#I really need to start thinking about sleeping

[vingtetunmars]

A New Heartbeat

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel Miller never thought he'd get another chance at building a family—especially not at his age, especially not after everything.

Tags: Fluff, pregnancy fic, domestic fluff, birthday surprise, emotional feels, warm, age gap (reader is early 30s, Joel is 58-59), set between season 1 and 2, jackson!Joel Miller, soft joel miller. No physical description of reader. No use of Y/N.

A/N: Thank you @dedicatedfangirl2001 for inspiring me! So this is technically a continuation of this fic, but it can also be read as a stand alone. If you have any requests, suggestions, or thoughts, feel free to send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.

Word Count: 3.3k

masterlist

You didn’t think much of it at first.

Between the early mornings at the stables and the evenings spent passed out on the couch beside Joel, days had started to blur into each other. Your body always felt tired this time of year—mud season clinging to your boots, cold air snapping at your fingertips even under gloves. You’d chalked the nausea up to bad stew from the dining hall. But when your headache lingered past the usual, when the scent of hay and leather turned sour in your nose, it hit you.

You hadn’t had your period.

You stood in the feed room, half-empty bucket of oats dangling from your hand, the realization sitting heavy in your stomach. The math rolled around in your head, tumbling over itself. It had been… what? Over a month? Maybe more. You weren’t exactly counting days when every morning looked the same—Joel sipping black coffee, Ellie stealing bits of toast, and you rubbing sleep out of your eyes as you layered up for work.

But now, standing there, the silence of the stable around you, something clicked. You set the bucket down on the ground a little too quickly, pressing your palm to your stomach. No pain. No bloat. Just… a quiet sort of stillness.

The horses shuffled in their stalls. One of the younger colts let out a soft snort. You leaned your back against the wall, heart hammering in your chest.

You weren’t sure. But something deep in your bones told you—you already knew.

You didn’t tell anyone where you were going that morning.

Said you had errands to run—needed new gloves, maybe stop by the library. Joel didn’t press. He’d kissed your cheek, grumbled something about checking in with Tommy about a busted water heater, and told you he’d see you for dinner.

You walked to the clinic with your hands jammed deep into your jacket pockets. The cold bit at your cheeks, and every step felt heavier than the last. Not from dread exactly, but from the weight of maybe.

The clinic wasn’t much to look at. Two rooms, patched-together equipment, and a nurse named Carla who used to be a vet before the world ended. She was kind, though, and knew how to keep her mouth shut. You told her you wanted to rule something out. She just nodded, handed you a cup, and pointed toward the bathroom.

You stared at the strip of plastic on the counter like it held your whole future.

Five minutes. That’s all it took.

Carla didn’t say anything right away. She just looked down at the test in her hand, then back up at you, her expression soft.

“Well,” she said, “you’re pregnant.”

The room didn’t spin. It didn’t crash down on you, either. Instead, everything went still—like the moment before a horse takes off into a gallop. Heart pounding, lungs full of something sharp and sweet.

You were going to have a baby.

Joel’s baby.

Carla asked if you were okay. You nodded before you really even felt it, voice rough when you said, “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

The walk back home was slower. Like you were afraid to jostle the news loose, or maybe afraid it still wasn’t real. But your hand drifted down to your stomach more than once, resting there in quiet awe.

Now, all that was left was telling him.

And with his birthday just a few days away, you couldn’t help but wonder how in the world you were going to tell him.

Joel didn’t like birthdays.

He never made a big deal out of them before the world ended, and now… well, now they just felt like reminders. Reminders of what he’d lost. Of how much older he was getting. Of how goddamn long he’d been carrying around all this weight.

He’d never forget waking up on that birthday—the one that split his life into a before and after. Many years later, the world had changed, but the ache hadn’t. Not really.

Still, this morning started like any other. The early light crept in through the crack in the curtains, soft and gray-blue. Beside him, you were curled under the blanket, one arm slung across his stomach, your face tucked against his shoulder. Warm. Familiar. Home.

He didn’t move at first. Just lay there, eyes on the ceiling, listening to the quiet. The muffled sound of someone in the street. A rooster off in the distance. You breathing slow and steady beside him.

You made it better—this day, this life. You had a way of pulling him back from the edge without even trying. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve that, to deserve you, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to take it for granted.

Your fingers twitched slightly against his chest. You were starting to stir.

He turned his head just enough to watch you, that soft haze of sleep still in your features. He found himself smiling, just a little. The lines in his face stayed, though. The ones that came from time and sorrow and holding it all in for too long.

You blinked up at him.

“Mornin’,” he murmured, voice low and rough.

“Happy birthday,” you whispered back, eyes warm and knowing.

He groaned, turning his face away slightly. “Don’t remind me.”

You gave a quiet laugh, but didn’t tease him for it. You never did. You just leaned up to press a kiss to his jaw, fingers brushing along his ribs, gentle and grounding.

“I’m makin’ you pancakes,” you added softly. “Don’t fight me on it.”

He huffed, but it wasn’t real. “‘Course you are.”

He didn’t need gifts. Didn’t want anyone making a fuss. But if the day started like this—your warmth, your voice, your lips on his skin—then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Even if he still carried the ghosts, this morning... it felt different. Like maybe something was waiting on the horizon, and he wasn’t sure what—but he trusted you’d tell him when the time was right.

You flipped the last pancake onto the plate, steam rising as you added a handful of thawed berries—ones you’d carefully saved from the last supply run. They weren’t exactly fresh, but they were sweet enough, and they made the stack look a little more festive.

Birthday pancakes.

Joel would pretend to grumble about it, but you knew he appreciated it. The small gestures. The quiet kind of love. You’d learned early on not to make a big deal of his birthday. Not out loud, anyway. But that didn’t mean you’d let it pass by like any other morning.

“Damn, something smells good,” Ellie mumbled as she shuffled into the kitchen, hair sticking up in five different directions, sleeves too long for her arms. She plopped down at the table, blinking slowly. “Is it somebody’s birthday or somethin’?”

You smirked as you slid a plate in front of her. “Could be.”

Joel followed behind her a second later, moving slower, like his body hadn’t quite forgiven him for being nearly sixty.

He rubbed at the back of his neck as he sat down across from her, eyes drifting to the plate you set in front of him.

Pancakes. Berries. A little dab of honey. No candles, no singing—just the kind of breakfast you didn’t make unless the day meant something.

He glanced at you, brow raised.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said.

“I wanted to,” you replied, brushing your hand over his shoulder as you passed. “Don’t argue with me on your birthday, Miller.”

Ellie shoveled a bite into her mouth. “Holy shit,” she mumbled. “Are these the blueberries?”

Joel chuckled under his breath, fork already in hand. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he took his first bite. You saw the tension ease in his shoulders, just a little. Maybe the day still carried shadows for him, but right now? With a warm plate in front of him and people who loved him on either side?

He was okay.

You sat down beside him, resting your hand on your lap, feeling the thrum of nerves underneath your skin.

A knock on the door broke through the calm.

Joel looked up, chewing his last bite with a quiet grunt. You stood up to answer it, already guessing who it was. Sure enough, when you opened the door, Tommy stood there with a crooked grin and two hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.

“Mornin’, birthday boy,” he called past you, stepping inside without waiting for an invite. “You look real good for a hundred.”

Joel let out a groan, dragging a hand over his face. “You had to come by, didn’t you?”

“You think I’m missin’ the one day a year I get to remind you I’m younger and prettier?” Tommy grinned, clapping his brother on the back as he passed by.

“Debatable,” Ellie chimed in, still chewing. “And you missed the berries.”

Tommy’s eyes lit up. “Berries?”

“Yup,” you said with an apologetic shrug, walking back to the stove. “Saved 'em for Joel. There’s still pancakes, though.”

Tommy sniffed the air like a bloodhound. “You spoil this man.”

“Someone has to,” you quipped, already grabbing another plate.

You served him a healthy stack—no berries this time, just a bit of honey and some leftover butter—and slid into your seat again. Joel was watching you, his eyes soft beneath the usual weight. He hadn’t said much, but you could feel it in the way his hand drifted to your knee under the table. Just a gentle touch. A quiet thanks.

Tommy shoveled in a bite and made a loud, satisfied sound. “Hot damn. You better marry her before someone else do.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “You wanna lose a tooth today?”

You laughed, elbow resting on the table, chin in your hand. The teasing, the warmth, the way Ellie rolled her eyes and asked if she could have seconds—it all made the house feel full in a way you never took for granted.

Still, under it all, the secret sat in your chest like a fluttering heartbeat.

You’d give it a moment. Let them finish breakfast. Let Joel have this calm before you turned his world upside down.

In a good way, you hoped.

The house felt quieter once the door shut behind Ellie and Tommy. The laughter lingered in the walls for a moment, then faded, replaced by the gentle creak of wood and the soft clink of dishes as you rinsed them off.

Joel was still finishing the last of his coffee, sitting back in his chair, watching you. He looked more relaxed now—shoulders looser, lines around his mouth softened. Birthdays were hard for him, but this one… it hadn’t been bad.

You dried your hands on a dish towel, heart thudding steady but loud. You knew you couldn’t wait any longer.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping toward him. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

His brow knit slightly, but he nodded, setting the mug down. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“No,” you breathed, sitting down across from him, your hands resting in your lap. “Not wrong. Just… big.”

Joel leaned forward, elbows on the table. You reached for his hand without thinking, grounding yourself in the warmth of his calloused fingers.

“I didn’t know how to bring this up earlier. Didn’t wanna spring it on you in front of everyone,” you started, voice quiet. “But I’ve been feelin’… off. The past few weeks.”

His expression shifted—concern flickering behind his eyes, guarded like always. “You sick?”

You shook your head, a nervous smile tugging at your lips. “No. I went to the clinic yesterday. Ran a test.” You swallowed, heart climbing to your throat. “Joel… I’m pregnant.”

The words hung in the air like dust caught in sunlight.

Joel blinked. Once. Twice. He didn’t say anything—just stared at you, eyes wide, unreadable. Then slowly, without a word, he stood up from the table and took a step back, hand resting on the edge of the counter like he needed something to hold onto.

“You’re… you’re sure sure?” he asked, voice hoarse. “I mean—are they sure?”

You gave a soft laugh, heart aching with affection. “Yeah. They’re sure. I’m late, the test was positive, and… I feel it. I know it.”

Joel let out a breath like he’d been holding it for years. His shoulders dropped as he sat back down, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

“I just—I didn’t think—I mean, hell, at my age?” he muttered, almost to himself, eyes wide and almost dazed. “I didn’t think that was even possible anymore.”

You reached for his hand again, thumb brushing the top of his knuckles. “Well… apparently it is.”

He looked at you then—really looked at you. And something shifted in his face. Like the ground underneath him had tilted, but he was choosing to stay standing anyway.

“You’re… you’re okay with this?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. “I wouldn’t have told you today if I wasn’t. I know it’s gonna be a lot, but… yeah. I’m okay with it. More than okay.”

Joel’s eyes started to glisten, and he cleared his throat hard, blinking fast as he turned his face away for a second. When he looked back at you, his voice was thick.

“Thank you,” he said.

It broke something open in you.

“For what?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“For this. For you. For givin’ me a reason to think there’s still more life out there for me than just survivin’.”

He reached out, cupped your cheek with a rough hand, his thumb brushing just under your eye.

“I didn’t think I’d get a second chance,” he murmured. “Not with someone like you. Not like this.”

You leaned into his palm, smiling through the tears that started to slip down your cheeks.

“Well… surprise,” you whispered.

Joel gave a breath of a laugh, then leaned in and kissed you—slow, steady, reverent. The kind of kiss that said everything his words couldn’t. The kind of kiss that promised he would be here for all of it.

For you.

For the baby.

For the life you were building together, one quiet moment at a time.

Sunday dinner was loud in the best way.

Tommy and Joel had spent the afternoon repairing one of the water lines near the edge of town, and both were still rubbing their lower backs like old men. Maria was bouncing little Benji on her knee, spoon-feeding him mashed carrots between exaggerated airplane noises, while Ellie recounted an incident involving a runaway chicken and a pitchfork.

You’d always loved these nights—long tables, shared food, laughter that made the walls feel smaller in the best way. But tonight, your hands kept drifting to your lap, nerves curling in your stomach even though you’d done this a dozen times in your head.

Joel’s knee brushed yours beneath the table.

He glanced at you, gave a small nod.

It was time.

You reached for your glass and gently tapped your spoon against it. “Uh… can I say something real quick?”

The table quieted. Benji let out a soft squeak and tried to grab a carrot off Maria’s plate.

Joel cleared his throat. “We’ve got some news.”

Maria looked up first, brows raised. Ellie paused mid-chew.

You smiled nervously, heart thumping. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, no one said a word. Then—

“What?” Ellie blurted, voice cracking halfway through the word.

Joel chuckled low under his breath, his hand slipping onto your thigh, grounding. Ellie set her fork down slowly, blinking like she hadn’t quite heard you right.

“You mean like… an actual baby?” she asked, eyes wide. “Your baby?”

You nodded, leaning closer to Joel's side. “Yeah. Our baby.”

Ellie opened her mouth, closed it, then reached for her water like her brain needed a reboot. “Holy shit.”

“Language,” Joel murmured.

“I’m gonna be a big sister?” she asked softly, blinking hard. And then her face cracked into a smile—wide and kind of watery. “I’m gonna be a big sister.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair and let out a low whistle, grinning ear to ear. “Joel, buddy. You still got swimmers at your age?”

Joel groaned loudly. “Tommy, I swear—”

“I mean, damn! You’re nearly sixty and still makin’ babies? What’s in the water over at your place?”

You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand. Joel muttered something under his breath, but he was smiling, too, shaking his head as Tommy clapped him on the back.

Maria just laughed and leaned her cheek against Benji’s soft hair. “Honestly, I had a feeling.”

Joel looked at her sideways. “You did?”

“You turned down a glass of wine at dinner last week,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “You. You never turn down wine.”

You shrugged with a grin. “Was trying to be subtle.”

“Well, I’m glad you told us now,” she said, smiling warmly. “Benji’s gonna need a little buddy to boss around.”

Benji cooed like he somehow approved.

Then Maria stood and crossed the space to pull you into a hug, tight and full of warmth. Ellie joined a second later, throwing her arms around both of you, mumbling something like “I’m not crying” even though she very much was.

Tommy wrapped an arm around Joel with a playful shake and muttered, “Old man,” while Joel just rolled his eyes and let it happen.

In the middle of it all—arms tangled, laughter echoing, and that familiar scent of home-cooked food still hanging in the air—you felt it.

Family.

Not perfect. Not always easy. But real. Rooted. Growing.

And you were bringing another piece into it.

Dinner had long passed. The dishes were done, the laughter faded into memory, and Ellie had gone back to her room with a final hug that lingered just a little longer than usual.

Now, the two of you were tucked beneath the soft quilt, the chill of Jackson’s night air kept at bay by Joel’s familiar warmth beside you. The house creaked gently, like it was settling in for the night too.

You lay on your side, facing him, his arm already around you. The bedside lamp was off, but the moonlight spilling through the window was enough to catch the faint lines on his face—the quiet, thoughtful ones that only ever appeared when he let his guard down.

He hadn’t said much since the others left. Not out of hesitation, but the way he always got when something mattered so much it felt sacred.

His fingers brushed your stomach lightly under your shirt. Slow. Careful.

There wasn’t much of a bump yet—just the slightest swell, barely there—but his touch was reverent, like he was afraid to miss even a second of it.

“That’s really ours in there,” he said quietly, more to himself than to you. “Whole little person. Just... growin’.”

Your hand covered his. “Yeah. They’re in there.”

He shifted closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then just above your temple.

“I keep thinkin’ I’ll wake up,” he murmured. “That this is some dream I’m gonna lose. But then I touch you, and it’s real.”

You turned your face to kiss the underside of his jaw, voice soft. “It’s real, Joel. You’re here. I’m here. We’re here.”

He nodded, throat tight. His palm stayed resting on your belly, like it anchored him.

“I ever tell you how much I love you?�� he asked, voice thick with quiet emotion.

You smiled. “You show me every day.”

“Gonna say it anyway,” he whispered, kissing you again. “I love you, darlin’. More than I got words for.”

The two of you fell asleep like that—his hand over the life you were building together, your fingers laced with his, hearts beating steady in the dark.

And for the first time in a long, long while, Joel Miller didn’t feel haunted by his past.

He felt ready for the future.

[haostea]

enhypen bf headcanons

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: enhypen members as boyfriends

masterlist

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ heeseung

you guys are practically married at this point, like you guys have your routine down, and it's the cutest most domestic thing ever

he's actually adorable, he would care about you so much!

i feel like he is a great listener, so he would always be there when you need to vent, and he would give good advice after

not that much into pda, but he wouldn't mind a quick hug or holding hands, in private i could see him inviting you to sit on his lap a lot, especially when he's gaming

speaking of gaming, he would love it if you played with him

he gets so giddy around you, immediately lights up every time you walk into a room

i think he would be shy to sing to you, or show you lyrics that he wrote about you

but the more you tell him you love it the more you catch him telling you he what he has been up to and wants to hear your thoughts

one his main love languages seems to be quality time, so you just being in the same room as him doing your own thing makes him really happy

he also expresses his love for you in his writing where he'll write some cheesy lyrics and cringe, but if you tell him how much you love it he will write even more

would absolutely love if you pulled him up to dance, especially when you start singing he would start singing too

the more times you do this the more he'll get comfortable dancing and singing around you, to the point where he's serenading you around the house, and pulling you up to dance all the time

overall 10/10 bf

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ jay

will always be hovering over you, not in a bad way, but in more of a protective way as he wants to make sure that you are okay

speaking of making sure that you are okay, he is for sure a caretaker

thinks that you are absolutely adorable, and only wants the best for you

you are always his first priority, no matter how busy he will always make time for you

and even when he can't physically be there, he is always calling and texting you little reminders to eat, take a break, sleep

he would also make food ahead of time, so you can just take it out of the fridge/freezer and heat it up

he treats you with such softness, where he would be extremely gentle with you, as he wants to make sure you can always go to him no matter what

also such a gentleman, would drive you anywhere, constantly hold doors open for you, carry your bags, and also open things for you

not because you can't do it, but why should you have to if he's right there?

he genuinely would put so much time and effort into your relationship, and he would make sure that you never go to bed mad

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ jake

he's such a cutie pie omg, he's the definition of head over heals

at this point you don't have a name, you are known as darling, sweetie, sweetheart, love, etc. because jake will literally call you every one of them under the sun

his pupils turn into hearts whenever your around, he literally lights up when you walk into a room, like one would think he ate the sun

doesn't even care that he's a "simp" according to ni-ki because he knows he is, i mean haven't you seen yourself? of course he is

he LOVES cuddles, like good luck trying to get up in the morning, this man will not let go

his accent is so cute, so obviously one would only want him to speak in english, and if you also speak english you guys would frequently have conversations in english

but if you don't he would love to teach you, he thinks it's adorable, and feels so special that you want him to teach you

layla would love you, his camera pretty much only consists of you two, and when you guys are together he is taking thousands of photos, because layla and you in the same picture? omg it's the most perfect thing

such a gentleman, loves kissing your hand, giving you his jacket, opening doors, holding bags for you, etc.

his dream is to definitely travel with you and take you to austrailia

would be so happy if you brought him to meet your family, or bring him to wherever you grew up/where your from

actually husband material

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥sunghoon

this man is aggressively endearing?

he will make sure that you eat and are okay

like he will force you to eat if you haven't and it's sweet because he is not afraid to spoon feed you if he has to

this relationship if definitely private, i could not see him wanting a public one

he's also very awkward, especially when you first started dating, he would be fidgeting and looking anywhere besides you because you're just so pretty and cool

overtime it's gotten better, but there are still occasions that make him blush and try to hide his face

he loves teasing you, which can be annoying, but he will never make you uncomfortable or go past your limit

very good with boundaries and will never pass them once they are set, unless you say otherwise

because he does love you so much and would never want you to hate him, so he knows when to back off

he knows when to be more serious and intimate, but it really only occurs in private in the privacy of your home where he can feel vulnerable

he does truly love you, it just takes him a little while to fully embody it

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ sunoo

he's the cutest and sweetest

so so so gentle with you, to the point where you think he's holding a piece of glass

loves holding your face and giving you kisses, and would love it if you would do it back as well

you're definitely his first priority over his members, like if you needed him for something he would drop whatever he was doing and go to you

loves receiving gifts and acts of service from you, like if you folded his clothes or bought him a new shirt, he is literally on the ground confessing his love for you and how you didn't need to do that

plans out dates and events to the last detail, he will not have anything go wrong, everything will be just how he planned

and since he only thinks you deserve the best he would go all out, buying balloons, bouquets, stuffed animals, even buying you an outfit

don't forget that there are of course going to be handwritten letters, that are at least a page because he could go on and on about how much he loves you

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ jungwon

such a sweetie

would be such a gentleman, where he would kneel down to tie your shoes for you, or would full on give you his shoes if it hurts to walk in yours

along with the headcanon above piggyback rides are also very frequent, not just because your feet hurt, but because he just thinks it's fun

would quite literally remember everything, like one day your walking through the mall and mention you liked a shirt, then its showing up on your bed the next day with a little love letter?

loves loves loves seeing you smile and laugh, would for sure do anything to see and hear it

he would love to just lay down in your lap and have you play with his hair, he thinks it's so relaxing and calming

i feel like he would act like he doesn't like physical affection, like kissing his cheek or ruffling his hair but he's lying, he does love it, just maybe not in public

i see him wanting a more private relationship just because he wants to keep you away from all of the hate and toxicity

overall very fun and loving, and he loves you to bits

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ ni-ki

this relationship is actually the best thing ever

it's such a young adult romance, where it's so playful and unserious, but you both know that you love each other so much

if your relationship was described it would be summed up with: teasing, playful, adorable, fun, loving

he would take you on such fun dates, like you really have no idea where he could take you, it could be to an aquarium, concert, café, amusement park etc.

i could also see him liking to stay home and just do an at home picnic type date just because it's a lot more intimate and would still be playful and fun

he would love dancing with you, especially teaching you new choreography, and if your a dancer too you guys would be constantly be making tiktoks together

we all know he tries to be nonchalant, but it's all a façade

he loves attention, especially from you, like i can stress how much he loves cuddles

and he is obsessed with you playing with his hair, like you'd be constantly find yourself sitting on the couch and he would be on the floor with you playing with his hair

would need someone who could match his energy, like when his is high you should be able to match it, because i feel like your relationship would originate from that

he does love you so bad, he really is such a golden retriever bf even if he may not let it out into the public, but in private that's your baby

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ

[bananabreads]

Random things i think the lads guys would do with/for their child (⁠・⁠o⁠・⁠)

Part one | Rafayel, Zayne

Part two | Sylus, Caleb, Xavier

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

RAFAYEL – Cleaning his daughter's bellybutton.

Seraphina was curled up on the couch, her head resting on your lap as you absentmindedly ran your fingers through her soft purple hair. Her pajama top had ridden up just enough to reveal her tiny tummy, rising and falling with each giggle that escaped her lips.

Rafayel sat beside you, legs folded as he leaned over and gently tapped her belly with his fingers, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Well, little guppy,” he murmured dramatically, voice low and teasing, “you’ve been swimming all day, and now your bellybutton’s all stinky and dirty.”

He gave her belly a playful shake, sending Seraphina into a fit of giggles.

“Nooo! M’clean and i smell nice, Daddy!” she protested between laughter, trying to squirm away, but never really escaping, because she loved the attention too much.

Rafayel chuckled, warm and amused, and gently tickled her sides before reaching for a cotton swab. He started to carefully clean the outer part of her bellybutton, his voice still teasing.

“Let’s see what we have here… stinky seaweed? Or old jellyfish crumbs?”

Seraphina giggled in amusement.

When he was done, he held the cotton swab up dramatically. “Want to smell it?”

She scrunched her nose, then sniffed. “EWWW! Daddy, that stinks!”

Her whole body wiggled from the force of her giggles, and Rafayel leaned down to kiss her forehead, clearly entertained. “Told you, stinky guppy.”

You smiled, watching them with quiet affection, occasionally popping grapes into Seraphina’s and Rafayel’s mouths whenever they opened them like little birds mid play. The living room echoed with laughter and the soft comfort of family—warm, easy, and filled with love in its simplest form.

ZAYNE – the man who knew every single one of your daughter’s preferences by heart.

She didn’t like the crust on her bread? Already removed before she even sat down. Couldn’t sleep unless the sheets were tucked in just right? Already smoothed and folded tight around her. Grapes with skin? Peeled. Apples? Only if they were sliced thin and skinless. Already done by her loving father, of course.

It was a quiet Sunday morning, sunlight lazily pouring in through the windows as the three of you—Zayne, Jasmine, and you. relaxed on the couch, huddled beneath a soft throw blanket. Frozen was playing for the tenth time this month, and Jasmine sat nestled between the both of you, completely absorbed in the movie like it was her first time seeing it.

A charcuterie board sat on the coffee table in front of you, neatly sliced apples, peeled grapes, crackers, a few sweets—all Jasmine approved. The apples were gone quickly, followed by the peeled grapes. Zayne’s arm was resting around your waist as you leaned into him, and everything felt calm, ordinary in the most beautiful way.

Then, a gentle tug on his shirt.

Zayne looked down to find Jasmine gazing up at him, her small fingers still clinging to the fabric of his shirt, her snack-sticky lips slightly parted like she was about to ask—but didn’t need to.

He already knew.

Without a word, Zayne reached for the unpeeled grapes on the board and began peeling them one by one. Each one he finished was handed straight to Jasmine, and she popped them into her mouth happily, never once taking her eyes off the screen.

You glanced at him, warmth blooming in your chest. The way he loved quietly, patiently, in the little things was what made moments like this feel like forever.

[faramirsonofgondor]

Ok ok but Dick being like ~ 15 years older than Damian. When Damian shows up on Bruce’s doorstep, Bruce doesn’t really have a chance to announce it to the public before he gets lost in time. So now Dick, who’s 25 is stuck with this tiny 10 year old and has the job of integrating him into Gotham society.

Except because Bruce only adopts kids who look like him, and Damian and Dick are tanner than the rest of his kids, literally everyone assumes that Damian is Dick’s bio kid. Like Dick is like “oh yea this is Bruce’s biological son that I’m looking after” and everyone goes “uh huh sure” but when he’s not around they’re just like “oh that’s his kid for sure”. Both Dick and Damian are aware of it and offended by it, albeit for very different reasons. Dick is offended that they somehow think he would be a deadbeat dad even if he was a teen dad, and Damian is offended that nobody believes he’s Bruce’s kid.

But eventually Dick is just like fuck it that’s my kid, and Damian is extremely annoyed but somehow lets Dick convince him to go along with it. Dick walks around in a pink shirt that says “Your favorite DILF” in the most basic font ever, and buys Damian a matching shirt that says “The favorite child” which Damian refuses to wear unless one of the other Batkids (usually Steph since basically everyone else fucked off when Bruce was lost) is around.

It gets to the point where even Dick, Damian, and Alfred forget that Damian isn’t actually Dick’s bio kid. (In this AU, Bruce is lost in time for about 3 years) Dick decides to forget about Talia’s existence as well and just decides that Damian is a clone that he birthed. But then Bruce comes back and now they’re in a weird place. Damian lives with Bruce now and while nobody ever says anything directly, the entire public is giving them a huge side eye because both Dick and Damian look a little depressed with the predicament. People start to wonder if Bruce is blackmailing Dick or something.

Everything comes to a head when Bruce and Dick start fighting in front of the whole fam over something Bruce said to Damian on patrol. Bruce tells Dick that he needs to back off because Bruce is Damian’s father, not Dick. Nobody’s sure how Dick is going to respond, but they definitely weren’t expecting for Dick to say “Fuck you, I’m the one who birthed him!!!” There’s a stretch of silence and before anyone can respond to that, Damian just nods his head and goes “Grayson is right. Surely your memory is not so poor that you’ve forgotten?” Everyone is gaping when Alfred delivers the final blow “Master Bruce, I truly did not expect this behavior from you. Of course Master Dick is Damian’s parent. Perhaps it is best if you retire, since it is clear that your lack of sleep is getting the better of you.”

Everyone is shook and they’re like “wtf you cannot gaslight us into believing this shit.” Except they do indeed gaslight. And gaslight. And gaslight.

Jason tries to reason with them by talking about how he had met Damian in the League, had seen Damian with Talia, yada yada yada. Damian just goes “I think I would remember if I had played little league. Such foolish games are beneath me. Cease your nonsense, Todd.” Jason eventually calls Talia to make sure he’s not losing his memories or something. Talia is perplexed but Dick’s claim over her child does scare her just a little bit, considering she remembers how feral he was when he was younger and she’s heard whispers about him killing the Joker (not that she ever mentioned that to Jason).

Tim tries to go with logic but gets shut down every time. One time he asks “If you were raised by Dick then why is your English so proper?” He’s met with “Oh, so because English is not Richard’s first language, then he is incapable of speaking it properly? Tt.” When he questions why Damian fights the way he does if he wasn’t raised by the LoA, Dick brings out his Renegade training and shows off his skills. Tim keeps trying to find ways to prove that they’re lying, but somehow ends up losing the argument every time. It’s grating, especially considering Alfred is on their side.

Bruce is hesitant to try anything because Alfred is corroborating their story and he doesn’t want to cross Alfred. He only questions it once, asking Dick where Damian’s baby photos are. He does not anticipate Dick tearfully explaining that they were all destroyed when Blockbuster blew up his apartment. Bruce is so panicked and desperate to make sure Dick doesn’t cry again that he just never questions it again.

So now the entire family is kinda gaslight into believing it, and those who know the truth don’t actually say anything because they don’t think it’s worth the effort. After all, Dick is doing a great job of parenting Damian. But then comes the Justice League, which is much bigger than batfam. Everyone is kinda awkwardly glancing around when Dick introduces Damian as his kid, because they remember a few years back Bruce saying the same thing, but now Bruce is just going along with what Dick is saying. The OG Titans are like “wtf dude” but also immediately have his back whenever someone tries to question it. They talk about how they were there for Damian’s birth, about all the presents they’ve bought for their nephew and holidays spent together. Everyone gets the memo to not ask questions about it. The only one stupid enough to try is Hal, who is met with a feral Damian. He has a flashback of the many, many times Dick bit him as a child and decides that yea, that kid belongs to Dick.

[scannainscanrula]

shadowed corners

remmick x reader (18+ mdni)

You're a romance author suffering from insomnia, writer's block, and strange nightmares. Your publisher offers to send you to Maine for a short sabbatical to clear your head. It's a quaint town with charming locals, and a mysterious man running the lighthouse that nobody seems to know much about... [part two here]

author's note: well well here we are again. this is MUCH longer than my other fic and i intend to have at least 3(?) chapters for it, so strap in girlies. no smut just yet yous have to earn it first by sitting through all this fucking exposition. grma enjoy! warnings: horror elements, discussion of animal death, discussion of shark attacks, sexual themes

You sit at your desk in front of an empty document, the cursor blinking at you mockingly. Your eyes are tired and your head feels heavy, and the last time you fell asleep at your desk you had drooled on your keyboard, and you really don’t want to find a place to get it fixed. 

“An old-school computer always helps me when I have writer’s block,” one of your colleagues had told you at a cocktail party when you lamented about your publisher’s insistence on a new concept.

You had a very embarrassing and uncomfortably visible breakdown in her windows-only corner office. You began word-vomiting all over her sleek carbon fibre desk about your writer’s block and insomnia– leaving out the extra embarrassing detail of your recurring sexy nightmares– and she had patted your back and attempted to comfort you with corporate jargon. When the tears started she lowered some blinds and lowered her voice, sitting against the edge of the desk in front of her.

“Look, kid. You’re a hell of a writer, okay? Nothing sells like your stuff. I mean, I don’t get it, but the girls love this… creepy vampire stalker shit.”

Dark romance, you want to correct her, but it’s futile after four years working together. 

She sighed, crossing her arms.

“How about… I give you a company card and you go… rent on the coast somewhere for a few months? We have some contracts to draft because these streaming services are just chomping at the bit for rights to adapt. So you go pack your things and take a break. Get an Ambien prescription, fuck a fisherman, whatever you need to do.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll bankroll it.”

She taps her manicured acrylic nail on the cover of your most recent title, Shadowed Corners. It was a total and complete success, where your first two were mafia romances set in the same universe, SC was a dark romance with a vampire love interest stalking your adorable main character. You love red flags, and Milo was covered in them.  

“You’re a money-printing machine, babe.”

So here you are, not relaxing, not on sleeping pills, and completely unfucked by any hot guys. You press your fingers to your temples and sigh, closing the pages and pushing the circular off button for the computer. You slide back and lean forward, stretching your creaky back. You miss your cozy little setup at home, your comfortable chair and the souped-up gamer style keyboard. You sacrificed comfort hoping it would make you work harder, but you think you’ll just finish this little sabbatical with more lower-back pain than usual. 

You fill your water bottle with the filter in the fridge, admiring the stickers all over it. Among the logo of your publishing house and the ones about writing, you have fanart of your books and quotes from your own characters. Ones you’ve found at book fairs and second-hand stores as well as online. A handful were sent along with fanmail. Your laptop and idea notebook are covered too, because it drove you mad to know people liked your stuff enough to make art out of it. 

You huff and trudge up the stairs, feeling exhausted and dreading the next day. You sit in your bed and look at the sticker of Milo with his signature phrase I’d like to see you stop me, babygirl. 

You turn the bottle away from you as you open the bedside drawer. Inside of it are two options. A scent-proof bag that holds your pipe, grinder, and bud, a vape, and a few edibles. The other is a vibrator. You wonder what the point of this vacation was. You could get high and get off at home in the city. And at least there you could order munchies for delivery after you’d fucked yourself silly thinking about the made-up vampire in your head.

You just shut the drawer, rolling your eyes as you lay back. 

Two hours later, you can’t sleep. You’re “jerking off your ego” as your friends would call it, looking through positive reviews of your last title. You know you have detractors, people who think your work is trash or anti-feminist. It’s a little trashy, but it’s just for fun. And you’ve had your share of shitty boyfriends like any girl your age, you know the difference between right and wrong. God forbid a girl wants a hot vampire to follow her home, you think. 

You sit up and put your phone face down. You need fresh air. You need a walk. So, you bundle up and stick in headphones for a brisk, freezing, 7 PM wintertime mental health walk. The New England air isn’t just cold, it’s thick and wet with the marine layer from the ocean, which you’re a short walk away from. It’s not nice, but it does invigorate you as you follow the path from your little cottage down to the beach. It’s pretty private, tucked away in a little alcove– which you were warned not to enter when the tide is too high. You peek over to see it’s not. So you climb down and skirt around the rocks to walk on the main beach, which is empty. Obviously. The recently released audiobook of one of your peers’ newest titles plays in your ears, narrated by a sultry English man. You should have gone somewhere else for inspiration. You vaguely remember hearing someone at a book release party talk about how inspiring their trip to France was, and another person responded about their time in Ireland. You’ve mostly just met fishermen and townies, and none of these men had the Milo quality about them. 

Milo was inspired by a stunning man you saw while at a nightclub in New York City. You were very, very drunk on espresso martinis, but you saw him and his adorable girlfriend– who also served as your muse for Annmarie, SC’s protagonist– at the bar together. His arm was around her waist in a way that was possessive but romantic, his hand rested over her tummy, and you saw his thumb rubbing circles into her skin lovingly. 

“Oh my God, girl, are you seriously drooling? You are so drunk,” your friend had half-sighed, half-laughed as you wiped a little drool from your chin with the back of your hand.

“We have got to get you some dick, queen,” another friend joked.

“I am perfectly fine being single,” you protested.

“Nuh-uh, I read that last book of yours. All work and no dick makes you fucking crazy. How did you come up with that shit anyway?”

“She’s totally sick in the head, that’s how.”

Your back straightens up as you think you hear a voice.

“Miss!”

You pause the book and turn around to see a man jogging behind you, holding something in his hands. You freeze with terror until you realise it’s your notebook he’s holding.

“You dropped this,” he says, handing it over. He stays a nice distance away from you.

He has some sort of Southern accent, not New England. 

And he is very, very attractive. He wears a tight black t-shirt and black athletic shorts. His short hair is semi-dark, and probably reddish from the way it looks in the blue moonlight. He smiles politely at you, his dark eyes are hard to see. There’s a scruff of facial hair on him.

“Thanks.”

“Sorry, I… I woulda tapped your shoulder, but I was worried you’d sock me in the nose if I scared you.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Are you uh… you okay? It’s pretty dark out here.”

“Yeah, I know. I was just clearing my head.”

“Right.”

You take a breath and introduce yourself quickly.

“I’m Remmick,” he says.

“So, what are you doing out here, Remmick?”

“Well, I work at that lighthouse. Just takin’ a jog before I head up there.”

“Oh.”

Hot lighthouse worker. That could be a love interest.

“You on vacation? I think I’d remember your face if I’d seen it before.”

Charming lighthouse worker. 

“I’m uh… on a sort of sabbatical.”

“You a doctor or something?”

“God, no. I’m a writer.”

“Yeah?”

The tone and timbre of that yeah have your head spinning. 

“Books or what?”

You nod.

“What kind?”

You hesitate.

“Can I guess?”

“Go for it.”

He thinks for a second, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he does, which makes you flush. 

“Are they scary?”

“Parts of them are scary,” you admit. 

You remembered researching for SC and finding out that a lot of people only have a little over one gallon of blood in their bodies. You felt lightheaded and queasy at the visual of a plastic gallon bottle full of blood.

“But they ain’t all scary, huh?”

“Nope.”

He eyes you and smirks.

“Are they dirty?”

You hesitate and suck in air through clenched teeth.

“Yeah. They’re pretty dirty.”

“You must make good money, huh?”

He chuckles and you shrug.

“I do alright.”

“Yeah, I bet you do. Where’re you stayin’?”

You pause and he holds up his hands.

“That probably sounded creepy. I only meant… there’s some nice places, and there’s a Holiday Inn.”

“Well, it’s not the Holiday Inn.”

He looks at the watch on his hand.

“Shit. Well, I gotta get goin’.”

He says your name and your chest fills up with a weird feeling. Half-elation, half-dread.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah. You too. I’ll see you around,” you respond.

“Only if you keep walkin’ at night. Boats don’t need a lighthouse in the daytime,” he explains quickly, jogging off toward the beacon.

Hot lighthouse worker who’s charming and funny. Now that could work.

You go home and open the fridge. Time for boxed wine in a mug as you power-write for the next forty-five minutes until your hands cramp up.

You put the notebook down and pull out your favorite pen. You need certainty when you put book ideas down. You write in quick, messy bullet points, only getting down little ideas. You heard that coastal New England towns are famous for gruesome murder. Your instincts take you to the mafia but one glance at your water bottle has you thinking otherwise. SC was such a success, and you’re the vampire girl now. 

So you begin to pen the vague outline of a dark romance with a steamy, stalkery vampire lighthouse worker. A man in thick knit sweaters with a messy beard– that could get messier covered in blood or buried between a writer’s thighs–

You pause and see you’ve written writer on the page. You cringe and scribble that out. You had your humble beginnings with composition notebook self-insert fanfiction as a tween, but you’re a big girl now. And you’re already writing prose over a guy you just met, you really don’t need to make it any weirder. Your mind goes through some humble, wholesome occupations to compliment a love interest like that. Baker? Too cliche. Schoolteacher? Too male gaze. Big city corporate lawyer? Too Hallmark movie.

You tap back of the pen against the page rhythmically and sit up. Investigative journalist. Still technically a writer, but the only things you investigate are late-night Twitter links on a private spam account not even your best friends know about. 

Your pen dashes across the page, scrawling wildly. There’s not even any music playing, just the not-so-distant sound of the ocean, the radiator, and your own hand brushing against the paper. Soon, you’ve filled five pages without realising and that doubles in a blink. Shit! Your hand cramps up and you lift the pen finally, massaging your other thumb into your palm. It’s time for bed now, as three hours have passed and your back is killing you. 

You ascend the stairs again and just go to sleep, hand and wrist sore and content with your productivity.

You wake up surprisingly early the next day, and decide to go into town to get some groceries. Your fridge is looking sparse and the pantries are basically empty. You buy some frozen stuff and some supplies to make coffee. You see the honey is placed on the highest shelf you’ve ever seen and huff. No workers around. You can probably get it on your tiptoes. You strain to reach it and hear a man’s voice.

“Can I help you with that?”

You almost fall dropping to your feet again, and a shooting pain goes up from your heels.

“Ow, shit.”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s a man in a lifeguard’s hoodie with red swim trunks on. Maybe you hit your head and you’re having some sort of insane Baywatch fantasy.

“Yes. Please.”

“Yeah, I honestly don’t know who puts this stuff up there. The lady who owns this place is like, four-eleven.” You laugh at that as he hands you the honey.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. I’m Chris, by the way.”

You give him your name and shake his hand. Fucking hell this guy is strong. 

“Are you visiting?”

“Yeah. For a few months though. I’m working on a book.”

“You write horror?”

“Sorry?”

“Um, Stephen King’s from Maine. I feel like horror writers are always trying to… come out here and get some of that inspiration.”

“I think the inspiration he had was-”

“Cocaine?” he says at the same time as you. He shrugs. “At least you can recognise that. Half the other writers are ready to climb into the sewer.”

“Shit, well there goes my day at the rock quarry,” you joke. 

He laughs at that and you grin. 

“I’m a lifeguard on the beach for the next six hours, if you um… feel like you need some fresh air. Sunlight isn’t really a November specialty.”

“Are people really swimming this time of year?”

“Oh, they are. But so are the great whites, so, I’m mostly on seal watch.”

“Right.”

“I’m in tower Four,” he tells you eagerly. It’s like the words just jump right out of his mouth. “It’s right by the lighthouse. Nobody swims there, so… if you wanna tell me about your book or something… my job is pretty boring.”

“I’ll see you out there, Chris.”

“See you.”

You check out and ride the bike the homeowner left for guests back to the cottage. You feel insane. Maybe you were hospitalized after that breakdown and this is all some elaborate, drugged-up daydream you’re in. You pull out your notebook after the groceries are put away and flip to a new page. You click your pen and write HOT LIFEGUARD at the top of the page. 

A love triangle sounds awesome.

Later on, after you actually manage to type some words on a new, more permanent outline document, your vision drifts out the window. It is actually kind of a nice day, even though it’s overcast and windy. You stand and squeeze your hands together, stretching out. It is time for another brisk walk, this time to Tower Four.

Chris sits up there, slumped in his chair and holding his rescue tube in his lap. His tanned, toned legs are wide as he sits back.

“Would it scare you really bad if I started yelling ‘help’?” you joke, peering up at him from the ground.

He chirps your name, sitting up and sliding his sunglasses on top of his head, pushing back his hair. 

“You made it.”

“I brought you a snack,” you say, handing up the small bag of chocolates.

“Wicked,” he says, taking it from your hand. He swings down like a monkey and sits with his feet dangling off the side of the tower. You share the candies and look out on the water.

“So, you gonna tell me about your book?”

“Yeah, I’m not a horror writer.”

“What do you write?”

You hesitate. You know this song and dance, the divulgence of your career and the weird stares and uncomfortable shifting that follows. It’s ruined all sorts of dates and first impressions. Fuck it. You’re on sabbatical.

“Um… dirty romance books.”

“No shit? Is it like that crazy mafia stuff online?”

“Yeah, it’s exactly that.”

“Killer. You make a lot of money?”

“Enough to stay here and not work for three months.”

“So… you’re not writing a book?”

You shake your head.

“My creative well is completely dry. I came out here for-”

“Don’t even say it.”

“-some inspiration.”

“You are such a liar,” he teases. “You’re just like all those Stephen King wannabes,” he jokes, turning away from you.

You laugh at his silliness. You remain for a while, chatting about life and the town.

“The city is wild. I’m getting used to the silence, I think,” you tell him, having moved to– illegally– sit on the tower with him.

“Is the crime really so crazy out there?”

“Yeah, I mean… most of that is just there’s so many people crammed into such a small place. People go nuts.”

“Damn.”

“No crime here?”

“Not here, no, but um… about twenty miles north there’s this beach town, it’s a complete tourist getaway, but they got rocked by some shark attacks a few years back.”

“Some shark attacks?” you repeat his casual wording, shocked.

“Sorry. That sounded insensitive, it was really scary. That place is on its last legs now.”

“Well, yeah. Who wants to stay at the Jaws resort?”

“Bull shark, probably. The same thing happened in nineteen-sixteen. It was pretty gruesome.”

“Are you fucking with me?” you question him seriously, eyes squinted.

“I’m being serious, look it up.”

“Huh. Shit.” You sit back, eyes wandering to the lighthouse.

“Have you ever met the person who works up there?”

“Yeah, he’s fucking creepy.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“You met him?”

“Mhm. Last night.”

“Remmick? The lighthouse guy? You met him?”

“Yeah…? He was jogging.”

“Fucking weirdo,” Chris mutters. “He’s a complete shut-in.”

“How long has he been here?”

“Couple years? I don’t really know when he got here, he just… was there one day.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah, well. We used to have a night lifeguard, and– listen, I can admit having a girl out here on her own was pretty stupid– not that girls are… incapable or something-”

“I get it.”

“Right. And… full disclaimer, this girl really liked shrooms, but she swears up and down that she saw that guy covered in blood and eating a seal.”

“Whoa.”

“I mean, there was a dead seal on the beach, she was right about that.”

“Great white?”

“Oh, for sure. I’m think he was probably just doing that creepy-ass night jogging by the tower when that seal washed up, and… sometimes the sharks don’t fully kill the things-”

You grimace.

“I know, it’s pretty sad. Anyway, probably it was yowling and her fucking shroomed out brain conjured up that pretty picture. But he’s just a weird guy. He’s totally nocturnal. I’ve never seen the guy in the daytime. I’ve probably seen him six times and talked to him like… two, maybe?”

“Jeez.”

“Yeah. Anyways, sorry. That was a lot. I’d just stay away from the guy if you can. I don’t know what his deal is.”

You swiftly change the subject to movies and TV, which is good, because you two seem to share the same interests. Strangely enough, vampires are among them.

“I have sisters, so, I’ve seen Twilight about a hundred times? Maybe more?”

You laugh at that. You see him grinning and you check phone, seeing that two hours have passed.

“Shit. I have got to get back.”

“Right.”

“Thanks for the company. And the advice,” you add, nodding to the lighthouse.

“Um… would you want to grab a drink, tomorrow?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. Um… where?”

“It’s called The Weasel. It’s definitely a townie bar, but… the drinks are cheap.”

You are fiending for an espresso martini, and you fear you’ll have to settle for an old reliable at a dive bar. 

“Alright.”

“Cool. Um… eight o’clock sound good?”

“Eight o’clock sounds great.”

“Awesome. See you there.”

“I will see you there.”

Your back hits a tree as you pant, unable to run anymore. Your lungs burn as you gasp for cold night air in a dark, damp forest. You’re barefoot, in a wet nightgown that sticks to your skin and you’re terrified. 

You tremble, feeling the looming presence of something evil and ancient, rising up in front of you. Met with words in a language you don’t understand, a clawed hand grips your jaw. They’re wet and sticky, hot with something you realise is blood. The creature laughs at you cruelly and on the other hand grabs a handful of your nightgown, claws ripping through the fabric as it tears a strip down the center. The hand cups between your legs. It splits your lips carefully– almost reverently– brushing a knuckle between your folds, claws away from your most sensitive skin. You gasp and shiver, hands against the tree. You’re wet, though. Soaking the creature’s hands as it coats your skin in blood. It’s so dark and your vision is blurry with tears, you only see two red spots staring at you, and the glint of pearly fangs as the jaw of the creature opens and lurches forward.

You shoot up and sigh, panting as you try to catch your breath. You’ve been plagued with these “psychosexual night terrors”, as your therapist calls them, since you finished writing SC. Some weeks they’re sparse and other ones you can’t sleep without waking up sticky and horrified. Your cortisol levels are through the roof and your sex drive is in the stratosphere. The running theory is that your frantic writing for the deadline of SC drove you just a little bit crazy, and your panic and arousal from writing about Milo’s sexy antics while your publishing house breathed down your neck combined and manifested as the scary void creature in your nightmares.

You take a cold shower that morphs into an everything shower when you remember your date with Chris. Not a date. Just grabbing a drink. Could be a date.

You feel like a kid again, having a cute summer fling with a boy at sleepaway camp with the distant bitter sweetness of knowing you’ll leave in three months. Except you are an adult woman and if you do fall in love, you could just move here forever. 

But that’s wishful thinking.

You wait at the bar patiently. You’re a punctual girl, your agent adores that about you, so you are a little early. You chat with the bartender. She’s an older woman with a thick Mainer accent. 

“Let me guess-”

“Not a horror writer,” you joke back. 

She laughs at that. Her laugh is creaky but comforting, and you can tell she’s a smoker.

“You look nervous.”

“I’m meeting somebody?”

“Yeah?”

“I won’t say who, because I’m guessing you know everyone.”

“Well, I also know who’s single and who isn’t. If you’re worried he’s married, just give me a name.”

The bar is quiet, some men play pool and a group of vacationing dads drink beers and watch some sports on an outdated television. 

You order another drink as you watch the clock behind the bar tick on.

By eight thirty, you’re sufficiently buzzed. You didn’t even get his phone number to text him.

By nine, you decide you should go home. You thank the bartender and leave her a generous tip. You’ll be too embarrassed to come in here for a while.

You take the bike home, slumping on the sofa in the living room as you kick off your heels. You feel tears pricking at your eyes and rub them away, not caring about your smudged eyeshadow or makeup. You wipe it off in the bathroom and change out of your clothes. You need another walk. Maybe you’ll run into the allegedly very creepy lighthouse man and you’ll get some inspiration. 

“I’ll show you Stephen King wannabe, dickhead,” you mutter to yourself, pulling on your coat and shoving your notebook in your pocket. 

You follow the familiar motions, down the path, out through the alcove, and down the beach. You have some angry music playing this time as you stomp down the beach and pass the lifeguard towers. Shrooms girl better thank her lucky stars she’s off night shift, because you look pissed off right now. You stalk all the way down to tower four and roll your eyes. This is a tantrum. You’re an adult.

“I thought I might see you again,” a voice calls. Remmick is on a ledge above you, leaning on the wooden railing. 

“Can I come up there?”

“I’m not gon’ tell you what to do, sweetheart.”

You try to ignore the fire that lights in you and climb the sand and rock stairs, joining him on the ledge. He sits on a bench and pats the seat next to him.

“I heard a lot about you today, from a couple locals,” you tell him, lying about it.

You get the feeling Chris was being insecure, or maybe Remmick’s stolen one too many girls from him. 

“Yeah, I’m a seal-eating nightwalker, you got me,” he jokes, his hands up in mock surrender.

You exhale through your nose. You wish you could laugh harder.

“I’m just a solitary kinda fella. People here, shit, they tight knit like fishin’ nets. They think everybody’s gotta know everybody’s business. Nobody knows mine, so they’ve been makin’ things up for the past three years.” 

“Sorry I brought it up.”

“Hey, I’d rather you hear it from me.”

He looks at you for a moment and rubs a hand over his knee.

“You look upset.”

“Yeah. I uh…”

You hesitate, and see him lean forward, actively listening.

“It’s stupid.”

He holds his hand out, gesturing for you to speak.

“I got stood up,” you admit.

“For a date?”

“Not exactly. Just drinks.”

He clicks his tongue.

“That’s no good. Must be a pretty dumb guy, to stand you up.”

“Yeah. That was a dickhead move. I’m just hoping it was more of a… ‘oh shit, I totally forgot’ kind of thing.”

He eyes you and you cross your legs.

“Still. You musta gotten all dolled up for it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Well, I uh… I’m not so much a bar kind of fella, but if you wanna come out here sometimes all dolled up…” he leans in, “I got some good whiskey and two glasses.”

You lean in too, close to him.

“I might take you up on that, Remmick.”

“I gotta get up there,” he murmurs, looking at your lips as he speaks.

“Right.”

He doesn’t move, locked in place for a moment. He seems to shake off the spell and sits back, scrubbing a hand down his face, wiping his mouth. It almost looks like he’s wiping away drool. He stands up.

“You uh, you alright to walk home on your own?”

Words flash in your mind, the scene from SC where Milo promises to stalk Annmarie home, which results in him watching through the window as she touches herself. You’re drunk, you realise, as the neurons in your brain flicker out and blood rushes down your body.

“Yeah, I should be fine.”

“Right.”

He starts to walk away and turns back.

“I mean it. You come up see me sometime.”

“I will.”

You mean that, too.

Remmick thumbs through your notebook. How can you even understand this stuff? Your messy handwriting is charming. He reads through descriptions of vampire lore and fangs and turning that make him chuckle. He thinks of the smell of you, that hot scent of desire and the buzzing of your intoxicated body as you sat together. He’s so fucking cold in Maine, and he hasn’t been touched in years. He imagines you’d be hot to the touch. He knows you’re frustrated, you’ve been dissatisfied with pleasuring yourself. The descriptions of sex scenes have him biting back groans and palming himself through his pants. 

He flips to the final page.

HOT LIFEGUARD

His eyes narrow as he realises who it was that stood you up. He turns the page back over, scanning through your previous writing. 

LIGHTHOUSE VAMPIRE LOVER. CLAIMS TO KILL FOR HER. STALKERY? MILO PART II. LESS TENDER. MORE EVIL.

Oh, you’re fucking crazy. 

He grins, his fangs sliding down.

He can make do with crazy.

You wake up early, painful early. You dress groggily and decide to get some air on the beach before the dickhead lifeguard starts his shift. You’re slightly hungover as you traverse down the path and through the alcove to walk on the beach. 

The light is pale and you have to watch your step for kelp as you walk down. You see something up on the sand, and your heart sinks.

It has to be a seal. It’s not breathing, so you look at the nearest lifeguard tower for the animal control. You dial the number and wait patiently.

“Hello?” a voice that sounds just as groggy as you feel answers.

“Hi, I’m um, I’m on the beach right now and I think there’s a dead seal by the first lifeguard tower.”

“Oh, hell. Sorry, miss. It’s too damn early. Do you see any marks on it?”

“It’s hard to see with the fog. Is it safe to get closer?”

“Seals aren’t half as aggressive as sea lions, miss, so go ahead.”

You step closer, squinting with the fog. It’s absolutely dead, not moving at all. You approach it cautiously, worried about what other creatures might be lurking around.

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach.

This is not a seal.

This is Chris the lifeguard, and he’s missing an arm.

[alinathinkstoomuch]

SAFEST THING

pairing: aaron hotchner x wife!reader summary: rossi drops off a drunk hotch who can't help but profess his undying love for you, based on this request. warnings: flufffff, love drunk hotch who is completely besotted with you. that's literally it. he loves you, dammit! word count: 0.9k

✧ masterlist | ✧ alina's 1k bar

Rossi could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Aaron tipsy, let alone properly drunk. Steaming, wobbling, slurring his way through a love sonnet drunk. It just wasn’t a thing that happened. Ever. 

His suit jacket was abandoned somewhere in the backseat of Rossi’s car, which now smelled like a whiskey parlour. Rossi had cracked a window in hopes the breeze might air it out before the leather started soaking up the scent—and maybe, just maybe, sober Aaron up a little before you gave Rossi an earful for letting your husband get this shitfaced.

So shitfaced, in fact, that he apparently didn’t even remember taking off his tie, which was probably laying somewhere on the bar floor…right next to his left cufflink.

“She’s just—Dave, listen. Listen. She’s so smart. Like scary smart. And she makes it look easy, y’know?”

Rossi hummed in vague acknowledgment, eyes on the road.

“And she’s so pretty, and Jack loves her. Really loves her. He used to be so quiet and now he talks and laughs and he made her a macaroni necklace last week and said she was his favorite person ever, and I didn’t even mind, Dave.”

Rossi didn’t look over, mostly because he knew if he made eye contact, Aaron might cry. 

“I think—I think she healed us, Dave. Made us a little family.”

“You’ve mentioned,” Rossi replied dryly. “About six times since we left the bar.”

Aaron let out a wistful sigh and slumped back in the passenger seat. “She’s my home, y’know?” he said dreamily. “It’s not even a place anymore. It’s her. Just…her.”

“Mm,” Rossi grunted. “Poetic.”

They pulled up outside your home a few minutes later. The porch light was on, making Rossi shake his head. He could practically feel you pacing inside. Probably barefoot, probably annoyed, possibly armed.

He switched off the engine, glancing sideways. “Alright Romeo. Let’s get you to your Juliet before she kills us both.”

Aaron blinked up at the house like it had just appeared. He swayed slightly, squinting through the windshield. “She’s gonna be so pretty when she’s mad.”

Rossi let out a long-suffering groan and got out of the car. “Unreal,” he muttered, circling round to the passenger side just in time to catch Hotch attempting to stand up without using any of his core strength.

“Whoa, easy there,” Rossi huffed, grabbing his arm. “Let’s keep the dramatic swooning to a minimum.”

He was halfway through wrangling a love-drunk, six-foot-two, Unit Chief up the steps when the front door opened and you stepped outside, tying the sash of your dressing gown with the same expression you strictly reserved for when Morgan and Reid decided to start pranking each other mid-case.

“Oh, Aaron,” you sighed, hands on your hips. “Really?”

His face lit up like a Christmas tree. “It’s you,” he breathed, all dreamy-eyed, abandoning Rossi. “You came outside.”

“Yes,” you said flatly, stepping down to meet him. “Because you’re being very loud. We have neighbors. And Jack.” You pointed up towards the window. “He’s asleep, so hush.”

Aaron turned back to Rossi, grinning like an idiot. “Told ya she’s pretty when she’s mad,” he slurred right before he fully leaned into you with all his weight causing you to take a step back, catching him by the arms just in time. 

“You’re not even gonna help me get him inside?” you asked, glaring at Rossi over your husband's shoulder.

Rossi was already halfway down the steps, brushing his hands off. “He’s all yours, sweetheart. Goodnight and make sure he sleeps on his side. He was mixing everything Morgan ordered.”

You adjusted your grip on Aaron as Rossi disappeared down the path, mumbling something about needing a drink and a month off. Aaron meanwhile, had gone entirely pliable in your arms. Not quite dead weight, he was still trying to be helpful in that way drunks think they’re being helpful, mostly by murmuring ‘I’ve got it’ while making zero actual contribution.

“You realise I’m probably going to hold this over you for the rest of your life,” you muttered as you led him up the final step.

“I deserve that. But in my defence…you looked really good coming down the porch.”

“You want to live, don’t you?”

“Very much,” he nodded, leaning heavily against the doorframe as you flicked the light on. “Preferably in this house. With you.”

Your arms were around him again, helping him to the couch. “I mean it,” he added as he slumped on the pillows with a grunt. “You. This. You’re the safest thing in my life.”

You swallowed, your annoyance dissolving like sugar in warm water by the sincerity in his bloodshot eyes. “Let me get you something to drink before you start making me cry.”

“I know what this job does to people,” he went on, and you paused mid-step, glancing back at him. Without thinking, you abandoned your hydration mission entirely and sat down beside him. “I’ve seen it, we’ve watched it. Over and over. And you,” he continued, “you still choose me. Even on days I wouldn’t choose myself.”

You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his, your thumb gently spinning his gold wedding band. Then you brought his knuckles to your lips, pressing a soft kiss there. “Always, baby. Now let's get you upstairs and you can carry on telling me how great I am, hm?”

That earned the faintest of smiles, crooked and sleepy. “I do have a lot more material.”

“I bet you do.”

tags - @fandomscombine @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue @kiwriteswords @anvdala @supersanelyromantic @yourallaround-simp @percysley @wowitsafemale @cinnamoncunt @keiminds @iyskgd @mystic-rox @insured-by-the-mafia @mggslover @star-crossed-sephie @tearykth @2dloveshp  @lovelystrawberry @imissaaronhotchner @justyourusualash @alexxavicry @storiesofsvu @ehedrick012110 @hopelessromantic727 @piatosniathenie @averyhotchner @softtdaisy

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[rollwithdicey]

Date Everything NSFW Headcanons

I've been thinking of a LOT of things since the game out and I just wanted to share some thoughts. I also haven't played a whole lot yet so I don't know a lot of the characters that well yet so I'll definitely do a part 2

Mostly female/femme reader stuff

Eddie and Volt

2 bad bitches at the SAME👏DAMN👏TIME👏

For the most part these 2 will fuck you together but there are days when they get you to themselves

Someone else said that Volt would be into tying you up or you tying him up and I can definitely see it

He'll definitely make you use your words to tell him what you what him to do, and teases you about how shy/eager you are

Eddie on the other hand tends to manhandle you a bit more, definitely loves marking you too

Surprisingly loud and groans lot when he's at it, (sometimes whimpers....who said that??)

He'll always start a little rough depending on the situation but the further you go, the more he softens up

He's not good with his emotions but he does care for you a lot and he fucks you like he's desperate, like he's scared of loosing you

He'll never admit it but he secretly loves it when you praise him

Also loves it if you're loud, just tell him how good he makes you feel

Together headcanons

I feel like Volt likes watching you and Eddie go at it in the beginning before joining himself

Volt definitely talks you through it if you're taking both of them at the same time

They're both definitely into overstimulation, you're not going anywhere until they're both done with you

They'll explore every inch of you and take notes over what makes you the loudest

I feel like they'd definitely be down to try anything new with you if you brought it up

Their foreplay would definitely be PEAK 👌

They know what gets you going and they get off on how wet they can make you

The combination of you being tied up by Volt and Eddie manhandling you is their personal fav

Might also be into blindfold and light choking if you were ok with jt

When everything's done their aftercare is the best, they'll clean you up and cuddle with you and bring you anything you need the rest of the night

Chance

Pleasure Dom 100%

He's the sweetest person ever and that definitely translates into the bedroom

He'll do almost anything you ask if it helps make you feel good

Obvi he'll be into some roleplaying in the bedroom, he'll do almost anything if you enjoy a certain scenario

Also probably into light overstimulation

He loves to feel you shaking and desperate for him

L o v e s when you say his name, or just loud in general cuz he loves knowing how good he makes you feel

Mostly vanilla for the most part, he just wants to pleasure you organically, but willing to try almost anything you might be into within reason

His aftercare too is always the BEST, he's literally there to serve you and bring you anything you need, you wouldn't even need to walk he'll just carry you

Best after sex cuddles as well, he just wants you to be comfortable and warm

Lyric

Everyone is sleeping on my man for real 😤

He doesn't act like it but he's secretly a horndog, like he's got the knowledge of every book and you really think he wouldn't know a thing or 2?

Absolutely into Sensory deprivation

With him being a genie I have a headcanon that he can summon and levitate certain things, but it only applies to books and feathers

L o v e s using feathers on you, whether it's playful tickling or you blindfolded and tied up he's using them on you

Will absolutely take his time with you until you're begging him to touch you

This might sound weird but because he's a genie I don't think he actually has a....uh....pp? But when he's realized and gets his human form he's definitely fucking you hard the second he gets the chance

Would love to read dirty romance books to you and watch your reaction every time to see what gets you going

Definitely asks if you can recreate different scenes from his favorite romance books

Super romantic always, if you're not as experienced he'll definitely go slow and be understanding, making sure you feel comfortable and have the best experience

Tony

I haven't done his whole story read but I'll add some more here when I finish it

He believes he's hot shit, he's so smooth with his words you genuinely can't help but lean into it

Experience on the other hand, he'll never admit it but sometimes doesn't always know what he's doing and might need a little guidance

But he'll also never admit he also loves praise and hearing how good he makes you feel, definitely inflated his ego more than it already is

He thinks he's good with his hands, but this is where he might need that little bit of guidance

He's into hair pulling, he loves just having a solid grip on you no matter what, but tries hard not to actually hurt you cuz he thinks it kills the mood

He definitely wasn't lying when he said he has a massive schlong, but don't tell him that you doubted him

Loves trying different positions with you, and his stamina lasts a long time so be prepared to be in it for awhile

Also a sucker for any kind of hand job or blow job, definitely a favorite for him and he'll absolutely talk you through it and tell you how he likes it

Probably doesn't understand the concept of aftercare so you might have to teach him, but once he gets it he's surprisingly caring because he wants you to enjoy your time with him

Dorian

I haven't progressed a lot in his story either but I'll try my best

He knows he's hot and he knows you think he's hot and he's A L L over it

Into light voyeurism/exhibitionism, he'll love it if you walk in on him pleasuring himself and encourages you to stay and watch, and also loves seeing you touch yourself in front of him

Spoiler if you haven't unlocked Keith yet but after hearing how Keith really felt about Dorian you try your best to be better than that

You love telling Dorian how good he makes you feel, and he knows he's good at what he does

Definitely loves seeing you on top from time to time, he wants you to ride him

Also please sit on this man's face, you won't regret it

100% uses his voice against you, loves to whisper in your ear or surprise you from behind just to rile you up

He'll be anything you want him to be from rough to soft

Loves taking care of you afterwards too, he'll never disappoint with his aftercare, and always has a habit of telling you he loves you afterwards

[spearbxcheol]

SpiderHan!

｡･:*˚:✧｡ ૮₍ ´• ˕ • ₎ა ｡✧:˚*:･｡

Spider-Man!Han Jisung x Reader.

𖤐 drabble/one-shot?, action, mild violence, implied hostage situation.

𖤐 SpiderHan really had its moment in the fandom and honestly?? we need that comeback, maybe i'll write more of him? 💭

Jisung rolled his eyes at the guy who tried to run away from him on the street. He had just caught him stealing from the 24/7 grocery store — and that wasn’t happening. Not on his watch.

“Hey! Do you seriously think you can outrun me?” Jisung’s voice rang out as the man started gaining distance. “It’s almost 3 a.m., and I promised myself I’d sleep early today. Don’t ruin this for me!”

As he finished complaining about the guy — now nearly turning the next corner — he pointed his hand, and the next thing he knew, his web shooter launched him forward at high speed. His spider-sense kept him safe, guiding him past obstacles and avoiding the lamppost just in time.

The thief didn’t even notice Spider-Man hanging from the lamppost ahead. Jisung could feel a smirk forming under his mask the moment the guy almost tripped from the shock of seeing him there. Jisung gave him a little wave.

“Oh my god!”

What neither of them noticed was you — standing there, frozen, eyes wide in shock. You’d only ever seen Spider-Man on the news, chasing bad guys... and now he was right in front of you. You snapped out of your trance when your dog started barking wildly, reminding you why you were even walking down the street at this hour in the first place.

But before you could grab your dog and walk away, the thief was faster. He yanked your arm, pulling you in front of him and pressing a knife to your throat. You gasped and shut your eyes.

“Back off and I’ll let them go!”

Jisung’s mind raced. It had all happened in a split second. Then he looked at you — and his eyes widened. You were Y/N. The same Y/N who always sat next to him in the class you both shared. You two would laugh at the dumb jokes the professor cracked mid-lecture. You weren’t close, but shared a mutual friend.

“Are you deaf, Spider-Boy?”

The man was holding you tightly, using your body as a shield between him and Spider-Man. Your dog — now off-leash because you’d dropped it — was barking non-stop. You opened your eyes and met the superhero’s gaze.

“Help me, please.” you mouthed.

Jisung didn’t hesitate. He aimed and shot a web at the man’s hand, pulling the knife away and tossing it aside. Then he leapt down from the lamppost, landing right in front of the two of you.

In one swift, precise move, Spider-Man pulled you behind him. You let out a breath, your heart racing. You stepped back as he grabbed the thief by the collar and punched him hard in the face, right on the nose.

The adrenaline surged in Jisung’s body. He had never saved someone he knew before — and now, with you, it all felt heavier. The real weight of his powers. It scared him.

He turned to you. You were holding your dog in your arms again, and even from where he stood, he could see you were shaking. When your eyes met the white lenses of his mask, you took a deep breath.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “I almost ruined everything.”

“No, you didn’t ruin anything,” Jisung said, his voice a little tight. He shook his head. “He’s the one who’s in the wrong here.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, and you nodded. “And what about this little guy?” He extended a hand toward your dog, but was met with a bark.

“Sorry about him!” you apologized, trying to calm your dog, but Jisung smiled behind the mask.

“That’s good! He’s a good boy. Honestly, if I wasn’t here, I bet he would’ve saved you all by himself.” You let out a small laugh and nodded.

“Yeah…” The air between you both was strange. Your body was still trembling after what happened. It hadn’t been a great experience being held hostage at knifepoint. Spider-Man seemed awkward, completely unlike the reports you’d read online. Like he didn’t know what to do once the fighting stopped. And the thief? Still unconscious on the ground.

“I’m going home” you said. “Thanks for saving me, Spider-Man.”

Jisung felt his cheeks heat up at your smile and words. The only thing he could think to do was raise both thumbs up like an awkward teenager as you walked past him, heading back the way you came.

“That was painfully weird.” he muttered to himself, glancing at the guy on the ground. “Please don’t post anything weird about me on the internet…”

He sighed, walked over to the man, pinned him to the wall with webbing, and called the police. Another job by the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

[takoseimegumi]

I don't usually reblog posts like this or add comments to posts I reblog, but I wanted to share my experiences. Just to show all the ways something like this can affect people. Content warnings for anxiety, suicide, abuse and sexual harassment.

This came at the absolute worst time in my life. Things were starting to look up for me. I'm autistic and have had trouble functioning in society, but I had hope things were getting better. I got a bank account, a long-term online friend had confessed his love to me leaving me no longer single, I was starting to go out on my own after years of needing someone else to come with me... things were really hopeful.

Then the lockdowns started. I wasn't able to go out. I couldn't use the money I now had access to. I wasn't able to arrange even one irl meeting with my boyfriend (we live in different countries). And when I tried to go to the store I was heavily restricted in what I could do. There were spaced-out lines, you had to follow a route inside the store, some wouldn't accept me without a mask, one yelled at me for being slightly out of line... I had no choice but to become a shut-in.

It got to the point when just seeing mentions of what was going on gave me extreme anxiety. And that was completely unavoidable. I was living in a constant state of that.

At one point I got a message from my boyfriend where he explained he got the virus. I had to spend a couple of weeks living in complete instinctual fear for him. I couldn't sleep. I tried to distract myself but I couldn't stop crying. I wanted to be there for him but I couldn't. It turned out fine in the end, but to this day remembering those two weeks makes me tear up.

Think that's bad enough? It gets worse.

Shortly before the pandemic started, my mum started dating someone. I was happy for her at first. Things seemed to be looking up for her as well. But then... strange things started to happen.

My mum's sanity took a nosedive after this whole thing started. She was like full-on tinfoil hat conspiracy theorist. It was jarring seeing her like this. And unfortunately, her mental health deteriorating wouldn't just affect her.

Her boyfriend turned out to be an emotionally abusive bastard towards not only her, but me and my brother. My brother ended up leaving after mum's boyfriend and me had a fight (that was the last straw for him). And he was basically taking advantage of my mum's shattered sanity to keep her with him.

The emotional abuse wasn't even the worst part. This is where it gets really ugly. Over the years even as lockdown was settling down, the damage to my development was already done (to this day I still haven't recovered) and I was still a complete shut-in. My mum's boyfriend would start making inappropriate comments towards me, and whenever I would complain, he would guilt-trip me into taking it back. Talking to mum did not help. He'd successfully brainwashed her. She refuses to believe he could do wrong even to this day.

And over the years, the comments got worse. He would divulge his fetishes, try to invade on my hobbies, invalidate my asexuality and past sexual trauma (just because I separate fiction from reality), and even send me sexually explicit gifts like laced panties and a vibrator.

I was waking up in anxiety attacks. I felt trapped. It got so bad I tried to kill myself in the bathtub just so I could escape.

At that point, the pandemic was officially over. But I was so mentally broken by everything that had gone on that I couldn't leave.

That is, until my boyfriend told me to text my brother about it. He got me out of there. I've been living with him and my grandma for a little over a year now.

This wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for the pandemic. My mum would be the person she used to be. She would have left that bastard the moment I spoke up about him.

And I would still be cheerful and optimistic like I was before. But I can't be. And I don't have hope I ever will be.

The only thing that keeps me going is my boyfriend, my online friends and my interests.

So no, I don't think we should romanticise quarantine.

"remember quarantine when everyone was baking bread and dancing--" no, but I remember quarantine when a bunch of people were borderline suicidal. and I remember quarantine when people got screamed at for not wearing a mask outside. and I remember quarantine when businesses were forced to close and people lost their jobs. and I remember quarantine when there were government tip lines to report family dinners. and I remember quarantine when no one was allowed to go to church.

and I remember how it's a really good thing that my grandma wanted to be cremated, since that meant we could delay her funeral. because if we had to have it soon after she died (from cancer, not covid), three of her kids wouldn't have been allowed to be there. they wouldn't have had the chance to say goodbye.

so no, I don't remember any kind of human flourishing as a result of quarantine. and you're right that people should stop romanticizing it.

That's the quarantine I remember.

And I'm not going to forget it, either.

It's crazy how they are already trying to gaslight people into thinking we were all just living our best lives.

[ethosiab]

Anything slabtek? 👉👈 Would be super interested to see them from your sci-fi au!!

hi jammmm <3 you get 3 scifi au slabteks because i got really in the groove. and some related facts below so they're not completely contextless bc i want to ramble

(Img 1) theyre actually room-mates in the au because im a sucker for that lol. After etho had recovered from the injuries that erm. Made pause and Beef think he was dead, he stayed in a room provided by the foundation for a few weeks while he sorted himself out a little. That... wasn't working completely, he was kind of a mess since his memory was all fucked up and his entire support system had fallen from underneath him. Tango, who knew etho a little from some work they'd done together in the past, and who took over for ethos duties quite a bit while he was getting back on his feet, offered him a place in his apartment so etho would have a stable place to stay and not have the foundation on his back about finding a home all the time.

Etho only intended for it to be a short arrangement, he didnt know tango that well and he doesnt know all of what tango knows about him because he can't remember the past few months of his life. It just became easy, is all, because tango spends a lot of time away from home while on work trips, and needs someone to mind the house. So it became a little more permanent, and they settled into a routine with each other.

God knows they both have horrible self care when it comes to sleep schedules and overworking and forgetting to eat, so they tend to be able to keep each other accountable when they're both home.

Etho sleeps on tangos couch still, but its one of those ones that pulls out into a bed, so its really fine.

I don't know how long it takes Joel to figure out that these guys live together but its gotta be a slightly comically long time

(img 2) The Citadel is Tango's ship that he maintains, and while it's not technically his, he's worked for the company long enough and is such a good pilot/mechanic that he's kind of got that guarantee that he'll be the one flying and in charge of maintaining it on jobs

which also means he can get away with some modifications that he wouldn't otherwise be able to, given he's trusted. some of them are straight up illegal, some of them are simply in breach of contracts that state he's meant to get approval before making modifications

He doesn't intend to tell Etho about these at first (because duh step 1 to not getting caught is not telling anyone), but when he gives Etho a proper tour of the ship, Etho notices. Instead of telling tango off or accusing him of sabotaging the foundation, however, Etho's just mostly curious about the modifications themselves. I would consider this the stage at which their friendship really starts to blossom, where tangos been more vulnerable with etho as well.

(Img 3) closer to immediately pre-canon theyre very comfortable around each other :] its not just tangos apartment anymore, its their apartment, and its ethos home too.

Doesnt stop them from always making jokes about tango coming back from a trip to find the place upside down (etho probably has played a few pranks on him before where he'll shift around some of tangos carefully organised chaos and time how long it takes him to realise when he gets back)

So uh. Theyre room-mates. Housemates. Not solely friends, not labelled a QPR. And if you ask them if they're dating they'll both get really uncomfortable and ungracefully switch the topic <3

[sylusgworl]

(INVOLUNTARILY) GAWKING ft. xavier

content: fluff, fem!reader, housemates!au, pre-relationship situation, reader is awkward, xavier tries at flirting (and kinda fails),

a/n: it's too hot outside to properly function so my brain birthed this fic, uh enjoy ig - wrote this in like 15 mins (my study break) so it yet to be proofread. wc: 857 . rbs are very appreciated <3

m.list

it is infact not alright when it's 37 °C outside (about 100 F) and you are living with a (male) housemate.

nope, you no way you were going full on nude in front of xavier, nope. you'd rather die from the heat. although, at some point the heat became so unbearable any insane thought became completely rational.

“ugh it's so hot,” you groaned while stretching on the sofa, the shorts and tank top feeling sticky against your skin.

oh, right, the ac refused to turn on for some reason, and the fan was broken, apparently one of its blades had snapped off and it just stopped functioning correctly.

xavier cocked his head out of his room, a pearl of sweat sliding down his temple until it fell in a bead down from his chin.

he had it way worse, his wide shorts just right above the knee and a white t-shirt... just the sight of that made you sweat.

“it's alright [name], i've just ordered another one, it'll be delivered in a couple of hours,” his soft voice angelically carried the glad tidings, except you felt even more desperate and exhausted.

more hours of that inferno.

you closed your eyes. maybe a short nap would help take you out of that dread. minutes passed and... nope it was too hot to sleep.

you sat up and headed for the kitchen. there, a sight made you stop in your tracks. an unexpected one.

xavier leaned against the counter, shirtless, while drinking a can of chilled soda. his toned muscles seemed to shine under the natural light of the sun, his adam's apple bobbing up and down with each sip.

he didn't seem to notice you, so that gave you a chance to observe him for a while longer.

he was attractive alright.

you'd been housemates for about a month, but your schedules never aligned in a way that you'd be that often in each other's presence, so you'd never actually paid attention to xavier's presence around you.

you just thought having a man as a flatmate had too many downsides for your liking, but still accepted him as you really needed someone to split the rent with.

“oh, you're here,” his calm tone slowly carried you out of your trance.

xavier put down his soda and turned to face you, but then noticed his bare chest so he crossed his arms against it and swiftly turned around, a faint blush tinting his cheeks.

“oh how long have you been there? i'm sorry, i didn't realise...”

“no no, it's alright haha... i've been here for a while, i didn't mean to stare,” you stretch your hands forward in a defensive way, “but! i was going anyway...” you trailed off and ran away in a jiffy, heart thumping and a familiar warmth in your face.

shit. did i just get caught gawking?

you bit your lip in frustration and closed the door to your bedroom before plopping onto the carpeted ground.

dignity gone, you started planning your move-out. because, how could you even face him after that.

desperation aside, two hours went by, and except for the heat and the embarrassing scene from earlier replaying in your head every time you closed your eyes, nothing eventful happened.

“[name]?” a voice called out to you, followed by a knock.

you hesitated but still got closer to the door. “is she asleep?” a voice mumbled from the other side, so you nervously opened up.

xavier's watchful blue eyes were the first to meet your surpised - not really - gaze.

your heart leaped to your throat, you cleared your voice. “y-yes?” oh god, how awkward.

“i just wanted to tell you, the new fan has just been delivered,” he pointed to the living room.

“i already installed it, i think the maintenance is coming to fix our ac in about a day or two,” he said, trying to keep a neutral tone while scratching the back of his head.

your eyes involuntarily jumped to his flexed arm and you had to call each and every atom of your self-control to avert your gaze and stop staring.

“oh! that's... great! yeah!” you answered, a bit to excitedly. you hoped it sounded as natural as possible, embarrassment from a couple of hours prior still holding you captive.

xavier nodded and turned around, walking a few steps. then, as if he'd remembered something, he stopped and turned around.

you'd only now noticed a small bag he was carrying in his hand. he then offered it to you.

“here, since i've put the fan in the living room, use this if it's too hot at night,” and off he went, as soon as you grasped it.

closing the door behind you, you unpacked the gift(?) only to find a mini desk fan. how adorable, you thought with a smile, thinking of xavier's attentiveness, as warmth spread across your chest from gratefulness... and maybe something else.

a small paper fell out, so putting the object aside, you opened it.

i'm sorry for making you feel embarrassed earlier. also, i didn't say you couldn't look, you can stare as much as you want.

you gulped. oh.

© sylusgworl - 2025, all rights reserved / i don't allow anyone to copy, repost on other platforms or sell my works.

[radiohao]

yushi swears he has an “obvious” crush on you, but you're in major denial

pairings: tokuno yushi x f!reader

genre: fluff, crack, uni!au, soccerplayer!yushi, bulletpoint fic, oblivious!yn, ft. ive rei, sion, riku, friends-to-lovers

warnings: REDO OF THIS FIC, mentions of reader getting sick, one joke abt kidnapping, a mention of a broken wrist but it's not in detail, mentions of getting drunk, not proofread

wc: 2.7k

—

lately, you've been developing an unHEALTHY obsession with the new transfer student, tokuno yushi

he's in your econ class and came in from japan last semester

you still remember him walking in with a gray sweater, dark washed jeans, and soft, tousled raven black hair

and of course you remember you two locking eyes

u swore you were hearing wedding bells imMEdiately

you looked away so fast your neck probably cracked a little

thank god you sat in the back of the room because then you can just stare at this god-given sPECimen every day for an hour

well... nOw he sits right next to you...

it was... an interesting story, to say the least

— flashback —

you're barely awake and class only begun five minutes ago

wHY did you let rei convince you to play roblox obbies with her at 3AM?? half the world is ASLEEP at that time

and now you're suffering the consequences because your eyelids feel like they weigh 10 pounds

you got an americano since you assumed it'd wake you up, but it's so bitter you can't take another sip without scrunching your face in disgust

u should've gotten a frappe instead

your professor clears her voice before speaking

"good morning everyone! with the new semester starting, i thought it'd be nice if we all compress so it's easier to hear. as you may know, i recently got a surgery done in my throat, therefore i can't speak at loud volumes as it strains it-"

you roll your eyes and softly groan at the announcement

oh lord PLEASE you do not want to be sat with some gUy-

"y/n, may you please sit up here at the front next to yushi? thank you."

wHAT??? oh nonono well now u regret ever thinking that because yushi is not just some GUY!!

you mumble curses as you grab your things and make your way to where yushi is sitting

when you get there, his bag is on the seat next to him, which u assUME is your seat

he looks at you just standing there stupidly and his eyes widen before he takes his bag

"oh, sorry." you wave him off and sit next to him

your professor moves some more people to the front before starting her lecture

ykw this is perfect!! you're in the front so u hear her better and won't... fall.... asleeeeeppp.......

your eyes are drooping and your head jerks forward

crap nO not now

you need to take a sip out of your americano- ZZZzZzZzZzZz

—

so you blacked out.

goddAMNIT

you're woken up when someone lightly squeezes your shoulder

"wake up y/n, lecture is over."

"augpghgnm five more minutes plEAse.."

"okay." oh really? okay period!! that usually doesn't work but hey you'll take it! and whoever this is has a cotton candy-like voice that easily puts you back to sleep again

five minutes pass by and your shoulder is being squeezed again

you FORCE your eyes open before you get drowsy again and once u make eye contact with "cotton candy voice" you nearly fall off your chair

tokuno yushi is sitting next to you with his hand on your shoulder

"i'm sorry, did i startle you?" he says softly

you're like ??? what what what

"no, you're good! thanks for giving me a couple extra minutes to sleep," you say with a laugh

he chuckles and shakes his head, saying "don't worry about it. you seemed tired anyway. i'm gonna head out now- oh, also, make sure to check your notebook."

yushi slings his bag over his shoulder and you just nod as he talks (you're losing focus because of how good he looks rn)

"'m yushi, by the way. see you." he waves goodbye and leaves the room

you open your notebook and see that he wrote down notes for you during the lecture

ur eyes are glued to a little note he put in the corner saying "sorry my handwriting sucks lol" and your first coherent thought is I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS MAN

but then you're also like why did he do that in the first place???

he was probably just being nice since you looked so pathetically tired

yeah that's it

— flashback over —

safe to say you would do anything for tokuno yushi

he tells you to do his homework for him? you'd do it. he says to throw out all your clothes? everything is in the dump already. he asks you to jump off a cliff? you're already falling off the ledge.

well now you and yushi are friends.. sort of

you talk every class and text each other

and when you found out he was on the soccer team he asked you to come to his games, and ever since then you've been going to each one

but it's just that sometimes he does things that make your heart jump and your cheeks warm up

like that one time he gave you his jacket after class because it was raining, saying he "didn't want you to catch a cold"

or that other time when he came to your dorm after his game with snacks beause you said you weren't feeling well

you feel like you should believe that he likes you but it just seems too good to be true!!

and if you're being honest there's so many other girls that line up at his door every day, so it wouldn't make sense for him to choose you!!

this man is making you go clinically insane

and rei keeps telling you HE DOES LIKE U GIRL but ur just like no... i don't tHINk so...

you're torn because there are signs that maybe he does feel the same but when you think about his popularity and how much of a wanted bachelor he is, you feel your confidence start to crumble

maybe you should just give up on your man because there is NO WAY he likes you

—

yushi is going to rip his hair out of his head

WHY is it so difficult to ask a girl out?????

truth is, he's liked you since the day he saw you

it was like wedding bells were ringing in his head and he was like YEP this is the mother of my kids right here

the first time he tried to make a move on you was when you were asked to sit next to him

he silently pumped his fist under the table like Y E S this is my chance

and he thought u looked so pretty while sleeping

yushi secretly moved some of your hair behind your ear because he could see it was bothering you, but he didn't tell you as to not sound creepy

and he's pretty proud of his status with you now, but he really wishes you'd just call him out for all the moves he's made on you because he's SHY

he tried to ask you out two (2) times already!!

the first time when you walked out of the lecture hall together and it started POURING

he lended you his hoodie and he was about to confess but it just so happened that rei called you

"y/n, i have something to tell you."

"what is it?" RRRRIIINGNGNG "oh, hold on. hello, rei? wHAt?! you broke your wrist??? oh my gOD- sorry, yushi i have to go.”

that's fine!!!! there's always next time!!!

the next time he tried asking you out was when you said you came down with a fever on the day of his game

horrible game by the way, he played so bad

(he never plays well when you're not there, yushi swears you're his good luck charm)

he bought all your favorite snacks and a plushie and went to your dorm after the game

you open the door wrapped in a blanket and he just wants to cuddle you-

who said that

"hi, ushi," you say with a croak to your voice, "what are you doing here?"

he smiles softly and holds up a bag

"i got you some snacks. thought you didn't eat yet."

you snicker, "how do you always know?"

"i just do."

you invite him inside and have a little chat

about an hour later, you and yushi are sat on opposite sides of the couch

yushi thinks it's now or never and takes a breath, "y/n, i have feelings for you."

hOOOOOOOnnKK SshhhOOOo

what the hell

he looks to the left and sees you snoring your ass off

and yes u look adorbs but REALLY?? he JUST mustered up the balls to confess and you're sleeping

he sighs.

yushi SWEARS his crush on you is obvious, i mean how is it not??? he lends you his stuff, listens to you talk for hours on end, talks to you more than he talks to his own teammates, and buys you small gifts all the time

LITERALLY EVERYONE KNOWS TOO

like the soccer team, the girls that like him, even his younger brother

he'll just have to give it another shot

third time's the charm, i guess

—

okay, yushi has officially devised a plan

well, technically it's his, riku, and sion's plan

basically what's going to happen is yushi invites you to the upcoming soccer game (to which you always go anyway), and when they win the game, he will offer a ride home to you and confess in the car with flowers and a plushie

sion suggested the car thing so there are no distractions and you can't run away ("that sounds like i'm going to kidnap her," yushi deadpans. "lovingly, of course!" sion exclaims)

riku suggested the flowers and plushie so it's less creepy

so actually this isn't yushi's plan at ALL but he will sAy it's his plan anyway because he's the one confessing!!!

alright, game time. (literally)

—

you walk into the lecture hall and sense bad juju

what's going on, you think. you don't like this!!

as you head to your seat, you notice yushi isn't there in the spot next to you

okay wow so you like him so much your body just knows when he's not there??? got it

but nOO :( he's not here!!!! who are u supposed to stare at now!??!?

you grumble a little as you sit down, but you spot a little post-it note on the chair.

huh, weird

taking it off, you read the writing scratched onto the note, with lettering you recognize all too well

'sorry, skipping class today to rest for tonight's game. it'd be great if u were there, like always. have rei drop u off bc i wanna eat out w/you after. c u :) - yewshee'

you laugh at the stupid spelling of his name

he wants to eat out after??? what do you WEAR????

—

it's almost time for the game and ur STRESSING

HWAT DO YOU WEAR OH MY GOD

you settled on a cute frilly blouse and some shorts

pretty but simple (like yushi, you think)

rei drops you off (her wrist is mostly healed) and you find a seat in the middle of the stands

SMACK in the middle to be more specific

it's not rlly what you wanted but you don't mind because the front stands are full of families cheering on their sons and girls in the back cheering on their bfs

u totally don't wish that was you on the top of the stands haha

oop game is starting

you see yushi warming up and your heart swells

he looks SO good in his uniform because you can see his calves and biceps flexing

amen for soccer uniforms

—

yushi feels like he's going to crap his pants

he's already got the usual pre-game jitters, but it's even worse because he can't SEE you in the stands

where the hell are u???????

he's squinting like an idiot and riku laughs at him

"you look dumb as hell," he says

yushi smacks his back and riku winces in pain

just then he sees you, looking around

wow, you look really pretty

"she can't hear you, by the way." sion laughs

what

OH CRAP DID HE SAY THAT OUT LOUD

he groans and rolls his eyes in embarrassment

their coach tells them that the game is going to start soon

at least yushi knows he'll win now, since you're there

—

they won

is yushi surprised? not at all

he KNEW it from the moment he saw your face

now it's time for the next part of the plan: get you in his car

okay that doesn't sound weird at all

um but it's kind of hard trying to get you when there's a swarm of people around him congratulating him

PLEASE he just needs to get to his (soon-to-be) girl

he practically shoves everyone out of the way and heads to the parking lot

thank god you're already there, leaning against the hood of his car

"sorry, i was held back a bit," he starts

you smile and omg yushi thinks he's gonna faint

"it's okay. but congrats!! you guys did so good, as always."

the two of you open the car and sit inside

"i'm excited! i didn't eat dinner yet since you said we'd be going out- hello why are you not starting the car" you say

"y/n, i have something to tell you." he says cautiously

your head tilts to the side and you gesture for him to continue

he pulls out the flowers and plushie from the backseat and you softly gasp

the bouquet is beautiful, full of your favorite flowers

yushi clears his throat and leans forward a bit

"i have feelings for you. i've liked you for around... 5 months now? but yeah, i thought i'd let you know. if you don't feel the same way, it's okay, we can just move past it. the last thing i want is for you to be uncomfortable, which is now making me realize that i probably shouldn't have done this in the car because it seems weird-"

he's basically rambling at this point but he doesn't cARE he just needs to get it all out before he bails out on himself

"you... like... me??" you question

yushi nods with a small smile on his face

"are you sure? i mean, like, why me?"

"i just feel so comfortable and safe around you. i love how independant, thoughtful and selfless you are, and how you always appreciate the small things in life. i love how genuine you are, because it never makes me feel like i'm being judged or lied to- it just feels real. you always think about others before yourself, and that makes me want to be the person to take care of you."

wow you did not expect that

yushi just kinda stares at u because he didn't expect to say that himself either

haha that's so sweet of him,,, oh god,,,,, this is a LOT to take in

why do you feel lightheaded and why is your vision going black

um what's happeni-

—

so you passed out

maybe it was the shock or the mental stress of the situation but you BLACKED OUT

you wake up to yushi fanning you with some random papers from his backpack that he hurriedly took out

he even has a hand on your wrist to check if you still have a pulse lmao

he freaked OUT when he saw all the color drain from your face

"hey- you okay?" he asks worriedly

you chuckle weakly and sit up, brushing the hair out of ur face

"yeah, sorry i just- i guess i was just surprised."

"did you want me to take you home? or to urgent care?"

"nO- i'm good, i swear, yushi. i just- it was a lot to take in. i didn't think someone like you would like someone like me, but i shouldn't have doubted you. i feel the same way. that was really sweet of you- this whole confession was, to be honest. i don't mind you being the one to take care of me. i want that, actually. i want that with you."

you two are just staring at each other like haha what do we do now

yushi leans forward even more and cups your cheek with his palm gently

"can i kiss you?"

GOD and he asks for consent, how perfect can he get??

"of course."

he presses his lips against yours and they mold together so perfectly it's like he was made to kiss you

when he pulls away you just look at each other fondly

"oh, and y/n?"

"hm?"

"please don't pass out on me like that again, i almost got a heart attack."

you laugh and rub the back of his hand softly

"no promises."

— bonus —

at the diner, you facetime rei and tell her the news

"GOD, FINALLY!!! i nEVer thought this day would come — thank you for having the balls to ask her out, yushi-" she's squealing so much on the other side of the phone she literally starts lagging

riku and sion just laugh at her reaction

"you know," sion starts, "yushi got drunk once and was ranting about you-"

"oh my GOD i remember that!! he was like 'y/n, i looooveeee youuuu...' i think i have a video, actually-" riku adds

"god, please don't." your bf says, massaging his temples

you laugh

he's so cute

—

author's note: hiii!! i loved this banner so much i thought it deserved a better fic to go with it haha so here we go :) have a good day/night everyone!

[karikarasuno]

part eight | part nine | wc: 4.4k | semi-public oral sex (again but this time m!receiving)

“I got somethin’ that belongs to you.” Ace hears Marco say from where he’s crouched behind the DJ booth fixing some wiring for Usopp. But before he can stand his hat lands on the ground beside him.

“It’s bad manners throwin’ a man’s hat on the floor,” Ace chides as he plucks it from where it sits and dusts it off. It takes him a second to remember where he left it, and when the memory hits him a blush that he has no control over settles across his cheeks. You make him feel so young. Which is an odd sensation for Ace since he’s never really known what it was like to be youthful. It’s one of the reasons he doesn’t go too hard on Luffy when he makes mistakes. It’s hard growing up when you’re not ready for it. He knows better than anyone else what that’s like. 

But this is different. You excite him in a childlike way. Ace has never really had a crush before. It seems so juvenile to describe his feelings for you in that way. But it’s the only thing that makes sense to him. 

“Whatever you were doin’ in the storage room was probably bad manners,” Marco responds, snapping Ace out of the memory of you. 

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he feigns ignorance. Better to play a fool then give away more than anyone needs to know. 

“Right,” Marco scoffs with a shake of his head. Ace watches him think for a second. He knows Marco well enough to see that he has more to say, but he’s choosing his words carefully. It always worries Ace when he can see the gears turning in his head because it usually means whatever he has to say Ace isn’t gonna be too big a fan of. 

“Tell me one thing,” he finally says, arms crossing over his chest as he meets Ace’s eyes intently. “This thing you got goin’ on, is it serious?”

Ace sighs. It falls heavily from his lips as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why is everyone so pressed about my love life?”

“Well for one, I’m nosey,” Marco says casually with a small knowing smile playing on his lips. “And y’know, we just want what’s best for ya.”

Ace has to suppress an eye roll. Agitation flares in his chest in an uncomfortable way. In a way he’s not entirely used to. “I’m a grown man capable of making my own decisions, but thanks for your concern.”

He turns away hoping that’s the end of the conversation because it’s one he’s not too keen on having. But his life doesn’t really work out in the ways that he wants it to. 

“I never said you weren’t,” Marco argues, tone even and calm. Which annoys Ace even more. “I just worry about you, kid. I don’t wanna see you get hurt.”

“Why would you assume I’m gonna get hurt? I like her. This shit is new. Obviously we’re still figuring it out,” Ace huffs out. He can feel his blood pressure rise and a warmth that makes his skin crawl starts to take over. 

“I’m just sayin’ ever since you came back you’ve been different,” Marco explains, throwing his hands up in surrender. “And I just wanna make sure you’re good. You don’t talk to me like you used to and I respect that. You’re a grown man after all,” he throws Ace’s words back in his face, “but that doesn’t mean I stopped carin’.”

Ace puts down his tools and tosses his hat on a nearby table. He doesn’t like talking about what happened in the city. He hasn’t talked to anyone about it actually. Besides Sabo, who was there. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve been distant,” Ace says, shoulders sagging slightly. “It’s just…”

Sabo’s scar fills Ace’s mind. The weight of guilt bears down on him so intensely most days it’s difficult for Ace to pull air into his lungs. His sleep is restless. His dreams are haunting. It’s been years but the memories of that night have yet to fade. Sabo told him not to go to the underground fight, but they owed Ace money. Sabo said it was a set up, but in his youth Ace was a stubborn idiot. Prone to irrationality especially when he felt disrespected. Sabo would probably still have vision in his left eye if he didn’t protect him that night. The dumbass nearly took a bullet straight to the face for him. The shrapnel ended up bursting right in front of his face, though, when he pushed Ace out of the way. 

Ace still hasn’t fully forgiven himself for it. It seems like tragedy follows him everywhere. Even when he tries to escape it. 

“Yeah,” he says at last, “I think it is serious. With her.”

He finally looks up at Marco and he visibly softens. His eyes are glowing with a fondness that makes Ace almost uncomfortable. It could nearly be mistaken for pity. But Ace knows better. 

“Good,” Marco nods resolutely. “Now Whitebeard can stop houndin’ me about it.”

“He isn’t,” Ace responds, taken aback by Whitebeard’s interest. 

“It’s about time for Ace to settle down. The boy ain’t gon be young forever. And she seems like a sweet girl too,” Marco’s impression of Whitebeard is perfect. So perfect that Ace folds over with a laugh and covers his face with his hand. It’s nice to know that people care. It satisfies him in a way words can’t really describe. 

“Guess I should probably take her out again then,” Ace smiles, his mind already drifting off to where he wants to take you. What he wants to do with you. 

****

“Hello?” You answer on the first ring. Which strokes his ego more than he’d like to admit. 

“Hey there, jailbird. How’s freedom tastin’?” He teases, grinning to himself as he holds his phone up to his ear. 

“Will you ever let me live that down?” He hears you huff out a small laugh, which lights his chest up with affection. “Because if my memory serves me I’m not the only one who’s served time in this little group of ours.”

“Very true.”

“But to answer your question, freedom tastes sweet. Peachy,” you joke and he can hear how proud you are of yourself in the way you giggle. He finds it incredibly endearing the way you make yourself laugh. 

“Glad to hear it because I got a question for you,” he says, leaning against his truck after he tosses his tools in the backseat. 

“Should I be worried?” You ask hesitantly. Rightfully skeptical since everyone in this town always seems to be up to no good. 

“Not at all,” he chuckles, “I was just wonderin’ if you were free tonight.”

“That depends. What do you have in mind?”

“You, me, and a drive-in movie,” he answers, giddy excitement rushing through him at the thought of spending more time with you. 

“What is it with you and getting me alone in a truck?” You ask cheekily, and he can just see the smile you’re wearing through the phone. It’s fun. The little game of cat and mouse the two of you are playing. He especially enjoys when that game leads the two of you into dark corners. Where you typically let him have his way with you. Not that that’s his intention. For the most part. 

“If I’m rememberin’ correctly that first time was all you,” he says, biting his bottom lip to keep the grin from splitting his face. He wishes he could see your face right now. He’s sure you’re rolling your eyes at him, but you still blush. You always do. 

“I blame the free shots and adrenaline,” you deflect easily. “But to answer your original question, I am free tonight.”

“Perfect. I’ll pick you up at eight, then.”

Oddly enough, Ace is nervous. Like ‘sweaty palms and racing pulse’ nervous. And he doesn’t really know why, but as he gets closer to your house he feels himself grow restless. Fidgety. There’s a strange pressure he’s feeling. Like at any second he could fuck this up. He blames Marco for that. Their conversation this morning has created a shadow Ace can’t seem to get rid of. One that compounds every mistake he’s ever made. One that whispers to him that he’ll inevitably make another one and lose you too. But he’s aware that things with you are too new to mess up. You’re barely on your second date and he’s already overthinking this. 

He takes a deep breath as he pulls into the short dirt road that leads to your house. You have your porch light on and he notices you added a few plants to the porch and a bench right beneath the window that looks into your kitchen. The sight is so distinctly you that Ace feels the breath he takes fill his lungs easier. And when he watches the way you excitedly walk through your front door his worries ease. The tightness that was previously in his chest travels down to his jeans though when you turn around to lock your door and he sees the way your shorts hug your ass. It’s concerning how attracted he is to you. How much of a distraction you’ve become for him. 

He hops out the truck the closer you get. You’re also wearing a thin poncho that drapes over your shoulders and sways around your torso. You make the simplest things tantalizing. It’s really becoming a problem for him. 

“New ride?” You ask, leaning up to kiss his cheek when you’re close enough. He feels his cheeks burn but he ignores it. 

“No, just new to you,” he answers, slipping his hand into yours to lead you to the passenger side. 

“It’s bigger than your usual truck,” you comment, stepping on the side rail when he opens the door for you to climb in. 

“Figured it would be comfier to watch a movie in.” He grabs the seat belt and buckles you in. He feels your breath kiss his ear and goosebumps tickle his neck. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to get this close to you if he’s planning on surviving the evening with you without making a move. 

“That’s why you have the middle seat up?” He can see your sneaky smile from the corner of his eye as the seat belt clicks into place. When he glances at you, your eyes are bright. Tempting him. “For comfort.”

“I also got a blanket in the back if you get cold.” His fingers ghost over your bare thigh. He told himself he’d behave tonight. But when he looks at you he thinks you might have other plans. 

“I’m sure I won’t need it given how hot you run.” 

He chuckles. Flirting with you is so easy. Natural. “Sabo says I’m like a furnace. I usually can’t even stand wearin’ a shirt most days.” 

“I’ve never seen you without one.” Your lips form a pout, one that punches him in the gut with the urge to kiss it right off of you. “Kinda unfair if you ask me.” 

“Maybe later,” he leans in close, until your noses touch, “if you’re lucky.” 

He hears you laugh softly as he steps away from the passenger seat and shuts your door. He bites down a smile of his own as he rounds the hood and his nerves, the ones that were trampling his lungs not too long ago, morph into something with wings. Something that makes him feel lighter than he ever has. 

****

“So where exactly are we going?” You ask after about twenty minutes as he merges onto the highway.

“The closest drive-in is in Alabasta,” he answers. “Another ten minutes and we’ll be there.”

“I’ve never been.” You peer out the window and your hands fiddle with the ends of your poncho as you do. Maybe he’s not the only one who’s nervous. The idea of you sharing a feeling as benign as that makes his fingers itch to touch you. They spasm around the steering wheel. And he’s so distracted by the thought of you beneath his touch he almost misses the exit. He jerks into the right lane unexpectedly and your body flattens against the door. You let out a short yelp when your shoulder meets the window and when he finally straightens out the glare you give him sends a shiver of amusement down his spine. 

“Sorry,” he says with a chuckle. “I should’ve warned you.”

“You think.” You slap his arm, but there’s no real power in your swing. He flinches anyway, releasing an exaggerated “ouch” until you smile at him. 

“What movie are we even watching?” You cross your arms across your chest and straighten in your seat. Entirely too far away from him for his liking. 

“I haven’t got a clue.” He only managed to check the times earlier before he called you. Not really giving a damn what was playing to begin with. 

“Didn’t you check beforehand?” You ask, throwing your hands in the air. 

“Wasn’t my priority at the time,” he answers, making a left into the movie lot. 

“And what was?” Your brows furrow and your nose scrunches in a way that makes you look cuter than you have any business being. 

“Gettin’ you alone in my truck, obviously.” He winks at you, rolling down his window to ask the attendant for two tickets. He hands them to you after he pays, thanking the young kid as he drives off. He finds a spot near the back in a patch of grass. It’s the only area where he has enough space to park this truck. But it’s also private. Intimate. It makes him feel like it really is just the two of you. 

“So, I got popcorn, beer,” he reaches around to open the cooler that’s sitting on the floor of the backseat, “those seltzers Sabo says girls like.”

You chuckle when he pulls one out and gives it to you, snatching a beer for himself. “And sour gummies or peanut m&ms if you’re lookin’ for somethin’ sweet later.”

“I’ll actually take those m&ms now, please.” 

“Ah, dessert first?” He tosses the box at you and it lands on your lap. 

“Always.”

****

“How dark is your window tint?” The question rings as strange, random, when it falls from your lips. The movie is about half an hour in and you’ve managed to wiggle your way into the center seat, curling into his side. 

“Dark enough for Garp to ticket me every time he catches me drivin’ it round town.” He eats a handful of popcorn as he eyes you skeptically. You fold your legs onto the seat, angling yourself so that your face tilts directly up to him. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” you shrug, inching closer to him. Your perfume fully invades his space. He swallows quickly. Anticipating a kiss. But your head drops to his shoulder and your hand wanders from your knee to his. 

“I’ve been thinking,” your fingers skirt slowly up his inner thigh and even though he can’t feel your fingertips through the thick denim, his skin still chills beneath your attention. “I should return the favor for the other night.”

“What night?” He asks absentmindedly. Your hand is distracting as it creeps closer to the zipper of his jeans. 

“Ace,” you say firmly yet with a wistfulness that makes his heart stutter. You avert your gaze from your hand and look at him. Your hand pauses on his upper thigh and he already feels himself stir in his pants. It’s a little quicker than he’s used to but he really can’t help it. “I can’t get you out of my head.”

Your words ghost across his lips. His brain buffers. Your fingers curve around his belt buckle. “Can I…?”

“Can you what?” He wants to push you. He needs to hear you actually ask for it. He sets down the bag of popcorn somewhere at his side. His mind solely focused on the insinuation of your words. He knows what you want to ask but even if he didn’t he’d probably say yes. He struggles foreseeing an outcome where he doesn’t say yes to you. 

“Can I… taste you?” Your voice is quiet, sincere. Hesitant. His hand caresses your cheek and pulls you closer. Practically kissing you when he asks “where?” 

You tug on his belt, the buckle clattering when it loosens around his hips. You fit your lips to his and he’s tense. His whole body is wound up tight. Painful. It’s taking every ounce of restraint he has not to pounce on you like an animal. 

“I was thinking here.” You pop the button on his jeans and pull the zipper down. Your fingers slip into his pants until you’re cupping his erection. He’s impossibly hard at this point. He’s been craving you ever since your stint in the storage closet. He’s stroked his cock to the thought of you coming on his tongue more times than he can count in the last few days. In the morning before he even opens his eyes. In the shower after a long day. 

“Only if you want me to,” you whisper, your lips stretching against his in what he knows is a smile. One that suggests you already know his answer. 

“I would want nothin’ more than to feel your pretty lips wrapped around my cock.” You gasp. Your lips part and your fingers tighten around his shaft. His groan rumbles in his chest from the pressure of your hand. 

“Jesus, Ace,” you sigh, smearing your lips across his cheek until your face rests in the crook of his neck. Your hand softly strokes him, but the way your palm digs into him has him leaking. He wants you so terribly he’s surprised he isn’t shaking from his self control. “You really just say anything.” 

He chuckles darkly, breathlessly, as his head falls back on to the headrest. It allows you to drag your lips down his neck. Pressing tender kisses down his collarbone until your teeth graze the collar of his shirt.  

“Would you prefer it if I shut up?” He jokes, but the words hold too much air to be heavy. To hold any real weight because you shift further away from him. And he’d be bothered over the distance, but not when you pepper kisses down his torso. He can feel the heat of each one burn through the fabric of his top. He twitches in your grasp. 

“No,” you say once you reach the waistband of his jeans, working them gently down until he’s finally exposed to you, “I like hearing you.” 

Ace’s inhale gets caught somewhere between his lungs and throat. Your lips wrap around his head and the warmth of your mouth has his hips flexing. Itching to move. But he keeps them still as your tongue slips from between your lips. Wetting him. Exploring him. 

“Fuck, ok.” He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He wants to touch you but he can’t bring himself to cross that line because once his hands are on you he’ll be too tempted to pull you off of him. To push you down onto your back and beg you to let him fuck you. There’s more space in this truck for him to feel you the way he wants. The way he cannot stop imagining. 

You hum around his dick as you sink down and swallow. One of his hands shoots out to grip the steering wheel. He can’t breathe. Especially when you start bobbing your head and fisting him as your spit leaks from your lips, soaking him. He’s having a tough time connecting his imagination to his reality. You’ve been the subject of his fantasies the moment he watched you for the first time on the dance floor at Whitebeard’s. He’s never needed anyone as badly as he needs you. 

The audio from the movie warbles through his speakers and through his ears. He can’t focus on it or the scene playing out in front of him. Not when his vision blurs and sound is muffled by how heavy and dense his breaths are. 

You pop off of him briefly, your free hand clutching his thigh. His cock glistens in the minimal light that filters through his windshield. And when you angle your face to lick up the length of him, he catches the way your chin shines as well. Salacious. Beautiful. 

God, he can’t stand it. His hand finds the back of your neck once you start sucking again. And you moan. It’s more of a whine as it crawls up your throat and travels down to his base. 

“Shit, that feels…” His words die in his throat as his grip tightens involuntarily and another small noise catches in your throat. 

“You like that?” His pulse is racing and his heart thuds recklessly in his chest. You surprise him. Every time he tries to be tender, sweet, gentle with you you ask for more. Something rougher. Harsher. The realization alone makes his stomach dip low with pleasure. With a heat he cannot control. 

Your nod is enough of an answer for him. He holds you tighter as your movements pick up the pace. He’s gonna come. You’re gonna make him come and his restraint frays at the edges. His hips jolt, forcing him further into your mouth. He hits the back of your throat and you gag around him, but you don’t stop. It’s becoming too much. He’s suffocating. 

“That’s it,” he groans. His abs tense as his orgasm builds aggressively in his gut. “Fuck, baby, m’gonna-“

His words are stolen from him. His warning barely tumbles from his lips as he finishes inside your mouth. He has to smother his moan into his shoulder in an attempt to quiet the sound. It's difficult though when you swallow down his release eagerly. Your hand is still pumping him until he’s drained. Sensitive. 

When you pull back, the first thing he notices is how smudged your mascara is beneath your eyes. And your eyes glow with unshed tears. Your lips are swollen and even though he’s still reeling, it doesn’t stop the urge he has to kiss you. And you must notice the way his eyes cling to the sight because you part them to reveal the last traces of his cum pooling on your tongue. 

“You’re tryin’ to give me a heart attack, aren’t you?” But he doesn’t actually give you a chance to answer because he’s already pulling you into him. Kissing you. Tasting himself on your tongue yet he still tastes the sweet remnants of your lip gloss. 

Ace nearly tugs you into his lap. Already ready for another go. This time for you. To make you feel as good as you just made him feel. But you push away from him. He doesn’t wanna let you go, but your hands are firm as they press you away from his chest. 

“Let’s finish the movie,” you say, breathing hard but smiling at him. So much fonder than he expects for the moment you just had. 

“I’ve already seen it,” he replies, reaching for you again.

“Yeah, but I haven’t,” you laugh and swat his hands away. 

“You missed half of it,” he argues, watching as you twist to grab the blanket in his back seat. 

“Then catch me up,” you say, unfolding the blanket to cover your laps. Beneath the blanket your hands tuck him back into his pants before you turn your attention back to the screen. Even going as far as turning the volume up in an attempt to tune out his retorts. “Now pass me the popcorn.” 

Ace, no matter how hard he tries, cannot wipe the grin off his face for the rest of the night. And you don’t help his case either. Your walls are completely down and he thought he knew you before, but now he realizes how silly you can be. How chatty you are. He explained the movie to you but it ended up being pointless with you just talking through the ending. He didn’t mind though. You settle him in an oddly familiar way. He can’t quite put his finger on why that is, but he’d be stupid to question it. To overthink it to death. To make it out to be something that it’s not. 

“I had fun tonight,” you say as he drives up to your house. “Thanks for inviting me out.”

“No need to thank me,” he shakes his head, parking a few feet from your porch steps. It’s dark out and even though your porch is illuminated, he still decides to walk you to your door. Like a gentleman. 

“I’m serious.” He meets you on the passenger side and extends his hand to help you jump out. “We should do this again sometime. And maybe get out of the car next time.” 

“I should be able to make that happen,” he says, intertwining your fingers as you lead him to your front door. He won’t ask to see you tomorrow, afraid that it will be too forward, but that doesn’t stop him from spinning you towards him once you reach your door. Pressing your body to his in the hopes that this won’t be the last time he touches you tonight. “Before that, though, you should invite me in.”

“No way,” you laugh and try to wiggle away from him, but his hold on you tightens. “Not tonight.”

“That doesn’t seem fair. I owe you one.” He almost tacks on a please for good measure. Ace isn’t above begging. Especially if it leads to him between your legs again. 

“I can handle that for tonight.” You manage to wedge some space between your bodies, skipping heedlessly away from him. 

“Ugh, don’t tell me that.” His head falls forward in distress. Now all he can imagine is you alone in bed. Fingers nestled between your thighs and hopefully his name dripping candied from your tongue. 

“Tomorrow we’re meeting at Sanji’s for some breakfast,” you change the subject swiftly, twisting your key in the lock. “If you’d like to join us.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He loops a finger into one of the holes on your poncho. When he goes in for a kiss, you meet him halfway. He intends for it to be longer, more persuasive than it is. But your intentions are innocent. Your lips press to his warmly, romantic. 

“8:30,” you smile a breath away from his lips. “Don’t be late.”

taglist: @a-girl-cant-decide-on-a-name @nico-ith @chillerkiller @jozhenji @starchild-unnamed @certain-tragedies @hannahbarberra162 @kanekisheart @stuckinmymind22 @greenbnny@kimkat1822, @purplefluffycows @insomniacvoidsstuff

[cripplecharacters]

i want to give one of my characters narcolepsy, she already has a job(she works at a combination flower shop/coffee shop) and i was wondering how it would affect her work? like work hours, amount/length of breaks, what type of work would best and if she would even be allowed to work cuz i know certain disabilities make it so you cant work. (i apologize if this is insensitive or ableist in any way)

Hello!

As a disclaimer: we don't have any mods with confirmed narcolepsy atm. I don't have narcolepsy but I do have a sleep disorder that presents similarly. If any of our followers have narcolepsy, please feel free to chime in!

She would still be able to work, though there will be jobs where she won't be permitted to work such as those involving heavy machinery.

The setting that you described (The flower/coffee shop) doesn't seem like it would be any problem and accommodations for her would be pretty simple to implement!

For me, I'm lucky enough that my job is already structured in a pretty accessible way for me. I usually work anywhere from 1-3 hours at a time, which means I can rest/nap before and after as needed. Because of the nature of my job (I'm a transcriber and switch on/off with my coworker every 1000 words), I'm also able to get up and stretch or take a quick walk if needed.

Something similar might be beneficial for your character! Maybe instead of having one hour long break, for example, they can have four fifteen minute breaks.

A flower shop is also a good setting to be able to walk around as needed. If they're starting to get tired and know that movement will help them, they can easily switch to another task that's more physically demanding such as sweeping up fallen leaves, potting plants, making flower arrangements, etc.

The coffee side of things might be a bit more difficult but the same idea applies there too!

Something else I really love about my job is that I'm able to pick my own hours/schedule. For me, I find that I have the most trouble staying awake at around noon so I do my best not to schedule myself during that time.

If your character has the ability to do something similar, that might help!

And as a final note: don't worry about seeming ableist or insensitive! This blog was created as a place for people to ask questions and improve their disabled characters. The fact that you're reaching out for advice and thinking about this stuff is great and your questions are completely reasonable.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

[orellazalonia]

Slow to Forgive

Summary: Bucky reports back to the team as he copes with what has happened among her, you, and everything else that has occurred. Meanwhile, a few people gradually start visiting you, trying to reconnect in their own different ways.

Word Count: 2.7k+

Main Masterlist | The One You Don’t See Masterlist

The others were already gathered when Bucky returned.

He stepped through the door with that same steady walk, but something about his posture was tighter now. Like tension had settled into his spine and hadn’t left. Steve noticed it first. Natasha second. Sam leaned off the wall, catching the subtle difference in Bucky’s expression.

No one said anything at first.

Just waited.

“She’s not panicked,” Bucky said finally, his voice low as he moved to the table. “She’s calm. Like she’s already made peace with what happens next.”

Steve crossed his arms. “Did she give you anything?”

“No intel,” Bucky replied, shaking his head. “No locations, no contacts, nothing we can use right away.”

“But?” Bruce prompted, reading between the lines.

“But she believes she’s right.” Bucky leaned on the table now, both hands braced against the edge. “Every word out of her mouth was confident. She doesn’t think she betrayed us, she thinks she exposed us.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “Did she admit to leaking the access codes?”

“She didn’t need to. She didn’t deny it either.” He exhaled. “She didn’t even sound angry. Just… disappointed.”

Sam muttered something under his breath and paced to the other side of the room.

Wanda looked up quietly from where she sat near the terminal. “She hurt you.”

It wasn’t a question.

Bucky’s gaze flicked to hers, and for a second the mask cracked. A flicker of something raw passed through his eyes before it disappeared again.

“She was good at pretending,” He admitted. “And maybe I was good at letting her.”

Steve’s brows drew in, thoughtful but firm. “You think she’s still playing us?”

“I think,” Bucky began carefully, “That she meant everything she said. And that’s what makes her dangerous.”

“Conviction,” Natasha murmured.

“Yeah.” Bucky straightened. “She’s not waiting to be rescued. She’s not scared of the consequences. She really believes she did the right thing.”

Clint let out a long sigh. “So… what now? We sit on our hands while she philosophizes us into another blind spot?”

“We keep her locked down,” Natasha said firmly. “And we dig. Every file, every trace, every soft point in the system she could’ve used.”

Steve nodded slowly. “We can’t take any chances.”

Wanda looked toward the far hallway, where the containment wing lay silent behind reinforced doors. “She was always so kind,” She whispered. “It’s strange how kindness can be used like a blade.”

Bucky didn’t respond. He didn’t move.

He just stared at the map projected on the center table, a faint blinking cursor where the organization’s last known base used to be.

“I don’t think she regrets it,” He said. “And that’s the part that scares me the most.”

The new room they’d put you in wasn’t a cell. But it wasn’t anything cozy either.

It had walls. A bed, a bench, and a chair. There was even a sink, a screen, and a light that never fully shut off. Just bright enough to make sleeping feel unnatural. Just soft enough to keep you awake wondering when someone would knock and say it was time for another “talk.”

You sat curled up in the corner of the narrow bed, legs tucked to your chest, back pressed against the wall. You weren’t restrained, but the silence weighed heavier than metal.

Nobody had said much since the breach. No one told you anything. And so, you didn’t ask.

You were used to being forgotten, even here, even now.

So when the door slid open, you didn’t look up right away. Not until you heard his voice.

“Hey,” Sam said softly, stepping just inside the room. “Mind some company?”

You blinked. Then nodded once.

He didn’t sit right away. Just glanced around, eyes scanning the room and then you. Not with suspicion. Just quiet concern. His expression was gentle, like someone walking into a room where grief still lingered and not wanting to stir it too hard.

“You okay?” He asked, voice low.

You shrugged. “Define okay.”

That made the corner of his mouth twitch. Something close to a smile.

“Fair.”

He finally stepped over and took the chair, spinning it once before settling in backward, with his arms resting on the back like he always had a way of making everything feel casual. Even this.

“They told me you were still here,” He said. “Didn’t feel right that no one came to check in.”

You said nothing.

“I figured… after all this, you probably didn’t want another interrogation.”

That got a small, huffed sound from you, something resembling a laugh, or the ghost of one.

He glanced around, then leaned in slightly. “So I thought I’d do something crazy.”

You tilted your head.

“Just come in here and talk to you like a person.”

A beat of silence.

Then, softer, he added, “Or sit here in case you didn’t want to talk at all. I’m good at both.”

You swallowed. The words felt stuck in your throat. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him. At the kindness in his eyes. The warmth. Not pity or duty. Simply kindness.

It undid something small in your chest.

“Why?” You asked, barely above a whisper.

Sam didn’t pretend. He sighed and leaned back a little.

“Because no one did before,” He said. “Not enough.”

You looked away.

“It’s not your job.”

“Nope,” He agreed. “Doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

Silence stretched between you. But it wasn’t sharp or cold. It settled softly.

“You didn’t have to come.”

“I know,” He replied gently. “That’s why I did.”

You blinked rapidly, jaw tightening as you tried not to feel too much. He noticed you didn’t feel like talking yet so he stood slowly, brushing his hands on his jeans.

“I’m not gonna push you,” He said. “But if you ever want to talk or sit or just complain about the food, I’m around.”

He paused at the door.

Then glanced back, his tone a little lighter.

“Oh. And I brought you something.”

From his jacket pocket, he pulled a granola bar and a pack of trail mix out, placing them both on the small ledge beside the sink.

“Not gourmet,” He said with a wink, “but better than those ration bricks.”

Then he left. No big goodbye. No expectation. Just a quiet kindness in the space where silence had taken root.

You stared at the snacks for a long time. And then, finally, you let yourself smile.

Just a little.

Even with Sam’s little visit, deep down, you really didn’t expect anyone to come back.

That was the rule, wasn’t it? People check in once, feel a little better about themselves, and then move on. Let the silence do the work. Let the person behind the glass fade back into being no one again.

But when the door opened again the next morning, you looked up; and this time, you blinked in quiet surprise.

Clint Barton stepped in, hands full of something that smelled like breakfast. His brow lifted when he saw you curled on the bed, alert.

“Morning,” He said, like this was normal. Like the awkwardness didn’t exist.

You sat up slowly, confused. “…Hi?”

He held up the bag. “Wanda said you liked blueberry muffins. I figured she wouldn’t say that unless it was true. So, uh… here.”

He crossed the room, setting the bag gently down beside you on the bed. Then, very deliberately, he stepped back. Giving you space and letting you decide what came next.

You looked at the bag. Then at him. “Why are you here?”

Clint scratched the back of his neck. “Sam told me you hadn’t really eaten. Thought maybe real food would help.” A beat. “And… to be honest, I feel like an ass.”

You blinked, surprised at the honesty.

He shrugged. “I was one of the people who got used to you always being quiet and efficient. Thought that meant you were fine. I should’ve known better.” His voice lowered. “That’s on me.”

You looked away. The muffin bag crinkled softly in your hand, “I’m not good at this.”

“Neither am I,” Clint said, half-smiling. “But we can sit in mutual awkward silence if that helps.”

You let out a soft laugh. It wasn’t much, but it cracked the shell a little.

He pulled the chair closer and sat without ceremony, resting his elbows on his knees. “You don’t have to talk about anything heavy,” He assured. “You want to tell me your least favorite cereal? We can do that.”

You studied him. Really got a good look at him. And for once, no part of his expression or demeanor was guarded. So you offered, quietly, “I think the off-brand fruit loops taste like sadness.”

He grinned. “Strong take. I respect that.”

A pause.

“Clint?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know if I’m staying.”

He nodded, gaze soft. “That’s okay.”

You looked down at the muffin in your lap, hands curled around the warmth of the bag. “But I… don’t want to be alone.”

“You won’t be,” He said without hesitation.

And you believed him. For the first time in a long time, you really did.

The punching bag didn’t help Bucky.

He’d already changed it out twice that week, not because it tore, but because hitting it stopped giving him the quiet he needed.

Sleep hadn’t come easy either.

Not since that conversation. Not since her voice started echoing in his head again, so calm, so certain.

“You saw her breaking. You cared. But you didn’t reach out.”

He’d wanted to yell, to argue and push it away. But the worst part was… she was right.

He had seen it. The way you dimmed. The way you shrunk in rooms full of heroes and went unseen. And he'd noticed. He had meant to check in. Had meant to say something.

But he hadn’t.

Because other things always came first. Because you weren’t loud about needing help. Because he was focused on someone else.

And now? Now he kept hearing about how Clint stopped by. How Sam brought you snacks. How Bruce gave you books to read. And Wanda? Wanda just sat beside you in silence some days.

Like they all remembered you now, when it no longer counted the same.

He hadn’t visited yet. He just couldn’t bring himself to. He didn’t know what he’d say.

Because when he finally looked you in the eye, he was afraid you’d see the truth. That it wasn’t the betrayal from her that cut the deepest. It was how he had let you slip through his fingers without ever reaching out.

And he didn’t know if there was still time to fix that.

The lights in the corridor were dimmer at night.

Maybe to soften the edge of your confinement. Maybe to make the long hours feel less sterile. Either way, the hum of the overhead bulbs filled the space like static.

You didn’t look up when the door opened. You’d gotten used to the rhythm of footsteps by now. Sam’s easy presence, Wanda’s almost soundless approach, the calm echo of Bruce’s shoes.

But this was different.

It was heavier. Slower. Familiar in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Your eyes lifted to find Bucky standing in the doorway. His hands were in his jacket pockets. Shoulders tense. His eyes flicked briefly to you before settling on a spot near the floor.

Neither of you spoke at first.

He crossed the room quietly, but didn’t sit. Just stood there, a little too close to the wall, like he didn’t trust himself to come closer.

You watched him for a moment then lowered your gaze. “I thought you weren’t going to come.”

He exhaled, the sound rougher than he meant it to be. “I wasn’t.”

That surprised you.

“I didn’t know what I’d say,” He continued quietly. “Still don’t.”

You didn’t move. Neither did he.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, restless. “I’ve been trying to figure out when I stopped noticing you. When I stopped saying more than hi in passing. When you became part of the backdrop.”

Your throat tightened.

His gaze looked at you then. “I think you used to smile. Maybe not often. But when you did, it was real. You looked like someone who could still hope.”

You didn’t answer.

“Then it faded,” He murmured. “And I noticed that, too. And I didn’t do anything.”

You pressed your nails lightly into your palms. Just to feel something.

“Why are you telling me this now?” You whispered.

“Because I think I liked you,” He said.

Your breath caught.

“Not like… falling-for-you liked. I mean, maybe. But mostly I saw you. And I let that mean nothing.”

Silence thickened between you.

Bucky stepped forward then, just one step, and crouched beside you.

“I thought I was good at spotting people on the edge,” He said. “After everything I’ve been through, I thought I’d know. But I missed it with you. And I’m sorry.”

You stared at him, unable to speak. There was too much in your chest. Guilt. Anger. Longing. Sadness. A million things you didn’t have the right words for.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” He added gently. “Hell, you don’t have to say anything at all. I just needed you to know that… I should’ve been better.”

You didn’t look at him right away.

You couldn’t.

Because if you did, you were afraid you’d break all over again. And you’d done enough of that in private. Battling quiet grief. Handling silent disappointments. The kinds no one noticed, the kind no one had to.

Bucky stayed crouched by the chair, close enough to feel but not close enough to lean on. He gave you space. He always did, even when it was too much.

Your hands stayed in your lap, clenched lightly, fingers curled around the fabric of your sleeves.

“I used to…” Your voice wavered. You cleared your throat. “I used to imagine what it’d be like if you saw me.”

You could feel him shift slightly, not toward you, not away. Just enough to show he was listening.

“I don’t mean in some dramatic, love at first sight way,” You said quickly, eyes still locked on the floor. “I just… wondered what it would feel like to have your attention. Even for a minute, a full genuine minute.”

Silence.

Your hands trembled but you pressed on still.

“And then I stopped imagining,” You continued softly. “Because even when I was in the room, even when I worked, helped, covered for people; I was never someone worth looking at. Not to you. Not to any of you.”

That part cracked out sharper than you meant.

You finally looked at him. He looked like he’d been punched in the gut.

“I wasn’t waiting for a confession,” You said. “I wasn’t waiting for you or them. I’m not that naive.”

He opened his mouth, but you kept going.

“I just wanted to matter.” Your voice broke on the last word. “Not because I was loud, brilliant, or charming. Just because I was me.”

He closed his mouth again.

“I tried not to care,” You said. “When you talked to her, smiled at her, looked at her like she was the only one in the room.”

Bucky’s jaw tensed.

“And one of the worst parts?” You leaned back, blinking hard. “She was looking at me. Watching me disappear and she still let me go.”

A long silence stretched between you.

“I know I’m not innocent,” You said quietly. “I made my choice. But I didn’t do it because I hated you or anyone. I did it because I didn’t think anyone would come…”

He let out a shaky breath. “I wanted to.”

“But you didn’t.”

You didn’t say it cruelly. You said it like it was the truth. Because it was.

He stood slowly, step by step, as if gravity had doubled. His eyes were full of something heavy, unreadable.

“I don’t expect forgiveness,” He reiterated.

You nodded. “Good. Because I don’t know if I have it yet.”

Then he left, solemnly.

And when the door slid shut again, you finally let the tears fall, not because you were angry.

But because you still cared.

And that might’ve been the cruelest part of all.

Taglist: @herejustforbuckybarnes @iyskgd @torntaltos @julesandgems @maesmayhem @w-h0re @pookalicious-hq @parkerslivia @whisperingwillowxox @stell404 @wingstoyourdreams @seventeen-x @mahimagi @viktor-enjoyer @vicmc624 @msbyjackal @winchestert101 @greatenthusiasttidalwave @avivarougestan @saoirses-things @itsmejen @saucysasha2035 @smokescreen1000 @poiscntree

[waitingandwishing]

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Word Count: 2.5k "𝖫𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌" ━━ Ever since you were a kid, all you wanted was to be cared for.

“‘Cause I see your real face, it’s as ugly as sin. Gonna put you in your place cause you’re rotten within.” You sang, practicing the choreography easily. “When your patterns start to show it makes the hatred wanna grow out of my veins…”

Your voice trailed off and you sighed, collapsing on your bed with a huff. You rolled up your sleeve to reveal the spreading marks, glowing and pulsing each time you grazed your other hand on them. For almost your whole life, they’ve never spread this fast before.

Jinu said that his shame was what caused them to spread… What shame did you have then? The shame of these markings? But if so, then Rumi’s would’ve spread much faster than before right? You huffed. You couldn’t believe you were about to do something this stupid but… Maybe you should visit a mudang?

You groaned. Why were you now turning to spiritual stuff? You laid on your back, thinking for a moment before deciding you’d go to sleep early instead. You probably needed a good night’s rest anyways… Just as you walked over to your lamp to turn it off, a knock on your window interrupted.

You turned to see the large blue cat from before and the bird perched on top of its head. You frowned, but opened the door and entered your balcony. “Hello?” You greeted. The tiger stared at you before pushing into your hand as if telling you to pet him like before. “Where’s your owner?”

The tiger purred before biting your arm. It wasn’t a harsh bite, more delicate than anything as it seemed as though it was trying to guide you somewhere. “Ooookay…” You cringed at the horrible sensation of it’s drool coating your sweatshirt but didn’t pull away.

You followed the tiger into a portal before ending up on the street instead. You shivered at the cold wave of existential dread that came when you entered, but brushed it off and pulled your hood over your head instead. You couldn’t exactly be seen being hauled away by a blue tiger in public right?

“Isn’t it odd how we keep meeting like this?”

You turned to see Jinu with his hands in his pockets. You smiled slightly, the tiger now letting go of your arm. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sent your cat to come get me.” 

Jinu shrugged, feigning an innocent expression. You walked forward, now enshrouded in the darkness of the alleyway. “I actually have something to ask you, surprisingly.” Your gaze was fixated on the ground, not daring to look up at Jinu. 

“My markings…” You rolled your sleeve up to reveal the spread of them going across your arms. “Why are they growing? You said that yours grew from shame but… I haven’t felt any shame.”

Jinu stared at them, his finger twitching slightly to reach out, before he curled his hand into a fist instead. “It is… Hard to identify shame.” He finalized.

You looked up at him, blinking, before letting out a chuckle. “That’s hardly an explanation. Nor does it give me any comfort.”

“Ah, I’m… Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You shook your head, “After we seal the Honmoon…” Your voice trailed off, eyes glancing at Jinu before clearing your throat. “Rumi’s and my markings will be… Fixed.”

“How did you get your markings?” Jinu asked.

“Ah… I, uh, don’t know actually. It’s just something I’ve been born with like Rumi.” You looked at them, furrowing your brows at the noticeably drastic changes, “We’re not related though so…”

“And you don’t hear Gwi-Ma in your head either?” Jinu asked. You shook your head, your eyes focusing on the cat now rubbing on your legs.

“No…” You muttered.

“Then you’re lucky too.” Jinu said. He stayed quiet for a while, tilting his head up to look at the purple colored sky.

Did negative thoughts count as Gwi-Ma speaking in your head? No, you didn’t think so. Everyone had negative thoughts sometimes, even demons have them replaced by Gwi-Ma’s manipulation. If so… Were they really that different from humans?

“Maybe… You can be lucky too.” You thought out loud. Jinu turned to you with a confused look on his face. “When the Honmoon is sealed, all demons will be banished to be with Gwi-Ma for all eternity. You can be on our side. You’ll be rid of the markings.”

Jinu paused, opening his mouth to speak before you added. “It doesn’t mean you’ll live without your memories of misery. At least, I think so.” You mused before finally looking at Jinu with a smile, “Jinu, if you help us win the Idol awards, you can stop hearing Gwi-Ma’s voice inside your head…”

“What makes you think the Honmoon can save a guy like me?” Jinu asked, eyes carefully tracing the street in consideration.

“You tried to help your family. We all…” Your voice trailed off, masking the wince of a sudden headache with clearing your throat. “We all make mistakes.”

Jinu scoffed, “It’s not that simple.”

“It’s never that simple.” You challenged, “If the Honmoon can… Help me and Rumi with our mistakes, it surely can with yours.”

There’s a softening. A stillness in his eyes as he looks at you. As if his entire world has just settled into place. His pupils dilated just slightly, eyes warm with a kind of quiet awe, and for a moment, time seems to hush around the two of you. It’s not dramatic, not always flashy. It’s subtle. Sacred.

Familiar, even to you. You feel as if you’d done this before, that you’d felt this way before. You cleared your throat, “You always stare at someone like that?” You asked.

Jinu blinked out of his trance, turning away to the blue tiger sitting in front of him with a tilted head and crossed eyes. “It’s just… You remind me a lot like someone I knew.” Jinu said. You didn’t ask anything else because it seemed like he didn’t want to elaborate any further, but it warmed your heart either way.

His words carried the weight of a thousand unspoken memories and the quiet certainty of realization and recognition. It’s the look that said… You mattered. Not because of what you’ve done or said, but simply because you’re… You.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” You smiled, now turning away, “I’ve gotta change out of this wet sweatshirt before I start getting overstimulated so… Just think about my offer?” You turned your face to the side, looking at Jinu in the corner of your eye, “Give me a message if you accept it, Jinu.”

- - -

You explained the plan to Rumi, to which she agreed with. Jinu would help you win the Idol Awards, and you would seal the Honmoon when it was over. “Should we tell the others?” you asked, walking backstage to get ready for the rehearsal.

“... No.” Rumi decided, “They… They won’t understand.”

“Are those Celine’s words or yours?” you teased, trying to lighten the moment—but she didn’t smile. Not even a flicker. Your grin faltered. You stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder with quiet concern. “Rumi…”

“These lyrics are so… Wrong.” She said, her arms crossing tightly over her chest like she was bracing for something colder than judgment.

“Yeah…” you muttered, wincing as a dull throb pulsed through your skull. “Pretty hypocritical of us, I get it.”

“It’s fine. I think we can get through this.” Rumi nodded, but her voice didn’t carry much weight. You hesitated, studying her a moment longer before nodding back and stepping onstage beside her.

The music started, echoing faintly across the space as the four of you moved into formation. “Time to put you in your place ‘cause you’re rotten within.” You sang, turning with the practiced motion.

“When your patterns start to show it makes the hatred wanna grow out of my…” Rumi’s voice trailed off. She stopped moving entirely, her face blank and filled with hesitation.

“What’s going on? Why are we stopping?” Mira asked, her tone sharp with confusion.

“It’s just… These lyrics are throwing me off.” Rumi muttered, “I don’t think they’re right just yet.”

“Seriously? Now?” Mira frowned, eyebrows pulling in.

“No, it’s fine.” Zoey laughed weakly, already flipping through her lyric journal. “It’s the second verse, right? Uh, how about… ‘When the patterns start to show, the whole world will finally know that you’re depraved’?”

You shook your head at the same time Rumi did. The movement was subtle, but Mira noticed. Her frown deepened as her gaze shifted toward you, questioning. You couldn’t meet her eyes. You looked down at the scuffed black floor instead.

“Um, ‘My sword will happily show you to your grave?’” Zoey offered again. Rumi shook her head, “‘You will be pummeled till no remains—’”

“No, Zoey, it’s just—It’s the whole song.” Rumi sighed, weariness etched into her voice.

“Oh… Okay, great!” Zoey said, trying to laugh it off, but her voice went quiet as her eyes fell to the notebook in her hands. “Well, then, I might as well tear these all up!”

“Rumi, we don’t have time to change the lyrics even if we wanted to.” Mira said, stepping closer now. “The Idol Awards are tomorrow.”

“Well, I… I don’t think I can sing this song.” Rumi argued, her voice small but firm.

“It’s… So hateful.” You added.

The tension between the four of you was like static before Bobby stepped in, his timing almost too perfect. “Hey, girls, just wanted to bring some last-minute pick-me-ups…” He smiled, though it was clearly strained, placing the bag down. “I know things have been really stressful lately and you’ve been working so hard on the Idol routine.”

Then, a sharp pink pulse hit you, like static in your bones. The headache returned in full force, blooming behind your eyes like fire. You winced, though hit it well. You turned and ran. There wasn’t time for more arguing, you had civilians to save.

- - -

“Seriously, what is your problem?” Mira asked as she sliced through a demon's body.

Mira’s words ring in your ears like an accusation you can’t deflect. You know you’re hiding something but it isn’t out of malice. It’s out of fear. Out of uncertainty. Out of not knowing if you’re right or wrong. The Honmoon. The song. The dreams. The missing people. The silence where there should be cheering fans.

“I told you, the song, it’s-”

“I’m not talking about the song, I’m talking about you and Y/N!” Mira said. You turned your head, looking at her before pulling a demon closer to you and stabbing it with your dagger. “Why are you both questioning everything that we stand for when we’re so close to sealing the Honmoon? What are you two not telling us?!”

“I-I-”

“What are you hiding from us?” Mira asked, her hand on Rumi’s shoulder just as the purple haired girl was about to pull away.

“Not everything is about your insecurities, Mira!” Rumi yelled. You widened your eyes, looking between the two of them with a pained expression.

You stood between them, looking at both their expressions. Zoey stood next to Mira with widened eyes. The whole tunnel that shrouded you with darkness suddenly blew past you, the skyline of the city and mountains coming into view.

“Mira, I-I didn’t mean…”

“Would you two stop fighting each other and look?!” Zoey yelled, pointing to the huge hole coming from the upper bridge. 

“Why is it so big…?” You muttered. Multiple hungry demons piled on top of each other, ready to ravage any human souls on the train.

“If you’re with us, prove it.” Mira challenged, looking at you and Rumi before focusing her attention back on the demons.

You got into position before lunging with the four of them at the herd of demons. Your whip cracked like gunfire, splitting the air above the demon's heads. One lunged forward, to which you moved your shoulder forward, elbow locked and fingers snapping the whip at the end. The tip wrapped around its wrist, pulling it forward before plunging your dagger into its chest.

“It’s a take down, Imma take you out and it ain’t gonna stop!”

The second demon charged, causing you to spin left and let the tail of your whip loop low around its leg. You pulled hard, dropping its balance before throwing the dagger into its chest and disintegrating it.

You leaned in, whip in a cross-body strike. The tip lashed across another demon's face, causing it to screech before bursting into a pink dust.

“Jung shin eul noh koh null jib balb goh! Kal eul seh gyuh nuah! You’ll be begging and crying, all of you dying. Never miss my shot!”

When another lunged again, you dropped the whip and caught behind the ankle. In a wrapping move, the tail tangled briefly. You yanked hard, turning your hips and unbalancing it successfully. You threw your dagger again.

“I don’t think you’re ready for the takedown! A demon with no feelings don’t deserve to live… It’s so obvious…”

You widened your eyes, watching as another demon came swinging with a club at Rumi, who had suddenly paused their demon massacre. “RUMI!” You shouted, latching your whip onto her waist and pulling her forward. The momentum caused you to fly forward, sending a kick to the larger demon's head.

The lurking demons overran the plane. You knelt down, helping Rumi up as Mira finished off the last of the demons with a shockwave of blue energy. 

Mira turned to look at you and Rumi, disappointment evident in her eyes, but just as she was about to say something, you spoke up first. “The passengers!” You realized. 

You entered the train, searching through the seats to find at least one person, only to be disappointed at the sight of the missing people. What were you going to do now? 

The train stopped at its nearest station, the four of you walking out with saddened looks on your faces. “Whatever you think about the song, it doesn’t matter right now.” Mira spoke up, her voice breaking slightly. “Everything is at stake and we just need to get through this together.” She walked away, not daring to meet yours or Rumi's gaze.

“You know I’m always on your side but… It’s really hard to understand this time.” Zoey muttered, turning to look at the two of you, “We can’t win this without your voices…” She finalized before walking away with Mira.

You and Rumi exchanged glances. Something’s wrong. And not just with the mission. With you. With Rumi. With the entire foundation everything’s been built on.

You look at her, your partner in this, and the weight in her eyes mirrors your own. The kind of weight you carry when truth is clawing at the inside of your chest but you’re afraid to open your mouth and let it out. Because if you speak it aloud, it might undo everything you’ve fought for…

Zoey says they need your voice. Mira says you’re keeping secrets. She’s not wrong. But they don’t see what you see. They don’t hear what you hear in that song. They don’t feel how wrong it’s beginning to sound.

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