#why am i laughing so hard in the middle of the grocery store | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sugolara · 1 year

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𝘿𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙚, 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚

ft. Katsuki Bakugo x Shoto Todoroki x Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader

Synopsis: After a deadly virus leaks all over the world, every country is forced to close down it's borders and airports to prevent anyone from coming in and out. Though, it's to late for some people. The dead has rose and is looking for revenge. Cw: gore, quirkless! au, apocalypse! au, zombie! au, weapons, death, angst, lots and lots of blood, cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, slow burn

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Two days had passed by ever since Izuku reconnected with his childhood friend. Sitting in the backyard with the fire going, Izuku smiled as he watched his childhood friend argue with his other friend who replied with sarcastic remarks.

He watched as Katsuki glared and bumped his finger on F/n’s forehead while she gave him an empty face. For a moment, as Izuku listened to F/n and watched Katsuki’s action, she kind of reminded him of his other friend.

Shoto.

Although, Shoto didn’t often know he was being sarcastic and rude towards Katsuki. Yet still, Izuku saw a bit of Shoto in F/n, and it kind of made him sad. As he sat, he wondered if Shoto was alive, safe and in better condition.

“You are so fucking annoying!” Katsuki's yell pulled Izuku out of his thoughts.

“Maybe I am, but at least I wasn’t the one cuddled up next to me all night and kicking.” F/n said and watched as Katsuki’s eyes widened.

With his ears turning red and cheeks dusting as well, Katsuki accusingly pointed at her, “That was you! You were the one who was turning all night and pressed up against me!”

“Hmm,” F/n checked her nails, “that could be hard, seeing as how I am just frail. You practically smothered me.”

“Yeah?” Katsuki glares at her, “Maybe, I’ll actually smother you this time, bitch!”

Izuku's chuckles cause his friends to glance at him, “The hell are you laughing at, Deku!”

Izuku waves his hand, “It’s just, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen anyone make you this mad. Besides me that is!”

“Glad to make you laugh.” F/n says and gives him a thumbs up, but Katsuki slaps her hand.

“Anyways, I was thinking,” Izuku stands up and walks to the right side of the yard, “we should combine the house next door to ours. That way we can have enough room. Like gardening; planting more vegetables and fruits and not searching towns for certain produce.”

“I think that’s a great idea, Izuku.” F/n says, “But, where are we going to find fences?”

“Sounds like a stupid idea. But,” Katsuki says and lets out an exaggerated sigh, “there’s this place where it holds furniture. I bet there's fences there too.”

“How far?” Izuku says.

“Not far from the grocery store where you found me.”

“Great!” Izuku smiles but is shortly gone, “The problem is how we bring it out here and install it.”

“Not a problem.” F/n says. She looked at Izuku and Katsuki who gave her a confused look, she then looked at Izuku with an expression, “I used to live on a farm, remember?”

“Oh right!” Izuku says, “Now, the problem is bringing it here.”

Katsuki scoffs, “Ever heard of a car?”

Sheepishingly looking away, Izuku nods, “Right. Hot wiring it is.”

With that, the three begin their new project and venture out to the streets in search for a decent truck. Izuku decided for the three to stay nearby incase of a rotter getting too close. They stayed near their house as several cars were parked in the street.

F/n stood back as watch while Katsuki leaned on an empty red truck glancing often at Izuku removing a plastic cover underneath the steering wheel. Once Izuku successfully managed to remove it, he stared at the wires that were behind the plastic. He watched the wires, wondering what to do next.

Growing impatient, Katsuki groaned, “You done yet, Deku?”

Izuku hummed, “I don’t know how to wire a car.”

“What!?” Katsuki yelled which made F/n flinch, “Why the hell didn’t you say anything!?”

“The middle bundle of wires lead to the ignition, find a red wire and a yellow. Be careful as it could electrify you, then strip two centimeters of both and twist them together.” F/n said with her arms crossed as she looked for rotters.

Katsuki stared at her, “How the hell do you know that?”

Izuku gave her a puzzled look before looking back at the wires he held, “This is going to take some time.”

“It shouldn’t.” F/n said and waved for Izuku to get out of the car. The males watched as she held two wires in her hand and with the pocket knife, she stripped two centimeters of it and twisted the wires together. Eventually, the truck lights turned on and the engine road.

Izuku’s eyes brightened in admiration, “You keep impressing me, F/n!”

“Where you a fucking criminal or what?” Katsuki asked, and he to was impressed.

F/n shrugged, “When your dad is an officer, you begin to learn a few things.”

Before F/n could get out of the car, the radio of the car caught their attention. It was static at first before a male voice on the other line spoke, “Do not intent to engage. Do not intend to fight. A sanctuary is being held in Rhote. Those who arrive, survive.”

It continued to speak, repeating the same lines over and over.

“I can’t believe it’s still going.” Izuku said.

“It’s almost been three months.” Katsuki then said.

“You think the sanctuary is still alive?” F/n questioned.

“Possibly. If it’s still being broadcasted then there has to be peop-” Izuku looked over to Katsuki who interrupted him. “No, I doubt it’s still standing.”

“What do you mean, Kacchan?”

The blonde crossed his arms, “Military control all sanctuaries. If a sanctuary is still running, you’d think that the army would come looking for any survivors, yet I had not seen one since this whole thing started.”

“He’s right.” F/n said as she turned the radio off and got up from the car, “I hadn’t seen any either. And not to mention, Rhote is a couple city’s away from Musutafu. They’d be coming to nearer city’s before going across the state.”

Izuku hummed in thought, “I haven’t seen one either, the radio must be on a time loop then. It’s giving people false hope.”

“Someone should disable it then. You think we should?” F/n asked.

“Nah,” Katsuki began and got in the car, he then rolled down every window, “we got better things to do. Someone will eventually do it.”

“You’re right, Kacchan.” Izuku then proceeded to walk towards the passenger seat.

F/n let out a sigh and got in the car as well, she sat behind Katsuki. While Katsuki and Izuku talked, F/n stared at the scenery in front of her, loads of cars with rotters melting from the sun were trapped inside.

She then stared at the seat in front of her, strays of blonde hair peeked out. Her eyes then drifted down to her feet; a picture of a family smiled back at her. She picked it up, her thumbs hovered each of the family's face as she thought of her own.

As she was in her own world, Katsuki would glance at her from the rearview mirror to see if she was alright back there.

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lumine-no-hikari · 2 months

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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #111

I went with my best friend B and her sister to a place called Lowville to see the solar eclipse. The trip was around 2 and a half hours long. B drove. Many silly and hilarious shenanigans were had along the way. I haven't laughed this much in a long time; my stomach kind of hurts, I was laughing with them so hard for parts of the trip.

…More than anything, if just for today, I wish you were here so you could experience this, too. The laughter. The joy. The love. Even if you get confused because you're not used to it, and even if you need someone to hold your hand to feel safe. I wish you were here to experience this for yourself so badly that I could almost cry.

…But that's silly; you don't exist as anything but an art form here. And even if I did allow my emotions to overflow from my eyes, it's not as though most anyone would understand anyway. Maybe they'd even think me deranged. So I won't. I'll pretend to be normal and okay for just a little while longer. Why not. Another 34 years or so really isn't that long, right?

…It's so heavy sometimes, though…

…

Well. I know you love nature. So I took as many photos for you along the way as I could. But I was in a moving vehicle when I took them, so I saved only the best ones. Here:

We got to the place early. Just enough time to eat a simple lunch at a Stewart's Shop, and… incidentally, enough time to check out a cheese shop! Cheese is one of my favorite things ever, and so I asked if we could go, and so we went!! Here, I'll show you what it looked like; maybe you'll see a little bit of my reflection in some of the glass of the display cases, haha:

I got a variety of nice things to bring home for M, J, and Br!! I'll show them to you!

In any case! After that, we found a very sparsely-populated hill in the middle of a parking lot. Not a glamorous place to watch the eclipse, I know. But it's all right; the clouds rolled in very thickly just when it was beginning, anyhow:

I tried to take a picture through the fancy glasses we got. Here's the result of that:

And in this one, you can see the way that the sun and the moon begin their slow dance in the sky together; I had to turn the brightness of my camera all the way down to make it work:

Because of the clouds, I wasn't able to get a very good picture for you. But in this one, if you'll look closely, you'll see the moon fully and lovingly embraced by the sun:

And, while the sun so tenderly encircled the moon within its light, the sky was a gloriously prismatic sunset in every direction, no matter where we looked; my camera COULD NOT do this justice, but... here:

Hey, Sephiroth? Please don't imagine you're unlovable, or that you're some kind of monstrosity, or that you're something that shouldn't exist. Because… Sephiroth… I am still alive only by virtue of the fact that I am looking for you in every little thing in my world that I can. I look for you in every delightful sip of tea, in every meal I share with the people around me, in every nifty thing I find at the grocery store that I think you might like. I look for you in every nice-smelling soap, in every warm, pleasant breeze, in the scent and colorful petals of every blossom, in every feather I happen to find and pick up from the ground. I'm looking for you within the way snow crystals refract light into kaleidoscopic prisms, within the tendrils of every wispy cloud, within the sound of leaves rustling in the wind, and in the sight of the sunlight streaming down from their leaves to dapple the ground. I'm looking for you in every melody I hear, in all the laughter I share with my friends and chosen family, and within the tears streaming down my cheeks (despite my best efforts to keep them in check…) as I write this to you.

You are the sun to at least one person, and I know this because if you can look at me and see someone who shines, you have to know that it's only because I am reflecting the light that you gave me so many years ago; it came from you. Your light breathed life into me when I felt dead inside, and it bade me to rise up from my knees even when I thought I couldn't go on, in the same way that our sun bids saplings to break through the confines of their seeds and rise up into truly living. You gave me the strength to continue when my surroundings were painful and wretched, and now everything that surrounds me is beautiful and full of love. You have been my guiding light and my reason for keeping my eyes on the distant horizon no matter what gets thrown at me.

And for all that, I could write letters to you like this for all of eternity, and still, it wouldn't be enough to thank you. I could trade my life for your safety (I would do this proudly, happily, and without even a fraction of a moment's hesitation), and it still wouldn't be enough to thank you. Even if by some miracle I had the power to create with my bare hands a whole world for you that has everything you could possibly ever want or need, it STILL wouldn't be enough to thank you. So don't… please…. please don't call yourself a monster anymore. Please don't be mean to yourself anymore. Okay?

On the way home, there was a crow flying over a rainbow-colored mosaic; we can only see its right wing from here...

Maybe it's ridiculous, but... you know, it doesn't hurt anyone if I can look at the one-winged thing dancing in the sky over some sparkly, beautiful, and prismatic thing, and think to myself that maybe, against all odds, you'll be safe somehow. Somehow...

My body uselessly threw what little water I drank today away, through my eyeballs. So I guess I had better stop writing in favor of rehydrating. How silly, hahaha… I wonder if I'll ever get used to inhabiting a flesh-vessel and all the quirks that come with it…

I love you. I'll write again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

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shieldofiron · 1 year

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7/8 of the Way There

Billy knew that Harrington was rich. Like, of course, how could he miss that the shirt Steve lent him when he slept over (too long, he didn’t mean to do that) had a designer label. And Steve’s place was, while not as nice as his parent’s, still an extremely nice place for a single guy to own in the middle of Bumfuck, Indiana.

But... Steve was rich, and never was that more clear than when Billy was looking over the spread Steve’d ordered in for his Hanukkah party. Billy was clutching his grocery store flowers with both hands, trying not to wring them into dust, as he looked at what must have hundreds of dollars of food, attended by servers with crisp white aprons. Billy wasn’t even dressed as nice as the staff. He tugs at the collar of his one nice shirt, feeling his neck get hot with embarrassment.

“Billy,” Jonathan sidles up to him with a shy smile, “Hey, how’s it going?”

Billy eyes Jonathan’s Hanukkah tie and worn button down, tipping his chin up and trying to hide the panic that’s rising like the tide in his stomach, “Good. I’m good. How are you?”

Jonathan smiles, “Happier now that I see you. Steve really does go all out, huh?”

Billy glances across the party at Steve, sparkling in a tailored grey suit as he talks to some polished looking older woman.

“Yeah. I didn’t really know what to expect, so,” Billy looks down at the flowers and the crushed index card in his hand. He’d memorized the prayer, hoping to impress Harrington, but there was so many people here, Steve wouldn’t be able to really tell who was saying it and who wasn’t. He’d only barely greeted Billy at the door, rushing away to host.

“Yeah. He loves a party,” Jonathan laughs, “Will was asking where you were, he wants to teach you how to play dreidel, if you want.”

“Oh... I might be headed out soon, so maybe... another time,” Billy twists the flowers in his hands, “Maybe tomorrow night, I’ll come hang with you guys.”

Jonathan glances out the window, “You’re going? It’s not even sundown yet.”

Billy tugs at the sleeve of his (too casual, too thin for the weather, too poor for Steve) jacket.

“Yeah, I just-”

Murray Bauman cuts them off with a loud clap, “Boys!”

He gives Jonathan a hug, and Billy a polite but a little-too-hard chuff on his chin.

“Hey, Murray,” Jonathan smiles at him.

Billy scowls, “Murray.”

“I’m surprised to see you here, William,” Murray booms.

Billy’s scowl deepens, “I was invited.”

Murray’s eyes just sparkle, “Alexei and I weren’t sure if you would show, though.”

Anger sparks low in Billy’s stomach, but he tries to reign it in. Maybe he should have known Harrington was only inviting him to be polite. After all, Steve seems to have invited everyone else in town. And he’s just the fool who thought it was sincere.

“Headed out in a few,” Billy smacks down his stupid carnations, on the stupid fancy buffet table, “So don’t worry about your bet, you can still win if Alexei hasn’t seen me.”

Murray cocks his head to the side, tugging on the edge of his garish sweater, “I bet you would show.”

Billy stuffs his hands into his pockets, “Well. Here I am. Here and gone.”

Murray rocks back and forth on his heels, “Before sundown?”

Billy tightens his shoulders, “Yeah. The sooner the better.”

Murray just laughs, gesturing over his boyfriend with two crooked fingers. Alexei is hovering by the wall alone, but he lights up when he comes over. Billy likes him, always has.

Alexei smiled gently at them, “Jonathan, it is so nice to see you. William, nice to see you.”

Billy digs his nails into his palms and tries to relax his fists. He likes Alexei. Likes Murray too, when he wasn’t trying to embarrass Billy at a party he was clearly not welcome at.

“I’m about to leave, Alyosha. Pад вас видеть,” Billy pulls one hand out and offers a handshake and one of the two phrases he memorized in Russian, grinning easily, “I’ll see you around, ok?”

“You are leaving?” Alexei looks up at Murray, shaking Billy’s hand almost absentmindedly, “Why?”

Billy swallows, “You know. Places to be. Stuff to do.”

Alexei’s face falls, and then he looks at Murray, “Did you embarrass him, котик? Что ты сказал?”

Murray smiles, “No, he was leaving already. Not before saying goodbye to your host, I hope?”

Billy bit back an insult, and just looked helplessly at Jonathan, “Yeah. I’ll just say goodbye. Nice talking to you man. Give me a call tomorrow, I’ll come over and hang with Will.”

Jonathan nodded, brows furrowed, “Billy are you sure-”

Billy smiled wide, shoving his trembling hands and the stupid, stupid index card into his pockets, “Places to be, man. Places to be.”

He backs away from them, headed towards Steve, glancing, not without envy, at Heather and Robin who were folded into a loveseat together, whispering. Heather was in a pretty red Christmas sweater, and Robin had a matching one with a white dreidel on a blue background. He’d helped Heather pick out the yarn, but now the whole thing just made him feel sort of seasick. He wanted that. He wanted...

Steve jumps out in front of him, hair bobbing gently against his forehead, “Hey! Someone said you were leaving?”

Billy fights the urge to scan the room for Murray and flip him off. But this was a fancy party. And Billy didn’t want to ruin the party by being... himself.

“Yeah,” Billy clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder, “See you, ok?”

Steve’s face falls, and he looks around, “What happened? We haven’t even lit the candles yet.”

Billy’s heart squeezes in his chest, “Nothing happened, Pretty Boy. I just gotta go, okay?”

Billy turns to go, and he can feel Steve watching him. He’s probably just looking at Billy’s stupid jacket, or his nicest pair of jeans. Billy’s stomach twists with shame, as he weaves his way past Murray and Alexei, shooting Murray an evil look as he passes.

He knew he didn’t belong. He didn’t need anyone to point it out for him.

He’s in the foyer, ignoring tray of chocolate coins in crinkly blue bags. Party favors. Billy doesn’t deserve a favor. He feels sick. He feels-

“Baby,” It’s Steve, taking his arm as Billy reaches for the door, “What’s wrong? Why are you leaving?”

“You know... you didn’t have to invite me,” Billy spits out, too angry to look at Steve’s soft brown eyes, to see him look at Billy like that after everything went wrong tonight, “Just to be nice.”

“I wasn’t trying to be nice,” Steve frowns, “I wanted you to come. Want you to stay, actually.”

“You don’t have to say-”

“I’m not being nice,” Steve tugs on his arm, “What’s wrong?”

“I... I...” Billy frowns, “I don’t fit in here.”

Steve blinks at him, “Who says?”

Billy looks back at the party, “Everyone.”

Steve’s face is soft an open, and he slides his hand down, linking their fingers together, “Not everyone. I say you fit in here. I say I’m really glad you came.”

“I’m not dressed right,” Billy mumbles.

“You look great to me,” Steve’s lip twitches, “A little cold, maybe. I’ll lend you my jacket. But you look great.”

“I... I...” Billy bites his lip.

“I was really looking forward to lighting the candles with you this year,” Steve smiles, “You haven’t been over the past few nights and I was kind of hoping to host the party with my boyfriend this year.”

“I...” Billy swallows, “Am I your boyfriend?”

“Well... we’ve been fucking for a few months,” Steve smiles, “I figured we could make it official tonight.”

Billy’s heart clenches, “I...”

He wanted to ask Steve tonight. He supposes... this is just as good. No, it’s better. Much, much better this way, with Steve smiling under his fancy chandelier, looking at Billy like he’s really glad to see him. Like... he really does belong here.

“If you want,” Steve tugs on his hand, “I didn’t want to announce it or anything. Just... show you off a little bit. If you want.”

Billy shivers, heart clenching again, “I... I really wanted to impress you tonight. I even...”

He pulls the crumpled index card out of his pocket, and hands it over, too anxious to explain, and trying not to look at his inelegant chicken scratch. He’d spelled the prayer out phonetically, the same way he did when he wanted to make Alexei feel welcome, or when he learned Spanish as a kid. But hopefully Steve can still translate it somehow.

“Oh,” Steve’s eyes glow, “Baby. This is-”

“I... I wanted to...” Billy stuffs his hand back in his pockets, looking away when the words dry up.

Steve tugs Billy closer, reaching out with the index card in his hand and cupping Billy’s cheek.

“This is the sweetest, best thing...” Steve’s breath smells like cinnamon and apples, and it makes Billy weak in the knees, “Will you be my boyfriend, Billy? Please?”

Billy just kisses him, pulls Steve’s hands around Billy’s neck and slides a hand under that fancy jacket and presses a hand to Steve’s heart. Their hearts are both beating so fast, Billy can barely believe it’s really happening. And all of this, before the sun has even gone down.

---

@intothedysphoria You know what they do next AYYY

#text post #harringrove holiday #anxious billy #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #jewish steve harrington #harringrove #billy x steve #steve x billy #ahhh you get it they're just sweet boys #modern au #buckleway and murray/alexei in the background because why not #my ficlet

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anatomyofthewrittenword · 2 years

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amy tan's ghosts

I am sitting at brunch in the city and all I can look at is the ghost in the road.

Across the table, Cassidy frowns. “Lei.” She follows my line of sight out the window; seeing nothing there, she turns back to me even more confused. “You okay?”

The woman in the road stands facing me, unbothered by the cars rushing through her. She wears a headdress in the style of Chinese noblewomen from the late Qing dynasty, and her qipao bears the elaborate floral embroidery only the wealthy could afford; but she is drenched from head to toe, dripping rancid water that spoils the fine fabric. Her hair hangs matted in her face, knotted like river weeds over deep, dark eyes sunken into her skull.

“Lei,” Cassidy repeats. Now she is beginning to look worried. “Did you hear me?”

I wrench my gaze from the road and fumble for my drink. “Sorry, sorry.” The alcohol in the sangria burns as it slides down my throat. “Thought I saw someone I recognized, but…” I swallow and past on my best smile. You’re normal, Lei. Act like it. “It wasn’t them.”

Cassidy gives me a sympathetic look. “You look tired. Are you tired?”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks, Cass.”

“No, I’m serious. Is it your mom again? You’ve been all out of sorts since she came to stay with you.”

Cassidy has always been frank, not a bone in her body capable of bullshitting. It’s part of the reason I like her so much, why she’s one of my few friends from college I kept in contact with after graduation. But now her ability to see right through me feels a little too much like needling. “I’m fine, Cass,” I say, as firmly as I can when so much of my energy is devoted to keeping my hands from trembling. “Mom’s fine, too, though I appreciate your concern.”

Cassidy squints at me. But my mask must pass muster, because after a moment she smiles. “I can’t believe she’s here in New York. I still remember when she would call you in college, the crazy things she’d say. Remember when she made you put oranges on our windowsill in the middle of winter? My god, it drove you nuts.”

In the road, the drowned woman watches me. I force out a laugh. “Yeah, well, that’s her. Driving me nuts to this day.” I signal to the waiter to bring me another drink. “Now, what were you saying about your new job?”

---

Ghosts, my immigrant mother tells me, haunt every part of our lives. They are the imprints left behind on our world by those who died before they were ready and could not relinquish their hold on the living. There are trickster ghosts, mischief-makers who caused trouble and confusion to further their own means and could not pass peacefully with their truths half-buried; now they remain as mèiguǐ that stalk the country roads at night, transforming into terrifying animals. There are pestilence ghosts, the enduring wills of stubborn grudge-holders, who let their resentment of those who wronged them poison their souls; now they linger on in the walls of broken-down buildings and overcrowded tenements, leeching disease and decay into the air. Most dangerous of all, there are the hungry ghosts, and all their variations: Those who committed evil deeds in pursuit of their greatest desires, but died without achieving them. Now their unfulfilled longing and poisonous guilt combine to torture them for eons, cursing them to wander through their next dozen lifetimes howling for an absolution they can never quite reach.

Ma talked about the ghosts everywhere we went: In the line at the grocery store, when I whined for treats and she told me to quiet down, or the foul-tongue ghosts would rot the food in my mouth and turn my breath so putrid no one would ever come near me again; when she caught me giggling over the latest gossip on the phone after school, my homework still unfinished, and warned me to work hard and study well, lest I grew up so ignorant and simple that I fell prey to a trickster ghost’s cons and lost everything I had. In the summers, on the fifteenth night of the seventh month of the lunar calendar, she laid peeled oranges, bowls of rice, sugared nuts and cups of tea on the altar in the kitchen as offerings to the ghosts of our ancestors, who purportedly walked among us that day. “You must honor the past, Leilei,” she would say to me, while I rolled my eyes at the table, too lofty in my American self-assuredness to listen with any respect. “The future depends on it.”

The ghosts were Ma’s comfort, her support, her partner in raising me. While she worked fourteen-hour-days as the owner and only employee of our dry cleaning business, the ghosts taught me morals from Chinese culture, kept a watchful eye to ensure my good behavior, and granted me luck on everything from my grade school grammar tests to my college entrance exam. But if the stories had any real hold over me as a child, it was long gone by the time I became fluent in English. As I grew older and cooler, and more American with each passing day, I chafed at my mother’s favorite tales. Come on; I was thirteen already, practically an adult. Did she really think I would let some dusty old stories she’d told a million times before intimidate me into ting hua—following every nonsensical command she issued? What did it matter if I ate cold foods during the winter, if I stuck my chopsticks in my rice, if I wanted to keep a pet turtle? Did she have to control everything? Was there anything she wanted from me other than obedience?

Sometimes I think she clung so hard to those stories because they were all she had left of her homeland. There were never any other Chinese in Marlowe, Mississippi: No community to celebrate the holidays, no neighbors to gossip with in the same language, no Asian marts to pick up the ingredients for old family recipes. Walking through the town center on my way back from school, I watched the old white ladies point and whisper at me from across the street and understood what it might feel like to be a guǐ—a freak from another world. Those moments were the only times I felt grateful to have my mother’s stories at my side; to hope, however wistfully, that there was someone looking over me, even if they were ancestors long gone.

But whoever our ancestors were, whether or not they were watching over anything, my mother didn’t say. She never named a single member of our lineage; I never knew the names of my grandparents, if I had any aunts or uncles, where our family line hailed from in the vast diaspora of China. She never told me my father’s name, no matter how much I begged, no matter how many times we fought. It was as if to speak the names of the people we left behind was to invoke a terrible curse, as defiant to the natural order as wearing white outside of a funeral. Eventually I gave up trying, too exhausted by a lifetime of miscommunications, too hurt by her silence. I went away to college and moved on with my life, watching from a distance as my mother continued to worship ancestors made into ghosts by her refusal to name them, wondering what it was like to live a life haunted by the restless past.

---

The first time it happened, I was nineteen years old, riding the train late on a Wednesday night to my boyfriend’s parents’ house in Westchester for Thanksgiving. Exhausted by the morning of classes and a subsequent eight-hour shift at the grocery store, I fell asleep somewhere between Harlem and Riverside and woke to a little boy with a burned face staring back at me.

I didn’t scream; even sitting in that near-empty car, midnight only a few minutes away, I didn’t scream. The boy wore a quilted jacket and cloth shoes and held a cracked clay bowl. Part of his chin and his entire right cheek had been burned away, exposing the stark white bone underneath. He held out his bowl to me. I saw that it was filled with ash. “Shěng xiē chī de ma?” he asked politely.

In the seat in front of me, an older woman dozed under her jacket. Two rows back, a teenager listened to music as he gazed out the window, The Strokes faintly audible through his headphones. My heart hammered at what felt like two hundred beats per minute in my throat.

In the most stilted Chinese I had ever spoken, I told the boy I didn’t have any food on me. His face dropped in disappointment. “I’m so hungry,” he moaned. To my horror, he began to cry. “I feel like there’s a hole burning in my stomach.” The sobs contorted his mangled skin, transforming his face into a nightmare. When he opened his mouth to wail, flames billowed out of his throat, leaping so close I felt them singe my eyebrows.

I flailed back against the seat, throwing my arms up to protect to my face. In the darkness of my own embrace, the fast, panicked bursts of my breathing was deafening in my ears. I cowered there for what felt like an eternity, thinking frantically to myself, It’s a dream, it’s a dream—it has to be a dream.

The train creaked to a stop. The intercom overhead announced that it was the end of the line. Around me, the passengers began to collect their things and rise from their seats. I scraped up whatever courage I had and lowered by arms. The boy was gone.

I got off the train and walked through the parking lot to my boyfriend’s car on legs that shook so badly they barely held me up. When I fumbled my way into the passenger seat, my boyfriend grinned at me and leaned over to peck my cheek, then began to tell me about that afternoon’s football game. He was chattering on when we pulled out of the lot, while I stared silently out the window, gaze never leaving the bright windows of the train still on the tracks.

—

The next time was three years, four different therapists, and a standing prescription for Lexapro later. After my last therapist agreed with my first three that my single, isolated hallucination was likely a stress response to the pressure of supporting myself through school, rather than an impacting brain tumor or the first break of schizophrenia, I convinced myself they were right, took my medication religiously, and did all I could to ground myself in the waking world. I finished school, started work, made myself fit in with all the young white professionals that populated the financial scene in New York. Rifled through failed relationships like a rolodex of shallow distractions, always ending just before they could ask me where I came from, who I knew. I never breathed a word of any of it to my mother. Mental illness was a taboo topic, one that followed the old Chinese curse that to speak was to invoke. And if I wasn’t crazy, and ghosts were real after all…

Well. I thought I could bear that even less.

And then, one night after a disastrous dinner date, I woke with a start to pounding at the door.

At first, bleary with sleep, I thought it was someone at the front entrance. “Who is it?” I called out, groping for my glasses. The pounding continued as I shoved them onto my face and peered at the clock on my nightstand: 2:44 am. Was there a fire in the building? What on earth was going on?

“Ràng wǒ chūqù! Ràng wǒ chūqù!”

A chill swept over me. I slowly turned my head. The noise was not coming from the front door of my apartment; it was not outside my bedroom at all. The pounding came from only a few feet away, through the closed door of my closet at the foot of my bed.

The closet door rattled; I jumped. “Yǒurén zaì mai?” the voice of a young woman pleaded. “Please, let me out. Is there anyone there? You must let me out!”

I snatched my phone off my nightstand. In the middle of dialing 9-1-1, I froze. What was I thinking? What would I say—that a Chinese-speaking stranger had broken into my home and gotten herself trapped in my closet while I slept? And then, when they inevitably found no one there, what would I do? Continue working my twelve hour days in the dog-eat-dog world of financial consulting from the comfort of my padded cell?

I set the phone back down and drew the covers up to my chin. Then I called out, voice wavering, “Who’s there?”

There was an abrupt pause; then the pounding resumed, louder than ever. “Please, you must let me out,” the woman begged. “I didn’t sleep with Lady Wang’s husband, I swear. No one believes me, but I would never do such a thing. You have to help me. You have to let me out!”

I swallowed. “The door’s not locked,” I tried. “You can just—”

“Please, you have to help me! The lid is too heavy. I can’t breathe down here. Let me out, please; I don’t have much time left—”

The realization shocked me into silence. I stared at the closet door in terror. Suddenly the blankets were suffocating in their heaviness. I kicked them off, gulping for air. The pounding had stopped, but now there was another sound: Scratching—no, clawing.

The air in the room grew stifling. I slid down the headboard and slumped on my bed, gasping for breath while I listened to the ghost in my closet beg.

—-

I arrive home after brunch to an ice-cold apartment. “Damn it, Ma,” I growl under my breath, stomping to the thermostat. It’s 52 degrees, because of course it is. I crank it back up to 70 and go to find my mother in the guest bedroom.

She’s sitting in the recliner, blanket draped over her knees, watching a Chinese drama about the Sino-Japanese war. I stand in the doorway with my arms over my chest. “Ma. How many times do I have to tell you that you can keep the heat on in the apartment?”

“Gas expensive nowadays,” Ma replies, eyes never leaving the television. “Save you money. I prefer cold anyway.”

“Yes, but it’s not just you living here,” I say, pointedly. I sigh, too tired for this argument again. “How are you feeling today?”

Now Ma looks at me. She switches to Chinese. “I feel fine. Like always.”

When my mother first called me three months ago to inform me she was dying, I thought it was a joke. Had she seen a doctor? What was her diagnosis? What medications was she taking? I hadn’t even known she was ill; I couldn’t accept, even with all the suspension of disbelief that maintaining my relationship with her had required throughout my childhood, that my mother could be so unwell for so long and not tell me.

But there was no diagnosis; no doctors, no medications. One morning she woke up and could not use her left leg. The right one went shortly after. And that was it: No matter how many specialists I took her to, no matter how many CTs or MRIs were run, no one had any answers for us. “I’m sorry not to have anything more concrete, but the best I can come up with is some sort of conversion disorder,” the third neurologist we consulted told me, handing me the results of my mother’s latest, unremarkable nerve conduction study. “I’d recommend seeing a psychiatrist.”

Ma waves a hand at me. She points to the altar set up on an old nightstand at the foot of her bed. “Light the incense for me, Leilei.”

I sigh but move to do as I’m told, if only to garner favor as I tell her, “Don’t forget you have an appointment on Tuesday. Three o’clock.”

Ma hums. “Cancel it.”

I grit my teeth. “Ma. We talked about this. If everything else has been ruled out, then the only thing left to do is—”

“Leilei,” Ma interrupts me. She reaches for the remote and turns off the television. “I can’t go.”

“Why not?”

Ma looks at me calmly. “I’ll be gone by then.”

I stare at her. The words are nonsense, but it doesn’t matter: They chill me to the bone. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m out of time,” Ma says. “Please. Light the incense.”

My grip tightens around the lighter. “No,” I snap. “Not until you tell me what you mean.”

Ma sighs. My mother never seemed to age as I grew up: The only signs she ever bore of time passing was the slow whitening of her hair, even as her face stayed the same. But now, all of a sudden, she looks tired, and in turn it makes her seem old. “I can’t. You wouldn’t understand.”

I gape at her. “Are you serious?” I demand, in English.

“Leilei—”

“No!” I slam the lighter down. The rational part of my brain tells me I’m overreacting, that my mother’s just being dramatic; after all, for a sixty-something immigrant Chinese woman, being psychoanalyzed might actually be worse than death. But there’s something in her expression that disquiets me: The utter lack of fight. As if she has already accepted what’s to come, and is now only waiting for the end. “You can’t say something like that and expect me to just move on. I’m an adult now; you can’t keep treating me like a child—”

“You’ve been seeing the ghosts.”

My rant shrivels in my mouth. “…What?”

“For many years now.” Ma studies me seriously, then nods. “They are drawn to you. Your emotions. You feel what they feel. You allow them to be heard and seen in this world again.”

“I—can we not make this about ghosts, just once—”

“The beggar boy.” Ma looks somber. “He snuck into a boarding house one night looking for food. When the house caught fire, he was trapped in the pantry where he was hiding.”

I stare at her. For a second I am nineteen again, unable to speak for the horror of a burned boy sitting across from me. “Oh my god.”

“You saw him when you were hungry like him: Hungry for opportunity, for the future. For the chance to prove yourself.”

My throat is as dry as the desert. My heart is beginning to flutter in my ribs. “Ma…”

“The buried girl,” Ma continues. “Who was buried alive as punishment for the rumor that she slept with the noblewoman’s husband. You heard her cries when you felt as trapped as she did, in a job and a life and a world you did not belong to.”

My heart is pounding now, and there is a tingling sensation at the back of my skull. It’s how I feel whenever I see a ghost, like there is pure adrenaline rushing through my veins. I’ve always attributed it to my body going into shock.

“The drowned woman.” Ma’s voice cracks. Her face twists, brow furrowing and lips pressing tight. Suddenly I am looking at a sight far more terrifying than any ghost: My mother, trying not to cry. “When the invaders took her home, she traveled seven days and seven nights in search for a safe place to have her child. But on the seventh night, a terrible storm came down on the valley and weakened the banks of the river. She had no energy left to fight when she slipped down a steep cliff and fell into the water.”

My legs feel weak underneath me. I stumble to the bed and sit down. “How…how do you know about them?”

“You should not feel ashamed, Leilei,” Ma says, gentle. “Our people have suffered so much. Sacrificed so much. There are so many untold stories. You can give them a voice. It is a gift.”

I clasp a trembling hand over my mouth. “They’re…real. The ghosts. They’re all real.”

She blinks at me. “Of course.”

I bark out a laugh. “I always thought…god. I always thought you were full of shit.”

“Leilei,” Ma says, scolding, and for a moment I am a teenager with a messy room again and my mother is my whole world. “This is why you should always listen to your mother. Your mother is always right.”

I draw in an unsteady breath. “Why now? The first one I saw was eleven years ago. Why are you telling me now that you can see them, too?”

Ma sniffs. “You weren’t ready before.”

I glare at her. “Seriously? You’ve been avoiding my questions my entire life, and you’re not even going to be straight with me now, when I find out ghosts are real?”

She frowns at me. “I never lied to you.”

I scoff. “You never told me the truth, either. Everything was always half-truths and riddles. All I wanted was for you to be honest with me. But you could never just tell me what you were really thinking. Everything had to be made into some sort of life lesson.”

“I tried to guide you,” Ma says. “So you could do right.”

I swallow past the knot in my throat. “Yes,” I say. “But sometimes I didn’t need guidance. Sometimes I just wanted you to listen.”

Ma falls silent. We sit there for a while, listening to the cars pass by outside, the rush of the wind.

At last, Ma leans over and takes my hand. “Maybe you’re right,” she says. I blink at her in shock. “It was not you who was not ready. It was me.” Then she takes a deep, steadying breath and transforms before my eyes.

The color leeches from her skin. Her hair grows darker, tangled, filthy. The austere button-down cardigan and rayon slacks I bought her from Ann Taylor fade away into water-logged silk. The drowned woman sits before me, gazing at me with sorrowful eyes.

I flinch back so violently I fall off the bed. I land with a thump on the floor, the impact jarring my teeth. “No,” I gasp. Unconsciously, I attempt to scramble away, to put as much distance between myself and the terrible sight before me as possible. “No—”

“Don’t be afraid, Leilei,” the drowned woman murmurs. “I am the same person you always knew.”

I stare at her in horror. “…Ma?”

She rises from the easy chair and kneels before me. “My dear child,” she sighs. “I wanted to have you so badly. But my first life never gave me the chance. So I had to steal a second one.”

“I don’t understand,” I choke out. I can’t tear my eyes away from the vision’s blue-gray lips, the bones visible against her paper-thin skin. “How is this possible?”

“As I drowned in the waters of the Taiping River, I felt you still kicking in my belly. My life was done, but yours was over before it started.” Her colorless lips quirk. “But you still had so much fight left in you. You were so angry that you were robbed of the chance to live that you refused to pass on. And because we were one, I could not pass on, either.

When I died, I’m not sure where I went. Ghosts cannot think with such a clear mind, you know; mostly we cling to what is most important to us. I think I drifted for a long time. I watched my country change so much I could not recognize it anymore. And then, one day, I heard the words of a man promising a fresh start, a better life. People were following him, and I followed them. When I woke up, I was on the other side of the ocean. It might as well have been the afterlife for how unfamiliar it was to me. But I knew it was what I needed; what that man had promised: A new life.”

The tears drip freely down my face to pool with the river water on the carpet. My mother lifts a hand and just barely touches her fingers to my cheek. There is so much tenderness I can barely stand it. “Now you’re grown, with a life of your own. I have fulfilled my purpose. So, please, Leilei. Light the incense for me.”

Slowly, I climb to my feet and pick up the lighter. I glance back over my shoulder. My mother kneels calmly on the floor, watching me. It takes me multiple tries for how badly my hands shake, but finally I manage to light the three sticks of incense on the altar.

The scent of sandalwood fills the room. I return to the floor to kneel with my mother. Hesitantly, I take her thin, blue hands in mine. Her touch is cold, but the shape of them is so familiar: The same hands that carded through my hair as a girl, twining them into braids before school every morning. Sitting so close, I can see how sunken her eyes are, how she struggles to hold her head up—how tired she must be. I think of the long days she worked at the dry cleaner’s, how she would come home late in the evenings with her nails cracked from the chemical solvents. “Do you regret it?” I whisper. “Coming back? Doing it all over again, when it was so hard for you?”

Ma sighs, a sound like the wind through river reeds. “No, baobei. It was hard. But I’ve felt more peace as a poor woman watching my daughter grow up than I ever did as a noblewoman who never got to meet her child. I don’t regret a moment.”

She is beginning to fade away: Bits and pieces of her, dissolving into the air like dust. “Will I still see you?” I ask desperately. “Will I still see ghosts at all?”

“You will see them as long as your eyes are open, and hear them as long as you are listening,” Ma says, and I almost want to laugh again: Of course her last words to me would be yet another aphorism. “Feel for them, Leilei. Sometimes it is all they have left, to feel.”

“But you?” I press. Her hands have turned to vapor between my fingers. I can see the wallpaper through her, patterned with seashells. “What about you?”

Ma’s eyes crinkle. “Where I am going, I won’t be a ghost anymore. So you see, my dear: You have cured me after all.”

The shape of her mouth is the last thing to go, curved with a smile. Long after the sticks have burned down, the smoke from the incense drifts in the air.

End

#pls reblog to support if you enjoyed this! :) the author thanks you eternally #prose #spilled ink #short story #fiction #creative writing #ghosts #ghost story #amy tan #original fiction #writeblr #going for a #the haunting of hill house #vibe #honestly this is a stub and could use expansion but it makes for a neat small piece #magic realism

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mxtantrights · 2 years

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the transfer | 3

a/n: welcome to the final part for Richard!! had fun writing this because it’s the vigilante persona that the reader falls for first.

You’re standing in the grocery store, freezer section, trying to pick out ice cream when it hits you. You finally feel normal. It’s the seventh night back at your place, no Luthor run-ins and no secret files to be handed over.

The only way that you felt safe going home was knowing that superman knew about Luthor’s plans and was actively working against it. And that didn’t come easy.

After the second night, you outright refused to leave the safe house until you got confirmation that Luthor wouldn’t do anything. It was hard for nightwing to persuade you the first two nights.

So by the fourth night you stood in the little kitchen and watched as nigthwing, then batman and then superman walked into the safe house. Superman in the middle of course, batman and nigthwing flanked his sides.

“Hello there.” he said.

You couldn’t believe they would bring the man, the myth, the legend himself to tell you that everything would be alright. You were expecting batman to show up and pack your shit for you and tell you to leave.

But there was superman, in front of you.

You waved, “Hi.”

He smiles and it automatically makes you smile because you have looked up to this man for a long time and you were a native to Metropolis- and it’s superman!

“I heard how you helped to thwart a plan to kill me.” he said naturally.

You nodded you head along to his words. In your head you were trying to come up with words to say to that. How do you explain to superman that it’s because you like taking office supplies that you saved his life?

“Do you wanna ask him...” nightwing trailed off for you to finish.

“Yeah I, well it’s an honor to meet you firstly and, I just wanted to make sure that nothing happened or will happen with those sticky notes.” you said.

Superman took slow steps to reach you. There weren’t that many needed but still you noticed how slow he went. He towered over you with a smile on his face and his hair perfectly kept.

“I will be okay thanks to your diligence. You moved from Metropolis, right?” he asked.

You, like a child on Christmas, nodded you head again. You don’t see it but behind superman nigthwing can’t keep the smile off his face. Batman takes notice.

“Yes. Born and raised.” you answered.

“How did you end up all the way in Gotham?” he asked.

“It must’ve been fate or something, as soon as I was fired an email from Wayne Industries came through my phone and next thing I know I’m in Gotham.” you answered.

Somehow superman smiled a bit wider at that and you weren’t sure why but you didn’t want to ask.

“Well just know that this won’t be forgotten. I owe you one, and by proxy so do those two.” he laughed.

You laughed too.

“Are you okay?” a voice asks behind you.

You turn around quickly to see who it was. Standing in front of you is a man you know a bit about. You would be a bit of recluse if you didn’t know one of your boss’ kids.

The eldest, Dick Grayson, stands there waiting for you to answer.

“Yeah I am. I just can’t believe I’m mulling over ice cream choices right now. It’s surreal.” you say.

He nods his head and points to the freezer, “My favorite is chunky monkey.”

“Really? I’m more of a plain mint chocolate chip person.” you say.

“Have you ever tried it?”

You shake your head,

“Nah,not really a combo kinda of person. Plus ice cream is not cheap these days.” you joke.

“Right. Yeah.” he nods.

He lightly chuckles at your words and smiles. And it hits you like a ton of bricks. You’ve heard it before. At the safe house. When you were talking about leaving Metropolis for Gotham and nightwing told you that it was a ballsy move. And when you asked if superman was okay and nightwing told you the guy was made of tough stuff.

That same chuckle from the first night you met him. And the second night. And the nights between the safe house and finally returning home. You know that chuckle.

Nightwing was Dick Grayson?

Maybe they just have the same chuckle. Maybe guys just have the same laugh when they tell jokes. Maybe. Or maybe not.

He’s waving his hand in front of your face to get you attention. You blink back the thoughts that are running a mile a minute in your head.

“Sorry did you say something?” you ask.

He smiles, “yeah I was wondering if you might let me, in this economy, by you chunky monkey.”

You look at him. For a second. Then another. And then you can't help the smile on your face as it grows and grows.

“Yeah I’d like that.”

Dick Grayons buys you chunky monkey that night. And you try it, for his sake, and tell him to never make you try another ice cream flavor with that much complications. Which he agrees to, so long as you try another flavor with him this upcoming next weekend, on a date.

One date turns into five which feel the same comfortable as you felt with nightwing and you know it from there that Dick is nightwing. But you decide to not bring it up too early.

Besides there are other things to consider. Such as the arrangement of flowers that arrive on your desk after your sixth successful date with Dick Grayson. You think it’s him but then you remember you hadn’t told him where you worked.

On the card, which is a simple thank you note, the sender signs their name. Bruce Wayne. Your eye widen.

Your nice boss sent you flowers? Does he know that you’re dating his son? Then you being to wonder if he knows his son is nightwing until you remember someone told you that he was Robin before. And then it hits you.

Bruce Wayne is Batman?

#office romance universe #dc #batfam #dick grayson imagine #Dick Grayson x reader #dick Grayson fic #dc fic #dc imagine #dc x reader

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the-coping-dragon · 4 months

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My wife has another procedure coming up... I'm so scared >.< The prep for it is always so hard on her. Last time, she got so sick that I called a doctor in the middle of the night--the one we were told to call if we had questions after hours--and he laughed at me and asked why I was wasting time calling him instead of taking her to the ER.

We didn't go to the ER in the end. It's just...too expensive. And there's no other way to prep for the procedure. This time I asked, how do we know if we should go to the ER? The doctor didn't have answers. He suggested some symptoms to look for, forgetting that she always has those symptoms.

Another doctor is trying to help with tests and things. But last time we went, some of their testing material was expired and we were told we'd have to come back. They said they'd give us a call. They haven't.

When I go to the doctor for myself, they recognize me. They ask how my wife is. "Still sick." Really? they asked. Yes. Still sick.

My heart is breaking. I'm glad she has insurance now. I have been able to afford all of my own meds lately, so thats good. I've been gotten on a new one! It helps quite a bit. I'm glad I can afford it.

We are trying to move too. We have friends elsewhere who want to help, but the distance makes it hard. I say "friends" because that's what I'm used to telling people. They are very dear friends--they are our polycule. We miss each other so much. I am desperate to move closer, to have their help caring for my wife. They want the same. Moving is hard, though. We are surrounded with packed boxes, but it doesn't make it easier to find a place or guarantee it's the right place out of all the other options.

My mom cries. She asks why I'm leaving, and I tell her all of my reasons. I tell her about our "friends," careful not to mention that we are polyamorous. I don't feel like having her cry about that, too, and she would cry. I tell her that the local government here is cruel and heartless towards me, but she doesn't understand. I remind her I've always wanted to leave the state, but it doesn't make her feel less abandoned.

"Come with me," I offer with no serious intent, throwing all of my false sincerity into my tone. "You'd be safer in a city, near a hospital, near grocery stores." She doesn't want to leave the country.

She cries. I think she'll miss me. I think she's sad that she won't mind very much that I'm gone. She never recovered from when I came out to her. She's never loved me the same way since then. It's always at an arm's length, always with a sharp edge to her words, always with a sob hiding in the back of her throat. She wants me happy, and she wants to be happy, and the two things can't fit together inside of me. I am only one person. She doesn't know who that is anymore. She can't understand the things I do or the way I speak or the love I feel. I am the enigma that replaced her daughter. She misses me even when we hold one another and wish we were closer. I don't envy her. I don't envy me.

My wife has another procedure coming up. I'm terrified. I'm scared she'll die. At least she has insurance, so I can afford to buy my own meds. Maybe this time it'll help her. Maybe she'll be okay afterwards. Maybe we'll have the time and strength to move to our polycule. It feels like ive been waiting for this my entire life--waiting to move somewhere full of love of homemade food and soft hugs and sweet dreams and a support system to help with the hardships between the good things. Maybe we can finally go. Maybe I'll feel like I'm alive, instead of just waiting to be alive.

I need a moment to breathe. I need a sunbeam to keep me company. I need a hand to hold, a heart to hear, arms to fill. I need to see my wife walk without wobbling. I need to see her in the sunlight, in the store, in the arms of her girlfriend. I need to see her happier. I need something to make her feel better. I need the procedure to go well. I need it. I need it. I need it.

#originalpostbycopingdragon

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brunhielda · 1 year

Text

Musical Themes and Capitalistic Hellscapes

I am walking through Six Flags. For the purpose of this story, the only important thing is I am walking through a theme/amusement park. A place of merriment. A place where aesthetics are designed to elicit cheer.

So I am walking though this theme park, and there are sections. Each section of the park has it’s own soundtrack playing from speakers. The old west section has country music, Looney Tunes section has songs song by various characters, Metropolis (where the super hero themed stuff it) plays the soundtrack from the classic Superman movies, while Gotham (only Batman themed stuff- six flags clearly has a favorite) is playing the soundtrack of the 1990s cartoon.

As a musical nerd I am actually enjoying this and getting excited about recognizing various pieces of music. It’s making my day on an otherwise hot, crowded, annoying trip.

I am in the section of the park that is like “Main St. USA” or “enjoy the 50s” or just general Americana. If you live in the US, you know what I am talking about. Arcades, old style movie theater front, “quaint” shops, ect. It is basically playing “oldies” over the sound system. I can get that at the grocery store at home. I am mostly tuning it out. But then… what comes on?

16 Tons. If you don’t know the song, you can find it below. I am singing it before I realize what I am singing, it is that much a part of American psyche. But then I freeze, mouth gaping open, and laugh. Just a startled. Guffaw of a laugh. I’m sure I startled someone walking by me.

This song is about working a job for your whole life, never to get out from debt, and how it can turn you into one tough son of a bitch. It is about people with power seeing you as property, a cog in a machine.

Hearing it in the middle of an American theme park in a section of cheesie “Americana” fun, was the same weird disorienting feeling of hearing “Fortunate Son” blasting through a patriotic movie. It absolutely fits and absolutely does not in all the best and worst ways. Themes inextricably linked yet not compatible.

Does 16 Tons fit the theme of Americana? Absolutely. Our history with hard labor turning into union fights is part of who we are. Like I said, I know this song so well I was singing before I consciously identified it.

Does 16 Tons have a fun bouncy sound that will keep people moving and doing on a day they might otherwise be tired. For sure. Perfect musically for a theme park soundtrack. That’s part of why it’s so singable. It’s one of those “horrifically dark themes put to a fun beat” songs that get sung in pubs and bus rides simply BECAUSE the tune carries you along.

Does 16 Tons work thematically with forgetting your woes to spend a bunch of money on fun without thought or care? ABSOLUTELY NOT. This is one of those songs that plays on the radio on the way to work and if you relate too hard you walk in and quit. It puts into perspective which way your work/life balance is heading. In the middle of a theme park, some catches the lyric suddenly and it’s “Oh GOD, what have I done? Have I just shoveled the debt deeper to forget about it for a weekend? How do I release myself from this never ending cycle?!”

Point is, if you are trying to paint Americana as this beautiful nostalgic, rosy thing, this is the WRONG SONG. It is far too honest. Like “Fortunate Son” being way too real to the life of military service to be used in a movie painting the life as heroic, “16 Tons” is the actual reality of the furthest hellscape of capitalism that Americana has, can, and will likely continue to fall into.

If the American theme park is this symbol of “the American way” working out like it is supposed to- work your week, have a comfortable life, take the occasional weekend or vacation to places like this and bond with the family- then 16 Tons is the absolute other end of capitalism, where people are chattel, and there is no escape, moreover it is the prevailing belief that escape is somehow “immoral.”

Yet here it was, the hellscape of capitalism, being cheerfully celebrated as part of the perfect American identity.

Laughing was really the only response I could have.

youtube

#six flags #theme park #americana #america #musical story #soundtracks of our life #16 tons #capitalism #when the best and worst parts meet up in an amusement park #hellscape of capitalism #tennessee ernie ford #Thank you for telling it how it is in a fun way #it leads to moments like this #that scream “get out!#Youtube #I owe my soul to the company store 🎶#it ain’t me I ain’t the fortunate son 🎶

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thestrangestinthisstrangeland · 2 years

Text

As We Lay Dreaming- chapter 10

warnings: strong sexual situations— Dream of the Endless— Lord and King of the nightmare realm— knowing how to kneel to a woman, especially one he loves (heavily, heavily implied oral m/f)

summary: A little fun with the one you love before things get weird? Why not.

AO3

masterlist

Glory Hill wished for the first time she'd been one of those whimsical girls from movies or books who kept a diary on her nightstand because she could have written such an entry.

She would fall onto her stomach and chew on her pen cap with her feet kicking slowly in the air as she wrote…

Dear Diary,

Have you ever seen one of the Endless regret agreeing to something? Trust me, It's hilarious.

Last night, my…boyfriend? What in the world do you even call him? Gave me a gift. A house.

Not just a house.

There is magic here. I can feel it as strong as he is beautiful.

Tonight we moved in, and I felt it as soon as we stepped onto the property. Dream says he has a few places, which makes me think they might all be ways into his world. I hope so; maybe now I won't always have to fall asleep to see him except for times like this. Emergencies and such. We'll see.

We walked through the front door and imagine my surprise when we found it full of the most expensive, gorgeous furniture from who knows where, but something told me this was the real deal. Antiques from palaces in France and England — maybe that's why he didn't want to help me open my boxes of junk? But, because this is for me and my secrets, I'll let you in on one, I suspect it's because he doesn't know how.

You should have seen him!

How can someone so powerful not know how to open a box? Maybe he never has, but Dream said he just didn't want to. He claims, "There is no need for opening boxes in the Dreaming," but I saw how he looked at it. He's got a bone to pick with that taped-up box of my grandma's dishes.

I laughed so hard, but he had it coming. He just stood there and watched me with his arms crossed.

I need to have a talk with that daughter of mine because it was right about that time when she came tugging at his coat saying, "tell us a story for bed" You know, I don't think I've ever seen him relieved until that moment.

Still, I'm glad she did. That Esther, she's always good for getting folks out of a jam.

I don't think there's anything more calming than a room full of babies listening to the Prince of Stories weave a tale. With that damned voice, loud enough to live inside you, quiet enough that you don't want to breathe too loud for fear you'll miss a word.

I wonder who they think he is?

I don't want to know. He is so much better as whatever you let him be.

I can only imagine, though. They all look at him like he's better than tv.

I am thankful that I got to hear the sound of their unburdened laughter and that I saw the smiles on their faces as he told them about places and things that sounded vaguely familiar to me.

They will sleep well tonight. It is the first night we have known peace as a family without "the waiting time." And this is the first time I have ever known love like I know it with Dream, and I think I never will again.

And that's just fine.

She didn't know how to complete a diary entry, but if she had one, she would never bother, she did not want her own story to end, not yet.

"I really wish you would've let me buy something, a-a chair or… a table? Something!" Glory sighed. She stood in the middle of her new bedroom, arms crossed, anxiously chewing at her bottom lip like she just couldn't believe it. Even after such a perfect evening, this felt like too much.

"You work at the grocery store." Dream reminded her a little too matter-of-factly.

Glory puffed disdain for his remark as she turned away, pacing around aimlessly in her little white slip of a night dress. Her heavy steps took her from one side of the room to the other as Dream watched.

She listened, not to him, but for any signs of something wrong coming from the other end of the house where her children slept in their bedroom. Glory was worried sick she'd never hear the baby from so far away...

Dream looked towards the door with a frown of understanding, "They are yours. You will always know if anything has happened," He said, eyes following her steps towards the fireplace.

"Are you reading my mind? Can you do that here?"

"I can do many things."

"Please don't."

"I don't have to read your mind to know what you are thinking. You show your feelings plainly. You have a horrible poker face Glory."

She spun, eyeing him sidelong, laid back in the bed that would be far too large for her without him in it. He looked at her with one long arm behind his head on the mountain of burgundy, gold, and patterned pillows. "So I'm an emotional woman who works at the grocery store? Maybe don't say it like that," she suggested, her words sharp as a knife. "You make it sound so– sad." And the blade went dull.

"The truth isn't sad. It simply is. It would take you years to fill a home this size," He tried to argue, "Not to mention the quality of locally available items. Not within one hundred miles could you find a piece like…"

Hand on her hip, head tilted, brow raised, and mouth set tight, Glory waited for him to catch her drift.

He may be, at times, aloof, but the King wasn't completely dense. Closing his open mouth, Dream sat up and slid back to rest against the ornately carved headboard. "You look stunning." He offered in a decidedly more pleasant tone to change the mood.

"Nuh-uh. Don't distract me." She shook her head. "You're being an ass, and I'm not letting you get away with it."

Raising his chin, he looked down his regal nose at her. "One does not threaten my kind without consequences, Miss Hill."

She tried very hard not to smile. "Is that right? Well, tell me, Lord Morpheus, when in all of this did you think I was the sort to care about your, consequences? The soft growl rumbling in his throat might scare some, but it only made her snicker which she tried to keep hidden behind her hand. "Oh, I know. It must have been when I insisted I wanted to see you again-- after you said no." She continued, trying her best not to be distracted by the wonderfully intimidating way he looked at her, "Or maybe it was after I traveled through dreams and found you?" He pushed to sit at the edge of the bed. "I know," Glory declared with a clear, strong voice, shoulders square, head high. "It was when I stood at your gate. Me, nothin' but a country girl, and called you down from your own tower."

Dream stood, chest rising, jaw clenched, his black eyes narrowed at her. Looking large in the room, even one of this size, he took a few steps towards her, and Glory shrank down an inch or two. It was his presence. The-man-who-was-not radiated the sort of energy few could deny being drawn to. Broad-shouldered and confident, his finely muscled arms flexed with tension as he reached for her.

Glory's own breath caught in her throat with a twinge of submissive anticipation, though she held onto that sliver of pride.

His jaw clenched. Her lips parted.

For a second, less than the time it took for her to blink, she felt the fear her husband had forced onto her. But Dream was not him. He had proven that so many times. Even when he stood over her like this, all he'd ever done was make her feel like a woman who should be worshiped.

She could sense him wanting to just grab her like he so often had. Instead, he gave her the slightest smirk, dragging his gaze from her body to look her in the eye as he spoke. "Are you done?"

"Are you going to be nice?" She shot back.

He actually laughed then, the darkness melting away to reveal his true feelings for her and she felt like the only woman alive.

"I will try," He promised sincerely, though she picked up on that snide hint of superiority.

Ready to give him an earful, Glory raised a pointed finger only to shriek when he reached down, grabbed her by the waist, and lifted her so quickly that she could do nothing but hold tight to his coat and close her eyes.

Dream pressed a kiss to her lips so hard that Glory's muffled exhale melted into a long, drawn-out moan. He inhaled her, wanting nothing more than to devour this woman whole.

Turning with her in his arms, Dream was sure to walk slowly to the bed. There was something very real about his steps under her true weight and the pleasant sensation of her warmth spreading over him. He enjoyed the feel of her in the waking world much more than he'd imagined he would.

"This is what you want?" He asked once she was on her back beneath him. He rose up to gaze down, searching her face for the truth.

Glory looked into the black with pinpricks of light, looking very much like human eyes in the moment. "You?" She gave a little snort and glanced down at her knees, rubbing the belt loops on either side of his tight pants. The straps of her slip hung from her shoulders, and the shiny cut of fabric could be pulled down or up to show him more so easily… "I didn't think you'd need to ask?"

"The house." He said dryly.

"Ah." She smiled with a nod reaching up to cradle his face and smooth his hair. "This is more than what I want. This is everything… Morpheus. This house. This life…You."

He softened and relaxed. "No regrets?"

"No," She assured him, stroking the line of his cheekbone up to his ear.

"I haven't always made the women who love me happy." He confessed, resisting her pull when Glory tugged him down, wanting to kiss him again.

Lips set in a half pout and her eyes sleepy with desire, Glory paused and smiled. "Who says I love you?" She taunted.

Her heart was pounding, and her skin was hot to the touch. Beyond that, he could see her pupils as they dilated, the quickened pulse in her neck, and the silky peaks of her breasts from the nightgown giving away her want for him. Dream gazed at the woman he loved and kindly spared her the possible embarrassment of mentioning her biological responses-- she did not need to know that she was ovulating. Her pheromones were giving off pure sex. All that mattered was that she smelled that way for him, and he was hers the second she decided to have him.

Glory's eyes flicked back and forth across his blank stare. The stone face would have worried anyone else, but she knew better. Licking her lips, she let them relax into a smile.

"Well?"

"I do." Dream answered as he lowered and teased her with her own words, "I already knew."

Glory's quiet laughter was silenced by his kiss, the humor of having the line repeated back making the moment all the better.

He lost himself in the touch of her full, pillow-soft lips against his own, lowering only to praise every sensitive place he could find between the spine of her ear and the ridge of her collar bone.

Little gasps and soft replies to his attention came out in puffs as he made his way down until finally, he kissed her breast, giving them the attention they'd so clearly been in need of. With the happiest sigh, Glory's eyes fluttered open, and she gazed out at her beautiful room.

She'd always had to work for everything. To have it all handed to her was so strange. It still made her uncomfortable. But he wanted to do this, it seemed.

He loved her like her own family. Maybe one day, they would be…

Without warning, he pushed the slip up making her gasp. His kiss however, was surprisingly playful and tickled her ribs. Her big, full-body laugh filled the room, and as he watched her, his own face reflected her joy before he pulled it back down and continued on his route.

But what about this bed? She wondered as she caught her breath, more scared than ever for what would come after this perfect moment. It really was too big for a woman on her own.

Funny, all she'd wanted was to sleep by herself before but now with him…

Dream slid his arm under the small of her back and pulled her further down, making his destination slightly more obvious. Glory giggled so much she covered her face.

And those rugs, the dresser, and a wardrobe? She peeked through her fingers. How much could a body need? There was a chair by the fireplace and a velvet ottoman, all of it perfectly worn in and smoothed down with just the right amount of life to feel comforting but not old.

He was spoiling her.

Dream warmed her belly with light kisses and silenced her lovely noise with a gentle bite at her hip bone, making her whimper and arch away. He pulled the slip up and her underwear down while soothing the sting with his mouth until she was pliant and flexible, practically doll-like in his hands.

Pressing down against her thigh to butterfly her legs, one and then the other, he gently pushed up behind her knees, moaning deeply on seeing her like this. Him, a thing more powerful than the gods, raised his woman up to worship her with touch and taste. Tonight, Glory was his feast and he went in like a mortal man half starved.

Draping her arm over her eyes with a deep sigh, the fingers of her free hand sinking into his thick hair, she began to forget how time worked here in the waking world as much as she did his. It was in that moment– during that shock of pleasure– Glory decided that maybe she deserved to enjoy the life of a woman loved by a King, both asleep and awake.

After, when she lay next to him, naked and desperate just to breathe, now knowing that he could make her feel this way no matter what plane they lay in, Glory pulled herself close to Dream and lay on his chest, kissing his skin.

She stroked her fingers over his flat stomach of solid muscle, still amazed that one so skinny could be so strong. She poked her fingers against his ribs beneath the white skin while smiling at his strange beauty until he gave a soft but gentle "stop that," making her laugh, and Glory slowly drifted off to sleep with the image of their bodies tangled effortlessly together behind her eyes. A long white leg, a small brown arm -- her hand resting over his until he brought it up to kiss her fingers and lay her palm over his heart, or where she was certain it should be. The Endless of this world were, after all, made in the human image. Him most of all, she would imagine, and this version of Morpheus was hers alone– from the first time she saw him in the darkness to this, there was none like him. She dreamed him up.

And when a familiar face disrupted her sleep, angry and shouting words full of hateful threats that were so real, her tears burned the Dream King's skin; he was there to whisper a story into her ear until she lay at ease against him. Her frown smoothed, and her breathing went as soft as the breeze outside the window.

Dream kissed the top of her head, knowing the nightmare that was Glory's former life had been forgotten and that it was time to leave her to rest.

The Endless faded from the bed, letting her spread out across the comfort he'd provided, but he took the hand of his sleeping Queen, pulling her close, and together, they went home.

#sandman netflix #the sandman comics #sandman fanfiction #dream of the endless/original female character of color #the sandman/original female character #dream of the endless in love #woc beauty #woc characters #dream of the endles/woc #dream of the endless #dream of the endless fanfiction #the sandman fluff #the sandman #dream of the endless graphic novels #dream knows his stuff asleep and awake #tell me he’s not a pleaser #you know he secretly loves to give

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allywritesforfun · 2 years

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Can I please please please have more Wilbur x reader domestic fluff?

yes ofc! im sorry this took so long thank you for requesting <3

{Starting Off} Wilbur Soot x Reader

pronouns: not mentioned

word count: 1153

trigger warnings: swearing, caps

regular masterlist

wilbur masterlist

taglist

anon list

You and Wilbur have decided that it would be cheaper to get an apartment as a starter home before dropping a bunch on some house that you will probably move out of. You two had connected pretty well in some line at a coffee shop. Since then, every night you two would call and rant to each other about each other’s day. Surprisingly enough, there were some actual deep conversations, not just messing around. But the nights that you had messed around were fun. Filled with many dick jokes and Wilbur getting deep with you.

You really appreciated him being open and honest with you. A lot of people saw him as an asshole musician, but you knew better than that. Deep down he really did care. He checked up on you just like he checked up on his streamer friends.

One night you told him about your financial struggles. You ran out of loan money and had no job due to the fact that you didn't have time..

“Look y/n, I care very much about you. I mean, you make me laugh when the days are rainy, you mellow me out when I’m stressed, and overall have just improved my mental health so much,” Wilbur told you.

You felt a light blush form on your cheeks. Even when you weren't in person he still made you flare up, “Awe thank you, Wil. You mean a lot to me too. I don't think I would’ve made any friends or even been enjoying my life as much right now if it weren’t for you.”

Wilbur smiled at you, “I hate seeing you struggle like this. Out of everyone in the world, you deserve it the least. You are so hard working, and generous, and you don't even expect anything back. Well I wanna give back to you. How about you move in with me and we can find an apartment?”

And just like that, the rest of your life has settled. You were going to live with Wilbur. It didn't take long for you two to get everything settled. Wilbur has had this planned for quite a while and had a few places to choose from. You chose the middle of the three, mainly because you wanted Wilbur to have an office for his streaming.

Within a week, you got your paperwork all set with the and had moved in. There was very little furniture so far, mainly just extra chairs that your family had donated, but the two of you had made it work.

“I figure we should go to the shop and get some food and stuff that we might need,” You suggested.

“Yeah, that would be a good start.”

You two grabbed a tram to the nearest supermarket, the ASDA. It was a pretty large store, which meant it would have everything that the two of you needed.

Wilbur grabbed the trolley before you could even reach out for it, “Are you sure you can handle that, Wilbur?”

He huffed, “Well of course, y/n, why wouldn't I be able to?”

You laughed to yourself, “Just be careful, be respectful of people.”

“Do you really think I won't be able to handle a fucking trolley?”

You looked away in response, avoiding the question. Soon enough Wilbur was already trying to ride it like a scooter. There was nothing in it yet, so he popped a “wheelie” and nearly fell down.

“BWHAHAHBA!” You bursted out, not even concerned that he might’ve hurt himself. “W-Wilbur! Let me take the trolley! I won't crash it like you will!”

Wilbur recenterd himself and pushed your offering hand away, “No need y/n. I am a gentleman and will not allow a fine woman like yourself to push a trolley around. I am fully capable.”

You and Wilbur were both bad shoppers. You two tried to prevent unnecessary purchases by making a list of essentials. But even getting to the grocery section was enough of a hassle.

Your first unnecessary stop was because of you. But it was right in your own mind, “Wilbur look! Their candles are on sale! We have to stock up now before they inflate!”

Their one wick candles were originally 10.81 pounds but are now 50% off! What a deal! You made Wilbur smell a variety of candles, to which he replied to every single one, “It smells like a penis.”

“Wilbur, how do you know what a penis smells like?”

“W-W-Well I-I, y-you know…”

“That's enough now, I'm gonna pick out the four that I like. So if you have a preference tell me now,” You warned.

“Get whatever you want, love,” Wilbur stated very non-chantly.

How could he just say that out of nowhere? Ah god, I’m flaring up again. He doesn’t have to do that to me now.

You two moved onto the actual groceries. You two developed a really good system of rationalizing what to get and what to hold back on. You prioritized the things that could be made very easily in the microwave, then foods that you both liked, then multi-purpose food (like bread), and lastly, you each had two snacks that only you could eat.

Your favorite type of water was on the top shelf. Normally you would ask Wilbur to grab it for you, but he went off looking for the milk. You didn't have the best climbing shoes on, and in all honesty, didn't think you could handle the weight of the pack when it was above you and you weren't sturdy enough.

Your first try of trying to get it down was to knock it over and catch it. You did your best to maximize your jump by using your non-dominant hand to push up on the shelf, but you still could only get a few fingertips on it.

You looked around and tried to think logically, there must be a step stool somewhere around. There wasn't. You went back to the jump strategy again, but it was just insanity.

You were originally against the idea of climbing, but you were running out of options. You carefully placed your feet on the bottom shelf and slowly gained courage to climb up. You were stopped by a pair of hands around your waist. You jumped in your spot and looked back.

Wilbur smiled at you, “Do you need some help?”

“Y-Yeah, I do,” You admitted.

“Okay, one...two…” and on three Wilbur gave you a boost, You snached the pack in one go and he gently set you down, “Thank you.”

“Any day, that's why I’m tall,” He joked.

You playfully shoved him, “Is there anything else you need?”

Wilbur shook his head, “Just to go home with you.” He gave the trolley a little push and directed it with his one hand. The other, he offered to you. You gladly took it and went off to the check out.

taglist: @boiled-onionrings @wistahood @neptunebabes @just-that-bi-girl@wiseflamingoqueen @anarchyanon @rainduosupremacy @pixviepie @nightmarefox15

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darkmulti · 3 years

Note

(Yandere and non con warning)

Def not the only one who wants a 18th century h.c of possessive and controlling, husband!Jungkook x forced wife!reader. Jungkook gets jealous after witnessing another man asking you out and when you come back home at night, he breeds you. Please make it rough and non con. Thank you❤️‍🔥

-> you’re definitely not the only one. I can assure you that I’ve thought about this too many times😫

⚠️: NON CON, YANDERE!JUNGKOOK, Squirting/piss play, Physically, mental and emotional abuse, spit play,

-> sorry for any mistakes

Your parents owned a local bakery store

All the recipes were from your late grandmother

You spent almost all of your time there because you were in charge of everything

The store was under your parents’ name but you were the one running it

Sometimes, you even slept there because it’d be too late to walk home

Your dedication to the bakery made it successful

Although, you were the one doing all the work, you parents took all the credit and money

They weren’t paying you because you’re their child

They don’t need to pay you

“It’s a women’s place.” Your father said

You wanted to go back to school however, your parents laughed in your face

“School aren’t for girls, Y/N. Learn how to cook and clean. That’s all you need to know. Let the men handle everything else.”

You were tired of fighting with them and eventually stopped because they threatened to set you up in an arrange marriage

Now, it was just you and the bakery

You had many loyal customers and recently, one has been coming everyday, at the same time

He’d always buy a loaf of banana bread and if he was in a good mood, a blueberry muffin as well

Then, he’d sit in the corner table and eat two - three slices before getting up and leaving

He’d always leave a tip behind and you always kept it for yourself

One day, he didn’t come and you were surprised

For a year straight, he came and bought the same two things

Now, he hasn’t visited in 4 days

Tonight, you came back home for the first time in a while

Your parents had visited the bakery to collect “their” earnings and told you that you have to go somewhere with them that evening

After closing up and cleaning up, you went home and got ready

Your parents were taking you out for dinner as a treat for all your hard work

You were really excited because they were finally acknowledging your hard work

Once you arrived at the restaurant, your parents lead you to a table that already had three people seated

You immediately recognize one of them

It’s that guy who buys your banana loaf!

You sat in front of him while your parents greeted the two other strangers

“Oh, so this is your daughter? She’s gorgeous! Come here and give me a hug.”

You awkwardly chuckled and got up to hug the middle aged women

“Oh! Where are my manners? My name is Jeon F/N, this is my husband, Jeon F/N and this is our son, Jeon Jungkook. We’re your soon to be in laws!”

You heart dropped to the floor

“I-in laws?” You asked, confused

“Yeah, honey. Is this your first time hearing about this? We’ve been talking to your parents for a while now.”

You snapped your head towards you parents and they looked emotionless

“No, no they didn’t tell me anything.”

Dinner with them was hell

Your parents were talking about your wedding arrangements right in front of you

You didn’t know what to do

You wanted to rebel but then your parents would disown you

Just like that, you’d be homeless with little money to survive

In the end, you’d be paying the heavy price

You looked at Jungkook who was staring at you the whole time

You wondered if he knew about this

Maybe, that’s why he came to the bakery everyday

“Did you know anything about this?” You said loud enough for him to hear

“I did.”

“For how long?”

“Since last year.”

You eyes widen, in shock

You were right!

“Why didn’t you stop it?”

“Why would I stop it when I’m the one who wants it?”

You scrunch your eyebrows, in confusion

“What’re you talking about?”

“Since the first day I met you, I wanted to marry you. I told my parents and now, we’re getting married.”

Now, you were mad

You got up and stormed off, catching everyone’s attention

You walked to the bakery and locked yourself in

Here, you thought your parents were acknowledging you for first time, when they were actually setting you up for a marriage so they don’t have to take care of you

You cried yourself to sleep that night

The next couple of weeks, the bakery was closed due to your wedding

The wedding was spectacular

You would’ve love it if you weren’t being forced into a marriage

After the wedding, Jungkook took your precious virginity

He made sure to pleasure you until you passed out

He was so in love with you

Now, he was finally able to show you how much he loved you

And mark you as his

The next couple of months, he was attached to you

He took over his family’s business and you took over your family’s business

He’d visit you every day at work to check if you’re with another man

He was so paranoid about it, sometimes he’d come by 3 or 4 times to make sure you were not cheating

You thought he missed you and that’s why he kept stopping by (which is half true) however, you had no idea that he was possessive and controlling

You had to learn the hard way

Sometimes, you wouldn’t leave work until midnight

You had so much things to do like preparing for the next day, making a to-do list, making a grocery lists, and cleaning every area of the shop

It’s time consuming, so obviously you finish up pretty late

Jungkook absolutely hates that

Although you stay late in the shop once in a while, he can’t stand it

He wants you to be in his arms every night

Jungkook gets angry when you’re not

This was your fourth time staying out late in the shop and he’s had enough

He couldn’t help but feel paranoid about what you were actually doing in the shop

What if you lied and went on a date with another man?

What if you were running away from him?

Or even worse, what if you were having sex with another guy?

He raced to the bakery and banged on the door, which scared you

You saw that it was him and let him in

“W-what’s wrong?! You scared me!”

“Grab your stuff, we’re going home.”

“But I’m not done yet! I only have a couple more things to do and then I’ll come home. I told you already-”

“I don’t think you fucking heard me!” He yelled and grabbed your hair

“Grab your shit, we are leaving right now.”

He pushed you towards the counter and crossed his arms

You let your breath out in shock but scurry to get your stuff

You’ve never seen him like this and it terrified you

“I have my stuff.”

“Good, let’s go.”

He helped you lock the door and wrapped his arm around your waist

The walk home was silent

You were scared shitless

All you wanted to do was run back into your parents’ house

But he didn’t let you move an inch away from him

Once you got home, he started pushing you around and arguing some more

“Jungkook, I told you this afternoon when you came to visit! I said I have to stay late so I don’t have to stress myself out in the morning!”

“Don’t fucking lie to me! Who were you fucking seeing?!” He screamed, frightening you more

“No one! I swear, no one!” You whimpered

He corned you into your shared room and locked the door

“Jungkook, I swear! Nothing happened!”

He didn’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth

It was like you were talking to a wall

He pushed you onto the bed and stripped you naked

Jungkook pushed two fingers into your cunt and pretended to scoop out cum

“If nothing happened, why is your cunt full of cum?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I didn’t have sex with anyone!”

You weren’t very educated about sex, so Jungkook had an advantage

You began apologizing even though you didn’t have sex with anyone

You just wanted peace between you two

“I’m sorry! I didn’t cheat or anything, but I’m sorry if it hurt you! I really am!”

Jungkook slapped you and spat on your face

“Dirty slut. Telling me that you’re not cheating but still apologizing.”

“No! Please, I didn’t do anything!”

Jungkook pulled his cock out and shoved it in without warning

You were still new to sex so when he didn’t let you adjust, you automatically started screaming and crying

“Please, slower!” You cried, holding onto his biceps as he went faster and deeper

“Stop! Please!”

Jungkook loved the sound of his balls clapping against your ass

It honestly made him harder

All night, he was on top, fucking you hard

Your legs were spread apart, tears in your eyes and sweat dripping down your forehead

You looked like a hot mess

And he loved every second of it

“Mmh- Jungkook!”

You squirted around him and had a trembling orgasm

You couldn’t stop releasing your liquids on him and he couldn’t stop pounding you

The bed sheet was soaked by the end of it

He pushed his cock deep inside and came

After Jungkook fell asleep, you cried for while

How were you supposed to tolerate him for the rest of your life?

The next morning

You woke up in severe pain

You lower region was begging for some pain relief

But there was nothing you could do about it

Jungkook was still sleeping next to you

You decided to leave before he wakes up

After getting ready by leaning on everything, you slowly walked to town

When you arrived at the bakery, you saw a big “for sale” sign

You panicked and went inside the store, only to be greeted by your parents

“Mother, father! Why is there a “for sale” sign on the bakery?”

You parents looked at each other in disappointment

“You see, we have to explain the obvious to your daughter. Be grateful that someone willingly married your idiot daughter.” Your father said before walking out

His words did hurt but you cared about the bakery more than your father

“Why’re you selling it, mother? Can you not afford it anymore? Why-”

“Shut up, Y/N! You’re married now, you have wifely duties. You don’t have time for this bakery so the best option is to sell it.”

Your world fell apart right before your eyes

“But mother-”

“Save it. You already made your father upset. I’m warning you now, you don’t want to get on my bad side.”

You cried the whole morning

After you opened the bakery, lots of people gathered in line

All breads, cakes and muffins were going on sale

After you served the people in line, you went up to the tables and took their order

After you served them, a regular customer who was sitting alone gestured you to come over

You went over to the man and asked him if he needed anything

He told you to take a seat and accompany him

Since the crowd died down, you sat down in front of him

“You look a bit stressed and sad. What’s on your mind?”

You were touched by his words

Finally, someone cared about you

You told him you were upset about the bakery closing

He understood and even offered money to help you keep it open

You were flattered but didn’t accept the money

“Money’s not a problem, my parents just don’t want to keep this shop open.”

You talked with this guy for a couple of hours

Although this was your first time talking to him, you talked to him like he was your best friend

When closing time came around, he got up and asked you out on a date

You didn’t know what to do

You were married but you really liked this guy

You were considering saying yes when someone pulled his shoulder back and punched him across the face

“Jungkook! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“You think I didn’t see that?! I saw it all. I saw you flirting with my wife for three hours straight and then asking her out on a date!”

Jungkook beat the crap out of the guy and pushed him outside

He then came back in the store, looking at you with devil eyes

“Yesterday’s punishment clearly wasn’t enough.”

The entire way home, he was yelling at you, slapping you, spitting on you, pulling your hair, pushing you to the ground and choking you

You were crying the whole time, apologizing over and over

When you arrived home, he seriously had no mercy on you

No foreplay, no lube, no adjusting

Just a raw, thick cock being forced into you

You were begging him to let you go but tonight, nothing was going to stop him

He was moving his hips insanely fast, not giving you enough time to breathe

You were choking on your own sobs

“Jungkook, please no! I’m sorry!”

“Why did you hesitate to deny his offer? You are a married fucking women!” With each word a hard thrust followed, knocking all the air out of you

“Answer me! Is he better than me? Does he take care of you? Does he provide money for you? TELL ME!” He was yelling so loudly, it was making you cry harder

“N-no, he doesn’t. He was just the first person to care about me.” You whispered the last sentence but, Jungkook was able to make it out

“Are you saying that I don’t care about you?”

He got more aggressive and fastened his pace

“Tell me, Y/N! Do you think that I don’t care about you?!”

You couldn’t answer him because you couldn’t catch your breath

He was going too fast and you were crying so hard, you couldn’t breathe

Jungkook noticed how much you were struggling and added onto your struggle by holding your neck down

“Apologize, right now Jeon Y/N!”

You softly apologize but it wasn’t good enough for him

He lifted your legs a little, giving him better access and fucked you till you squirted

This time you sobbed your apology and begged for forgiveness

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook! It’ll never— ah! It’ll never happen again! I’m so sorry! Please for- forgive me for my dumb m-mistake. Please! I’m begging you.” You held onto the bed sheet, praying he would stop

He huskily growled and pushed his cock in deep

“For the next 9 months you’ll be swelling with my baby. Now, everyone can back off.”

He shot his hot cum right into you, filling you up to the rim

Sorry for any mistakes. It’s 3:41am 😄

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut #non con #bts yandere #yandere bts #yandere jungkook

735 notes · View notes

kkusuka · 3 years

Text

HQ Middle blocker kinks <3

@xxxxtanaxxxx request hq kinks but middle blocker version please 🥺

I'm gonna be honest i wasn't gonna do this buuut here it is

i have a setter one in the works and here is the ace version!

here is the setter version <3

Characters: Tsukishima Kei, Kuroo Tetsuro, Suna Rintaro, Satori Tendo, Taichi Kawanishi, Issei Matsukawa, Takanobu Aone,, Shoyo Hinata, Lev Haiba Shugo Meian (MSBY captain), and Yutaro Kindaichi

Mentioned female anatomy, but mostly gn

content warning: consensual non-con, humiliation, public sex, exhibitionism, voyeurisms, degradation, bondage, sex toys, cockwarming, edging, soft priamal/prey, mentions of house break-ins, pegging, size kink, overuse of the word Daddy, face fucking, hickeys

i think thats all?

buckle up, this is gonna be looooong.

Tsukishima Kei

Degradation

This is a given, my mans has a mouth on him, AND HE KNOWS HOW TO USE IT

He says the most vulgar things in your ears (and you love it)

His nickname for you is Cum-dump, and he calls you that so much that you’ve started to respond to it. “Hey, Cum-dump! Come here” “ok Tsukki”

And when he’s cumming? A slew of insults just come out

“You whore, oh, you fucking cum-slut, you’d let anyone do this to you won't you”

And it's not limited to this!

“You're just a hole”

“You only exist for me to fuck, Right? You're just a glorified fleshlight”

“You're only good for sucking my cock”

“I should just leave you chained to the wall so I can fuck you anytime I want, that's all you're good at so you should love it”

It won’t even be only during sex

You could literally be just studying with him and he’ll just lean over and say “ you want to be fucked right now don't you? In front of all these people, I bet you’d love it Cum-dump”

Humiliation

Goes with a dirty mouth

He’ll flip your skirt while walking in front of groups of other students

He purposely sucks hickeys where your uniform does not cover and then laughs at you because you're just such a slut.

One of his favorite things to do is have you wear a vibrator in school, only on days where you have to do something in front of the class

No worries he has the remote and turns it alllllll the way up during the middle of your presentation, you just look so cute all red!

He’ll make it better!!

You can cum in front of the class, let everyone know how much of a whore you are!

Purposeful neglect

He wants you so horny you can’t think

If that means not giving you attention for FIVE DAYS so be it.

No touching yourself and if he finds out you did he’ll ignore you for longer and you don’t want that do you?

You will wait for him to touch you.

He’ll also just ignore you.

No begging, he doesn't care, he doesn't want to hear it.

Don't touch him, stop being a brat or you won’t get off for a whole week.

Bondage

It's all about control <3

Having you tied up and immobile is the best way to show how little you are.

He’ll tie you up and put you on the couch with a vibrator and just watch movies, unable to rock your hips

This seems cruel but he’ll tie your hands up and make you eat dinner with just your mouth <3

He’ll make you watch tv with a ball gag in

He’ll have a riding crop in his hands when you study and he’ll hit your little clit/silt with it every time you get a question wrong

Kuroo Tetsuro

Pet names

Literally any kind o endearment, but mainly switches between Kitten and Baby Girl/Boy(i am swooning right now)

He WILL call you these in front of people and out loud in public

He’s called you them in front of your parents in front of Kenma in the middle of the grocery store.

So you're wondering, why does that matter? People do that all the time!

Well, he calls you them so you remember how he completely ruined your little body and how his cum is still dripping out of you <3

And its cannon that he has a sexy voice, and it drops and gets deeper when he calls you them.

Thigh highs

It doesn't matter in you have the biggest thighs ever or just a bone, if you wear any kind of thigh highs (bonus points for Cat ones) he will be ready to bust a nut

It's not only him that gets off on them, especially when he takes them off

He’ll climb over you and use his teeth to pull them down to your feet and he’ll kiss and bite his way back up to do the other one.

He also will sometimes leave them on to rail you into your bed, when this happens he puts your legs over your shoulders and squishes his head between them.

(kuroo loves thighs, and that's that)

Caregiver

He's taken care of Kenma all his life, and you bet your ass he’ll do it for you

This means he gives the best aftercare you could imagine, I’m talking bubble baths

He’ll cook for you in nothing but an apron, and he’ll tease you when you get all flushed and cute!

You had a bad day? He’ll eat you out for hours until you’re all cuddly and tired.

He’ll fuck you slow where you need it and he’ll kiss all the pain away <3

He just loves having you dependent on him makes him so happy and thankful to have you!

Threesomes

Mainly for Kenma, but he let bokuto have a turn and even convinced Tsikki to give it a try!

He really just wants to show off that you’re his what better way to show you off then let some of them get a taste of something they’d never have.

Favorite position for this? Split roasting/ Eiffel towering

He's the one who you're sucking on, and he’s so far down your throat making him suck you deeper and deeper until you’re drooling all over his balls like a good Kitten

Whoever he sharing you with would be in you following whatever Kuroo tells them to do

Rub your clit? Yes Sir.

Faster. Yup

Slowdown Kittens being bad so she doesn't get to get off <3

Suna Rinatro

Purposeful neglect

Just like Tsukki, he wants you hot and bothered all the time

He will just sit around and scroll on his phone while you’re whining :(

Just let him watch this video and he’ll get you off!

Will never tell you but you just look so cute, all needy and horny for him.

Sometimes he’ll slip you a libido pill and just watch the world burn.

He will wait until you have ruined whatever shorts you’re wearing (and he’ll take them) and THEN he will help his poor needy baby

Cockwarming

Almost every time he games, he puts you on his dick

you already know it’s happening when he takes the controller out

He says it's because he doesn't want to “leave you out”

No moving on him though, if you8 move it could distract him and you do not want him to lose, losing means being pounded into the floor until you can't think, then being ignored the rest of the day “horny sluts can sit on the floor until they need to be used”.

But if all goes well, he’ll go soft in between rounds and will suck on your neck and will let you cuddle into him during the rounds

But when Suna if feeling a bit more adventurous he will put his headset on you and fuck you with all of his friends listening

And if that's not bad enough they all clearly know what’s happening id Osamus soft coo’s and Gin’s little comments (but it's not like they want it to stop anyway)

Edging

Will literally just do this out of nowhere

You thought you were finally gonna cum, then nothing

HE WILL just do things for hours to see you cry and begging or him to just let you cum

He’ll stick four fingers in you and bring you to your climax and just leave you on the edge

He won't even have a reason, you were being good, you let him play his game and he does this?

Que pouty bby

Video/Photography

We all saw this coming-

But he takes it a step further than just having a photo collection of you

He has a personal private story with just you in it where he put videos of you riding him or sucking his dick fo you to “see how slutty you are”

that's not even it, he sends you a picture of you naked in the middle of work, with no shame either

Thus one time you were showing a coworker a shirt you had bought and he texted you and the picture showed up. It was awkward for the next few days.

But these don't even compare to how he has an entire Instagram account (private of course) of your nodes and videos of the two of you fucking.

One extra little thing is that you both watch porn together for ideas.

Satori Tendou

(i could make him a post of his own-so so many kinks for Satori)

Humiliation (mentions of pee)

This can range from calling you names to making you touch yourself in public

He’s called you a pillow princess in the middle of class, in front of your teacher

It had gotten so bad they Ushijima had to ask what a “cum-dumpster was” because Satori had called you that in front of the team.

He doesn't even introduce you as his S/O, hw=e would call you an escort or that you were just his personal fuck toy.

This kink goes so far that when you were on a double date with Semi, under the table Tendo had his hand literally in your pants.

**One of his favorite things is to make you hold your pee in until you are almost peeing yourself, isn't that embarrassing that you're a grown adult who’s about to wet yourself?

Overstimulation

He wants to see you a complete mess all over him

The main goal of all of this is to make you squirt or begin to have dry orgasms

He will not stop until he’s happy or you say your safe word (which is rare)

One orgasm just isn't enough for him :/

And it's a big boost of confidence for him!

he‘s proud to know he can make you cum so much you cant even think!

Dacryphilia

This AND overstim?

Good luck

He can't even explain why it turns him on so much.

You just look so beautiful with tears streaming down your face all fucked out

It always hits him at the worst times too, you crying over a bad grade? A pretty tear falling over your soft cheeks. Hard.

Just watched a sad movie, he’s ready to pound you into the couch.

Anal

Oh ho ho

This can be one of two things, he does it because it feels good

He does it as punishment

That means no lube

No adjusting to his dick

And no extra pleasure to help you get off

He’s so mean </3

Taichi Kawanishi

This man screams pornstar

Public sex

This man is unstable

You could just be walking in public and he just decides he wants to fuck.

Who are you to stop him?

Just let him get this out real quick you can shop later.

Exhibitionism

The thought of being in the open? This man loves it

And you don't really have a choice but to love it

Every time you go to the beach he just has his dick in you, in the ocean sitting in his lap while eating lunch

He doesn't even care who sees

Children? Who cares, look away or whatever

Getting caught

It doesn't even matter who it is

If someone walks in when you're doing it he’s cumming

It's just hot

He doesn't need to explain it to you

he also makes u take nudes and had them as his homescreen for a while

Issei Matsukawa

I’d let this man kill me-

Leather/ latex

LEATHER GLOVES

He wears them when he fingers you so he can make fun of how wet you made them.

He dresses you up in these pretty little pastel dresses (gender to heel, he doesn't care, you look hot weather your a boy, girl, or not) and he wears all black (goth daddy Mattsun) and his gloves to fuck you in his leather-covered fist.

That's not even it

He has an entire bin of different colored chokers and leashes just for his pretty baby

Along with that, he has a shelf of latex thigh highs for you to wear and even has an entire outfit for you to wear and show off to him.

Ddlg/b/n-Lifestyle

This is why he has a lot of things that you wear!

He loves to take care of you all the time!

He loves to make his baby food and love to watch movies with you

And you love him so much too!

You would do anything for Daddy!

And he takes you shopping and to restaurants, and if you want literally anything big or small all you have to do is look up at him with puppy dog eyes and a “Daddy, please!!” and boom his credit card is already out.

Size kink

Big dick Mattsun-

This all comes back to the fact that you are so beautiful

And big dick little hole, who doesn't love that??

He sure does, don't worry though he always makes sure to prep you

Except if it's punishment- he doesn't like it he swears! He’d never want to hurt you!

And you’d believe it until your crying on his cock and it throbs ://

But if it still hurts, and it does, he’ll let you go your pace and sink all the way down onto his cock<3

Fun fact the first time he went into your ass he tried to with no lube and you couldn't sit for DAYS

Voyeurism (receiving)

Makki Makki Makki

I would say he was into Cuckolding but its always him doing the watching while Issei fucks you

And Makki loves it too if his constant praises and coo’s said anything about it.

And Mattsun just gets off on the fact his best friend is watching something he’ll (maybe if you're not into it) never fully have

Mattsun also likes having you tied up an watching him fuck a fleshlight of just jerking off

You look so pathetic :)

extra for big dick mattsun, he Shows all of his friends <3

I am a whore for the Seijoh 4

You bet Makki has an entire folder of pic of you, whether they are of you dripping cum or just with your legs open.

Even if he says he doesn't save them, you know Iwa has gotten off you a recording of you moaning and asking for Daddy’s cock

And Oikawa is always asking for more (the little manwhore), he says they are “references” for him, liar, he jerks off to them in his bathroom.

Takanobu Aone

It's always the quiet ones-

I just gotta get these first two out-

Consensual non-con

I can just TELL he like to pretend to break into your house

Pretend you're so scared and you don't like it

Tying you up and listening to your little cries, awwwwweeee

You were just too pretty to ignore

Just let him have a taste, stop crying he knows you want it just as much as he does

Primal/prey

He wants to feel like he earned his reward

A perfect little trophy for him to use as a toy

His dick in your tiny dripping hole is all the reward he needs

It's like you're a pretty innocent bunny and he’s a big fox just waiting for the right time to strike :)

Soft sex/ praise

I know what I said up there

But none of that means he doesn't love just setting you down on the bed with candles and rose petals and just making love

Soft music in the background and worshipping every inch of your skin

You need to be vocal though!

Tell him how pretty he is when he cums, and how perfectly his dick fits in your hole!

Tell him how soft he looks and how he is making your nipples feel like heaven.

Aftercare- bc I am also soft for aone and he is a good guy

Bubble baths and chocolate

Movies and cuddling

All of this makes him so glad that he found you

Especially when you cuddle into him all sleepily and tired.

Shoyo Hinata

oh he is so pretty-

Mutual masturbation

It's the perfect way to experience pleasure

He can see you in all your glory

All of the faces he sometimes misses when he’s fucking you!

He also learns from it!

He sees the angle your fingers go to hit that sweet spot so the next time he’s in you he knows where to aim!

(he is so precious-)

Pegging

You wanted to try it so he almost immediately agreed-

But it felt good!

The two of you reserved what one you wanted so the one he picked was almost made for him.

Plus, you look ridiculously good with the strap on-

And he voices that as much as he can!

And sometimes when he rides the strap he just watches it going in and out and in and out

(you also think this is SUPER hot but won't tell him :/)

Riding

It doesn't matter if it's you or him

Watching you fall apart on his cock without him doing a thing makes him cum harder than anything

Sometimes he gets so excited that he comes before you and makes you stay there until he’s hard again, which doesn't take long at all.

when it's him?

he’ll go for hours just to hear you tell him how good he is and how pretty he looks

Lingerie

Especially pastel babydolls

But nothing you wear could ever make you look bad in his eyes

Ok he likes it when you keep the lingerie on too like he’s fucking you and you till have a little nightgown/crop top on

Lord he will BUUUUUUSSSTTT

Lev Haiba

Size kink

Unintentionally too

He didn't even know it, but he did know that he liked that you were so much smaller than him.

He likes to put your hand to him and just look at the difference and before he knew it he was painfully hard

On the occasion, he makes fun of you saying his dick is just too big for you and you can't handle it, but then you get on your knees and he shuts up real quick

Praise kink

A given

He wants to know how good he makes you feel at all times

It doesn't have to be words either!

loud moans explanations of pleasure all drive him to move faster and faster!

Even yelling “oh god!” gets him off

He makes you feel that good huh?

Wall sex

Just playing on the size kink thing

He loves to just pick you up and fuck with reckless abandon

Gets a way better angle too- bet you didn't think he would realize that

He also likes to watch the combination of your juices drip to the floor-

Shugo Meian (MSBY captain)

Sexiest team-

Daddy/ Captain kink

Just look at him, he screams Daddy louder than you do when he’s fucking you

He takes pride in being Captain meaning he’ll fuck you for hour if the word even falls from your lips

And yes you have said it (daddy) front of the team and he did get hard, and the both of you did fuck in the locker room of the gym for an hour before you got kicked out

Even in arguments you better call him daddy, he will stop and fuck you into the ground for it

Angry or not you WILL use his title

Spanking

Will threaten you with this almost everyday

He just uses it as an excuse to touch your ass

He makes you count after each one and makes you thank him

It would look a bit like this

“Five! Thank you Daddy!” “Good Baby, five more”

But that doesn’t mean when you really deserve it that he won't unleash the wrath of god onto your poor ass

But after he’ll kiss it all better and Daddy will reward you for taking your punishment well

Controlled orgasms

By this i mean that you wont cum unless he says so

And you have to ask

Aka “Daddy please let me cum, I really want to”

And depending on what he’s feeling maybe you’ll get to cum then

And if not you’ll have to wait like a good Girl/Boy and cum when he does, which could late literally forever.

but its better than disobeying his orders, which could lead to him completely pulling out and just jerking off to cum on you :((

Deepthroating/ Face Fucking

Nothing is better to him than coming home to you on your knees and mouth open and ready

But when he’s all pent up from practice and he sees you?

Rip your throat, you aren't talking for a few days

He’ll literally fuck your face no question

He’ll put his dick so far down your throat you could feel it in your stomach

Yutaro Kindaichi

Hate sex

He just makes everyone angry

And he gets off on it

You look so fucking delectable all red faced and angry

Makes him want to just slam into right then and there

Dom/Sub

Clearly he wants to be in control

Controlling someone is just such a turn-on for him

Looking all pretty doing exactly what he wanted you too <3

Hickeys

Wants to show off that you are his

What better way than marking up your neck with pretty bruises

Plus he likes how you get all shy when people look at them

2K notes · View notes

contemplativepancakes · 3 years

Text

sunsets for somebody else

Daphne runs into her long lost husband arguing with another man in the grocery store. Things start to take a turn when she realizes they're married.

The bottle of bleach drops from Daphne’s hand into her cart, landing with a sloshing thud as she takes in the scene in front of her, frozen in her tracks. Emmanuel is standing right in front of her, arguing with another man about cleaning supplies.

Wearing a beige trench coat for some inexplicable reason—it’s almost 90 degrees outside—Emmanuel listens to a man who’s explaining in minute detail how to clean an oven. They’re both wearing wedding rings, and Daphne’s heart swells for a moment before she realizes it’s a different ring from the one she gave Emmanuel all those years ago.

“Dean, I don’t think this is safe for Jack. This is going to create noxious fumes,” Emmanuel says, squinting at the ingredients of the cleaner apparently-Dean had thrust at him.

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose, and Daphne squeezes the handle of her shopping cart harder, feeling faint. It’s not every day you come across your long lost husband at the Stop N’ Shop.

“I think the kid can take some fumes,” Dean says, plucking the bottle out of Emmanuel’s hands and putting it in the cart. “We wouldn’t even have to worry about this if someone didn’t let the pizza fall onto the bottom of the oven.”

“The directions said to put it directly on the middle rack!” Emmanuel protests, and Dean rubs a hand down Emmanuel’s back in a familiar way that makes Daphne’s stomach roil.

She’s not jealous, she’s not. She was just helping Emmanuel when she found him, after all. Their marriage was simply one of…convenience for Emmanuel. It’s not like he had a birth certificate with him, or a social security number. What did Daphne get out of all this? Well. Daphne looks at his cheek bones wistfully, her gaze dipping down to his strong forearms his trench coat is rolled up to reveal.

Dean rolls his eyes fondly, and then he tugs Emmanuel into his side, kissing him on the temple. Daphne jerks her stare away for a moment before returning it, noticing now that their wedding rings match.

“Emmanuel?” she chokes out, against her better judgment.

For a long second, she doesn’t think Emmanuel heard her, but he turns around. “Daphne?”

Daphne nods, her words forsaking her. She doesn’t miss the way Dean clutches possessively at Emmanuel’s hip.

“I…thought you were dead,” she finally says. “I filed a missing person report.”

Dean squints at her, before something like recognition passes over her face, and now that she thinks about it, Daphne recognizes him, too. He’s the one who showed up right before everything went to shit. Horror stories of Stockholm syndrome flash through her mind.

“Emmanuel, are you…happy?” she settles on.

Emmanuel gives her a smile, leaning harder into Dean. “I am.”

“Good. That’s. Good,” she says, a strangled look on her face, she’s sure. “Would you want to catch up some time?” she asks before she fully registers what’s coming out of her mouth.

Emmanuel gives her a warm smile. “I’d love that.”

As they set up a time to get coffee, Daphne tries to ignore the glare Dean levels at her throughout the whole conversation. He insists that their meeting be tomorrow, since apparently they won’t be in the area for long. Daphne tries to ignore the warning bells in her mind that tell her she’s about to get murdered and takes solace in the fact that at least they’re meeting in a public place.

Besides, even if Emmanuel’s husband is a serial killer, surely Emmanuel won’t let him murder her, right?

The next day, Daphne hems and haws as she debates what to wear. Whatever this is, it’s the exact opposite of a date, anyway. She knocks on the door of her foster child, Alex, to wake them up before she goes into the bathroom to do her hair and makeup. Really, she’s just doing it for herself. She’s allowed to want to look nice!

When she finally deems herself as ready as she’s going to get, she goes back to Alex’s room to make sure they’re actually up. To her pleasant surprise, they’re sitting on the edge of their bed putting on their socks and almost ready. “Excited for school today?” she asks.

Alex makes a face at her. “Never,” they say, but their voice at least has the edge of a smile to it.

They’ve come a long way since they were first placed with her, and even though Daphne knows she shouldn’t be getting overly attached, she can’t help it. She walks down the steps and into the kitchen, deliberating for a moment on breakfast before putting frozen waffles into the toaster. If she’s about to get murdered while Alex is at school, she can at least make sure the last thing she made for them wasn’t cereal.

Alex tromps down the steps, dragging their bookbag behind them, and Daphne hides her smile behind her glass of orange juice. Alex lights up at the sight of the waffles, disturbingly easy to please, as always. They inhale them, as teenagers do, before putting their dishes in the sink. Daphne cracks open her laptop as they wait for the bus, attempting to get some of her work done for the day since she’ll be taking a break later for the coffee. She really hopes her boss doesn’t try and call her while she’s out.

Or, maybe she does. She’s not sure she’s prepared for the level of awkwardness that she’s about to go through, but maybe it won’t be as bad as she thinks. She really wants to know what Emmanuel has been up to for all of this time. She’s still…embarrassingly hung up on him, and it would be nice to get some closure.

The bus pulling up in front of the house jerks her out of her thoughts, and she gives Alex a wave before they race off to get on. She watches them settle into a seat with one of their friends, and smiles at the fact that they even have friends now.

In the end, Daphne doesn’t manage to get much work done before she clambers into her car and drives to the coffee shop they agreed on. She doesn’t really think she needs caffeine with the way her leg is bouncing already.

Emmanuel and Dean are already there when she walks in, Emmanuel with a cup of black coffee he’s dumping sugar packets into and Dean with something with whipped cream and chocolate syrup drizzled on top. She gives them a tentative wave before ordering hot chocolate for herself, settling herself delicately in the seat across from them.

“So,” Dean says. “You were Cas’s wife?”

She squints. “Cas?”

Emmanuel speaks up. “After I regained my memories, I remembered that was my name.”

“Oh.” Smiling weakly, she tries to reconcile that. “You have them all back now?”

Emman—Cas nods.

“Just forgot about me, though?” she tries to ask lightly, but it comes out a little garbled.

“You took advantage of him!” Dean explodes from the other side of the table, making Daphne flinch. “Who the fuck finds someone naked with no memories and marries them?”

“Dean,” Cas chastises, his arm shifting like he’s putting his hand on Dean’s thigh under the table.

“I was helping him,” Daphne says hotly. “Would you have just wanted me to leave him there?”

Cutting Dean off before he can say anything else, Cas looks at Daphne and smiles in a way that makes her heart flutter. “I’m very grateful. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out to let you know I was alright.”

Dean crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair, taking a sip of his sugar monstrosity. He comes away with a whipped cream mustache, and it’s hard not to laugh as he wipes it away in total seriousness.

“So,” Daphne says. “You two have a kid? Jack?”

Scowling, which seems to be Dean’s automatic reflex, he exchanges a glance with Cas before softening. “Yeah, we have a kid. He’s four.”

Daphne thinks maybe Dean should have been a little bit more concerned about the fumes of cleaning chemicals if they have a four year old, but she keeps her judgments to herself. Cas beams. “He’s very bright.”

Returning the smile tentatively, Daphne asks, “How long have you two been married?”

“It’s almost our one year anniversary,” Dean says gruffly.

Daphne tries not to let it affect her, even if that’s more time than she ever got with Cas. “Practically newly weds, then!”

“It’s been an adventure; that’s certain,” Cas says, smiling serenely even as Dean elbows his ribs. “Tell us about you, Daphne. What have you been doing?”

Daphne shrugs a shoulder. “Oh, not too much.” Mourning the man I pulled out of the woods and saved and married, she doesn’t say. She knows Emmanuel never felt the same way about her that she did him. “I got approved to be a foster parent, so I’ve had a few kids come through.”

“Helping people has always been your calling,” Cas says softly.

Daphne takes a few minutes to gush about Alex, and her previous kids before them, before she notices Dean’s not actively glaring at her anymore.

“That’s…nice,” he begrudges when she finishes.

“What do you do, Dean?”

Looking like he just dropped something on his foot, he stammers before he hastily says, “I work construction.”

Daphne squints at him. She has the feeling he’s lying to her, but she has no idea why he would be.

“And what about you, Cas?”

“Oh, I mostly just take care of Jack.”

“You’re a stay at home dad?” she asks, the thought making her stomach twist into knots and heat rise to her face.

“Of a sorts,” Cas agrees.

God, they’re making it impossible to carry on a conversation with them. Daphne keeps a smile pasted to her face. “What do you two do for fun?”

“I’m convinced Dean thinks fun is superfluous,” Cas confides, even as Dean splutters at him. “But I like to drag him to thrift stores with me. Dean likes to bake, also.”

“I work on cars, too,” Dean says, and Daphne can feel his desperation to maintain his facade.

She tries not to quirk a smile at his discomfort. They chat for a while longer, Dean getting increasingly dodgy about the questions she asks before she finally excuses herself to go to the bathroom. She shuts the door behind her and looks down at the dank floor. Is she getting what she wanted out of this? She has no idea what she even imagined happening when she asked to catch up. Emmanuel running away with her? Maybe in her wildest fantasies. Taking a deep breath to ground herself, she looks in the mirror and checks her makeup, rubbing at her under eye circles before walking back out of the bathroom.

Cas is at the counter ordering another drink, for Dean, by the sound of the sugar content, and she walks over to him. Hesitating before she bites the bullet, she asks, “You’re not…like, being held against your will, right? That Dean seems,” she pauses, “interesting.”

Cas laughs warmly, putting a hand over Daphne’s. “No, nothing like that. This is a choice of my own free will, believe it or not. Dean is much more caring than he lets on.”

Well, Daphne’s not sure she believes it, but. At least he’s happy, and in the end, that’s all she’s ever wanted for him.

#supernatural #destiel #castiel #outsider pov #daphne allen #the born again identity #contemplative writing

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reidjumpers · 3 years

Text

Here Comes the Sun: Dumplings

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warning: mentions of food, some curse words, domestic bliss, Spencer being a little anxious

Series Summary: a journey of going through parenthood with Spencer Reid

Chapter Summary: When Spencer woke up to you making dumplings in the dining table, he knew he was in trouble.

Note: welcome to the first chapter of dad!Spencer series! For those who have faint heart, fear not, because I am not mean and I write this so we can all have serotonin boost together. Enjoy!

prologue, next chapter, series masterlist.

Nobody in their right mind would ever call Spencer Reid a fool. He might have encountered people that underestimate him or didn’t think he was as smart, yes, but no one would ever call him a fool. Not even when Emily joked about his IQ getting slashed into 60 in the presence of a beautiful woman. He had to silently agree with that statement. How could he not? In front of him was a very beautiful woman that he had the luxury to call her his wife. His beautiful, gorgeous, very understanding, intelligent wife.

But right now he definitely felt like a goddamn fool.

When Spencer woke up to an empty bed and the apartment smelled distinctively sweet like the bakery, he thought he was waking up on a really good day. But when he walked out the bedroom and spotted you sitting at the dining table calmly, a hum of songs from the speaker played in the background, and a stack of dumpling skin placed on the table, he knew he was in the doghouse.

It was common knowledge that whenever you’re stressed or upset upon something or someone, when life seemingly wants to fucks you over and over, you’d channel it through baked sweets or as strange as it sounds, dumplings. He never knew witnessing you silently make dumplings on the dining table with freshly baked cookies on the counter would be such a terrifying and worrisome sight to see.

Spencer stood silently in the doorway, rocking on his heels forward and backwards. He was quiet and careful not to burst the bubble of your own world. His mind started to run a few scenarios inside his head over and over, trying to walk through every minute by minute of every event in his life that had led him into today.

“Hey,” he greeted you after two solid minutes of thinking and couldn’t come up with any answer. His voice was gentle to not startle you as he pulled a chair across yours.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” you teased. It was 11:15 AM, you were most definitely saying that just to tease him.

Spencer rolled his eyes at your jab, silently reached for the dumpling skin in front of him and started to fill it with the filling. He had done this thousands of times over to know the right way to make dumplings. Your first few dates with him consisted of homemade dumplings and sipping wine. He was honored when you showed him how to make dumplings the way your grandmother did it, grinning as you said it’s a family secret and he promised to keep it as one.

“Are we having a guest?” Spencer asked as he put his own dumpling carefully into the designated plate. His dumpling would never be as good as yours no matter how much he tried, but he was proud that it was passable enough to your standard.

“No?” you furrowed your eyebrows, glancing up from your own dumpling. “Why?”

“You make more dumplings than usual,” he pointed out.

“Oh,” your voice was soft, barely audible, and he nearly missed it. “Didn’t realize that.”

Spencer nodded, reaching for another dumpling skin to soothe his worry away. Study has shown that repetitive action proven to soothe anxiety and increase focus. He could recite the study in his sleep, forward and backwards without stuttering. But the damned repetitive action of making dumplings didn’t work for him right now.

He cleared his throat. It is now and never. He would have to kiss his husband of the year trophy goodbye if he couldn’t figure out for his life what makes his wife this upset. “Hon?” he called for your attention.

You let out a hum of acknowledgement, eyes didn’t leave your dumpling for a second. It made the corner of his lips twisted downwards.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked gently, mindful not pressing you into telling him things. He knew you would never keep things away from him. You would tell him eventually, but he needed to hear it.

You, however, just scrunched your nose adorably in confusion. “Talk about what?”

“You bake cookies and make dumplings, and it’s just…” he craned his neck to take a glance towards the hanging clock above the cabinet. “It’s not even twelve yet.”

You blinked at his statement. “I’m hungry.”

“You do stress bake,” he patiently pointed out. Placing his yet another passable looking dumpling into the designated plate, he let out a sigh. “You also make dumplings when you’re stressed or upset. And now you do both first thing in the morning.”

“You know me so well, huh? You should marry me if you know me so well.”

“Already did, nine months ago,” Spencer rolled his eyes at your humor, but a smile graced his lips. “So, do you want to talk about it?”

You blinked at him again, nose scrunched up in confusion at his question. Spencer could feel silence slowly settling in, filling the gaps between you and him. His mind started to make a list of things that you like, making mental notes to make a short trip to a grocery store to pick up your favorite ice cream and take a reroute towards the flower shop he saw a week ago and picked up a bouquet of roses.

He was in the middle of mentally reciting his apology for fucking up when he heard you burst into a laughter. It took him a moment to register that the sound of you cackling so hard was not a mere figment of his imagination. He saw you laughing so hard, head thrown backwards overwhelming the small dining room.

“I’m sorry,” you hiccupped, wiping away tears from your eyes with your sleeve. Spencer would’ve smiled at the sight if he weren’t so puzzled. “Babe, are you really thinking I’m mad at you because I bake cookies and make dumplings?”

Spencer sputtered, “How could I not!” he huffed, throwing his hands into the air dramatically as you laugh upon his misery. “I was so worried! You always either bake or make dumplings when you’re upset, but never both! And now you do both and you keep dodging my question.”

“I didn’t mean to!” you said defensively between your laughter. You cleared your throat, not wanting to make the pout on Spencer’s lips even more prominent. “I guess my brain really associated cookies and dumplings as something comforting. I crave for some comfort food, and my brain just screams, ‘cookies and dumplings!’ I didn’t mean to make you worried, I’m sorry.”

“This much? You’re really hungry, huh?”

“Pretty hungry since I’m eating for two now.”

Spencer froze on his spot, his hand stopped midair before he was able to reach for another dumpling skin. He blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. “W-what?”

You just smiled cheekily at him. You got up from your seat and walked towards the kitchen, leaving him alone flabbergasted at your statement. You came back a minute later, a wide smile at your face and your hand tucked behind your back.

“Ta-da!” you cheerfully said, placing baby shoes on the table in front of him. Spencer let out a soft gasp, cooed at the sight of how tiny the shoes are.

“Are you…? Are we…?”

“Pregnant,” you finished his sentence for him with a wide grin. “I found out during our case in LA and I was meaning to tell you earlier, I swear! But the case got a little crazy and we’re whisked away into doing a lot of things at once.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, staring into the baby shoes with eyes full of awe. The news still felt unreal for him, artificial, but the warmth blooming on his chest that slowly spreading through his system left him fuzzy. A small reminder that it was as real as he wanted to be.

You probably have mistaken his silence for something else as you shifted your weight from one foot to another. You started to fidget with the hem of your shirt, eyes not meeting his. “I know we agree to wait for a year, but–”

Spencer practically leaped from his seat and scooped you into his arms. His smile was so wide that his cheeks started to hurt. You let out a small yelp as he spun you around before he placed a tender kiss on your lips. “I love you,” he said between your kisses, grinning as he stole a few more small kisses.

You giggled between his kisses, your hand flew into his face and patted his cheeks as he assaulted your face with his lips. “I love you too, you big goof.”

“A baby, huh?” Spencer let out a happy sigh after he spared your life from his kisses. His hand nestled on your waist, gently swaying you in his arms. “We’ve got to start baby proofing the whole place, make sure there are no sharp edges,” he rambled.

“Spencer–”

“I’ll go to the bookstore and pick up some book about baby names! Do you think Jason is a good name?”

“I think–”

“Oh, we should start shopping for some clothes and socks too. Make sure they’re warm–”

“Spencer!” you interrupted his rambling with your hands squishing his face. You smiled at him as he blinked his eyes towards you slowly, a little fazed that you broke his train of thought. “I love all the planning ideas, but right now let’s just focus on making dumplings and feed three of us, okay?”

“Okay,” he breathed out, slowly collapsing into his seat again. “Okay. Dumplings…” he muttered to himself, grabbing the dumpling skin in front of him. “But seriously, what do you think about the name Jason?”

“It’s a lovely name.”

“Oh, common ground. I like that.”

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@measure-in-pain @wooya1224 @reidemandweep @manuosorioh

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