, turning to look at you with a glint in his eye. you snapped out of your daze, almost forgetting the words that had just come from his mouth. the man in front of you was so mesmerizing, sometimes he made it difficult to focus.

“yeah…yeah. of course i’m right.” you mumbled, reaching a hand up to push back a strand of hair that fell against jake’s eyes. his hair had grown so long, and you were fond of the way it framed his perfect face and highlighted his features.

“are you okay, pretty? he asked before taking your hand in his free one, placing a lingering kiss on your palm. you sucked in a breath, all of the hairs on your body standing up once again.

“it’s hard to be mentally sane when you’re looking at me like that.” you sighed, the honesty of your statement made jake chuckle to himself.

he then decided to tease you a bit, leaning against the center console of the car, his face inching closer to yours. you backed up slightly, your head lightly hitting the window and you realized that it was impossible to avoid him in the small space. not that you actually wanted to, but boy did jake make you nervous.

“can i tell you a secret?” jake asked, a small smirk creeping up on his face. you shivered (not from the air conditioning) and nodded. jake leaned over the console even more, practically on top of you as his lips ghosted over yours. you sucked in a breath, closing your eyes as you waited for his next words.

“you make me feel even more insane. you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, i can’t believe your mine.” he mumbled, his thick accent making your stomach flip.

“i love you.” you replied, barely getting the sentence out before jake pulled you into a rough kiss. he poured out all of his feelings into it, moving his mouth against yours as if he had been starved of your affection for months. he definitely hadn’t, considering the fact that jake always had to have his hands on you somehow. but whenever he kissed you, he became more desperate and that ignited a fire in your stomach.

you let out a low whine against jake’s mouth which only spurred him on. his grip on the back of your head became tighter, not enough to hurt you but enough to make you see how needy he was.

“i need you so bad.” jake groaned against your lips, barely pulling away before he leaned back in for another long kiss. you began to smile, breaking away from your boyfriend shyly.

“someone’s eager.” you teased, tracing his jawline before doing the same to his plump lips. he let out a sound similar to a whimper, his eyes widening once the clarity sunk in. you began to laugh at him, finding it kind of adorable how desperate your boyfriend was for you. only you could make him feel like that— it was nice to have that affect on him like he had on you.

“um, ignore that. i was possessed or something…” jake spoke up, all traces of his ‘alter ego’ gone as a blush spread across his face. you cooed at his sudden shyness, finding it amusing how jake could be an insane tease only to turn around and become a giggly blushing mess.

“don’t get all shy now. you said you needed me? i’m right here for you.” you shrugged, trying to seem seductive but internally cringing at your words. you and jake often made fun of each other for trying to be ‘hot’, but jake seemed too turned on to really care about that at the moment.

“i love you so much.” he groaned before kissing you once more, pulling you into his lap so he could be closer to you. jake slipped his hands under (his) your hoodie, his warm hands on your cold body made you sigh into his mouth and pull him impossibly closer. the song that had been playing on a loop in the background had drowned out in your ears, the only sound coming to your ears was your rapid heartbeat.

even though you were wrapped up in the feeling of jake’s touch and how his soft lips felt on yours, the sharp beep of a car in the distance made you jump slightly and remember where the two of you were parked. you had definitely seen emptier parking lots in your life, and the one behind a popular fast food restaurant still had a few cars lingering.

“you seriously wanna fuck me in this very well lit parking lot?” you asked teasingly once jake began to leave a trail of kisses against your neck, not wanting to stop his assault on your skin. he pulled away and pouted slightly before looking out the rear view mirror and taking note of the fact that there was an active line at the drive through only a few meters behind the car.

“you’re a mood killer.” he grumbled.

“no— i’m realistic.”

“still a mood killer.”

“jake.”

“y/n.”

the man below you pouted like a child, and you couldn’t help but pinch his cheek and ruffle his hair a bit. he really could get anything he wanted from you— but you’d rather not have your intimate time with your boyfriend discovered in public.

“another time?” you suggested, wiggling your eyebrows as you looked at jake. he smirked slightly as he watched you roll back into your seat, eagerly nodding his head in agreement.

“definitely.”

[rubra-wav]

Vox brainrot entry #1

(Part 2 fic)

A/N: I've been thinking about this all morning, and I want to talk about it and it's driving me crazy. I've never really ever shared anything like this ever, so I'm a bit nervous haha

CW: 18+ SFW - NSFW (marked as such), spying/voyeurism, gn reader

Disclaimer: This is purely fiction and is not to be applied to any real context. If someone is like this IRL, that is not okay.

- This man definitely watches you through whatever technology you have, and I refuse to believe anything less.

- In some fics, I've seen the reference to him spying on people through cameras but I mostly see it in yan AU fics where he is doing it to intentionally try to control and manipulate them. I think instead he does it because he's a pathetic simp. 💀

- Vox seems like he would be very much against directly pursuing anyone for romantic relationships due to how insecure he is underneath all of the egotistical bullshit he puts out at all times. This imo would manifest as also having a severe fear of rejection - especially if he does manage to get romantic feelings for someone else.

- Due to this, he spends a borderline obsessive amount of time watching the person he's attracted to without their permission as he's too chicken shit to seem *too interested* in them by actually asking them about their interests and things about yourself.

- At first it's just very rarely watching you - mainly after meeting up with you to see how you are after. He wants to see if you are happy or if you secretly hate the time you spend together with him because he is insecure as shit.

- It gradually becomes more and more frequent the more he falls for you, until it's a pastime watching what you're doing.

- He learns what your favourite things are, what you hate, what you do in your spare time, who your friends are, who your family are, etc. Etc. He knows just about everything you do in your free time.

- He will then use this information to try to get closer with you in everyday life.

- If you ask how he knows he will respond like he's just 'that good' at knowing what you like. You don't miss the way he starts sweating slightly as he's further prodded though.

- After you prod him for more on the subject he's going to be sitting in slight horror with his hands covering his face the second you leave.

NSFW starts below

- It also begins to extend to watching everything as well the more desperate he gets.

- For a while, he refuses to continue to watch you if you start to take your clothes off as he feels like that's crossing the line even with his tendencies.

- But a mixture of his desperation and craving to see that gets to him.

- The first time he watches you get undressed, he's flustered as all hell, brain telling him to switch the feed off while the other part of himself is absolutely screaming in excitement over seeing your naked skin slowly being revealed to him.

- It becomes an extremely shameful tendency after that as he begins to watch more and more as it drives him absolutely wild.

- I just have the mental image of him sitting in his studio after-hours and watching you pleasure yourself while he does the same. Him being embarrassed as hell, filled with self-loathing about it, but still desperate to continue watching you arching and letting out whimpers and moans of ecstacy.

- I feel like if he saw you after these sessions he'd not be able to hold it together as well as he usually does when you pry into something to do with him secretly spying upon you. He'd be smiling a tense smile, little animated sweat drops on his face along with light blue flush across his cheeks as he stutters with glitches while being questioned about why he was acting up.

- Giving you bullshit reasons in his normally cocky tone that were so obviously bullshit you don't even need to squint at them to tell.

- If you pry into it he may just start error-ing.

Someone needs to put me down about him.

- Afterwards, he'd probably be mortified in private. I can see him laying face down while blue screening on the floor of his room out of embarrassment whining with his ego in tatters about failing so badly to fully keep his 'extra-curriculars' under wraps in front of you.

[sunvmars]

tart | s.r. [3]

pairing: steve rogers x afab/fem reader

↞ previous | next ↠

word count: 2.4k

warnings: very, very brief smut mention !

summary: steve confesses, bucky offers his help

a/n: another short but fast moving chapter for now, the next few will be much longer and explain/fill any plot holes or missing pieces :) I hardly proof read this so be warned

Bucky's eyebrow cocks up in confusion as he recalls the mission, "Yeah, what about it?"

Steve takes another deep breath, preparing himself to release the secret he's been keeping, "I found something during that mission."

Bucky narrows his eyes, his curiosity piqued as he leans forward. "Okay, spill it."

Steve leans forward too and rests his elbows on his knees. He knew that saying something was a risk, but keeping it a secret under the new circumstances was riskier. Steve's gaze fixates on the floor as he speaks.

"During that mission, when I was extracting the files we needed, I stumbled upon some classified files. They had information about a hidden experiment conducted years ago called 'Genesis,'" he explains.

Bucky leans forward, his curiosity getting the best of him, "What's that got to do with all of this?"

"It's got everything to do with it," Steve replies, "Genesis was made to create super soldiers and people with enhanced mental abilities like telekinesis, telepathy, everything in between. Their ultimate goal was to fuse DNA from both groups to create a new 'breed' of enhanced individuals."

"Steve, are you saying y/n is connected to this?"

"More than just connected, Buck," Steve admits. "Her father was one of their strongest super soldiers and her mother was an agent. Her mother was also the only successful recipient of the mental ability serum they curated. From what I read, her parents had a secret relationship. They disappeared when her mother became pregnant; likely to save her from whatever fate Hydra had for her."

A sigh leaves Steve's lips before he continues, "Essentially, y/n is the only living evidence that they existed- that this experiment existed."

Steve feels nothing short of horrible and shitty for keeping this from you. He wishes he hadn't done it, but now it was too late to take it back. All he could do now was fix it. And he will fix it.

Bucky's eyes widen as he starts to connect the pieces together. "Let me make sure I'm getting this right here... You're saying she's the only child of a super-soldier and a Hydra agent with mind blowing abilities, both of whom nobody has any knowledge of? And now she's carrying a baby who's a cesspool of these abilities?"

"Yes, but that's not all of it. I hired people to do some digging after that mission. Turns out that the man who conducted those experiments, the one who created her father, he's been searching for her parents ever since. I've had people looking for him, but he's been evading police for years too, changing locations frequently."

Bucky leans back and rubs a hand over his face. "And you think he's aware of her existence?"

"At first, I don't think he did. She had hardly any social media presence, she was homeschooled, her birthname had no relation to her parents. But now I know he knows she's alive. I got a pretty straightforward letter from him two days ago, and I'm not even sure how he found out she was with me. Figured that means he also knows that we've been following him."

"How do you know it was him? What did it say?"

"I know it was him because all it said was, 'I know who she is.'"

"Well, that's definitely straightforward," Bucky huffs, his heart feeling heavy with worry, "Is that why you told her you didn't want the baby?"

"I...I want her and that baby more than anything, but I can't put them in danger. He'll come for me first to get to her. He's probably been trying to find her for years. I'm afraid he's going to start taking more drastic measures if we don't find him soon."

Bucky tries to take in all the information thrown at him, but only finds himself able to focus on the part about you being in danger. "What does he know about her?"

"I don't know, and that's what scares me. I thought that if I got her away from me then he wouldn't have suspected she was ever here, but I guess I was wrong," Steve admits, guilt laced in his tone, "He wants her, Buck, and now he's gonna want our baby too."

"We'll figure something out, Steve. Don't worry." Bucky raises his eyebrows, still confused at what Steve's plan was. "How does her being alone protect her? What if he's already figured out where she is?"

"I wouldn't call it alone, she's just not with me. She's safe at the tower and I've been pulling strings to protect her."

"What kind of strings, Steve? Please don't tell me you've done something stupid."

"Haven't had to yet, just small stuff."

"Like?" Bucky urges, not taking the vague response.

"I stopped assigning her to missions. When I had to throw off suspicion, I made sure she would be with you or Tony. I've got people I trust watching over her when she leaves home alone too."

"That's a little creepy, Steve." Bucky chuckles briefly, shaking his head.

"I was doing everything possible to keep her from leaving a trace that he can pick up on. That's why she's not here and I'm in her chair, drinking this disgusting cocktail in this empty, lonely apartment."

The two of them sit in silence temporarily before Steve speaks again. "I even took down all our pictures and got rid of any trace of her in case he ever suspected me, just couldn't find it in myself to take those two pictures down," he says as he points at the only two remaining frames on the wall.

Bucky's eyes follow where he points and he finds himself smiling at the pictures. Steve smiles too, but because it's all he's got left of you at the moment even though everything in the house had you intertwined with it. Regret fills the holes in his heart and his eyes linger on the pictures for a little too long.

The photo taken at the beach with all three of you? You were in his favorite bikini and, unbeknownst to anyone else, he later fucked you in it in the kitchen while everyone else was outside swimming. Your first date photo? Well, that one's self explanatory. It was sentimental and he wasn't sure he'd ever take that one down, even if you decided you hated him forever.

"But I guess it was all this pain for nothing, huh?" Steve says, smiling weakly.

"You did what you could, just wish you would've came to me. You know I'm here for you and her."

Steve doesn't find it in himself to respond. Bucky was right, he shouldn't of tried to handle this by himself. Guilt pools in his stomach threatening to make him nauseous.

"Were you ever gonna tell her? She should know, Steve, this is her past we're talking about here. If she knows then she'll be prepared for whatever comes our way."

Steve taps his foot, his nerves slowly overwhelming him. "That's the woman I know and love, Bucky, and I know she'll go digging for answers. I can't let her get hurt, especially not now," he says.

Bucky knows there's some truth to this because he knows you almost as well as Steve does- you're relentless when something's important to you. However, he also knows that you deserve the truth- that's part of the whole reason he came to talk to Steve in the first place.

"You need to tell her," Bucky responds, his tone almost demanding. "I've been watching her hurt for the last few months over something that isn't even her fault."

"I know, and I'm gonna tell her..."

"It sounds like there's a 'but' coming after that, and I really don't wanna hear-"

"But I'm going to find him first."

For a moment he thinks to himself 'he can't be serious, can he?' Then he looks at his friend who has determination written all over his face. He sees a glimpse of that scrawny, nervous kid Steve used to be for a second, and that's what worries him; that's how he knows he won't stop until he finds this guy.

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe. I'll take down all of Hydra if I have to, I'm not letting them get close to her."

"You don't even know where this guy is, Steve. As your best friend, I can't let you take a chance on getting hurt when you do find him. No matter how shitty you've been, she still loves you a lot. She needs you, and so will that baby."

"Buck, this is something I have to do-"

"Then I'll do it for you," Bucky interrupts, the words leaving his mouth before he gets the chance to second guess them. "Give me what you have on him and I'll handle it."

Steve is dumbfounded. He's got the same 'he can't be serious' look that Bucky had mere seconds ago.

"Absolutely not. With your history with them, that's not a risk I can let you take."

Bucky smiles sympathetically. "But I don't have a family like you will. Don't get me wrong, you and y/n are my family, but you've got a baby on the way, punk. I've got nothing to lose here, it's not up for debate."

Steve frowns at this. He looks torn, his emotions at war within him. On one hand, he wants to protect you and his baby at all costs. On the other hand, he can't bear to lose his best friend again.

"Bucky, you're like a brother to me; I don't think I can put you in harm's way and ask you to do this," Steve says, his voice filled with desperation, "But I can't risk y/n and the baby's safety either."

Bucky's expression softens as he places a reassuring hand on Steve's shoulder. "You're gonna be a father soon, Rogers. You need to be there for them. Just let me handle this, they can't get to me anymore. I've got more ties to Hydra than anyone, I can probably pull some strings of my own."

Steve sighs upon realizing that Bucky's decision is unshakable. "You promise me you'll be careful. You'll keep me updated on everything and if anything seems off, I want you to retreat immediately."

He laughs before saying, "You're gonna be a damn good dad, you know?"

Steve narrows his eyes at him. "I'm serious, Buck."

"Alright, alright. I promise, and I'll keep you updated, okay?" Bucky agrees, throwing his hands up in the air to show his compliance.

Steve then reaches for his phone and begins to compile all the information he's gathered about Zepher Hawthorne. He anonymously sends the files to Bucky who immediately starts to study them closely. Bucky glances up to give Steve a reassuring smile.

"I'll be as careful as they come, Steve. Don't worry about me."

With their roles now clearly defined, they continue to discuss their plan in detail. They agree on secure communication channels, establish a backup line for communication, and set up a timeline for Bucky's investigation into Hawthorne. It's a risky endeavor, and they know that, but they're both determined to protect you and the unborn child.

As Bucky prepares to leave, Steve can't help but feel a renewed sense of hope that he'd lost when you told him about the baby. He knows he has a difficult conversation ahead with you, but he's also more motivated than ever to show you his dedication to protecting your little family.

Right as Bucky's about to leave, he turns around to look at Steve. "I'll put it some vacation days and let you know once I have a lead; in the meantime, go talk to her. If you don't wanna tell her the full story until I find him, then you at least need to tell her that you want her and the baby. Sound good?"

"Works for me," Steve chuckles lightly before giving Bucky a tight hug. "See you around?"

"I always come back," Bucky jokes as the door shuts behind him.

With that, Bucky leaves to prepare. Steve, however, takes a deep breath and picks up his keys. He knows it's time to open up to you about everything that's been hidden for far too long. He stands in the empty apartment motionless for a moment, the weight of the impending conversation heavy on him. It's not that he doesn't want you to know, but he doesn't want you to worry. After taking a deep breath he leaves the apartment and locks the door behind him.

As he heads towards the apartment elevator, his mind races with thoughts of how to approach you. He knows this won't be easy, and he's prepared to take all your anger and confusion because he knows he deserves it. Yet he's also determined to help you understand that at first he did everything he did to keep you safe; now he's doing what he has to in order to keep his family safe.

You're in the Avengers Tower sleeping comfortably your warm bed. You're peacefully unaware of the bombshell revelation that has just been dropped, but it won't stay that way for much longer. As Steve walks through the hallways he finally reaches your room.

He hesitates briefly before knocking gently on the door. It's quiet in your room so he waits for a moment, but then...nothing. His worry grows and horrible thoughts swarm in his brain. He knocks again, a bit more urgently this time.

On the other side of the door, you slowly begin to stir. The knocking finally registers in your drowsy mind, and you groggily call out, "Who is it?"

"It's Steve," he answers, his voice riddled with worry.

His voice has you awake instantly, but your heart races at the seriousness in his tone. You slide out of bed and hurriedly make your way to the door. Your fingers fumble with the lock at first but you find it within seconds. The door opens to reveal Steve standing there, his expression tense.

"Steve?" you ask, worry etching into your features as you take in the look on his face, "Why are you here? Are you okay?"

He steps into your room and turns on the dim light before closing the door behind him. He sighs deeply, rubbing his hands together.

"We need to talk," he insists. "There's something I should've told you a long time ago."

taglist!

@oh-thats-cute @vicmc624 @blackhawkfanatic @tooruen

@athenabarnes @gh0stgurl @missing-loki @elizacusi-blog

@terry2227 @imyourbratzdoll @starksbabie @diannana

@flowers-and-fichte @ozwriterchick @kandis-mom @nouk1998

think I managed to add everyone, but if I forgot your tag, or you want to be added to or removed from the tag list for this series, leave a comment or message me :)

[itstheghostofmypast]

Loyalties

Kim HongJoong x (f) Detective Reader

Summary: He held her itty bitty heart in his bloody palm and she knew that, but did she love him enough to let him win his little game everytime? Did he love her enough to risk her safety?

Genre: Hurt/Comfort Fluff

Warnings: Joong's a perv (Idk okay), mention of gunshots, strong language.

Word Count: 2.5K

Read Time: 12 min

Rating: nc-17

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

She hated him, no she despised him, no she loathed that disgusting, horrid, weasel of a man. She despised his cheap ass fur coat, his unnecessary bling and those pants! Her blood would boil at the mere name of that demonic, immature moron, she despised every little detail about him; his angular face, his sharp eyes that would glimmer like the stars swirling with pure mischief, his light chuckle that would ring in her ears like the voice of an angel, oh and she really, really, abhorred the way he'd look at her, with the warmth of pure love - NO!

Mentally slapping herself she cleared her throat, rehearsing the first stanza of hatred that ran hot in her veins for the infamous leader of MATZ. Technically it was just two men, boys who were usually called in for petty crimes turned into men who were now challenging the system- a knock-off of any vigilante out there. Batman, Daredevil, even the Punisher, see these men had class and style- MATZ, well, they had style...but perhaps the fact that explaining how her once high school friends are now notorious criminals or wannabe Robinhood would be a bit difficult. Perhaps this little fact only added to her current presiding problem, one she had mentioned to her lover, explicitly mentioning her concerns; for the safety of his life and her professional career. Once again, that bastard let his deflated ego in the way, her words bouncing off it without ever reaching his useless, dysfunctional brain.

So, here she stood, in front of her captain, watching him go on and on about the need for order and justice, the need for law and police work, and more importantly the need for loyalty. Loyalty, a trait that was of importance, though her's was being questioned.

"Where do your loyalties lie detective?"

"With the force, Sir" With a salute she looked dead ahead, not at him, no, through him, trying to figure out the answer to this very question. Where did her loyalties lie?

"Then how is it, you've been leading the task force to capture MATZ for three years and each time you are close they miraculously slip away!" his large, meaty hands slammed on the table, her partner beside her flinching, though not a jerk left her bones. Instead, her eyes flickered to his face, instantly scanning his form, this man looked like anything but eh definition of justice, safety and security - if anything, he looked more like a criminal than that moron of hers.

"I assure you, Sergeant, my loyalties lie where my heart has ever since I was a little girl. My friendship with Joong- " pausing she cleared her throat, ignoring the way he raised a brow at he before glancing at her partner as if hinting at something "MATZ, both Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa ended as soon as they started this life of crime."

"I don't trust you an ounce detective, not one bit." slumping back in his seat he stared up at her, "But the Captain trusts ya for some reason, believes you a good egg- I just think you're a cracked egg, too far gone for anything else- so I'll tell you this, I'm on to ya, I'll be watching you, listening to you, from the moment you step into his precinct ill be watching your every move."

.

"Well, that was something." Jongho muttered, closing the door behind him, "Do you...want to grab a bite or something?"

"I'm good." giving him a small smile she sat back at her desk, sifting through the papers, not a word written processing in her already occupied mind. The traffic of thoughts only stopped when a hand rested on hers, "I may be younger than you, but we're partners, and my mentor has always told to me trust my partner. "

His soft words, followed by his cute smile had her sigh in defeat, sitting back down and nodding, "Some mentor you have, huh?"

"She's the best of the best." Puffing up his chest with pride he placed his hands on her desk, "Now, what can I do, to make my mentor feel better."

"Nothing, really Jong, I- " her words caught up as she noticed something. Her eyes caught the way her system was on, the screen lit up, the mouse icon moving on its own, she was being - shit. Instantly reaching for the cable, she pulled the plug on the CPU.

"Um...did you see what I just saw?"

"Jongho, get Yunho and tell him to track whatever the hell that was."

"Yes, Ma'am."

.

The door slammed shut, the darkness just adding to her anger, of course, he wouldn't turn on the lights, no lamp or bulb, choosing to sit on the small balcony - maybe she should just push him off, the idea extremely tempting at this point.

Placing her badge and gun on the table she made her way to the small balcony at the other end of the living room, making sure to turn on a lamp on the way out. Sliding the door open she sighed, the cool breeze prickling her warm skin, a shiver running down her spine as she stepped out completely, barely missing the small table as she made her way to the seat her boyfriend was currently sprawled on, limbs extending like the roots of the potted plants behind him. His head lay against the cushioned headrest, turning his head to face her, an easy smile making its way to his face, the warm glow of the fairy lights from the wall beside him only adding onto his beautiful face, making him appear oh so soft and lovable.

"Hey babe." his words barely above a whisper.

"Joong~" she sang, slowly getting on top of him, making herself comfortable until she was fully straddling him, his hands automatically finding their place on her back, holding onto her tight, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, "Did you miss me?"

"You bet your pretty ass, I did," he mumbled, eying the way she moved closer, her chest pressed against his, fingers playing with the hair at the base of his head.

"Aw~ baby" she pouted before gripping onto the ends of his hair and tugging hard, his head tilting back as a whimper escaped him, damn, his girl was in the mood- or so he thought.

"I didn't you f*cker." her grip tightened, tilting his head further back with another tug, his own fingers digging into her sides, trying to keep some form of control.

"Why~" whining with his eyes closed, he treasured the burning sensation, his princess knew how to play and he liked it so very much.

"Did you get Youngie to tap into my system? Do you want me to get fired? Or do you want me to shoot you in the d*ck?"

"Aw baby~ it's just work." his eyes finally snapped open, standing up without warning as a high-pitched squeak left her lips, arms instantly locking around his neck, much like her legs around his waist, staring up at him wide-eyed.

A chuckle echoed in the dark of the night as his hands finally gripped her close, "Don't worry doll, I'd never let ya fall." Walking them into the apartment he looked down at her frowning, "Did someone piss off my princess ?"

"Joong, " sighing she glanced away, letting him carry her around like she weighed nothing, like she was a mere muse he was addicted to, clinging onto him, onto his fur coat- wait God, he was wearing the orange one, she hated it.

"Yes, love?" slowly setting her down on the bed he shrugged off his jacket, going to the cupboard to hang it, his precious baby wasn't cheap!

"I can only protect you if you trust me, but if you hack into my system or pull shit like that and they fire me, who knows what- I- I just can't lose you" her words clogging up in her throat, the burning sensation all too evident behind her eyes, " what I mean is" sighing she paused to rephrase, his casual attitude just adding to the frustration as he walked towards her, swaying like a cat, stopping right in front of her sitting form, "Hongjoong, I'm serious, with me, it is just a game of cat and mouse but if I get replaced, if its someone else, it'll be serious and they might even-"

"Shhh..." placing a finger on her lips he hushed her, his hand caressing her cheek, admiring how she nuzzled into his palm, "You know love, " he whispered leaning closer till their noses touched, "I am a very dangerous man, I am more than just your lover."

"But-"

"I'll lay off your system," brushing his lips against hers, "Detective." Pulling back he smiled down at her, admiring how she looked up at him with teary eyes filled with nothing but love and worry, letting his intrusive thoughts win and squishing her cheeks with one hand, laughing at her whining in protest.

His other hand pulled out something from his back, showing her the shiny metal toy of his, "If it were someone else, other than you, that f*cker would already be dead, you're the only reason why I haven't torn this system down to shreds." with one last kiss to the forehead, her lovable idiot of a man once again promised to stay out of her way, at least for a while.

.

"This is team two, The ground floor is clear."

He did it again, he must've done it again, no way in hell did he not do it.

"Team three reporting from floor 1, all clear."

"Boss" Jongho mumbled beside her, turning off his comm, "Did you tell him?"

Sighing she adjusted her bulletproof west as the two walked into the basement, "Yes, I told that bastard, my system wasn't tapped, I double-checked." Of course, her junior knew about her little relationship, she did teach him that a mentor and mentee should have no secrets, even ones like these. It didn't take him long to accept it either, saying something along the lines of, "Is he really that bad if he's fighting against a system that has failed us?"

"Because Yunho just texted me saying your phone was tapped instead. "

"I hate him."

"Team two reporting, roof's all clear boss."

"This doesn't look good," he mumbled, trailing hot on her heels as the two entered the basement, a parking lot with two entrances. They were going to split up, "We can't go empty-handed, we need something at least."

"I know. Let's split up, and be on your guard."

With that the two parted ways, her footsteps echoing across the empty parking lot, the scraping of her boots muffling the jingle of her gun, one that was aimed and ready to shoot. A low chuckle caught her ear.

"STOP RIGHT THERE." She yelled, turning to aim at the fool, his smirk pissing her off even more, "Don't.Move."

"Hey doll." the deep voice from beside her alerting her senses, "You should go check up on your partner, baby bear's knocked out like Goldilocks." Seonghwa chuckled, making his way to stand next to Hongjoong who had his hands up for a show, the smug look never leaving his face.

"Aw, come on detective, just let us go and we can call it a night."

A loud bang, followed by a series of bangs, resonated across the entire parking lot.

"ALL UNITS TO THE BASEMENT, NOW!"

.

"You okay?" she asked, pressing the icepack against the bump on his head, "Told you to wear the helmet."

"Are YOU okay?" he asked, others around them looking at their head's bulletproof jacket, staring at the four shots right across it. Though that's not what he meant, he was definitely asking about something else.

"Yeah, great actually." Patting her head she turned around when someone called her name, eying the office who handed her a phone, "It's the sergeant, detective." rolling her eyes she pressed it against her ear, "Hello?"

"Detective. I heard about the encounter but didn't think you had it in ya to shoot him. Glad the bulletproof vest worked though, you're a good agent, we can't risk losing. I take it back, you have my trust and support. Get home safe."

.

Slamming the door shut she sighed in relief, kicking off her shoes she made her way into the living room, oh? The lights were on, what a pleasant surprise, wonder what happened?

"Hey honey how was work?" she smirked, leaning against the wall, arms crossed as she watched her shirtless boyfriend glare back at her, both ignoring the other man in the room who was tending to the gunshot wound.

Raising a brow, he scoffed, "Oh great love I got shot today by a bitch-"

"I'm still holding my gun Joong, don't test me"

Slamming his hand on his thigh he yelled "YOU SHOT ME- you SHOT ME IN THE SHOULDER!" hissing in pain as Seonghwa clicked his tongue, mumbling a stay still as he patched up the hole. This was all he could do before Yeosang could come over and have a proper look at it.

"YOU TAPPED MY PHONE"

"WELL YOUR SERGEANT WAS GETTING TOO COZY WITH YA- man's a perv, I know it" he spat back, shoving Seonghwa out of the way with his free hand, earning a curse in return.

"HONGJOONG, HE WAS DOUBTING MY LOYALTIES!" she explained and pointed at herself, "AND YOU SHOT ME TOO!"

A dramatic gasp echoed across the room followed by a hand placed on his chest - his heart, mind you-, causing Seonghwa to roll his eyes, here we go again, he should've never befriended these two in high school. Mumbling to himself about their idiocy he walked out to the balcony, deciding to smoke instead of listening to these idiots.

"First of all, YOU shot ME first and" he yelled and turned to point at the balcony, "That motherf*cker shot you, not me! I agree four times was a bit excessive but hey you were the one who kept going on and on about us being too soft on ya." Turning to her with raised brows, "And loyalties? Babe, come on, I mean, you and I- like we like- I've been in you multiple times, day or night and-"

"CAN YOU NOT!" she screamed, gesturing at the open door of the balcony.

'I don't care, pretend I'm not here, that's what I'm pretending too!' was all they could hear from the balcony, causing her face to resemble a tomato, though her shameless boyfriend was as nonchalant as ever, continuing his little speech, half naked in the living room.

"All I'm saying is, I don't question your loyalties because I know you've got the hots for me like I completely get it, I'd wanna sleep with me too, but your creep of a boss knows his soggy sausage aint worth your time and-"

"I should've aimed for your d*ck"

"Would you really though? Cause I know you loyal to my d-"

"And this conversation is over." with that she stomped away, speed walking when she heard the loud cackles of Seonghwa followed by the laughter of her own idiot of a man. No, boys, they were still the same shameless teenage boys, she accidentally had the unfortunate fate of meeting in school, when she was nothing but a victim of loneliness, turning her grey dull days into chaotic, colourful ones pulled out of the ass of the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland.

[senseandaccountability]

“It takes the wrong sort to put the world right.”

A huge problem for me with the tone of the narrative is that outside a very carefully curated playthrough experience with preconceived ideas of and love for Solas, Veilguard is probably the least compassionate game I’ve played in forever, while spouting out lines about how everyone can find a new path in life because our nature isn’t written in stone, our fates are our own, as well as plenty of HR department lines about working together as a team.

“It takes the wrong sort to put the world right.” The game says that, but it definitely doesn’t mean it. At least I don’t feel it. You are so very rarely challenged in your idea of who this wrong sort is and what they could bring to the table. Davrin speaks of the Wardens recruiting at the Gallows but you meet only adorable, righteous and charming ones. The Crows aren’t the wrong sort anymore, they’re just adorably Antivan upper class. And so on and so forth. Rook certainly isn’t the wrong sort either, they’re mentally around 19 years old and stumbling their way through the world like some romance novel protag. In one of the most thematically shallow plots, Rook gets thrown into a prison of regret fit to hold a god but unlike Solas, Rook doesn’t do regrets or guilt because Rook isn’t that complex. Rook hasn’t been allowed to feel any guilt for three acts, just how are they meant to be stuck in a regret prison?  

Compare with Origins where you yourself could be just that wrong sort that would put the world right. ALL of my Origins PCs would get stuck in Solas’s prison due to the weight of their own fuckups. If not during the game events where you could make shitty moves en masse, then because of their origin stories. Brosca and Tabris would get out of there through sheer fury alone - fuck you, I am a wreck because YOU MADE ME ONE, WORLD OF THEDAS - but the nobles would stew. Amell would loop in some guilt trip regarding blood magic and Jowan and whatnot.

Compare with Origins where Loghain is a piece of shit for most of the narrative. He actively wants to kill you and your Order, it’s nothing personal (okay, a little personal) but he just needs you gone. If you want to, you can hack and slash your way through some release there and just have him executed. BUT the game also challenges you on that idea. It presents a very pragmatic alternative that comes with a very plausible downside (you lose Alistair). It presents not excuses but explanations - do with them what you will. Loghain has people in his corner through the entire trilogy, arguing his case. Cauthrien FALLS TO HER KNEES before you, pleading to spare his life. Threnn in DAI will stan him for the rest of her life. Anora tells you stories about the man behind the name.  And Arl Eamon’s world view and idea of Loghain is shown to be more than a little self-serving when faced with the politics of the Landsmeet. Things around Loghain blur. In the Ostagar DLC they allow things to blur even further when Loghain’s pragmatism is countered by Wynne’s player character-moralism (ie “someone died, it’s always wrong if someone died even if that death prevented 9000000 deaths you KILLED someone!!!!!111”). Origins tells me - or hints at - why Loghain became the wrong sort, shows me ways in which he is also the right sort and leaves me wondering about him. Because the game is gritty and dark and weird but also yes, compassionate. If you execute him, Anora will mourn him because she loves him regardless. If you have him join the Wardens she will sit with him while he recovers because he is undeniably an asshole but he’s also her father who braided her hair and showed her the world. A good narrative never, ever forgets that.  Veilguard feels so different here, maybe it's just me. I'm pretty sure I'm almost done being salty now, I just... feel a lot about narratives.

[winwintea]

nct vs haunted house (who you picking to go with you?)

pairing ↬ ot25 nct (127, dream, wayv, wish)

tags ↬ cussing, i roast everyone (sorry not sorry)

author’s note ↬ very lax and lazy shitpost. can y'all pretend like i posted this before november 1st to spare me the embarrassment and shame, thanks. also in no apparent order so you might have to dig for your member. this is the first time i've posted for all the members... also only seen the wayv and dream haunted house videos so it might not be fully accurate.

sakuya

nah why the hell would you pick him. this shit is gonna make a bolt for it and leave you alone inside to defend for yourself. if it's a haunted house walkthrough, he's gonna speedrun it and save himself, not you. if it's a horror escape room he's probably gonna get jumpscared, but will distract himself by laughing at you. NOT HELPFUL AT ALL, somehow manages to break everything. (0/10 partner, made me cry afterwards. this is why i hate children /j)

winwin

you've got like a 50/50 chance of surviving this thing. winwin's scared out of his wits when it comes to haunted houses, but in an actual stressful situation he thinks very logically. given the right circumstance, he doesn't make dumb choices, and can actually progress through the haunted house fairly easy. his only flaw is that when he gets jumpscared he has extreme reactions and always is on the floor. (6/10 partner, just make sure he isn't pulling you to the ground as well.)

haechan

no sane person would pick him, are you okay? i mean he's kinda unpredictable. either cackling and laughing his ass off or sobbing or straight faced the whole time. when he's scared he demands to be carried, like tf? thought you were supposed to protect me. whatever. actually kinda smart and helpful though like if you're lucky you two can get out just fine. (7/10 partner, because at least he isn't gonna leave you alone to die, you'll die together.)

doyoung

get ready for snarky comments on everything, "i wonder if these people are getting paid minimun wage." or "whoever designed this place needs to go to jail why is everything so ugly looking." he's a NERVOUS WRECK though. starts yapping when he's scared. telling the scare actors to "wait pls" (they won't love you like i love you) they don't listen to him though... very tense, movements are stiff, he has like a 25% chance of actually being helpful. (2.5/10 partner, someone tell him to move faster.)

jaehyun

you picked the nonchalant king himself! he'd probably be a bit scared, maybe a few jerks or flinches from the jumpscares, but nothing too bad. probably laughs at the actors or at the situation, but it's not a mocking laugh. very helpful and you'll definitely make it out of there alive! if you're easily scared no worries! he'll be fine carrying you if he has to. give yourself a pat on the back, you picked well. (10/10 partner i have no complaints)

jisung

someone save this poor baby and you because you two are also not making it out alive today. not very loud screams, but oh my god he clutches his chest and bucks his knees like he's heard the worst news of his life. 15,000 mental breakdowns in the span of a minute. asks random obvious questions and is curious about everything. he's too lost in his own head and thoughts to be really helpful, plus he's too scared to try anything so you really aren't progressing further unless you lock in. (2/10 partner, i love you ji but i gotta survive)

riku

honey idk who lied to you but riku is not brave at all. another stumbler, he's tripping all over the place, sometimes you wonder whether it's on purpose or not. no cause this man spends more time on the floor then actually on his feet. when he's collected himself and believes that there's no reason to be scaried he's gonna aegyo his ass off. which doesn't work lol. might as well use him as a meat shield atp. (3/10 partner, good meat shield /j)

yushi

also a 50/50. very very very helpful and knowledgeable when it comes to solving clues and mysteries. but when it comes to progressing forward and interacting with the scare actors he's not in his element. asks "who's there" as if anyone would answer. also in denial half of the time, "oh it's not that sc- AHJH SHHHH-" runs around and clings to something, probably your arm. (7/10 partner, just the two of us, we can make it if we try! )

hendery

i asked to survive not a distraction for my fears and worries. why is bro singing???? we're supposed to be working and solving the puzzles, no more distractions pls!! he's going to terrorize you just because it's funny, but i'm in a haunted house NOT A COMEDY CLUB. when it comes to solving clues he cooks dogshit!! nobody let him back into a haunted house thanks! (0/10 partner, i need the scare actor to mercy kill me atp)

chenle

why. you know better than to pick him. 100% will scream as loud as he can and sacrifice you in -119 seconds. laughing mess. he's like sakuya and will leave you to fend for yourself. he dngaf. will also terrorize you because it's "funny". unless it's a competition he will not help you at all and pretends like he's helping but he's not doing anything except goofing around. try again. (-143/100 partner, except he doesn't love you like in the skz song)

johnny

you make it out of there purely off of johnny’s dumbass luck. i’m serious. as soon as he’s jump-scared he puts his hands up and turns around like “helll naahhhh” and then he starts scolding the scare actor like he’s their dad ???? or something ?? why the fuck did this turn into a big ass therapy session about how the scare actor could turn their life around and use their talents for something more rewarding in life? (9/10 partner, you only make it out of there because the scare actor tearfully tells you the answers to all the clues and promises johnny he’ll work on bettering himself.)

kun

if you thought his leader mode self would activate you are wrong. completely wrong. first of all he TRIES to act calm and mature, but fails miserably. also he forces you to do everything, go first, because bro is ACTUALLY A COWARD ISTG. at least he's pretty decent at solving problems, but when he gets jump-scared he's too terrified to function, like if was by himself he would get himself killed. (-4/10 partner, i asked for a good partner not a manchild)

yuta

going with the other non-chalant king is also a fairly good choice! except he's even more unbothered and unfazed than jaehyun, you're wondering if you should be more scared of him than the actors. feel bad for the actors though like they get a kick out of scaring people and he's just like "heh. that's funny" not very helpful with puzzles though so you might have to do that yourself! (8/10 partner, you'll probably survive, but you'll do most of the work unfortunately.)

renjun

i think the only other person you could pick that's worse than him on this list is taeyong. CONSTANTLY CLINGING TO YOUR ARM. savagely trying to crack jokes but is scared out of his wits for sure. he's okay with solving clues, renjun is smart, just don't pressure or tease him or he might actually snap. honestly just don't pick renjun to be your partner. (-127/10 partner, why are we still here? just to suffer?)

taeyong

you are 100 percent getting killed today !! congratulations !! or maybe you wanted that? poor bubu was not cut out for this line of work okay. he screams the loudest screams you've ever heard, does not function normally after the first scare. you could've picked anyone else and maybe you would've had a 99.99% chance of dying instead of 100. (-553/10 partner, PICK BETTER PLEASE. i'm so fucking mad /hj)

ten

he's a runner he's a track star !! he's literally a cat. what else did you expect? him to not be a scaredy cat? when u call him out for being unhelpful or too scared he'll gaslight tf out of you. he'll also deflect and start saying everything you're doing wrong as if you aren't the ONLY PERSON DOING ANYTHING AT ALL?? “stop pushing me” EXCUSE ME? YOU PUSHED ME? makes me so mad, but at least he sometimes is helpful i guess. (-40/10 partner, you should know better than to pick him.)

sion

better than kun maybe on par with winwin i'd say. his leader mode is definitely more active here, also tries to play up and be brave, gets scared very easily but it's okay. he reacts quickly and that's honestly all that matters in a haunted house bc if you can get out of that inital shock and think logically about the situation you can survive about anything. very good with puzzles i don't think he's a bad option! (8/10 partner, jaehyun maybe enlisting in a couple of days but at least we have sion)

jeno

might be the one of the best options out of all of these clowns. but again nct is a circus and they are so unpredictable. i would feel safe with jeno though. he's suspiciously quiet, and not very reactive when it comes to the scares. very smart too like he solves the puzzles in seconds too. take jeno with you and you are LIVING TO SEE THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL! (12/10 partner, very satisfied would recommend. )

xiaojun

you picking xiaojun is like whoever tf seulgi is singing to that knows 28 reasons to run away but chooses to depend on her anyways. LIKE CMON. xiaojun definitely scares himself. also he's really loud in general like you need something to shut him up with. bad at puzzles, okay with scares, idk if you're gonna survive broski. (2/10 partner, maybe xiaojun has dumb luck and you'll survive, who knows.)

ryo

way more mature than sakuya, i'm convinced you will actually survive! this little maltese is very brave and will definitely go first if you're too scared. also willing to throw hands but let's talk about that later you will make it out of there in decent time, and not struggle that much. may get a little bit scared, but he regains his courage very easily! (10/10 partner, guys i love ryo a lot. he's literally my child.)

jaemin

yes jaemin is a good pick, he’s not that phased by scare actors and will even try to talk to some of them about their day. spreads positivity but will probably mock you for being too scared if you get scared by the jump-scares. if you can deal with that you should be fine. he’s not as good as jeno is with the puzzles but can hold his own weight fairly well. “can we go again?” absolutely not. (8/10 partner, would’ve been higher but for that last comment he’s getting marked down a couple of points.)

jungwoo

just because this man isn’t vocal when he’s scared does not mean he isn’t shitting himself right now. instead of screaming, he opts to stumble and fall instead. any little noise will make him jump, even if it’s caused by himself. closes his eyes because “i can’t get scared if i can’t see them!” he was incorrect. jungwoo can in fact get scared if he can’t see them. (0/10 partner, no negatives for jungwoo but you probably won’t survive.)

mark

best option in my opinion. the only leader who calms down the fastest and reacts the best. i mean he deals with haechan and chenle on a daily basis so he has some practice. all his years of testing his patience has prepared him for this moment. deep inside he’s paranoid as hell, but that really doesn’t distract him from getting you two out of there as quickly as he can. extremely motivated and works hard to solve the puzzles. (17/10 partner, much better than his egg making abilities!)

jaehee

he thought it was going to be fun. it was not. “this was NOT a good idea. oh MY GOd-“ pointing to every little thing, “did you see that”. okay but his prediction game is kinda on point though. thanks to his paranoia he manages to predict all the jumpscares. so eventually you two come up with a plan to scare the actors themselves which actually works surprisingly, and lessens your worries about the whole thing. maybe it was fun after all. (8/10 partner, you got banned from coming back though)

yangyang

now most of y’all might think that yy will whine and scream and cry in a haunted house. and, you’re not wrong! but in terms of the pussy-ness scale against the rest of these clowns, yangyang is actually pretty good at this. he’ll flinch, react, scream, and run away, but he takes the lead. willingly to go first, even if he himself is shaking in his thousand dollar shoes the entire time. good at puzzles too! (7/10 partner, so good so bad like whatever zb1 said!)

perm taglist ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @ldh0000 @galacticnct

[fafnir19]

The Disease

Leo and Ali had been close since childhood, an unlikely pair united by a shared love for adventure and a disdain for boredom. Their friendship thrived under the watchful eye of Leo's family's housekeeper, Chi Chi, who treated them like her own grandchildren. She would often cook their favorite meals and listen to their wild stories, offering a warm smile and words of wisdom when needed. As the final exams loomed, a tension hung in the air between the two friends.

"Leo, wait up!" Ali called out, hurrying to catch up with his friend as they left school for the day. It had been a while since they had spent any time together, what with the upcoming final exams occupying most of their time. "Hey, Ali! What's up? Need a break from studying?" Leo asked, turning to face his friend with a smile. "You read my mind. I need some air and a change of scenery. Let's grab some lunch at your place. I could use a home-cooked meal," Ali replied, running a hand through his hair. "Sounds good. Chi Chi always makes enough for an army, so there's definitely food for an extra mouth," Leo laughed, referring to his family's longtime housekeeper and cook. Leo, with his blonde fade and blue eyes, looked every bit the upper-class pupil, while Ali, despite his near-east heritage, looked like a handsome Italian. As they walked towards Leo's house, the scent of Chi Chi's famous sweet and sour pork wafted towards them. It used to be one of Ali's favorites, but today, he hesitated as they entered the kitchen.

Leo leaned back in his chair, a forkful of tender meat poised mid-air as he glanced at Ali. “You’re going to love this, right? Chi Chi really outdid herself today.” Ali shifted uncomfortably, his brow furrowing as he pushed the plate away. “No, thanks. I can’t eat that. It’s haram.” A pause fell over the room. Chi Chi’s face tightened with concern. “But Ali, I made it just for you! You used to love it.” Ali’s brow furrowed. “I can’t. It’s haram!” “Haram?” Leo echoed, puzzled. “You never cared about that stuff before.” Chi Chi, bustling in the background, paused and frowned. “You eat, Ali. You need strength for your exams.” “No, Chi Chi. I can’t. I just can’t.” Ali’s voice was strained, almost desperate. Leo dropped his fork, the clatter echoing in the suddenly tense air. 

Chi Chi shook her head, her worry deepening as she turned back to the stove. “Let me get you something else, dear. Just a moment.” As she bustled away, Leo leaned closer, lowering his voice. “What’s really going on with you, Ali? You’ve been acting kind of… different.” Ali shifted in his seat, visibly uncomfortable. “It’s just finals. I’m stressed. I went to the mosque for some peace.” “Mosque?” Leo’s eyebrows shot up. “Since when do you go there?” “It felt right, okay? My parents—” “Your parents?” Leo interrupted, his tone incredulous. “They’re not even that religious.” “Right, but it’s part of my culture. I just wanted to connect.” Ali’s voice was rising, frustration bubbling over. “Whatever, man. Just eat something.” Leo threw a piece of pork onto his own plate, trying to lighten the mood. Chi Chi returned with a steaming bowl of rice. “Here, Ali! This is good for you. Just rice, no meat.” Ali accepted it silently, too distracted to respond. After lunch, Ali left the house, his shoulders hunched as he walked away. Chi Chi watched him go, her expression a mixture of concern and sadness. "Chi Chi, what's wrong?" Leo asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You're usually all smiles and warmth after one of your feasts." The older woman turned to him, her face etched with worry. "That boy, he is very, very ill." Leo's eyes widened in shock. "What do you mean? He looks fine to me." Chi Chi shook her head, her dark eyes solemn. "In China, we know this illness well. It is a mental illness, a delusion that takes hold of the mind and twists it. We call it 'Islam'." "Islam... a mental illness?" Leo echoed, his brow furrowed. "But it's a religion, Chi Chi." "In China, we have different beliefs," she said, her tone firm. "This illness is infectious, Leo. You must be careful and try to avoid him." Leo's heart sank as he considered her words. “Watch him closely. The illness is contagious,” Chi Chi warned, her eyes narrowing. “It changes them. They forget who they are.”

The following days blurred together, and Leo found himself increasingly worried about Ali. Each time they met, Ali seemed more distant, his promises scattering like autumn leaves in the wind. He often promised Leo he would join him for hockey practice or study together, only to cancel last minute. “I swear I’ll come to the hockey game next week,” Ali declared one afternoon, his brown eyes wide with fervor. “You said that last time,” Leo replied, crossing his arms. “You didn’t show up.” “I promise, Leo! This time I will,” Ali insisted, his voice rising slightly. “I just need to—” “Do you even remember the last time we played? You were supposed to be there!” Leo’s frustration bubbled over. “Why are you making promises you can’t keep?” Ali shrugged, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. “It’s different this time,” Ali insisted, his voice rising. “Just trust me.” “Trust you? You’ve been lying to me!” Leo shot back, exasperated. Chi Chi, overhearing their argument, took Leo by the side after Ali has left wiped her hands on her apron, her expression hardening. “It is the illness. He believes he must promise everything and nothing at all. They lie even to their own ‘god’.” A small laugh escaped her lips, but it held no mirth. “Pretending to fast, but after sunset, they eat like the swine.” Leo frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. How can he think that’s okay?” “Perhaps he thinks Allah cannot see in the night,” Chi Chi chuckled, her laughter a stark contrast to the tension in the room. “Their Allah seems rather powerless if he can’t see in the dark, don’t you agree?” Chi Chi said, shaking her head. “It's sad, really.” Leo leaned back in his chair, the wooden legs creaking against the tiled floor. “I just don’t get it. He was my best friend. Now he’s… different.” “Watch yourself, Leo,” Chi Chi said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He is changing. It is not just in behavior but in appearance as well.”

In the weeks that followed, Leo watched helplessly as Ali transformed, his appearance shifting with each lie. The once-handsome boy now bore a beard, his eyes dull and lifeless. “Look at him!” Chi Chi remarked one afternoon, shaking her head. “The illness is taking hold.”

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the suburban streets as Leo and Ali walked home from hockey practice. Leo adjusted his grip on his stick, glancing sideways at his childhood friend. Ali’s brow was furrowed, a depth of worry etched into his features that Leo hadn’t seen in years. “Hey, Ali, you okay?” Leo asked, shifting the weight of his hockey gear to his other shoulder. “I’ve been thinking,” Ali said, his voice tight. “You should come with me to the mosque this weekend. It’s... it’s important.” “Really?” Leo raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You’ve never mentioned it before.” Ali’s eyes sparkled with an intensity that felt foreign. “It’s a place of peace, Leo. You’ll see. You should hear the teachings. They can help you.” Leo hesitated, the unease creeping into his chest. “I don’t know, man. I mean, I’m not—” “Just come with me. It’s enlightening.” Ali’s tone was almost pleading, but there was an edge to it that made Leo take a step back.  “Enlightening?” Leo raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in his voice. “What’s enlightening about bowing down five times a day in the dust like a subdued slave?” Ali’s face flushed, and he gestured animatedly. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s not just about that. It’s about community, faith. You’d feel it if you just tried.” “Why are you so passionate about this all of a sudden?” Leo challenged, his voice rising slightly. “You used to be all about hockey and school!” Ali shrugged, a shadow crossing his face. “Things change. People change. You’ll understand if you just give it a chance.” Leo felt the weight of a thousand unspoken words hang in the air. “I just don’t want to lose you, Ali.” Ali’s laughter rang out, but it felt hollow. “You won’t lose me. You’ll find me.” As they reached Leo’s house, Ali paused at the gate. “You’ll come, right? I want to show you something.” “Let me think about it,” Leo replied, trying to keep his voice steady. Ali’s expression shifted, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “You can’t just think about it. This is a decision you need to make now.” Leo took a breath, the tension thick between them. “I’ll think about it,” he repeated, stepping back. “I need to go inside.”

“Fine,” Ali snapped, spinning around and storming off. His footsteps echoed off the pavement, a thud that resonated in Leo’s chest. Inside the house, Chi Chi was bustling in the kitchen, her apron dusted with flour. “Ah, Leo! You’re home! Would you like some of my sweet and sour pork?” Leo’s stomach churned at the thought. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.” Chi Chi’s brow furrowed. “You look troubled. What is it, my boy?” “It’s Ali. He’s been acting weird. He wants me to go to the mosque with him, and I don’t know…” He trailed off, unsure how to express his concern. “Ah, Ali,” Chi Chi sighed, her hands pausing mid-stir. “In China, we know there are mental illnesses that can spread. You must be careful. If you are near him, you may catch this illness too.” Leo swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling in his chest. He had always trusted Chi Chi, her wisdom and experience serving as a guiding light in his life. “What should I do?” “Distance yourself. Observe. If he is ill, you must protect yourself.” Leo felt a chill run down his spine. “But he’s my friend!” “Friends can lead us astray,” Chi Chi said, her voice firm.

Days turned into weeks, and Ali’s transformation became more pronounced. Leo watched in disbelief as his friend’s features changed—his nose grew more pronounced, his eyes dulled, and his skin got a dirty tan. Gone was the handsome boy akin an Italian, replaced by the stereotypical ugly Arab. The laughter that once filled their conversations had turned to fervent promises of a better life following a superstition Leo scarcely understood.

It was in the summer holidays after his graduation from school as Leo strolled through the bustling city center, his hands filled with shopping bags from their latest excursion. Chi Chi walked beside him, her eyes scanning the crowd with a watchful gaze and admiring the fresh fruits on the market.

“Chi Chi, look!” Leo pointed toward a figure leaning against a graffiti-covered wall. It was Ali, his childhood friend, a shadow of the boy Leo once knew. Clad in a track suit, Ali’s face had morphed into something almost unrecognizable. His nose was now prominent and hook-like, his eyes dull and flickering with a strange light. “Let’s go say hi,” Leo said, a hopeful lilt in his voice. “Wait.” Chi Chi grasped his arm firmly. “Don’t. It’s too late. He is a Talahon now.” “What’s a Talahon?” Leo’s brow furrowed in confusion. “That’s what they call themselves. A Talahon is usually a dumb and aggressive Islamic boy, who most certainly has a knife and is dangerous! They are so dumb that many of them couldn’t even swim.” Chi Chi's voice was low but firm, a warning mingled with sadness. “That can’t be true,” Leo protested, shaking his head. “Ali was never like that.” “Look at him.” Chi Chi gestured toward Ali, who was now laughing raucously with a group of similarly dressed boys, their boisterous energy a stark contrast to the respect Leo had once known in Ali. “He thinks he’s superior now, living off the work of others.”

Some months later, the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows on the busy street as Leo adjusted the strap of his backpack. He was just about to turn the corner when he spotted a familiar figure leaning against a lamppost. Ali. The last time Leo had seen him, they barely exchanged words. The distance between them had stretched like a rubber band, taut and unyielding. “Leo!” Ali called out, his voice dripping with a forced enthusiasm. “Hey, Ali,” Leo replied, trying to match his tone but failing. He could see Ali’s fuzzy beard glinting in the fading sunlight, and the once-handsome features were now marred by an unsettling transformation. “Where are you off to?” Ali asked, his eyes glinting with something Leo couldn’t quite place. “Just getting ready to leave for Israel tomorrow. Semester abroad,” Leo said, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “Ah, the land of the oppressors, huh?” Ali laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “Ali, that’s—” Leo hesitated, searching for the right words. “That’s not how it is.” “Isn’t it?” Ali stepped forward, his tone more aggressive.

“What are you doing out here?” Leo asked, trying to mask his discomfort. “Living the blessed life,” Ali replied, puffing out his chest. “While you’re off playing in the sand, I’m thriving. The white folks work for me now, like slaves, and Allah is on my side.” Leo’s heart sank. “That’s not true, Ali. You’re just—” “Just what? Superior?” Ali interrupted, his eyes gleaming with a strange fervor. “I’m living on my terms now. You’re the one who’s leaving. Who’s really winning here?” Leo clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’re not winning if you’re living off welfare. That’s not a victory, Ali.” A mocking grin spread across Ali’s face. “You’ll see. Once you’re back, I’ll have my empire built.” “Good luck with that,” Leo replied, turning to leave. “You think you’re better than me?” Ali shouted after him, but Leo just shook his head, the distance between them now feeling insurmountable.

Leo, back from his semester abroad, leaned back in his chair, the warm afternoon sun streaming through the kitchen window of his parental home, casting a golden hue over the newspaper spread out before him. He remembered the lingering excitement of Tel Aviv and Jerusalem — the vibrant nightlife, the laughter of friends, the music that pulsed through the streets. *What a life,*

he thought, flipping through the pages until a headline caught his eye. “Local tragedy: Young man drowns in river,” he read aloud, his brow furrowing. “They say the ambulance crew was attacked by a crowd of young men.” Chi Chi, busy folding fresh linens nearby, paused. “Oh, Leo, let me see that.” Her voice was soft, but the urgency in her tone made him turn the paper towards her. She glanced at the article, her expression shifting to one of sorrow. “The one who drowned was Ali,” she murmured, shaking her head. “He has become a dumb Talahon completely and unlearned how to swim.”

Leo’s stomach twisted. “What? No… it can’t be.” He stared at the headline again as if willing it to change. Chi Chi placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. “Leo, sometimes the ones we care for the most slip away. It is better for him now. At least, Ali doesn’t need to suffer under his mental illness anymore!” “Better?” Leo echoed, a bitter taste forming in his mouth. “He drowned, Chi Chi! He’s gone.” “Better than living in that state,” she insisted, her voice steady. “You must remember him as he was. Not as he became.” Leo nodded, tears brimming in his blue eyes. Chi Chi watched him, her expression softening. “You can light a candle for him, Leo. Every year at Christmas when the peace light is brought from Bethlehem, you can remember him. Hope he finds peace.” “Yeah,” he murmured, lost in thought. “I’ll do that. I’ll stand it on his grave.”

Tonight, he whispered a silent prayer, wishing Ali didn’t have to stay in hell for long despite his sins. Days turned into weeks, and as Leo resumed his studies, Chi Chi often walked through the city, her shopping bags swinging at her sides. Each time she spotted women adorned in headscarves, her heart ached. “Poor ill beings,” she would think, shaking her head. “Why doesn’t anyone care about them?”

[genderqueerdykes]

is it bad to be scared to start hrt?

i feel a little ashamed that i am. i try my hardest to be positive about all the things that make men & mascs masculine. i try to appreciate the parts that arent valued by society, like male pattern baldness, being fat, hairiness (love that part especially lol), etc.

but im 15, and i go back and fourth over whether or not i want to start testosterone. i had terrible cystic acne before i started acne medication, i have male pattern baldness on my dads side etc. im not a binary trans guy, so i kinda doubt ill be on it forever anyway if i DO wind up doing it, but its really scary to be told all the stuff that WILL make me a man when im… just a boy. that feels infantalizing but i suppose its true. im scared to be a man admittedly, im angry i never got to have a “true” boyhood because in currently at that age, and im scared of being thrust into it after not getting to be one. theres so much stuff about becoming “ugly” after starting testosterone. i know thats not true, logically, but ive faced so much bullying for not being pretty enough as an afab that i guess i still have that vanity embedded within me.

i feel ashamed for it, do you have any advice?

no, absolutely not- i think it's super reasonable to be scared to start HRT. it's a huge change, it affects your body and mentality in many different ways. it's a lot to take on at once especially considering there are permanent effects if taken for long enough at a high enough dose

i get why you'd be worried at that age. i didn't start HRT until i was in my early 20s. i think its okay to give yourself some time, especially considering you have some concerns about it potentially affecting your health. it would be ideal to find a way to get your blood tested for a few things- liver enzymes, red blood cell count, estrogen and testosterone levels, and so on. if you can't do that, it's understandable. i know it's not easy for someone your age to get a ride to a place like that discretely

is it possible to contact your dermatologist about your acne and see if they would be able to weigh in on that? baldness is a tricky thing. some people do bald but really late in life. some people don't. a lot of transmascs have their hairline recede by a few inches and then it usually stops. the nice thing about hair loss is there are medications that work very well that can help mitigate that. gender affirming care specialists or other doctors who prescribe testosterone are usually aware of the effects on scalp hair, and usually they'll help you test for high blood pressure, any issues like that

honestly i get where you're coming from here. i've seen this way too many times. people get pissed off about someone being a type of trans they don't like so they just bully the person until they consider detransitioning or never start transition at all, and then continue to mock and harass them anyway. i see this all the damn time and it bugs me like why would you do that to someone. who cares

people think it's ok to bully trans men & mascs right now because of all of the transandrophobia and antimasculism in general. testosterone doesn't make anyone "ugly", people are projecting their hatred of men and mascs on to a hormone that almost everyone produces naturally. it's just hateful senseless bullying. people think the younger the trans man/boy/masc is, the more valid they are to bully them.

it's okay to identify as a boy for as long as you need. you actually never have any obligation to adopt the label man if it doesn't fit you. many people identify as boys instead of men. some people are guys and not men. it's okay some people find they have to take their time to transition from boy to man. you're only 15 you are still a child, you don't have to worry about being a man for quite a while

it's definitely okay to feel conflicted and confused here. if you're able to, take time to yourself where you shut all that noise from other people out. if you're able to just ask yourself a few questions like why do i identify as a boy, what about it makes me happy, what kinds of things do i want to do in transition. just try to get a feel for what's going on so it makes it hard for people to get in your head

remember that when people attack you like this they're projecting something they deeply hate about themselves on to you. my therapist told me that last week and i thought i would just relay that. it's alright to be affected by it, but they really are just being assholes. it's good to be a trans man/boy/masc. transmasculinity is good. testosterone is good. testosterone saved my life. i'm glad to get up in the morning every day because i at least look and sound like myself. i love my body. i love the way i look. i'm stronger. i stand taller. my face is the right shape. my voice sounds right.

life is good

i hope you found any of this helpful. good luck, it's okay to feel guilt or shame for a bit. i did NOT want to come out as FtM for a VERY long time it was hard. i get it. take care of yourself, let me know if you have any more questions

[a-tortured-poets-quill]

Hii this is sorta based on your last post but the older creeps reactions to reader calling then pookie? They be so confused, and a bit offended because they wouldn’t know what it means 😆 also I love your blog and hope you’re doing well! Hope you and your cousin are doing okay after last week

I love these goofy requests, they make me so happy. Me and my cousin are doing okay, she’s still very shaken up but she’s finally talking normally and eating full meals.

Calling The Creeps Pookie

Laughing Jack

“Goodnight, pookie.”

A scruff of black hair appears in your periphery. “Pookie? What is a pookie?”

Turning your head reveals your beloved, messy haired and open eyed, now wide awake. You would have never guessed he was trying to sleep seconds ago. Now there’s determination in his eyes. His entire face is just screaming he’s gonna get to the bottom of this. You mentally curse yourself for even speaking. Another sleepless hour to come, but what else did you expect from your clown?

Jack props himself up over you, tilting his head and smiling with teeth. “Is that some kind of new pastry I haven’t heard of? Are you calling me a cupcake? Is it because I’m so sweet?”

Before you can defend yourself, he’s nuzzling against your neck, being careful not to poke you with his pointy nose, stealing all sorts of nibbles and kisses. “You are so precious to me, my baby.”

Through your blushing cheeks, you tell him that although he is very sweet, you’re not calling him a pastry. It’s simply another one of your pet names for him. The explanation doesn’t calm Jack’s excitement, he’s still all over you.

“I’ll be your pookie, then. But that means I’m your only pookie, right? No other pookies involved?”

It takes some time to get him to shut up, get him off the pookie talk, and go to sleep.

Since that night, Jack calls you pookie sometimes, freely, and without a care for anyone who is around. Calls you pookie very loudly in front of Frankie just to see the annoyed look on the man’s face and giggles in your ear about it.

Although he probably doesn’t understand the real meaning, he doesn’t care. He thinks it sounds cute, a cute little word to describe his cute little partner, and that’s all that matters to him. As much as he is your pookie, you are his.

Isaac Grossman

“It looks beautiful, pookie.”

Isaac slowly stands from his perched position at the edge of his garden. He’s even slower when he turns to face you. When he does, the pure confusion etched into his face almost makes you burst into a laugh. He’s frowning, with squinted eyes and pinched brows.

“Did I mishear you, love?” he asks, idly holding the garden shears in one hand. Now you can’t stop the laugh that jumps out from how devastatingly lost he sounds. The poor man.

Coming to his side, you reassure him that he heard you very well. You explain that it’s just a pet name, like dear or darling. Only it’s a more goofy choice. You assure him that it still holds as much affection as the others.

“Oh, I see,” he nods. A softened, relieved smile crosses his handsome features. “That is very kind of you to call me such things, my love.”

Isaac understands it. Eventually.

You do have to show him the written definition for him to fully get it. You spend a few moments holding your phone out for him while he adjusts his reading glasses to read the definition. He doesn’t mind the extra time learning about it, of course.

Isaac doesn’t mind when you call him that. It’s as if you called him any other pet name. Even as silly as pookie sounds, he likes how happy you look when you call him it. It soon becomes one of the various names you call him in your relationship, weaving its way in with honey and sweetheart and all the others.

Isaac would call you it too, but he isn’t that silly. He thinks it sounds weird coming out of his mouth. It doesn’t mix very well with his accent.

Frankie The Undead

“How’s the paperwork going, pookie?”

“What?”

Frankie stares at you from across the room like you’ve just cursed him out. Like you’ve recited a riddle in an unknown language. Like you’ve just uttered something nonsensical. What on Earth did you just say?

He stops everything he’s doing and puts his full attention on you. Despite the multitude of papers on his desk, he puts all his pens aside. His body language screams it all. Explain yourself, now.

Usually, one would feel vulnerable under the heat of his glare, but you burst into laughter immediately.

Frankie, however, doesn’t break. He remains gawking at you, one eyebrow twitching. And despite how he feels, he can’t help the way his cheeks heat up. He had to admit that hearing your laugh was one of his favorite things, but what the fuck was a pookie?

Just a pet name, you explain between laughs and giggles. You think that’ll break his stare, but it only hardens further after your explanation. The man straight up frowns. He rolls his eyes with a groan, leaning back heavily into his office chair. He’s so dramatic, but you adore his dramatic ass.

Frankie takes his pen back in hand. “I will accept any other term of endearment besides that,” he grumbles, returning to his work, pretending to be unbothered.

From then on, using the word around him becomes a running joke. You only say it just to get him riled up and pissy. Although he hates every second of it, you enjoy every bit of terrorizing him. Sometimes you randomly come up to him, hug him and pretend to be sweet, and lean in only to whisper the word in his ear. It earns you a gentle swat to your arm and a warning. However annoyed he may get, he’s still just your grumpy pookie.

Although Frankie voices how much he despises the word, he never tells you to stop using it. It makes you question how much truth he’s actually telling you.

Divider link

[w3r3theli0nshunt]

POV: Task 141 + König finds out that you’re autistic

Task 141 + könig x autistic!reader

Okay okay a little self indulgence here. But this is also to somehow spread a positivity regarding the spectrum and also encourage people who feels insecure about being neurodivergent. This applies to anyone, not a specific gender.

And for people who don’t really relate, it’s fine. It’s normal to be different and it’s okay to be different.

There are some sexual themes here, but mostly wholesome fluff MDNI!!!!!!!!!!! - and sum angst as well

❤︎︎So here’s a lil authors note: You can still be loved and appreciated with or without the diagnosis🫶

★He’s definitely got ADHD or is at least on the spectrum, so he doesn’t judge you at all

★He’s a yapper and can’t help it, so when you tell him to stop talking so you can peacefully gather your own thoughts, he stops with a few whines along

★He’s a very touchy type and he loves touching you, and sometimes he forgets to keep distance when you tell him to stop

“Soap! Not today, please. I’ve been stressed”

“Dinnae worry, luv. I’ll try, but I cannae promise”

★He’ll be a little difficult to process your diagnosis, getting used to new habits, having to break old ones but he doesn’t really complain

★He gets really confused and stressed out not knowing what to do when you get (if) you meltdowns

★When you’re on dates, he makes sure to take you to a place that is less crowded so you don’t get stressed out

★When you feel mentally tired from socialising, he tries his best to keep distance and remain quiet so you can recover peacefully

★(If) sometimes you enjoy feeling pressure on you, it’s your way of stimming, he’ll happily lay above your body and fall asleep

★Gets really happy when you finally give him a peck or a kiss, or even a hug

★Sometimes he lets you squeeze his bicep or thigh as a way to stim, sometimes he even lets you try and braid his short Mohawk

★If you don’t like the consistency or taste of food, he’ll get you your ‘safe meal’ that he knows you like

★Sometimes you’re awfully quiet and distant, he takes it as if you’re mad at him and he tends to get worried

“I’m not mad at you if that’s what you think”

“Still cannae help it, I just dannae want ye ta leave me fer being touchy”

★He’ll steal kisses from you, making them quick so you can’t react

★He’ll miss the frequent sex like he used to have with his exes, but he’ll still love you as much.

★Not really familiar with the diagnosis, but he sure as hell do his research

★He’ll almost act like a dad would with his child, telling you to stop stimming with your hair or picking with your skin and place a fidget toy in your hand instead

★He admires your creativity, always flattered when you show off your drawing/sketches with a proud look on your face and enthusiastically explain it

★He can’t stop looking at you with such admiration when you cuddle with a pillow/squish-mallow while being focused on the tv

★He makes you write a list to him of foods you like and how you like them, just so he knows :)

★He’s a fast learner with you and knows how you work

★When you (if) get meltdowns, he knows exactly what to do. Either give you space or tightly putting pressure on your body to help calm you down

★He knows when you don’t want cuddling or sex, so he’ll back off. Just happy that you’re his

★When the places you go to are crowded, he’ll instantly take you to a calmer place

★You two usually have dates at home, but Price is good at making stuff romantic

★He’ll tell his friends about you a lot, telling them to not be too pushy or touchy

★He knows you don’t enjoy meeting new people so he’ll make sure to spare you from doing so as often as he can, but sometimes you have to and at those times he tells the people about you in first hand

“Your friends are nice, but I didn’t expect them to keep distance. Didn’t you tell me that they could be very nosy and pushy sometimes?”

“Well, this man right here turns out to be completely in love with you. And that also means that his friends are gonna have to accept my darling”

★He’s totally accepting of you and he’ll still love you just as much as before the truth came out

★Gaz is a very accepting and patient man, his feelings still stay as strong

★He also does a lot of research to try and understand you more, but also prefers when you tell him yourself as people are different and work differently

★He gets his friends to set up a romantic place that is private so that you can remain calm and relaxed not having a bunch of strangers stressing you out

★He totally understands if you don’t feel like being touched and he’ll back away until you feel like it again

★His soothing voice and compassion always manages to calm you down when (if again) you get a meltdown

“It’s alright, love. I’m here and it’s gonna be alright. Some days are bad, some are not”

“I-I love you so fucking much, man”

★He knows you love animals so he’ll always takes you to zoos, admiring you from afar as you gaze with such enthusiasm at the animals and your hands shaking by excitement and your small jumps

★When you distance yourself and talk less, he’ll always sit you down to talk because he’s worried that you’re mad at him, you’ll assure him that you just need some space and silence to recover from socialising all day, he’ll feel at ease afterwards and refuses to let you apologise for it

“I’m sorry, but I don’t feel like being intimate today”

“Don’t apologise, dear. Take your time, my arms will always be ready for you”

★He’ll happily stand behind and watch while you’re being ✨creative ✨ and he won’t stop complimenting

★Is always gentle with you, with both tone of voice and his affection, takes it slowly as he gives you time to pull away

★Doesn’t mind rewatching movies/series with you

★He’s aware of the diagnosis, knows a lot about it since he may also be on the spectrum as well

★He’ll also be very accepting, more so because he understand as well

★He’s not a very touchy and kissing, so he doesn’t have any problem with keeping a distance and giving you space

★When you have a meltdown, he just stares at you feeling immense guilt for something he didn’t do and his heart aching seeing you upset and stressed

★He doesn’t like going outside in public spaces a lot, so you usually have a date at home where he heats up your favorite meal in the microwave and pours a glass of your favorite soda

★If he spots you stimming in a way that could damage you, he stares at you with his brown eyes and say “quit it, love” before he lets you squeeze his thicc pectoral instead ;) it’s your own fault if he groans and his huge bulge poking at you

★Feels uneasy when you’re silent and distancing yourself, but he always finds a way to lurk around you, almost tip toeing around after you

★When you tell him that you want space, he gives you, but he’ll still linger around you, merely because he wants to make sure that you’re alright and also because of his own selfish reasons

★Quietly admires you when you show of your art to him, having to grab his chest later to make sure that his heart stays in there

★When you’re asleep and haven’t touched him for the whole day, he’ll indulge in his desire, so he wraps his arms gently around you and hug you for a while and then he’ll let go (after like an hour or so)

★He doesn’t really care for sex, but if you want to initiate, he’ll be a fool to decline

★He loves you way too much to just break up because of you

“How can you still wanna be with me? Don’t you want a partner who can be perfectly affectionate towards you?”

“Y/n, don’t even fuckin’ think that way. I’ll always choose you, with or without the diagnosis. And you know why? Because I fuckin’ love you”

★You say you love animals, he’ll buy you your favorite animal (as a pet, a pet friendly one……I hope)

★He has a huge understanding, mostly about the social stuff as he has the same difficulty

★His whole browser is full of ‘how does autistic people work?’ and ‘how to convince an autistic person to cuddle with me?’

“König, I don’t feel like cuddling today”

“But, liebling, how else will I show my love for you?”

★When you want space, he tries to convince you that he doesn’t wanna let go of you and that he’ll be sad if he won’t be able to see you

★Will literally get an anxiety attack being in crowded spaces, while you have to remain calm and try and drag the both of you away

★Whenever you stim, he’ll tell you to touch/squeeze him instead (sort of using it to his advantage to be touched by you)

★Will wrap his arms around and pull you tight against him in the middle of the night, instantly after you’ve falling asleep and play dumb the next morning when you ask him how you’re in his arms

★You two enthusiastically exchanges hobbies and interests

★If you’re sound sensitive, he’ll cover your ears, if you’re sensitive to specific consistencies, he’ll make mental notes to your preferences, if you’re sensitive to light, he’ll always pack a pair of sunglasses with him to give, if you feel the labels on the inside of your clothes poking your skin uncomfortably, he’ll cut them off.

★He steal kisses from you when you’re distracted or asleep

★When you’re quiet, he’ll stare at you to see every detail of your face and if it changes in the slightest, just to make sure that you’re alright

★Sometimes when you’re neutral (not feeling anything specific) he’ll assume that you’re mad at him and he’ll get extremely anxious

“Liebling, what can I do so you won’t be mad at me?! Please, i can change!”

“König, I’m not mad at you. Why would you assume that when you haven’t done anything?”

꧁✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰꧂

[etherrreal]

"good growing"

Pairing: asahi x fem!reader Genre: fluff Summary: asahi walks into a plant shop and gets more than he bargained for. WC: 2,410 Warnings: reader's favorite color is pink A/N: I want everyone to send me guesses on how many plants you think I have 🥰 if anyone gets close enough (+/-5), I'll drop a picture of my plant set up 🌱 -Luna

I think this Monstera adansonii cutting can be repotted, you think, wiggling it free from the propagation station it was growing in. The roots are well past two inches long, and it's already spitting out a new leaf. You plop it into one of the empty nursery pots you have lined up on the counter behind you, having it join the Neon Pothos and Red Maranta waiting to be potted into new homes.

Potting up cuttings is probably your favorite chore at the plant shop you work at. Something about tucking the little stems into some dirt and preparing them for new homes made your heart happy. That was after you learned that naming them wasn't the best idea and only ended in you mourning little Millie the Watermelon peperomia after you handed her to a very young child who no doubt watered it to death.

A hand slaps against the doorway to your right, making you nearly jump out of your skin, muttering expletives under your breath. Your coworker Eri's head soon pokes out, a grimace already on her face. "Heeey, so, I have good news and bad news."

"Oh no. Good news first?"

"Okay, the good news is that our order of Calathea zebrina came in two days early!"

"That's great! Did some of them get damaged from the cold?" She shakes her head. "Did they tip out of their pots and get smooshed?" She shakes it again. "Then what's the bad news?"

"…They're already infested with spider mites."

You close your eyes, gathering what little strength you still have after working 6 hours already and being 2 hours away from closing. You open them to see your coworker staring at you with hands clasped in front of her chest and eyebrows pinched with worry.

With a deep sigh, you raise your right fist over your left open palm, ready to play a game of rock-paper-scissors with your coworker to decide who's going to do the easy job of writing and sending the email to the parent company to complain and who's going to shove on some gloves and deal with the mites. You're halfway through 'paper' when the bell above the front door rings signaling a customer's arrival.

It's a race between the two of you to slide in behind the register, but you win it, shooting a smug look at your coworker knowing the manager will ask her to be on pest control while you're working up front. If she glares any harder as she stomps to the back, you're pretty sure you'd be dead.

"Hello, welcome to Plant Parenthood! How may I help you today?" you call out to the man who walked in. He is incredibly tall, dodging many of the hanging trailing pants from above like he was walking through a jungle. Once he gets a few steps in, he stops and looks around frantically, looking a mix of lost and overwhelmed.

His dark brown eyes finally land on you, wide and desperate. "Um, I was looking for a small plant for my office."

"Okay! Does your office have any windows for natural lighting?" You ask, already sifting through your mental catalog of plant species.

"Yes, actually, I face an entire wall full of windows."

"Do you know what direction they're facing? East, West?" You both stare at each other for a bit when you realize that was definitely too complex of a question for a beginner. "Can you see the sun rise or set from your windows?"

"Oh, yeah! I can see it rise in the morning, sometimes."

Alright, we're getting somewhere. "So, you probably have an east-facing window which gets really good morning light and indirect light all day."

He cautiously nods, agreeing with you but also not quite knowing how that's important. It didn't matter, you were already roaming the store for the potential match.

You continue spitting out questions for him as you hover around the Calatheas. "Do you think you'd be more likely to forget about a plant and under water it or obsess over it and over water?"

"A mix of both, actually," he says, embarrassed. "I'll obsess over giving it the right amount of care that I'll hover over it every single day and be afraid of watering it in case I water it too much."

You pat the pot of the Calathea ornata, mentally wishing it well on living to see another day. "So you probably need something that can take a bit of healthy neglect?"

"'Healthy neglect?' How can neglect be healthy?'

You chuckle, looking through some well-established Golden Pothos plants. "Some plants can't take the constant babying. They'll sense your fear and keel over just to spite you, like Calatheas. You need a plant that can go a bit without watering and can sit nicely on a table and just /be/."

He hums, and that's when you tense up, realizing he's standing right behind you, looking over your shoulder at the plants on the table in front of you. He smells absolutely delicious. "What are those? Are they easy?"

He's close enough that you can almost feel how his deep voice rumbles. "Yes, and normally I'd recommend these to beginner plant people, but I think I want to find something that'll stay more upright and looks nicer on a surface."

You spot a potential option on a high shelf and start setting up the step ladder to grab one. You only get to take one step up when you see him easily grab one off the shelf without even having to try.

"Something like a ZZ plant. We have two kinds in right now, the classic green that you're holding or the Raven. Which fits more with your decor?" Reaching towards the back of the shelf, you grab a full planter of the Raven foliage and offer it to him.

He psychically weighed the two plants in his hands before handing back the green one. "I think the black one will look better in my space."

"Just so you know, when new stalks come in, they'll appear to be a pretty bright green. That's completely normal. They'll slowly become black as overtime," you ramble on as you're setting the plant back and climbing back down the ladder.

"We also sell cover pots if you want to put him in something more aesthetically pleasing?" You gesture to the table of handmade ceramic pots and saucers sorted in pastel rainbow order.

"Which one do you like?"

"My favorite color is pink, so I'd usually go with that, but what—"

"I'll get that one then."

Is he attempting to flirt? Or have you been single for too long?

You have to catch yourself before you stumble too far down that road. He could simply be too overwhelmed by choice and wants to just go with whatever choice is easiest. Or he's just one of the rare, nice customers who truly trusts your judgment and doesn't mansplain your line of work to you.

"Can I interest you in anything else?" you ask, to which he shakes his head and says 'no thank you.' You type in the product names and begin the checkout process before pausing for the customer information. "Can I grab your name for our system, please?"

"Yes, uh, first name is Asahi, last is Azumane."

"Mmhm, and your phone number?"

He lists off the digits of his number and you can't help the nefarious thought of coming back to his profile to grab his number and shoot him a text. But you must remain professional, and also, you really need this job to pay your bills.

You fill out the rest of the profile and tell him his total, flipping over the payment pad to have him pay. You turn around and busy yourself with writing a care card, not liking the fact that your boss allowed the option for people to add a tip when you only just do your job. It's created some unsavory reactions from people as if you're the one who decides what your POS system is and all of its features.

When you hear the beep from the pad indicating he paid, you turn back around to finish the card as to not be rude. "So, I'm creating a care card so you can have just some basic facts about watering and light needs. A ZZ plant practically takes care of itself since it has rhizomes built into its root system so it doesn't need much besides good light in front of your windows."

"And if I need to come back and get more advice?" You pause to look up at him, eyebrows scrunched in mild confusion. "I can come back and ask you?"

His apprehensive smile is sweet, and his eyes are so gentle and warm as they look at you. It trips you up expeditiously. "Y-yeah," you answer, flipping over the care card to the back and scribbling your name and number onto it before handing it to him, along with the bag his plant was in. "Or you can call or text me directly? You'll get a quicker answer that way, in case of emergencies."

"E-Emergencies?" He stutters, eyes widening like he may have overstepped boundaries. "Y-Yeah, of course. Emergencies only."

Ah fuck. You didn't mean to make it so formal. "Or if you have any questions. Or if you need to know if I'm going to be at work before you swing by. Or just—" you check for anybody at the doorway behind you. "—want to talk, I guess. I wouldn't be opposed to that."

You shoot him a bright smile, hoping to let him know that you reciprocate his interest. His growing smile tells you that he does get the hint, his hand purposefully brushing against yours as he takes the bag from you with a gentle 'thank you.' He wishes you well and makes his way out of the shop, not without glancing over at you once more with a smile so wide it makes you flustered.

With a hand holding your warm cheek, you take a quick moment to look at his client profile, trying to familiarize yourself with his number just in case he decides to call later instead of text. Curiosity gets the better of you and you pull up his order, eyes nearly falling out of your head when you see that he tipped you $20.

There's suddenly snickering coming from behind you and you turn to see Eri standing there with her hand over her mouth as if that'll disguise it. "Oooh, I'm telling your boss you were flirting with a customer."

"What's he going to do? Fire me? I'd love to see him try. There are only three employees here." You turn back to the propagations, grabbing the bag of soil lying on the ground to start potting. "Not to mention, I'd just tell him you used the system to get that one girl's number last month."

"Whoa, hey, let's not get too serious here. I was obviously just joking and will be getting back on spider mite duty while singing your praises to our employer," Eri says, backing out the doorway with her hands held up.

Asahi's face stays stuck in your mind for the rest of the work day, and you find yourself in between tasks cracking a smile at your interaction from earlier. You try not to hover over your phone too much—mostly because you don't want to get scolded by your boss—but you're feeling antsy.

The text doesn't come until later that evening once you arrive home from work, chiming as you set down your backpack and have one shoe kicked off. You grab for it desperately, face ID quickly opening up your phone so you can click the message notification.

[XXX-XXX-XXXX]:: Hello, this is Asahi from earlier. Just wanted to say thank you for all your help today :)

Then a photo comes in and while it loads, you're having a mini heart attack, hoping it's nothing inappropriate. Your feelings are quelled when it finishes loading and reveals a picture of the ZZ plant he purchased today, nestled in its new pink pot on what looks like solid wood desk. The view in the background is stunning. What looks like it could be floor to ceiling windows overlooks the city, the lights of buildings and advertisements blurred in the background.

[000-000-0000]:: It's settling in well! Can't wait to see it in the morning. Got any name ideas?

The smile on your face is so wide it starts to hurt. You jog over to your Raven ZZ plant that's sitting on your living room console table, holding up the green planter in front of your plant covered shelves lining the wall to snap a picture to send to Asahi.

[you]:: I named mine Morticia after the goth queen herself 🖤

[000-000-0000]:: That's a great name! I could name mine Gomez?

It's a bit embarrassing how the implication of your plants being a married couple that makes you plop yourself down on your couch and squeal into your hands, but there's nothing more attractive than a man who can flirt using your interests.

Once you've gathered yourself, you type out a response that hopefully doesn't give away how frazzled you are, and you spend the next 15 minutes exchanging messages with Asahi. It consists mostly of him asking about the plants he saw in the background of your photo and how you got into your hobby. Metaphorically, you're laying on your stomach and kicking your feet, feeling like a teenage girl again.

Although you don't want to stop the conversation, you feel like there's a layer of literal dirt on you along with a sprinkling of spider mites. You keep the conversation going while you put some leftovers to warm up on the stove and into the bathroom while you start getting ready for a shower. It vibrates once more before hopping in, and you decide to check once more.

[Asahi 🌱]:: Maybe we can grab some coffee and you can show me your favorite plant store? I have a lot of empty space in this office to fill and I need an expert to help me choose :)

[you]:: I'm in love with you

[you]:: wanna move in and fill OUR space??

[you]:: I'm an expert in other things, too 😉

[you]:: I'd love to! When are you free 😊