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mangoshorthand · 11 months

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Thing of the Past- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch1 (Hard Feelings Part 4)

SUMMARY: You can't avoid it any longer: Five has to meet your parents. It goes more wrong than you could possibly imagine, spiralling to bring up secrets he'd rather stay buried.

⚠️TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven/Epilogue

You're getting married. You have a baby. No avoiding it.

Reader is unavoidably an OC at this point. When I tag this as #Number Five Imagine, I never said it wasn't going to be tough. 😜

⚠️Please heed content warning⚠️

Chapter One: Bone Structure

You couldn’t put it off forever. You had a fifteen-month-old daughter and you were about to get married. They’d known you were seeing a ‘famous guy’ since the JUICED scandal. Your mother scolded you for only telling her you’d been pregnant once Aoife was born, but had then quickly forgotten it in talking about how nobody appreciated her at work. You've always thought that your mother seems to struggle with object permanence- she behaves like the stereotype of a beleaguered mother when directly confronted with you, but your existence doesn't seem to occur to her otherwise. She always seems to forget that the phone goes two ways.

Aoife’s asleep in the car seat. In the passenger seat beside you, Five reaches over and removes the pacifier drooping from her mouth. He can’t resist running his thumb down her chubby cheek as he does so.

Your knuckles go white on the wheel.

“Are you ok?”

The familiar feeling of foreboding is rising. You’re a block away and the familiar sights assault you. Home, yes, but not like the Academy, or even like your apartment. The old feeling of resignation comes on you again. It’s not dread, it’s more an obligation weighing in the pit of your stomach.

He senses you’re not okay.

“…You don’t talk about them often.”

“And there’s a good reason for that.”

To Five, you don’t sound like yourself. You're…detached; something hidden behind an ironic cynicism that would have looked better on him.

“Pull over,” he murmurs.

You do, a little way down the street. Though the engine stilling has been known to wake her before, Aoife stays mercifully asleep on this occasion.

“Tell me.”

You breathe in.

“Can you…play nice? For me?”

His brow contracts, “I’ll try. But why would I have to?”

“They’re…weird.”

He tilts his head, “You know I can cope with weird.”

You stare directly out of the windshield. There it is, the modest colonial in which you’d spent the first eighteen years of your life. White picket fence and all. The one you’d left and never looked back. He won’t get it unless he sees it- how to even begin to explain?

“It is what it is.” you sigh and give him a rueful smile, “Just…don’t be as honest as usual.”

He gets it; he has to up his bullshit-taking capacity. He places a hand on your knee, “Babies are excellent meat-shields.”

You nod and prepare yourself.

“Let’s get it over with.”

You get out of the car and unstrap Aoife from her car-seat. She stirs and fusses, so you replace the pacifier. She rubs at her eyes with one clumsy arm and then sneezes suddenly: as always, a blue flash accompanies it and she judders in your arms: a quasi-spatial jump she can't control. Though she has Five's power, she can't use it volitionally yet and the effects she does experience are weak and fleeting.

According to Five, he had been similar, only managing to control the ‘sneeze-blinks’ when he was four.

"Apparently every time I was sick, I used to blink to random places in the house and throw a tantrum,” he’d explained

“That’s still how you act when you’re sick,” you’d laughed.

Now, with Aoife’s diaper bag over one shoulder, Five takes your free hand and you lead him down the sidewalk, through the front yard and to the door.

You ring the bell. The ding-dong inside tolls with gloomy portents. The door creaks on its hinges just the way you remember.

“Oh BABY!” Your mother pulls you into an abrupt, rib-crushing hug. “Oh it’s SO good to see you!”

She holds you on the doorstep, eyes closed. Five pastes on his customer service smile, hands clasped behind his back and waits patiently. He looks down at Aoife, struggling under her grandmother's arm pinned to her head.

She is probably in her mid-sixties. She’s angular, hair tied tight in a scrunchie and glasses at the end of her nose.

To Five’s eye, she hugs her daughter for a little longer than is necessary or, indeed, comfortable for an onlooker. He notes your poker-stiff body language.

“Hi Mom. Hi…” you try to extricate yourself, “I’ve brought them to meet you.”

Finally, your mother lets you go and her eyes fall on the baby.

“Oh she’s BEAUTIFUL. Oh, just look at her little hands. Oh, she gets those fingers from me.”

She looks up at Five, shoves past you and pulls him into another of the too-hard-too-long hugs. He recoils a little...but he has to play nice…

“And oh, aren’t you a smart young man? It’s SO good to meet you Five.”

Great. ‘Young man’ again.

“Er- thank you, Samantha, likewise.”

“Oh no,” she says, arms holding him shaking with the hand-gestures she would otherwise be making, “Not Samantha. I go by Geri now. It’s my middle name. Suits me better.”

“Okay. Geri.”

You feel your eyebrow raise. This is new. Her voice as she says it is affected. It reminds you of the time she signed up to an Ancestry site and didn't shut up about how she could trace her lineage back to the Stuart era for roughly five years. She releases a highly uncomfortable Five and holds him at arms’ length.

“OH, and so handsome!”

He laughs politely as she ushers them over the threshold, cooing over the baby and asking inane questions about the journey.

“Oh, your father won’t even drive on the interstate anymore. I’ve said to him so many times- if you can’t drive the interstate, you can’t drive, (OH look, she knows her grandma! Look at that little face!) But will he give up his license? No siree. You know what he’s like, never listens to a word I say. I may as well talk to that wall.”

The house is like something out of one of the Commission’s training videos; a time warp to approximately 1978. The furniture is good quality mid-century. In the right setting, he’d definitely approve, but not so much here. Assorted VHS tapes and saccharine china figures of women in period clothing line the dresser. All along one wall are pictures of you as a little girl. Yearly school photos, horribly staged first-communion photos and many others. He notices there’s much fewer pictures post-puberty.

Your dad sits in an easy chair in front of the TV. He’s older than Geri- has to be pushing eighty. He’s thin, reedy and unhealthy looking. He turns his head with difficulty as they walk in.

“Hello sweetheart. Long time no see,” then he turns to Five, “And hello to you. You’ll have to excuse my not getting up to greet you, I’m a little stiff today.”

Five shakes his hand and sits on a couch nearest to him.

“Nice to meet you sir. Old age. Quite the bastard, ain’t she?”

Your dad laughs.

“Bert,” he introduces himself, “Five, right?”

“Mhm.” Five gives a little nod.

“Yeah. Part of that…Umbrella thing?”

“That’s the one.”

"She had the action figures I think."

Five looks over at you, amused.

"You never told me that!"

"I'd forgotten. Was it Klaus and Allison, Dad?"

"No idea." he mumbles, his attention span already waning.

"Not me?" asks Five

"Nah. I was never particularly interested in you."

Five grins, "What changed?"

Geri cuts in.

“Oh FIVE, you have to show us your powers. Are you the one with all the tentacles?”

He sighs, “I’m the space and time-travel one. The tentacles were Ben. He's dead.”

Geri’s delighted expression doesn’t falter as Five mentions this loss:

“You have to show us.”

Five demurs but she keeps trying to persuade him. After his second refusal, you feel obligated to intervene on his behalf:

“He’s not a performing seal, Mom.”

“Leave the boy alone, Sam- I mean, Geri.” Bert’s voice is stern but low.

Geri ignores her husband.

“But you can time travel?”

“Only a little.” he smiles politely.

“Not enough to avoid knocking up my daughter, am I right?”

This is clearly Bert’s idea of a joke so Five graces him with a strained smile.

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

“Oh! Let me hold her!!”

Geri springs for Aoife with speed that makes her jump and cry.

“Slow down Mom- it’s upsetting her.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. She just wants a Gam-gam hug.”

Aoife begins to fuss and wriggle in the grasp of the unfamiliar and loud person.

"Ma Dada ma!" she protests, as Geri bounces her ineffectively on her knee.

Five looks at her with sympathy. Tell me about it, Bambino.

“So- how do we actually pronounce her name?” asks Bert.

“Ee-fa.”

Five notices the twitch of annoyance on your face.

“It’s spelled funny,” says Bert, eyes still predominantly on an old episode of Cheers, “You young folk like your kids to be different.”

“It’s an old name actually,” says Five, struggling now to keep the annoyance out of his own voice. His smile has become rather fixed. “It’s Gaelic. I was born in Dublin.”

“Coffee?” asks Geri, dumping her grizzling granddaughter unceremoniously onto her mother’s lap. There’s a noise of general assent, “can you help me, Five? I don’t know how you take your coffee.”

“Just black, thank you.”

He smiles and gives her the sort of nod that usually quells people…but it’s ineffective on Geri. Apparently, nothing can stop her when she gets an idea in her head. A little like her daughter, he supposes.

“Still, there’s a lot for little old me to carry.” She smiles at him expectantly.

Pasting back on his customer-service smile, he claps his hands to his knees and rises; always in anticipation of old-man back pain that never comes. He follows Geri towards the kitchen.

As you try to soothe the fussy baby, Five exchanges a glance with you. You try to convey apology.

“I’ll get her some food,” he says, shouldering the diaper bag.

The kitchen is more of the same. Formica surfaces, patterned linoleum and miles of wood panelling. As Geri fusses with the coffee pot, Five places his hands in his pockets and leans against the kitchen surface as the puree warms in the ancient microwave. He crosses one ankle over the other. He’s in control here.

“So,” she turns around. “You’re an Irish boy? Top o’ the mornin’ to ye'.”

Five supresses a cringe. Play nice…play nice.

“I wouldn’t go that far. Sure, I was born there but I stayed for less than a week before getting adopted. I'm a New Yorker, really.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. I’m Irish, you know. My paternal great-grandmother was born there."

She steps in front of him. She's uncomfortably close, her feet are either side of his protruding ankles.

"You can always tell an Irish lad…it’s in the bone structure.”

She places two fingers either side of his jaw bone in a way that reminds him forcibly of The Handler. As with her, he maintains his unfazed demeanor; the only way to win this game is not to play. She runs each finger down to meet at his chin, leaving the skin in their wake to tingle unpleasantly.

The microwave beeps and he’s pleased to have an excuse to step out from in between her and the kitchen surface. As he stirs and tests the temperature against his inner wrist, she lowers her voice to a stage whisper.

“I am so sorry about Bert. So rude. I think it would be nice one day for me to come visit the city and spend some time just us four. Bert doesn’t get out much these days and it would be nice to have a little time away from him. Maybe you can show me the city.”

Something about her tone lets him know that 'you' isn't plural in her last sentence. He searches for a response, but she doesn’t really require one.

“We’ve not really seen eye to eye in over fifteen years now, Five. You know how it is? I stay because of the house but we’re not husband and wife anymore. Not really. He's never known how to treat a woman.”

“Okay.” says Five, his veneer of politeness starting to crack as annoyance at this woman begins to build. What is happening here?

She carries on as if he hasn't spoken:

“I spend most of my time in my room. It’s easier than dealing with his sniping. I got plenty of friends,” she lowers her voice even further, “I even have a guy, Jude. That makes it easier. Of course, you can’t tell her this. She’s tied to her father’s apron strings. She just doesn’t want to understand.” she sighs, looking put-upon.

Are you crazy, lady?

He bites back the instinctive response.

“Coffee’s done,” he says, smartly stepping to the pot and grabbing a tray from behind the microwave.

“You understand how things are, right Five?”

“Oh I think I got that pretty much straightened out,” he says, “Milk?”

She places the carton on the tray while he opens various cabinets in search of mugs. Gotta keep busy.

“So, Five, when’s the wedding?”

"A month, today, actually." he surprises himself with this reflection, "Invitations will be sent later this week. We're a little tardy but it's a small wedding."

“Which church?”

He snorts a little, his resolve cracking, “Yeah, not gonna be a church.”

“But why?”

“I’d guess two more-or-less atheists and their bastard child might be out of place.”

Okay…he has to roll back the sarcasm.

She doesn't react, changing tactic unconsciously- he doesn't think she's aware that she's employing tactics. Finally, he finds the mugs and grabs four. He turns back to place them on the tray to find her nearer to him.

"I take it the dress code is black tie?"

"Not strictly. We'll both be dressed formally though."

"It was nice of you to dress up to see us today, Number Five. You cut an impressive figure."

It's not her words that get to him, it's the conspiratorial smile she gives as she moves even closer to him, the little flick of her eyes as she looks him up and down. Suppressing a shudder, he steps out smartly from her path. He places the mugs haphazardly onto the tray along with Aoife's finished food. Before she can respond, he blinks out of the door.

He catches your eye as he re-emerges from his spatial portal. His eyes widen, communicating disbelief. You pass a brief, unspoken conversation behind Bert’s back.

What the fuck was that?!

Oh God, what has she said?

He places the tray on the coffee table, tests the food's temperature again and sits down next to you. He holds out his arms for Aoife and begins to feed her. He’s deliberately placed himself in between you and the arm of the couch.

"Hai fame, piccolo? Ti piacciono gli ignami?"

As Geri comes into the room, his efforts to avoid her seem in vain. Unable to sit beside him on the couch, she sits on the arm instead, right next to him, effectively thwarting his attempts to block her.

“And he speaks Italian- what a man!” she simpers and he avoids her eye. Then, turning to you, “You’d better believe I didn’t have any help when you were this little.”

Bert grunts.

“No, I had to do everything myself. ‘I don’t know what to do with babies’, that’s what he said-”

“Well, I didn’t.” he mumbles, still watching Cheers.

“-But Five knows it’s all about practice, don’t you?”

He ignores her, spooning a little pureed yam off Aoife's lip. She turns back to you.

“You girls have it so easy these days. There were no modern men when you were born.”

Five doubts this. The 90s weren’t exactly the dark ages.

“Ooh! Show me the ring!”

Your mother leans over Five and Aoife and grabs your left hand. Sensing this, your father turns over to baseball: you’re thankful- this was one of your past rituals when Mom became too full-on. If you put on sport and comment on the game, you can kinda talk together while having an excuse to not talk to her.

She twists your wrist, looking at the ring in different lights.

“Darling, an engagement ring is supposed to have a diamond.” she says, as if you’ve never heard of the concept.

“I don’t like diamonds, Mom."

“But how will people know it's an engagement ring?"

"I know it's an engagement ring. That's all that matters."

She scoffs, "I just wish you'd consulted me before you chose it.”

“The cubs are doing well this season,” no more than a mumble from Bert.

Five breathes out through his nose, “I chose it, actually. Considering it’s an engagement ring, that would make sense, don’t you think?”

“Oh, well it is lovely, but a diamond symbolizes eternal love-”

“Oh really?” says Five, the dangerous sarcasm you recognize creeping into his voice, “Does your engagement ring have a diamond, Geri?”

“Of course!” she shows him. Clearly, she has not understood the sting in his question’s tail.

“Very pretty." he says, testily.

You draw Five's eye and give him a slightly pleading smile. He nods minutely.

"Well, Five chose perfectly. He knew I wouldn't want a diamond."

“Convenient for your bank balance, eh Five?” grunts Bert.

Geri shoots him a filthy look. “Don't be stupid. Money is no object for Reginald Hargreeves’ son.”

You feel like your brain is about to turn inside out from embarrassment, looking down at the phone in your hand, you send Lila a quick message.

YOU: 🚨🚨🚨INITIATE EMERGENCY PARENTAL PROTOCOL. EXTRACTION NEEDED. GO GO GO.

And, thank fuck, she replies immediately.

LILA: 10-4 good buddy.

In under a minute, she calls you. You owe her flowers. Five looks at your phone ringing and then back at you.

‘Don’t you dare leave me’, his eyes say.

Still on the couch, you answer the phone and turn the volume way down.

“Hello?”

“Hey sweet. Let’s get you outta there.”

“Yes.”

“So has Five murdered anyone yet? Is that what’s happening here?”

You decide the best way to take advantage of this opportunity.

“Oh no!”

“Huh?”

“Wow that sounds serious.”

She begins to chortle and you answer her pretended utterances,

“You need the whole Academy? Now?”

“Yeah, there’s a shitload of scotch flooding a subway station and we need Five’s particular skills.”

“Okay, I’ll tell Number Five immediately. We’ll come as soon as we can!”

“Tell me everything.”

“Of course, goodbye Police Commissioner.”

You hang up to her laughter.

Five looks questioningly at you.

“It’s terrible news. There’s a…quantum suspension…node back in the city. Spatial anomalies everywhere.”

Five cottons on, you see his mouth spasm.

“Heavens, not a quantum suspension node!”

You give him a look: ‘don’t ruin it asshole!’

He stands up, drawing himself up to his full height and squaring his shoulders in a way clearly designed to make you laugh.

“There’s no time to lose. Geri, Bert, we’re sorry to leave so soon...but the world needs me.”

You supress a laugh with difficulty. Your mother, gullible as always, looks impressed. Though you can’t see your father’s face, you’re fairly sure this won’t have fooled him. You’ll call him later.

“What the fuck was that?”

Five drives down the street, determinedly avoiding the eyes of your waving mother from the bottom of the yard.

“I told you.” you say, palms of your hands pressed against your eyes, "I need a fucking drink."

Once you’re back onto the main highway, he says,

“Seriously: what the hell?”

“What happened in the kitchen?”

He sighs. He can’t not tell you. He is not equipped for this.

“She…your parents’ marriage. I’m getting the impression it’s a little…unsteady?”

“Oh god.” You put your head in your hands.

“This might be hard to hear. She told me not to tell you but fuck that. She told me she’s been having an affair.”

He braces himself for the hurt, for the shock, but instead you just snort darkly.

“Yeah? Sure she has. What's this one called?”

"Jude." he says, confused.

You laugh fully this time, “Probably just some guy she met over online poker and never in person. She was 'with' this guy from Ontario for years and it never went beyond spicy messages.”

“What?”

“It’s a fantasy Five. Everything is with her. She tells herself whatever story she can to get through the dull-ass life she refuses to actually do anything about. I’ve known about this shit for years.”

He takes a deep breath.

"She also...kind of came onto me a bit."

"Oh no."

Again, your face doesn't register the shock he'd expected, you just crumple into a deep cringe.

"I'm sorrrry."

"It wasn't so bad. She was just a little creepy. Touched my face and backed me into the kitchen counter a bit. Called me Number Five."

You make a disgruntled little noise that conveys disgust and sympathy in equal measure.

"Are you ok?"

"Sure I am. I've dealt with worse than her. Are you ok?"

You sigh deeply, "I don't know why I didn't expect it. I'm sorry. I don't know why I let her get you alone. She did the same thing to my boyfriend in high school. She'll go for any man she can corner. First she'll bitch about my Dad and then she'll go all 'oooh I need a big strong man to save me from my meaaan husband.' "

Five keeps his eyes on the road. How did you come from her?

“Up until I was thirteen it felt like she was the best Mom I could have asked for. Affectionate, loving, supportive…but then she just…withdrew. Pretty much as soon as I stopped being a kid she could dress and project her personality onto. She just disappeared one day- moved into the spare room and sat on the computer for the next five years. Dad was a shit parent but at least he stepped up then; actually spoke to me on my own terms, cared a little about what interested me. With Mom it's a single question about me and then right on back to her bullshit.”

You fall into exasperated silence. He doesn’t know what to say. As trauma goes it’s fairly tame, but it still sucks

“Families, eh?”

“I much prefer yours to mine,” you mumble.

He laughs a little to himself.

“You’re telling me the Von Trapp Family Killers are the normal ones here?"

"Don't kid yourself Five." a smile breaks through your dour expression, "you could never pull off lederhosen."

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves, @rorygi1more, @jamiebower88

Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03. Here is a link to the whole series

Comments would be appreciated here or on ao3 because I'm a needy ho.

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floraflow · 16 years

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On This Week’s Episode of Bogwick Kids Are Literally Insane...

Turns out James had the same idea as me, cuz he made me a mixtape too!!! That is pretty stinkin’ cute, you must admit. His mixtape had The Smiths, Fallout Boy (!!!!!), and some David Bowie songs. My favorite David Bowie song he included was “Heroes” cuz it’s just so romantic (teehee) I wonder if he meant it that way... (´ω｀*) “Cat People” is also awesome and badass! He also put on “The Man Who Sold The World” by Nirvana. It’s crazy to me that I haven’t gotten into David Bowie or Nirvana until now! I was majorly missing out!! I told James I loved his mixtape and I could tell he was really pleased (I think he even blushed!), however I did neglect to mention that I have literally been listening to it on repeat since he gave me it. Just thought withholding that fact may be for the best lolzzz ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Bummed to report that not only do I have Choir with Gen, but I also hav History class with her! That’s a lot of Gen for me in a day, especially cuz she insists on sitting next to me in History, plus I have to sit with her at lunch (well, I mean, I don’t HAVE to, but you kno what i mean).

I spend most of the school day wishing I was in my Bible Study class so I can sit next to James (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ It doesn’t help that it’s the last class of the day! The longing whizzes in my brain and opens like a pit in my stomach all the day long. I want to sit with him at lunch too (imagine us sharing earbuds and listening to “Heroes” on his iPod !!!!!! my heart might burst just thinking about it *sigh of yearning*). I would sit with him (especially cuz Gen kind of just talks about herself all lunch period), but girls and boys mixing during free periods is frowned upon SMH.

Speaking of Gen talking about herself, she was really going off on a tirade this week. I guess Gen and Bradley broke up at the New Year’s party and it was a WHOLE THING. Literally everyday during lunch AND history, she spilled the nitty-gritty details of everything that “went down” at Bradley’s New Year’s Eve party. God, that girl’s egotism gives me a headache.

I’ll recount what happened cuz, as stupid as it all is, it does make for some saucy drama:

So kinda early on in the night, Gen caught Bradley flirting with some “freshman nobody” (her words, not mine) in the hottub which led Gen to confront them both on the spot, humiliating the freshman girl who climbed out of the hottub, crying (Gen was proud of this). She said Bradley was pissed and claimed that they were “just talking,” which, admittedly, does sound like BS cuz I’ve never been in a hottub, but their ~sensual~ connotation is a pretty well-known fact, I’d say. Anyway, to get back at Bradley, Gen started flirting with Oliver Goodrich (Bradley’s best friend), sitting on his lap, touching his arms and such. Bradley, of course, witnessed this and started throwing a tantrum like a baby, yelling, throwing things. (Though, I would hardly describe someone of Bradley’s proportions as a BABY--he’s stocky and all muscle! Him throwing a tantrum sounds SCARY! Again, reinforcing my decision NOT to go to parties.) Anyway, all this hullabaloo reached its epic conclusion with Bradley basically challenging Oliver to a duel ??? CRAZY! They played chicken on their snowmobiles and Bradley won. Not sure WHAT exactly he won, cuz Gen still broke up with him in front of everyone. Which led Bradley to pushing Oliver’s snowmobile off the cliff. Of course, Oliver was not pleased about this and the two got into a proper fist fight. ESCANDALO!

Yeah, so Bradley’s been pouting and fuming all week, Oliver and James have been sitting at their own table to avoid him, meanwhile Gen has been talking everyone’s ears off about the downright Shakespearean shenanigans at the party. In fact, Gen KEEPS bringing it up in history class when we’re supposed to be working and the teacher keeps shushing us, as tho I’m the problem somehow? Idk how to let him know I SHARE HIS SENTIMENTS!

Ana was practically giddy hearing me recount all of this. I swear, she treats my Bogwick life like a soap opera *eye roll*.

How can I blame her, tho? It basically IS（￣￣ー￣￣）

Anyway, Christa told me on the low that Gen and Brad will probably get back together within the month, if not the week. These dramatic blow-outs are pretty standard for them, I guess. Soooo... stay tuned, as they say in show biz lol.

#diary #on this episode of avoid Bradley Hawthorne at all costs...#no but seriously #I live in fear of incurring either Bradley's or Gen's rage #I'm in the clear for now #still feel really bad for that freshman girl Gen humiliated #that could have easily been me...#remind me not to get in a hottub with Bradley Hawthorne smh #or stand too near a cliff...#(〇_ｏ)

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linkspooky · 4 years

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...And they were brothers.

From the start, Endeavor has pitted his own children against each other. Now we’re seeing the complex dynamics of an abusive household, Todoroki Shoto Endeavor’s golden child and Todoroki Toya Endeavor’s scapegoat, play out on a battlefield. At first glance, Shoto looks like the good brother fighting on the side of the heroes, and Toya the bad brother who cares more for plotting villainous revenge than anything else. However, it’s more complicated than that: a look at abusive dynamics and the character foiling between Shoto and Toya underneath the cut.

Before I begin, a brief explanation of the golden child and scapegoat dynamic.

Abuse isn’t just a thing that happens. It’s a power dynamic. The Todoroki Household is considered an abusive household, because all the power is held by one man, Todoroki Enji. An abusive power dynamic can be explained simply as a person who uses the power they have others to their own advantage.

An abusive teacher is someone who steps out of line and acts inappropriately with a student, who they are responsible for because they have power over them. An abusive parent will use their authority as a parent to act in a way that’s not in a child’s best interests.

Abuse is also a cycle. It perpetuates itself. The reason abuse is cyclical is that, in an abusive dnyamic, fights or disturbances can’t resolve in a healthy way so usually things will go back to status quo and power will be held by the abuser again at the end of the disruption.

I’m simplifying here to try to make this as understandable as possible, but abuse is a power dynamic. It comes down to a question of: Who holds power in the household?

In the Todoroki Household, it’s Todoroki Enji who holds all the power.

In a narcicisst’s household, everyone exists to serve the narcissit. This is quite literal in the Todoroki Household. Enji only had children so they could take on his dream of being number one hero and he could live vicariously though them.

Let’s strip away all the fantasy paint in this scenario and define it in more realistic terms. Enji thinks he is entitled to something: the title of number one hero. Enji is unable to handle the feelings of being denied the thing he wants, so instead he sets up a family.

Enji’s family exists for his emotional benefit. He expects his family to “give him something.” He only had a family in the first place, because he thought he was denied what he was owed. Enji had a family for selfish reasons, and thought they existed to fulfill his ambitions, his intention from the start was to use them. So, it’s no wonder more traditional forms of abuse (wife beating, child abuse) rose out of these circumstances. The Todoroki Household is built by Enji, and at the center is Enji a narcissist.

(I do more nuanced takes on Enji’s character in other meta, but this isn’t the time or the place to talk about it here).

The household is centered around Enji, he’s the most powerful person in the house, and he expects the household to give him what he wants. When he’s denied what he wants, he’ll rely on abusive tactics to get it.

There are many types of abuse. Tactics used by abusers include: private criticism leading to doubt and hurt; public criticism leading to shame or humiliation; threats of emotional or physical withdrawal leading to abandonment; withdrawal of money or sexual contact that leads to a devaluation of financial power or decrease in sexual self-esteem; verbal threats that can begin a process of fear; verbal and physical tirades or tantrums (i.e., power displays) that can leave the victim feeling helpless; and finally, physical aggression that can lead to fears of physical death.

In the process of a relationship where a man uses these "tactics" on a woman, any or all can be used in any order, at any time. Usually in the beginning of the relationship, criticism and withdrawal are the two most used tactics that lead the man to have an increased sense of power and control, and the woman to have a decreased sense of power and control. [Source]

Endeavor is denied what he wants. Endeavor gets impatient.He denies that Shoto is even properly in pain, and claims he is just faking it. Endeavor uses physical aggression as an intimidation to get Rei back in line. We also know this happened, Rei fought Endeavor hard for Shoto’s sake at first, but over time became more fragile and more mentally unstable.

My point is not to detail Endeavor’s abuse because we already know it happened, but to show the underlying motive behind the abuse, abuse is a pwoer dynamic, Endeavor was acting to maintain total authority and control in the household. For the narcicisst everything in the household exists to fulfill the narcicisst’s needs.

The children as Enji sees them all exist to fulfill his ambitions, so he can live vicariously through them, therefore he doesn’t see their pain. He doesn’t see outside his own ego, because tending to Enji’s needs comes first. He scapegoats one child, ignores the other two, and then the child he does pour his love into he cannot see how much his love and attention is actively harming this child. When Shoto doesn’t want to accept Enji’s attention, he sees Shoto as ungrateful and rebellious. How dare you Shoto, I’m putting all this time and effort into raising you, I’m giving you all of these advantages in life and you don’t repay me????

My point in going into this much detail is that no matter what happens, or how the victims turn on each other in the household, the architect of the abuse, the one who created this situation is Enji. If the victims blame each other, then it benefits Enji because his position at the center will remain unchallenged.

Which is why...

“It’s not better or worse to be the golden child. Both face the psychological whiplash of being raised by a narcissist. The GC becomes the conformer to the extreme, with the intense pressure to measure up, and when they don’t they receive cruelty. The SG becomes the rebel who receives almost constant cruelty and shaming.

The scapegoat and golden child are created because the abuser has a set of impossible to fulfill and aribtrary standards. One of thsee children meets those standards and one of those children does not.

Why divide people up like this, though?

As I said, it’s a power dyanmic. We have already seen this play out in canon once before in the richly detailed telling of the Shimura Household. A household where abuse is taking place will be an unstable environment, because it exists at the whim of an abuser. If there are more than just abuser and victim in the house, people will inevitably notice the fractured mood. This is exactly what happened in the Shimura household, there was a problem that everyone saw but nobody talked about.

The Shimura household was constantly being disrupted by Kotaro’s abuse on Tenko, however, an abusive dynamic maintains itself by denying the abuse. Rather than confront Kotaro who holds all the power in the household, the weaker Tenko is blamed. This is Tenko’s issue that clings with him all the way until adulthood, instead of just calling his father out for his improper behavior, his family all sided with his father and told Tenko to stop picking fights.

The process will continue as long as the man denies the impact of these tactics on the woman and the woman also denies being victimized. He will deny the impact because of acculturation and insensitivity; [Source.]

Instead of challenging the abuser, the victim is told that it is his fault, he needs to stop provoking the abuser, he needs to stop crying, he needs to stop being so sensitive, the feelings of the abuser are catered to over that of their victim and the dynamic is miantained. By finding a scapegoat to blame for the unrest in the household that is happening because of the abuse, nobody ever challenges the abuse directly.

In other words divide and conquer. If the abuser pits victims against each other, it’s practically guaranteed that nobody will challenge him or confront him on his behavior and he’ll continue uninterrupted. So, in the Todoroki Household where there is a golden child and a scapegoat it continues like this:

So in the family, the Scapegoat and the Golden Child become these roles assigned by the narcissist in order to play the game of Extract Narcissistic Supply through Triangulation.

Triangulation is like driving a wedge between people. Basically, the game involves two or more people who get pitted against each other and usually they don’t even realize what’s happening. They’re just aware of the conflict between each other and there’s always this conflict. [...] The narcissist wants the loyalty of everybody and the narcissist wants everybody fighting amongst themselves. [Source.]

This is why every Dabi fan in the series is saying that Shoto, and Toya were set up to fight against each other, because they were. Enji keeps Shoto separated from his siblings, to maintain control. The scapegoat will blame Shoto for his circumstances believing if they hadn’t been born their fathers attention would be theirs, and the golden child will blame the scapegoat for their rebellion, and their own actions done in reaction to the father’s abuse. HOWEVER. In fighting each other. blaming each other, it is Enji who will escape ultimate blame.

Which is why ultimately scapegoat and golden child don’t really matter, they are both victims of the same abuser. Shoto and Toya are the same in the way they were abused and their reactions to abuse, it’s only circumstances that differ with them.

1. Shoto and Dabi Is the Same

Edit by @miriio

Shoto and Toya are the same, not just because they’re both brothers with the same fire quirk, but because they’ve both been moulded by Enji their entire lives, and their personalities, values, are all in reaction to that. Abuse scars everyone it touches. Arguing about whose scars are worse are besides the point, rather Shoto and Toya mirror each other because they both cope with the stress of abuse in similiar ways, despite their entirely different positions in the household.

In chapter 204 when faced with a foe who won’t give up, Shoto Todoroki flashes back to his father, and begsin to use his fire qiurk.

We are shown earlier in this chapter Enji’s attempts to once again assert control over him. Enji texts Shoto multiple times having gone behind his back to get his number. Enji insists that he be the one to teach Shoto prominence burn. (Enji also uses the tactic of understating the past abuse saying he was “misguided” in the past). Shoto while fighting against Tetsu^4 is also fighting against the memory of his father, and uses his flames to his absolute limit in order to prove that they are his flames. He even goes so far to warn Tetsu that he’s not holding back and could cause severe burn damage to his body.

This also mirrors an earlier behavior when Enji pushed Todoroki before his fight with Sero, he overdid his ice quirk to the point of freezing the entire stadium. There’s an idea with Shoto that just because he is starting on the path to healing, and learning to cope healthily, that he never lashes out, or responds to his his father’s violence with violence. That is simply not true.

Shoto’s character arc is not complete. He is still dealing with this. As far back as the fight against Class B, he was getting what look to be trauma flashbacks in the middle of the fight, and could have even possibly been triggered by Tetsu’s relentless beating down on him.

Shoto and Toya maintain a similiar pattern of behavior, in that they intentionally are docile, and hold back their strength in a fight. Shoto used to never use his flames at all. He also usually uses them far less effectively than his ice quirk.

Toya also, uses his flames sparingly in a fight (albeit for different reasons, his flames will burn him as he has no way of cooling himself like Shoto). However, when pushed in the situation, especially emotionally he will go all out. He’ll use the fire with far less regard for who he burns or even for burning himself.

Toya doesn’t use his flames at all, until he does and then he has no sense of moderation.

Besides the way they use their flames, and their bad relationship with their own flames, (Shoto holds them back, Toya is burned by them.) They also both tend to overuse their quirk when they get emotionally riled or are lashing out. Their fire is a metaphor for their emotions, but more on that later.

Shoto and Toya exhibit several behaviors, the similarities are especially strong between Shoto and Earlyroki. First and foremost, they both insist on doing everything alone.

They’re both (Dabi, Earlyroki) highly individualist people who purposefully distance themselves from others, and deny any closeness to others because they need to feel strong on their own.

Shoto and Toya are people who have lived their entire lives fighting their controlling father over agency over their own lives in different ways. Toya fights Endeavor’s rejection of him, and Shoto fights Endeavor’s smothering and insistence that he take his legacy. The reason they cut out everybody else from their lives is because (1: their father dominating and controlling them they never learned to make connections with others, 2: they live their entire lives focusing on battling against their father).

However, the methods they use to fight their father are what their father taught them, because ultimately it’s all they know. Children who are raised in an abusive household grow up improperly. They don’t know healthy means of dealing with their emotions because they are never taught these. Developmentally, they are stunted and this can even have effects late into an adulthood so it doesn’t actually matter that Dabi is in his twenties (especially since he died in his teens).

Shoto, and Dabi are to an extent what their father made them to be. They are staunch individualists, who rely on the strength of their quirk to get what they want, like being the strongest truly is the only thing that matters. This behavior is shown in the both of them, but especially with Earlyroki. There are parallels. The way they both deal with small fry villains.

The scene where they both take out minor villains by entirely dominating them with their quirk is a parallel set up between the two of them.

They also both have a tendency towards dissociation to try to deal with past trauma: IE, trying to move themselves away from their feelings and insist their not feeling anything in order to avoid their feelings.

At their worst, Shoto and Toya show off several of the same behaviors. These are all symptoms of abuse. Their shared inability to regulate their own fire is a metaphor for the fact that neither of them were taught how to properly regulate their own emotions.

A healthy adult is able to handle stress, and negative emotions in healthy ways. They can put a lid on it, deal with it at a better time, think and sort through them. Shoto’s emotions always, always, always, come out during a fight even if he insists he’s letting go of the past and his father. Dabi and Shoto show behavior where they are either completely emotionally remote and unreachable “off”, or they are flipped “on” and completely unleash themselves. The point of these states of being is that Toya and Shoto are themselves unstable, because they were not fully developed emotionally, because they did not grow up in a household where their emotional well being was put first and foremost.

They grew up in a household where they catered to Enji’s emotions first and foremost, and because of that both Shoto and Toya have trouble finding themselves in their fire. They also show several other symptoms, dissociation, social isolation, and a belief that they have to be strong and handle everything by themselves. Dabi cannot accept cooperation, and neither could Earlyroki. IN effect, Dabi is still fighting against the idea that he is weak that was beaten into him by his father, so of course relying on others is the sign of that same weakness. They both let their flames burn because they feel the need to be strong.

2. Shoto and Dabi is different

I am making the argument that they are emotionally very similiar, and they both are who they are in reaction to what Endeavor did to them. They just take a different tack in the way they frame themselves. Dabi the villain, Shoto the hero.

Shoto mentions very early on his quirk could be used to kill people, but he won’t, because that’s not a heoric action to do.

Dabi says that he’s killing these villains for a purpose. We learn later what that purpose is, to get his body count up to thirty in order to further stain Endeavor’s name.

In other words, Shoto fights against his father as a hero, Toya fights against his father as a villain. This also reflects the golden child / scape goat dynamic. Shoto on the whole conforms, Dabi on the whole rebels. Shoto is still in the middle of hero society.

Shoto’s strategy has always been that he has to work around Endeavor to get what he wants, which leads to Shoto cooperating with Endeavor on many occasions. He interns with him because he’s the number two hero. He often has his boundaries violated by Endeavor wanting to act like father son in public and Shoto not being comfortable with that.

Shoto’s strategy is to exist within the same framework that his father created, but learn to be his own hero. In this strategy he gives Endeavor what he wants almost as a trade for what Shoto still needs, which is practice and training to become a hero on his own terms.

The golden child conforms, the scapegoat rebels. Shoto tries to accomplish what he wants inside of hero society, whereas Dabi pushes his agenda as a villain. Shoto lives to become a true hero, and wants to become a hero for his own reasons not because his father pushed him to, but because All Might inspired him.

Toya not only declares that there are no true heroes, but he dedicates everything to tearing down what he sees are false heroes. His strategy is one of rebellion. Toya is aware of the arbitrary and hypocritical labels of hero and villain in this society, and because of that goes out of his way to show someone how villainous the actions of a hero can be.

However. Shoto wanting to become a hero. Toya becoming a villain from necessity.

Isn’t as black and white as it seems. Toya has what Shoto lacks, which is awareness, the ability to criticize society and the situation he was in. Enji isn’t the only one to blame for the abuse of the Todoroki household, the society that allowed it to happen is also to blame. Shoto is capable of unknowingly inflicting violence on people who are just like him victims of abuse because he lacks Toya’s outside perspective.

Shoto, that kills people.

Shoto, that also kills people.

The point being it easily could have been Dabi that Shoto stabbed to death with an icicle, or burned alive to the point where half of his body was smoking. It could have been Dabi who has the same scars as him, who was burned by the same man. It’s only chance that he was going all out against Shigaraki instead of Dabi. Shoto can’t see villains as victims of the hero system, even though he was a victim of the same system.

Shoto hesitates when he learns that it’s Toya but what is the difference here? He was ready to use lethal force on Shigaraki a moment ago. Has anything truly changed? Dabi is still an enemy trying to destroy hero society. He still kills innocent people. He’s just now a villain that Shoto happens to know personally.

My point is that Shoto’s conformity can set him up against victims of the same society. The same way that, Dabi’s rebellion can lead him to harm his own family.

Dabi’s rebellion is just lashing out. The scapegoat because they are the lowest position in the whole family, because they are isolated, can sometimes associate the abuser’s actions with the whole family. We saw this with little Tenko. Tenko resented both his abuse father, but also his little sister for tattling on him, his mother and grandparents for not comforting him and taking any steps to stop his father. When you are the lowest rung on the ladder, when the stress of the whole household is taken out on you, you tend to see every member of the family as the same.

Dabi absorbs the stress of the whole household. When he inevitably retaliates because nobody can keep that stress inside of them, and Dabi has been taught no healthy means of dealing with that stress, he is pitted against both other members of his family and Endeavor himself.

Dabi’s rebellion will hurt other people in the household, he has no regard for Shoto whatsoever, he sent Ending to Endeavor who ended up kidnapping Natsuo, he also is probably going to cause Rei’s setback.

However, at the same time Dabi’s lashing out is inevitable. Dabi was made to bear the stress of the entire household when he was blame and ousted as the scapegoat instead of his father Endeavor. Dabi is dealing with those emotions alone, lashing out on them alone, he only sees his own pain, but that is because to begin with, and all this time he has been suffering alone.

That’s where we get to the main difference between them, Shoto now has support, and Toya doesn’t.

Shoto even says back as early as the stain arc, which is the arc that Dabi first emerged in the aftermath of, that the problem with Earlyroki is not that he was angry, but that he was dealing with that anger all alone. He says it, that being all alone warps your vision, to the point where you can only see yourself.

Dabi is cut off from others, he might care about them but he severs those feelings away from himself. He has been isolated at least since he died, and maybe all his life, and even the connections of the league can’t bridge the gap between himself and others. Dabi is someone stuck in permanent Earlyroki phase because to him he lives his life for one purpose.

Shoto has been allowed to develop as his own person, because he let others in. The biggest difference between them can be illustrated with their fire. Dabi says his flames are Endeavors flames. Shoto is told that his flames are his own.

However, Shoto did not reach this consclusion on his own. He was told this by someone else. Shoto could not even take the first step until someone showed him the way, so who is to say the same can’t be true for Dabi?

Dabi has been separated from his family, homeless for ten years, and he literally died that one time. It’s likely that in all that time nobody has told him something so simple as “Your flames can be your own.” Dabi doesn’t know he can have a life outside of revenge against Endeavor because he hasn’t been shown it, he’s only ever known his father’s abuse and his fight against it. We don’t know if the league can reach him or not because he hasn’t been entirely honest with the league until right this second.

There’s a reason that the camera is cut like this.

Shoto’s scar, the damage inflicted on him, and Enji’s unscarred side. It makes a point. Is Dabi really the enemy in this situation? Is Dabi the ultimate villain? He plays the mastermind but he’s not.

Both Dabi and Shoto were burned by Endavor’s flames. It was Endeavor who created the situation and pitted them against each other in the first place. Which is why hero or villain, golden child or scapegoat it honestly, should not matter. Dabi and Shoto are not each other’s enemies, they were just made to think that way by Endeavor’s actions all the way back from when they were kids.

If Dabi is blamed for his own rebellion. If he’s villified for it. If Dabi is made out to be the bad one for reacting the way he did, then, it’s no longer Enji’s fault for abusing him in the first place. After all, Natsuo, Fuyumi, and Shoto were similiarly abused and they didn’t react that way. Maybe Dabi just had bad vibes. If Dabi and Shoto are fighting each other, neither of them are fighting Enji, and the society he represents which enabled Enji’s abuse. While victims blame each other for their own reactions they don’t confront the abuser.

Endeavor burned them, and Shoto, and Dabi are coping with those lifelong burns in different ways. Instead of trying to kill each other, they have much more to gain from sympathizing with one another. Shoto’s path to become a hero and surpassing his father, should take the course of being a hero who rescues. We’re even shown in this arc how horribly violent Enji is towards Shigaraki, a victim of similiar abuse to Shoto. Shoto would become a better hero, from listening to Dabi’s perspective and learning about the flaws in hero society. Whereas, Dabi needs to learn that he has a future beyond dragging his father to hell with him. Shoto was only able to open up to other people because someone forced their way through his walls and told him that his flame was his own, and Shoto can be the one to open Dabi’s eyes that his flame can be used for more than just destruction.

Shoto’s desire for a hero is not wrong, Dabi’s desire to confront Endeavor’s abuse is not wrong. Both of these things are necessary. To make a person stop behaving badly you have to confront them about your behavior. However, it’s not healthy to linger in your pain forever because you won’t be able to move on and heal.

Shoto is someone who can tell the all important words to Dabi. Your flames are your own. Didn’t you want to be a hero?

PS. It’s really hypocritical to say that Dabi is wrong for announcing what Enji did on public television, like... Shoto tells his backstory to literally anyone who asks. Fuyumi casually discusses the fact that Natsuo thinks their father killed their brother with Shoto’s two friends from school. THEY ARE ALL LIKE THAT. THE TODOROKIS WILL TALK ABOUT THEIR DRAMA IN FRONT OF ANYBODY.

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carolmaximoffs · 3 years

Text

in a crowd of strangers and lovers

summary: of course your ex is working the night you get stood up.

pairing: bartender! ex! bucky x reader

warnings: drinking, cursing, smut, a teeny bit of degradation, bartender! bucky, this is entirely self indulgent, use of a condom for the first time in my writing in i think ever oops

a/n: this has been 3/4 of the way done for so long...finally sat down and cranked out the rest of it. short and sweet and maybe not my best but heres nothin.

You swung your legs idly as you glanced once more at your phone. Only the time glared back at you - no missed calls, no explanation texts, not even a Snapchat or a DM. It was 20 minutes past the time you were supposed to meet the man you’d been talking to for the last couple of months, and you sighed. Obviously, he wasn’t coming. You waved a hand to grab a bartender’s attention before closing your eyes and rubbing at your temples in annoyance. An all too familiar voice disrupted your self-pitying thoughts.

“You look like a tequila girl.” The first words Bucky Barnes had ever said to you. Your eyes snapped open, mouth gaping. Of course...how could you have forgotten? This was the very bar, possibly the very stool you’d met Bucky at. Before you could stammer out a reply, he was making himself comfortable against the bar-top and leaning in conspiratorially. “Hot date?”

“Very,” You sniffed, meeting his gaze in spite of your churning gut. In the glow of a neon sign overhead, his blue eyes burned almost violet. Your heart ached when he beamed, those beautiful stupid eyes crinkling at the corners like they always had.

“Well, sweetheart, you’ve been here for a while now. Show up early?” Bucky propped his chin up with his metal hand; his flesh fingers drummed idly as he waited for your reply. He’d always been able to see right through you; you weren’t backing down so easily this time. You’d actually been late, but Bucky didn’t need to know that. It was bad enough he’d clearly spotted you as soon as you walked in...you weren’t really sure what to do with that information. You lifted your chin, shrugging and looking around as if your evasive date might suddenly show himself.

“I’ll take that tequila now, please,” You replied simply. Bucky’s eyes twinkled with mirth before he turned his back to you.

“Margarita or a straight up shot?” He threw over his shoulder. Your answer was a moment too late - you wouldn’t admit it, but you’d gotten a little absorbed in the way his white tee shirt stretched over the broad expanse of his back. “Y/N.”

“Huh? Oh...surprise me.” You fought the urge to bury your face in your hands again as he smiled and turned back around. You chanced looking at your phone as inconspicuously as possible. Still nothing. Moments later, thick fingers slid a tall glass towards you, rim salted, accompanied with two neat slices of lime.

“M’lady,” Bucky drawled, dipping his head dramatically. He looked up at you beneath his lashes, cheeks straining to contain his grin. Your own face burned and your heart pounded as you mumbled your thanks. You took more of a long gulp than a sip. Just your luck, it caught in the back of your throat, and you spluttered a bit. Bucky looked like he’d won the lottery.

“Careful, sugar,” He crooned, passing you a napkin. Idly, you wondered if, next, you'd fall off the stool. “You know I love to see you choke, but only-”

“Barnes!”

Natasha was standing near the door to the back, arms crossed and brow arched dangerously. Your old friend offered you a tight smile before returning to glaring at her employee. Bucky winked before he sidled off, Nat’s eyes narrowing. You wished the floor would swallow you up right then.

It didn’t, and you were swirling the dregs of your margarita by the time Bucky got back. For whatever reason, you couldn’t compel yourself to leave. Not just yet. You were rewarded, however, when he realized you’d hung around; Barnes’ eyes lit up. He bit back another smile, resuming his nonchalant stance against the bar.

“What was that all about?” You blurted, before Bucky could say anything about the near-empty glass in front of you. His smirk didn’t waver.

“Just Nat lookin’ out for you, s’all. She got off a few minutes ago, wanted to make sure I didn’t give you too much trouble.” His simper stretched into a blinding flash of teeth. “I’m not givin’ you trouble, am I, babydoll?”

You shake your head dutifully, and you think Bucky’s face might split if he grins any wider. His smile drops into something a little more seductive as he tilts impossibly closer. “Looks like your boy toy’s a no show...Sam can cover if you need a little cheering up.”

Body and brain exploded into disagreement; lust bubbled like lava in the pit of your stomach at his request, but you knew better. You had to know better by now - you were the one who’d gotten too involved in the first place. You floundered, managing to blubber a painful combination of "we shouldn’t” or “I don't think that's the best idea”. Bucky’s face fell, only just, but he was quick to hide it as he untied a thick, worn flannel from his waist.

“Wilson - headed for a smoke!” He shouted across the bar to where Sam was seemingly tangled up trying to serve a very amorous bachelorette party. His eyes were steely as he looked at you as if trying to pick you apart. “Think on it, yeah? No big deal, sugar. Back in five.”

You nodded, tracing your finger through the circle of condensation from your drink. You snuck a glance at his retreating form, however, and already wanted to kick yourself. His ass in those jeans...he’d bulked up, clearly, even in the short time since you’d stop seeing each other. And there was no way in hell he thought you wouldn’t notice. The angel on your shoulder was practically throwing a tantrum as you quickly shot a text to your closest confidante.

call me in the am. about to do a bad thing

Wanda texted back almost instantly, but Bucky reentered the bar simultaneously. You clicked off your incessantly active cell phone and put on an expression you hoped wasn’t as much of a grimace as you thought. Bucky raised a single, knowing brow.

“What’s that face for?” He murmured innocuously. You lift a single shoulder in response, working extra to keep your face neutral.

“Changed your mind?” You shrugged again, and when he was sure nobody was looking, he jerked his head towards the back of the bar. “C’mon then, pretty baby.”

“This is stupid,” You mumbled under your breath. You don’t realize how close he is behind you, jumping a little as the door swings shut behind you.

“What’s stupid is waiting an hour for some douche when you’ve got me standing right in front of you,” Bucky whispered hotly, already spinning the two of you so your back hit the wall by the doorframe. A case of the imported vodka Nat loved dug into your calves.

“We split up, Bucky,” You moaned as he licked at the shell of your ear. Honestly, you were half expecting something like “i didn’t know we were together”. Instead, he pulled back for a second to give you sad eyes and a slight twist of the corner of his mouth. Regret?

Before you could truly ponder it, he was ducking back towards you, lips pressing into yours with a fire fueled by all things left unsaid. He kissed his way down your neck, and you heard his voice from months ago: ‘it’s just sex, sweetheart. just enjoy it’. You were drawn back to the present as he tugged at your lip with sharp teeth, and you recalled his gruff morning voice - ‘I better get going’. Memory pierced your hazy brain even as he slid a hand down to cup your sex. You arched into him, and he looked positively feral even in his delight. You pushed the past away as hard as you could and let yourself melt into his touch.

As your head lilted backward to likely smack the wall, Bucky tangled a hand into your hair. He tipped your face back up to kiss it incessantly - several to your cheeks, a peck on your nose, a handful of smooches dotted to your forehead. When he finally reached your mouth again you were laughing, breathy and floaty, and he laughed too. He chuckled softly with you even as he slips his hands into your jeans, past the waistband of your cute-but-not-presumptuous panties. He was still chuckling a little, but it was more smug than amused when his fingers parted your folds and you inhaled sharply.

“Yeah,” He murmured, so low you almost missed it. “There you go, that’s my girl.”

You pretended the burst of heat through your gut is from his palm bumping against your clit. You were halfway through a moan when he withdrew his hand, instead placing both dark metal and pale skin on steadfastly on your hips. Swiftly, he placed you on top of those nagging crates you’d been pressed against - despite the marks on your thighs you’d nearly forgotten about them.

“Bucky, what-” You tried, but he cut you off with a swift press of lips to yours, tongue sliding into your mouth with practiced ease. If you sighed into the kiss, well, you’d call it heat of the moment. The familiar crinkling of foil set your anticipation and adrenaline spiking impossibly higher. Bucky pulled away to line himself up as you caught your breath, which suddenly seemed impossible. He rubbed a comforting thumb over your hip, leaning in again to nip playfully at your jaw.

“You ready, angel?” He murmured; all it took was your assenting nod before he slid home, your body greedily accepting him as if the two of you had never stopped. “Fuuuck...missed you. Missed this.”

Normally, such a suggestion would’ve irritated you - but you couldn’t deny the feelings you had had for him once upon a time, despite the casual nature of your relationship. You knew it was mutual; you knew exactly what he missed. It wasn’t just about the sex - even in the dingy storeroom of the bar, Bucky thrusting as deep as possible with one hand stabilizing the crates and the other on the small of your back, panting into each other’s mouths, it was about the connection. Being this close with another person, especially someone you dared to say you’d been good friends with, had much in common with - the interconnection of body and soul was something else. Or maybe that was your orgasm talking.

It snuck up on you. Your toes curled in your shoes, lip drew between your teeth. “Please.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” Bucky rasped, face buried in your shoulder. The hand on your back snaked between the two of you to rub furiously at your clit - you threw your arms around his neck for balance as your mouth dropped open in a silent scream. “Go ahead, let go. Come for me, let me make you feel good, angel.”

That did it. Your hands found purchase in his hair as your back arched; in your desperation to be quiet, you bit your lip so hard the taste of iron crept into your mouth. Bucky never slowed, chasing his own high as well as basking with you in yours. He kissed you, a little sudden, groaning deeply into your mouth as he came.

For a moment, the pair of you were silent, the only sound your heavy breaths and the rustling of clothing. Composing yourself, you made for the door - a hand on your wrist stopped you.

“This was a fluke, I know-” You started. The desperate look in Bucky’s eyes cut you off.

“I don’t...let me try again.” He mumbled, words jumbling together with nerves. He cleared his throat - you’d never seen Bucky Barnes nervous, of all things, and humility wasn’t a bad look for him. “You deserved - deserve better, sweetheart. I want to try again. I want to...I want to do it right.”

“Buck...” Your face softened, but he tensed, fearing rejection. You brought a hand up to cup his cheek softly. “I’d love to try again.”

That nagging voice in the back of your mind was on a roll - you’ll just get hurt again, it warned. He’s not good for you.

But when Bucky’s entire face lit up and he kissed you enthusiastically, making you laugh in equal parts shock and joy, that little voice was silent.

#i don’t like this but i need to get back into writing!#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes smut #bartender!bucky #bucky barnes au #carolmaximoffs

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xxx-cat-xxx · 3 years

Text

heaven forbid (you end up alone)

Two years on and I'm still not over Endgame. But at least I finally finished this fic!

A word of warning; this one is Endgame-compliant and centred around the topic of grief and Pepper’s and Happy’s friendship in the aftermath of Tony’s death.

Major thanks to @twentyghosts for beta reading.

Throughout her life, Pepper has always divided her days into small pieces, regulated by meticulous plans. She can’t remember ever waking up without a mental―or written―to-do list and a clear idea in which order to tackle it. It’s her way of managing a multinational company. Of managing Tony, which was arguably more challenging than SI’s 300,000 other employees combined. Of managing her own alien-invaded, super power-sprinkled, increasingly absurd life.

And whenever things get overwhelming and she feels like she’s falling into a bottomless, desperate pit, that’s what she does: plans the next 30 minutes, and then the 30 minutes after that, and so on until it’s one thirty am and she is tired enough to fall into bed without having to think about anything except what’s ticked off on the list and what’s left for tomorrow.

That’s what she does now, seven weeks after her husband’s death.

This Saturday is booked for tidying up the closets. There is no need to keep Tony’s clothes, other than a few special ones for memory’s sake, the band shirts and the ones with the science puns she still likes to sleep in. And it would be a waste to wait any longer to donate them: even two months on, there is more than enough need out in the streets due to the chaos that came on after the reverse.

Homeless people wearing 5000 dollar suits, that would have been to Tony’s taste.

Pepper has cleared her schedule well in advance, picked a weekend Morgan can stay with Rhodey, already ordered the Dress for Success pick-up for the next morning. Made a plan of action, starting with the top floor.

All that’s left now is to do it.

“Okay, Virginia,” she tells herself. The name feels unfamiliar on her tongue, but maybe she needs this, needs the reminder that she had a life before Tony Stark and, as horrible as it sounds, will have one after him. “Get up. Drink some water. Go through the closets.”

It’s just that she can’t.

She enters the bedroom, their bedroom, her bedroom, opens the cupboard. And then she stands in front of it for almost twenty minutes, unable to bring herself to move.

Finally, her legs grow a bit weak under her and she has to sit down on the floor, less and less successfully fighting the feeling that the air around her is completely devoid of oxygen. She can’t breathe. She can’t get up. She can’t walk over to the closet and get started with the next item on her list―it’s as if there’s an invisible barrier between her and the task. She just can’t.

It takes her almost 45 minutes before she finally calls Happy.

Much like Tony, Pepper is someone who distracts herself with work, and looking after Morgan, organising the funeral and getting the Stark Foundation into motion to set up shelters for four million Returned without a place to go have been tasks so time-consuming that she didn’t have any other option than just to function, and function well. Almost well enough to trick herself into believing that she’ll be fine.

Sometimes she wonders whether she has become so good at perfecting the image she shows to the public that she doesn’t even know anymore who she actually is.

“Hey.”

She hadn't noticed Happy’s presence until he is standing in the doorframe.

“Happy,” she greets, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears.

“Oh, Pepper.” He looks her up and down, his expression equal parts sad and kind. “Come on. Let’s get you up from the floor.”

She pushes away his hands helping her up, she doesn’t need them, doesn’t need any help, but then the world blurs suddenly and she kind of does. Happy steadies her when she sways, alarmed but not as surprised as she’d want him to be. It would irritate her, on normal days, because she can take care of herself, doesn’t need anyone to hold her, thank you very much. But today she is just a bit too tired to pretend.

"Have you eaten?" he asks, voice still too warm when he guides her over to the bed and sits her down.

“I had...tea this morning.”

“And last night?”

She is silent. He sighs, and she deflects, “Haven’t had much of an appetite lately.”

“Alright, I’ll go find us some food. Just stay here.”

“Thanks, Happy,” she says quietly.

He sighs again. “It’s alright. I knew this was going to happen sooner or later. I’m just glad I’m here.”

She nods. She knew it too, that she wouldn’t be able to distract herself forever, even if she wouldn’t admit it to herself. But that’s the thing. She wasn’t afraid of it happening, only of the After―of things calming down and her having to deal with the lonely, horrible, rest of her life. Of realising that the inevitable breakdown doesn’t help a single bit. That picking up the pieces is not in the least easier than keeping them together.

Happy returns 15 minutes later with a big bag of cavity-inducing gas station doughnuts, sprinkles and all. The mere thought of biting into one makes Pepper’s stomach roll.

“I’m not sure I can eat those,” she tells him when he sits next to her on the bed and leans against the headboard.

“Just try.”

She does, fighting down the looming nausea, and, surprisingly, the sweetness helps. She breathes out, one and a half doughnuts and a small bottle of orange juice later, and finds that her head feels clearer.

“Morgan would love this,” she observes, nodding at the rest of the treats. “She’s been trying to bully me into making her waffles for breakfast every single morning of the last whole month.”

“So, did she succeed?”

Pepper shakes her head. “It’s bad for her health. But she keeps throwing tantrums. I know it’s because of what happened, but god, she's been so difficult. The way she shouts at me, sometimes I think she hates me.”

Happy sets down his reusable coffee cup and looks straight at her. “She doesn't, Pepper."

She can’t stop herself from snorting. “How would you possibly know?”

“I can see the way she looks at you. Looks up to you. She adores you.”

“I…” Pepper bites her lip, unable to decide whether that’s something she wants to share. Life has taught her that it’s usually better to keep your weaknesses to yourself if you want to stay on top. But then, it’s not like there is any competition of people wanting to parent her daughter. “I don’t know about that. I know she misses Tony, but I also feel that she misses...a parent who knows how to handle her. I’m not―sometimes I’m afraid I’m not a very good mother.”

“That’s not true, Pep, and you know it.”

She takes a deep breath. “I never wanted to have children, Happy. I mean, it’s not that I didn’t want Morgan, once we decided in favour of me getting pregnant. And I never regretted having her. But it was mostly Tony who pushed for this, who needed this. He has - had - a way with kids...you know, I can be strict, but he can―could―get her to do what is necessary without even having to raise his voice. And sometimes I just wonder―what if I ruin it, Happy? She only has me.”

“Firstly, that’s not true. Rhodey and I are here for you too. You got your sister, and I’m sure Peter would be more than happy to babysit as well. There’s more than biological parents for a kid, you know that better than anyone, right?”

She nods, hesitantly.

“And secondly,” he continues, “You are doing great under the circumstances. Nobody is born a parent. But if you’re good at anything, then it is to adapt to difficult situations. You can do this, Pepper.”

“Yeah, I know… I know I can.”

And that’s exactly the point. Pepper has always pulled through. Everyone expects her to keep functioning, and she isn’t one to miss people’s expectations. But sometimes she wonders if she’s still alive in there.

They finish up the doughnuts and start tackling the clothes. It goes surprisingly smoothly, and Happy even coaxes a few hesitant chuckles out of her when he fishes a gold-glittery mankini and a few other special-occasion items out of the far corner of Tony’s wardrobe. They are three boxes in and have moved one floor down when Pepper takes a break to pee and wash the dust off her face in the guest bathroom.

Tony’s shaver is lying on the edge of the sink. He must have been shaving here the day he left for the compound, likely because Pepper or Morgan were using the upstairs bathroom, and left it there. She always tells him to put it back in the cupboard and he always forgets―forgot. She picks it up, ready to put it where it belongs, when it hits her.

It’s futile. It’s a personal shaver of a man who’s never going to need one again. Nobody’s ever going to use this particular shaver again. She could just as well throw it away.

Pepper feels anger burn hot and fierce in her chest. She opens her mouth, to scream, maybe, but all that comes out is a broken sob.

Happy must have been listening for her from the other room, because he is there in an instant. She turns away, reflexively hiding the tears on her face, but he stops her.

“Hey. It’s okay. It’s okay to cry.”

“I need to―I don’t have time―”

“I think we can clear fifteen minutes in your schedule for a breakdown, right?” Happy teases, the smallest of smiles on his face although he looks close to tears himself.

A memory strikes, and she chuckles through the sobs, then cries harder.

“What’s it?”

“That’s just the kind of thing he would have said.”

“Oh, Tony,” Happy smiles sadly.

“I just―I miss him so much, Happy. It’s―It’s all the small things―his shaver―the tinkering and the empty pizza boxes everywhere and the never-ending cups of coffee and the way he just keeps on talking, to his bots and to me and Morgan―and―” she runs out of breath.

“I know. I miss him too.”

“You know, the way he used to stick his tongue between his teeth when he was concentrating and not realising anyone was around? Morgan did the same recently while drawing, and I just―sometimes I just can’t―”

“You can do it, Pepper. If there’s anyone who can do it, it’s you. You are strong.”

Pepper laughs, but it sounds shrill and false in her ears.

“People say that all the time, you know? And the worst thing―you know what the worst thing is?”

Happy shakes his head.

“The worst thing is, it’s true. You know, early into the relationship I was thinking that I can’t live without him. I was so, so scared something would happen to him, so I tried to stop him from being Iron Man… And then we took a break, and he ended up half-dead in Siberia, and at that time I realised that yes, I can live without him. It just wasn’t a life I wanted to live. And now―thinking that I have to do this every day, it’s just―it’s like someone is sitting on my chest and strangling me, over and over again.”

She hears Happy swallow hard, then he shuffles closer and wraps his arms around her, pulling her close. One of the bear hugs that got her through the time when Tony was in Afghanistan and both of her parents died in the span of three months, that got Tony through his panic attacks, and Morgan through some of her nightmares.

She feels water drop onto her neck, and she knows Happy is crying too.

They do finish the clothes before nightfall, because Pepper has always been awfully good at ticking off to-do lists, even on the worst days. When they are done, they get a bottle of red wine from the cellar and empty it in Tony’s honour, sitting near the lake where Pepper and Tony once spent a whole night just after they bought the house getting eaten by mosquitos, when they decided to turn it from a temporary recovery getaway into a home for as long as time would grant them.

Morgan took her first steps here, had her first fall, cried buckets in Pepper’s arms while Tony put a band-aid on the scratch on her elbow, and Pepper remembers thinking how little children know of pain. A few steps below Pepper laid the arc reactor to water, holding the hand of the girl who now knew so, so much of it; and sometimes she doesn’t know if she wants to preserve the place forever or burn it all down.

They sit and drink and at some point Pepper closes her eyes, and through the buzz of alcohol she can almost imagine that Tony is in the garage, finishing up a project before joining them for the night.

She thinks of him with love, with tenderness, with unforgiving pain.

She wonders if it will ever get easier. She wonders if she even wants it to be.

They go to bed at two. Happy takes the guest room where Tony’s shaver is now lying at the bottom of a dust bin. Pepper lies wide awake, her window open, listening to the familiar sounds of life far away from the city.

She will fall asleep eventually, facing away from the empty side of the bed. She will wake up at six, a little hungover, force herself to start the day with yoga and a run. Will call Dress for Success to make sure they get to the house on time, will oversee the pick-up. Will have breakfast with Happy so he doesn’t have to worry about her passing out when he gets on his way. Will sit through an SI video conference until it’s time to pick up Morgan, maybe take her to the mall or to see a movie on the way back home from Rhodey’s. Will make her dinner, give her a bath, put her to bed on time, if possible without a tantrum. Will tackle her email inbox until a headache will force her to bed. Will make a plan for Monday, another Monday without Tony, before falling asleep. Will wake up and face that one too.

Rinse and repeat, one day at a time.

All my fics

All my Pepperony fics

#pepperony moments #mcd #(canonical)#pepper potts needs a hug #happy hogan gives her one #remembering tony #thanks to everyone who gives this a try despite the heavy topic!#i appreciate you

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thalys-artcorner · 3 years

Text

A Cause to be Bothered By.

A oneshot in which Homelander actually gived a damn with the charity event assigned. Canon divergent that allowed to write...wait for...actual fluff. Bet you didn’t see that coming.

*Note: I don’t wanna say @kayemagistro made me do it, but she did provide the initiative xD Based on this post.

She wasn’t sure how much of a good idea it might be to bring Homelander along, but the powers from above had insisted, and there was only so many strings she could pull before they put her back in her place. It was a miracle already that she had managed to pick her own charity work.

But having Homelander with her? For starters, he loathed charity work. It was a waste of his precious time, devoting attention to causes he did not care for nor did he even bother to look up. He hated the idea of taking care of others, he hated the cameras following, the million questions hurting his senses, and above all, he hated weakness. And wasn’t charity all about weakness? Of helping those not strong enough to make it out on their own?

If that wasn’t enough reason, he was in one of his moods that day. One fo those unstable, volatile, violent moods in which he might even turn around and bite his own leash off just to take it out on those around him, hate them and hurt them so he wouldn’t have to face the consequences of his own emotions. He’d even lashed out at her, not caring in the slightest for the fact that she loved him, forgetting that he loved back. Then again, she had been genetically manipulated so that his powers had no effect on her, just as her own had no effect on him. Not that any of that had ever stopped them from trying in the past.

But the media loved them together, probably because they got to see so little of their relationship. That was another of her personal little triumphs. She’d managed to keep Vought’s media team out of her own relationship after showing them that the public responded better to couples who weren’t flaunting their feelings about every single day. It made them more believable. What little the public got to see of Homelander as a boyfriend humanized him in their eyes (which she knew he hated, and it had taken a whole lot of convincing, fighting and angry sex to finally get it through his thick skull that they had to feed something to the masses). Hence, him coming along to the animal shelter with her, with that cold, shiny fake smile he’d been trained to put on his face like makeup whenever the cameras flashed in their direction.

At least, so far, he looked only irritated, which was a welcome cry far from the usual expression that looked like he was wondering whether if snapping some snotty brat’s arm “by accident” might wriggle him out of the event. Probably because he was not being pestered. She hadn’t chosen an animal shelter charity thinking that he would come along, but because she loved animals. Yet it was turning out to be a smart move. “At least you won’t have anyone asking you for autographs and pictures” she’d pointed out just before coming. She’d received a bad-tempered grunt in response, which was better than some snappy remark.

After the usual tedious talk with the owners of the shelter and the promise of a considerable donation and all those annoying displays that involved actual human contact and during which she was really fearing he might break the glass of water he was holding and throw a tantrum, there came the actual interaction with the actual animals. They were brought to a wide backyard in the center of the kennels, in which they were greeted by a hoard of enthusiastic puppies of all sizes and colors, that demanded pats and kisses and belly rubs. She immediately dropped to her knees and opened her arms wide, letting them jump all over her and whimper and place lots of sloppy, wet kisses on her face. She could almost here Homelander saying “I’m not coming anywhere near you covered in dog slobber”.

She looked around for him and noticed him closer to the kennels, his back leaning against one of the cages and his bad mood strong enough for the puppies to sense it and steer clear away from him, even if the humans did not. Suddenly, his nostrils flared, and he turned around, peering inside the kennel he had been leaning against moments before. She caught sight of a figure lurking on a far corner in the back, it’s beady eyes sad and resentful. She could the white of its teeth as its upper lip curled slightly in a snarl.

“Why is this one locked up?”

Homelander surprised everyone when he spoke up after being unusually quiet during the entire event. One of the caretakers of the shelter stepped forward at a prudent distance and cleared her throat “Oh, that’s one of the newbies, sir. He arrived some time ago, after they found him in a compound that raised puppies to become dog fighters in the pit. He’s been abused pretty roughly for one so young, and he’s very aggressive. We have to keep him locked for the moment, for his own safety and those of the other puppies. Sir”.

“It’s not his fault though, is it?”

“What was that, sir?”

Homelander made a gesture with his hand, brushing off the comment “Nothing”.

She hadn’t missed the whole exchange, but as it seemed he wasn’t going to add anything or elaborate, she returned her attention back to the puppies, smiling and asking questions about them, their stories, their health to the various caretakers, while the cameras buzzed around capturing the best moments of her interaction with them so that later, thousand upon thousands of celebrity sites and talk shows would replay them over and over again, sighing over the shadow heroine who took time off fighting crime to think about the well-being of the innocent creatures nobody else bothered to think about.

She was in the middle of answering a question about the animals she had had back in the farm, when there was a sudden exclamation of alarm from one of the caretakers.

“Sir, please, you can’t open that cage!”

Homelander, without anyone really noticing, had opened the door to the aggressive puppy’s cage, and was kneeling by threshold, looking inside at the snarling animal. She could see his lips moving, all though he was murmuring too softly for anyone else to hear. One of the caretakers stepped forward, and the hero immediately raised a hand in the air to stop her.

“Stay back” he ordered through gritted teeth, his jaw set, a small muscle twitching.

“But-”

“I told you to stay back”. His voice was hard and authoritarian. And it had that dangerous edge it had been carrying all day. Yet after a moment, his jaw relaxed ever so slightly, and he started murmuring to the dog inside the kennel again.

It was time to intervene.

She rose to her feet and crossed her arms over her chest “Everybody leave us for a moment, please. Take these little fellows too, if you would be so kind”.

For a second, nobody moved. She glared at the owner director of the shelter pointedly, a stare that allowed no argument and that she usually reserved for criminals. It worked, and everyone, including the camera crew, were soon hurrying out, picking up the puppies with them, until the backyard was completely clear, except for her, Homelander, and the puppy inside the kennel. Slowly, she approached them, until she was able to crouch beside him and gently rest a hand on his shoulder.

“John?” she called out now that they were alone.

He didn’t reply, still focused on the dog in front of them. It had stopped snarling, and was now standing a few steps away from them, its belly pressed to the ground as he slowly, warily, crawled towards Homelander’s extended gloved hand. Its black lips twitched from time to time, and its hair was standing on end, but he nonetheless drew closer, until his nose was only a few centimeters away from Homelander’s hand.

“Make way for him” the man whispered, as he too took a step to the side, clearing the doorway for the dog. It hesitated. And then, finally, stepped out onto the grass with unsure footsteps.

For a long moment, the puppy simply stood there, as if it could not quite believe it was outside, free, and nobody was stopping him or forcing him back to his cage. It looked like a mixed breed, something halfway between a Pitbull and a Rottweiler. How stereotypical. It blinked under the sunlight, and then, finally, sat on its hunches first, and then extended out his front legs, and laid down in the sun.

Then Homelander reached out to him. The animal immediately snapped and revealed its fangs once more, growling. Homelander pulled his hands back, an obviously outraged frown on his face. And for a moment, she feared he might cut it in half. But his expression eventually softened. He peeled off his glove, and reached out again, this time ever so slowly, making sure the puppy was catching every one of his movements and not taken by surprise. The puppy didn’t growl but stared at him warningly. Finally, it allowed the superhero to rest his hand on its back and pet him. The hair along his back stopped raising, and suddenly, its eyes weren’t glazed with anger anymore.

She released the breath that until then, she hadn’t realized she had been holding, still not quite sure what it was that she was seeing. He’d actually taken the time to coax the puppy out of its cage, and instead of lashing out when it had rejected his initial approach, changed his strategy to suit the animal’s needs. She had never seen him go to such effort for someone else, not in a long, long time; except perhaps for her.

Slowly, mimicking his actions, she reached out to the puppy, whispering soothing words to it. It allowed her to pet him too, and while Homelander scratched it behind the ears, she ran her hand along its back.

And then, as if the entire situation wasn’t already unexpected enough, the little fellow flopped onto his back and exposed is dark brown belly to them, demanding belly rubs. Belly rubs!

“John” she called at him again “What the hell are you doing exactly?”

“Aggressive my ass” he finally said, his eyes never leaving the puppy as it started to twitch one of its hind legs “He’s just tired of being locked up in a fucking cage, with people ordering him about and calling him out”.

Suddenly, everything made sense. Her eyes opened in realization, and she breathed out softly “Does he sound familiar to you?”

Homelander finally lifted his face to look at her. His blue eyes were soft, showing genuine emotion for the first time that day. It seemed like his anger had finally subdued. In his gaze, she actually saw the implicit apology for his behavior towards her earlier that day. Homelander never apologized, but she knew how to look for that feeling in his eyes. They could be almost naively transparent when he wasn’t thinking.

“Someone should have bothered to ask him what he wanted. Maybe if they stopped treating him like a potential killing machine, he wouldn’t be all growls and snaps” he shrugged.

The puppy emitted a playful yelp. It sat back up, and stepped closer to Homelander, until it rested its snout on top of his knees and looked up to him. Grateful. Trusting. Every so slightly, its short tail wiggled.

And then, without any explanation, Homelander scooped him up and rose to his feet. She rose with him, still not quite believing her eyes. “I know that look. What exactly are you planning?” she knew that determined set on his jaw when he set his mind on something.

“I think he’s seen enough of kennels to last a lifetime. I’m taking him with us. If these people won’t bother to actually treat him according to his needs, then…” suddenly he stopped, as if he had just realized what he had been about to say. His expression was almost comical as he cleared his throat “Well…he shouldn’t be here anyways”.

She cracked a grin, and took a step closed to rub the puppy’s head. It had started to doze off in Homelander’s arms. The hero, after a moment, reached out and wrapped his free arm around her waist.

“You do realize they’re going to lose their shit back at the tower with a dog running about, right?”

Homelander looked at her, his face serious. He didn’t care. He’d do as he damn well pleased. She knew that look. It said mine. Suddenly, he grinned at her, before looking down at the dozing pup in his arms. “I’d be disappointed if they didn’t. How about you, buddy?”

#homelander #the boys #i don't know what this is #i can't believe im saying this but homelander said dog rights?#my writing

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dalgikiss · 4 years

Text

Catch-22 // h. iwaizumi

index

part 20

You do as he says and you think. You think about it a lot.

Kirin watches your eyebrows furrow out of nowhere and the ink spot on your worksheet darkens. You jerk with a start when she reaches over to nudge your hand and you leave a long winding pen mark on your homework.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Huh? It’s nothing” You glance down at your now defiled worksheet, a pout forming on your lip at the pen marks, “Ah, sensei is going to kill me”

Kirin slides you a clean one and when you look up at her in surprise, she merely tells you to keep it quiet, can’t let you know all my secrets, now can I?

Before you can put your name down on it, she snatches it away from you again and you stare at her, mouth agape.

“You can have this if you tell me what’s on your mind”

You should have known better than to blindly trust Kirin like that, her amber eyes glittering with mischievousness as she waited for a response, green hair falling over her shoulder. She held the paper just out of your reach with her eyebrows raised.

“Fine” You comply with a groan, snatching the paper out of her fingertips, “But buy me soy milk from the vending machine after this”

She nods her head vigorously and you turn your head around to make sure the area around you in the library is clear of unsolicited people.

“So, you know how Ryuoko and Iwaizumi broke up?”

“I do now, but continue” Kirin grinned at the disbelief on your face while she gestured for you to go on

“So, after they broke up, we kinda sorta maybe kissed?”

You looked down at the worksheet, suddenly finding the passage about Japan’s involvement about World War 2 fascinating. Kirin’s jaw drops open at your confession and you hastily slap your hand over her mouth before she has a chance to scream your secret out into the world.

She lets out muffled shrieks of surprise against your hand and you watch with amusement when she starts to bounce excitedly in her chair, gathering the attention of a few people walking by.

When she had finally calmed down enough, you hesitantly removed your hand from her mouth and jumped in surprise when she gripped your shoulders with such intensity, you were sure there were finger shaped bruises forming.

“Holy shit, oh my god, are you deadass”

You nod tentatively and she shakes you back and forth by the shoulders so quickly, your senses are beginning to blur together and all you can hear is the rush of the wind in your ears and Kirin’s squeals of delight.

“So?”

You blink away the purple spots that flutter in and out of your vision when she finally stops, your brain still shaking against your skull.

“So what?”

“Are you guys together now?”

Ah yes, the question you’ve been dreading to answer. Kirin watches your every movement, from the wringing in your hand to the way you cross and uncross your legs.

“No” You mumbled meekly, immediately ducking to cover your head in case she decided to hit you again

She stares at you incredulously, unable to understand how you had rejected someone you had been pining after for years, and if you were her, you definitely would have been in the same position.

“He said he really likes me but he kissed me right after he found out she was cheating. I mean like how do I know if he really likes me or not? What if I was just someone he saw and wanted comfort? How would I- ow!”

Your forehead sports a nice sized welt and you glare at Kirin in shock as she shakes her fingers

“Look, i don’t really know him all that well but I can tell you right now, this guy has been pining after you just as long as you have for him. I don’t know if I told you this but he stares at you like literally all the time” She rolls her eyes and then pokes her finger into your forehead, right where your mark is “i noticed this before we were ever seated together too, that’s how you know this boy has it bad”

Your face burns bright red and she grins at your reaction. “I get it and all about thinking you’re the second option or whatever but I really doubt he’s lying to you”

You’re not sure why you’ve agreed to this outing with your friends. Your mind goes blank and your tongue feels big and heavy whenever Iwaizumi is around, reducing your coherent thoughts into fragments of words.

You need more time, you haven’t figured things out yet!

Kirin finds it hilarious when Iwaizumi walks by in the hallway and you immediately grab onto her arm and begin to talk much faster than normal, spewing words of nonsense in your haste to seem “normal”.

“It’s because we miss you,” Hanamaki tells you when he corners you after school. Matsukawa nods and Oikawa chimes in, are you trying to ignore me? You’re not allowed to do that, it’s against the law!

You shake your head at Oikawa’s accusation, taking him into your arms so he doesn’t throw a tantrum. They tell you they’re taking you to a nearby festival and you’re fine with that, until Matsukawa shows up at your house with a pretty dark blue yukata that adorns a pattern of cherry blossom branches in his arms.

“Pervert! Get your hands off me!”

“Just put it on- ow! Don’t kick my nose!”

Inevitably, you lose the battle when your mother peers into the room and sees you wrestling on the floor with Matsukawa and the yukata hung up on the hook in your wall meant for your jacket and gushes over the pattern before deciding you have to wear it, it’s going to look so good on you! I haven’t seen you wear this for a festival in so long, so just this once!

You grit your teeth and suck in your pride when you put it on, but not before you smack the back of Matsukawa's head with a textbook and a satisfied smile makes its way on your face at the sound of his cries.

When you finally leave your room after complaining to your mother over how unfair this was as she fussed over your hair, Matsukawa is waiting patiently in the living room. Within the time you had taken to change, Matsukawa had somehow changed into his own green yukata.

He nods with approval over how it looks on you and you hate to admit that he’s right so you hide your blushing face from his delighted gaze and push him out the doors.

“Why am I wearing this?” you grumble, pulling at the collar so you can air yourself out. “Nobody has done this since like the third grade”

“That’s the whole point. We’re here to recreate some last memories before we all go away for college”

Your heart drops at his words and you can only utter a quiet “oh” before reaching out to gently hold his hand in yours, as though to remind yourself he’s still here and hasn’t gone away. He only hums and squeezes your hand in his, relieving you of the uncomfortable feeling that has begun to accumulate within the pits of your stomach when he had mentioned the parting of ways that was to eventually happen.

“Cheer up dummy”

His voice breaks you out of your reverie and you stare up at him, doe eyed.

“It hasn’t happened yet. Let’s just focus on making the most of the time we have now, okay?”

You nod mutely, still unable to shake off the weird feeling that has spread out to your limbs and he sighs. He stops for a brief moment, just long enough to face you and gently flick your forehead.

“Stop it. You haven’t lost me. I’m here and you’re here and everyone is waiting for us at the festival, dressed in their own yukata. Things always have a way of working out and I’m positive the five of us will find our way back to each other no matter what. You're actually stuck with all of us for the rest of your life, you literally have no choice”

Like you mentioned before, you hate when he’s right.

His dark brown eyes gaze upon your own, unwavering in their stare as he waits patiently for you to respond, despite fully knowing that you were both getting later and later with each passing minute. When you finally nod and bounce on the balls of your feet, he knows you’ve returned from the mini spiral you just went on and once again begins leading you to the festival.

By the time you arrive, the festival is in full swing. The festival lanterns hang up on strings that surround the area, swaying in time with the beat of the drums, children run past the two of you with sparklers in hand, nervous girls and boys shyly looking at each other on their first dates and the loud booming voices of street vendors trying to sell their snacks call out to you.

You almost trip over someone’s foot when Matsukawa rapidly picks up his pace and drags you behind him to where your three other friends awaited.

“Finally!”

“I’m hungry, can we get food now?”

Oikawa throws his arm over you, his red yukata swaying to and fro around his ankles. You let out an indignant cry when he pinches your nose in between his fingers.

“Why are you guys so late?” He demands and you wonder if he expects you to answer while you’re in pain and struggling to pull him away

“It’s all [name]'s fault” Matsukawa says, pointing an accusing finger at you and if you weren’t so busy trying to wrench Oikawa's hand off your nose, you would have kicked him into the next dimension at his accusation. “She didn’t want to wear the yukata so her mom had to come in and intervene”

Oikawa gives you one last hard pinch before letting go. Your nose is now bright red and throbs uncomfortably after the abuse. You kick him in the shin as revenge. Before you can tell them that he’s lying, Hanamaki has decided he’s tired of waiting and runs off to the nearest fried chicken stand with Iwaizumi in tow, leaving the rest of you scrambling to catch up.

You’re pulled in all different directions, from food stands to game booths. Your legs hurt, your feet are tired but your heart is full and the smile on your face has not faded once.

Matsukawa leads you to the ring toss booth that you despise because you always miss the target and hands you a ring, urging you to throw it.

“C’mon! Try your luck!”

The vendor nods with a wide grin on his face, agreeing with Matsukawa. Your mouth curves into a frown before you peer over to look at where the bottles have been placed. Matsukawa has already thrown a ring and it swings around one of the glass bottle necks before it falls off and he pouts.

“Awh man, I was so close! Your turn!”

He pushes you forward with his free hand but you don’t budge. At least, you try not to. You’re lacking a bit in terms of strength when it comes down to the two of you, Matsukawa’s years of conditioning, volleyball training and workouts at the gym with Iwaizumi, the school’s number one winner for biggest arms sends him soaring past your strength.

“Matsukawa! These games are a scam, are you really going to make me do this?” You whine and pout but you face the front and throw it anyways. The ring bounces off bottles after bottles and just when you think luck is on your side, the ring suddenly turns and falls off the edge. You let out the sigh you’re holding when it does so.

You hear someone behind you sigh and you assume it’s Matsukawa, disappointed in your skills. Before you can turn around to tell him to stop making fun of you, someone pushes past you.

“You guys suck at this”

Matsukawa looks at Iwaizumi with an uninterested look on his face before batting his eyelashes and clasping his hands in front of his chest. “Wow, sparks fly. It’s like electricity, I might die”

“I’ll drink my own spinal fluid instead, thank you very much”

Your blood runs cold at his voice but your body somehow feels too warm due to the close proximity. Iwaizumi hovers over the booth, eyes narrowed at the box of bottles before gesturing to Matsukawa for the last ring. Matsukawa hands it over gratefully and you watch as Iwaizumi throws it.

The ring sails over the bottles before catching onto the neck of one and you let out a small cheer when it swirls around the bottle neck before it lands.

Matsukawa whoops when the vendor gives him a miniature toy sword, immediately using it to thrust at Oikawa. Hanamaki whines something about wanting to try and Iwaizumi is busy trying to battle Matsukawa with a stick he found on the ground so you take the time to stare at a small porcupine plushie that catches your eye.

You frown when you realize you need to get all three rings over a bottle in order to get it. Damn your shitty depth perception.

Iwaizumi watches you, his gaze flitting from the porcupine plushie to the dejected look on your face before handing the street vendor 100yen.

Hanamaki is proudly showing you the pikachu keychain he won from the vendor while Oikawa and Matsukawa battle each other with toy swords when Iwaizumi thrusts something in your face.

You blink once and then twice as your vision adjusts to the object held so closely in front of you, hands reaching out to gently grasp it.

It’s the porcupine plushie. It smiles up at you and you squeal in delight, burying your face into the soft polyester that tickles your nose.

“You were eyeing it like a kid in a candy store” Iwaizumi tells you, but his gaze is far away, staring at something in the distance that you cannot find. The tips of his ears are a soft pink and if you look hard enough, his cheeks were dusted with red.

You smile, holding it tight against your chest. “Thanks” you whisper and he finally looks down at you, returning your smile

“It kinda looks like you though, don’t you think?” you hold up the plushie next to his face and giggle when his expression turns from neutral to shocked and duck when he reaches to flick your forehead.

Hanamaki’s laughing as the two of you run around him like a cat chasing a mouse but he agrees wholeheartedly over the comparison.

You decide you’ll name the porcupine ‘Hajime’.

Iwaizumi decides he’ll do anything for you as long as it keeps the smile on your face.

The sun has fallen completely now, fireflies beginning to light the way and yet the festival is still just as packed.

Your tummy is full of delicious treats, from dangos to taiyaki (no red bean because Oikawa hates it) to fresh watermelon juice and you are content. Porcupine Hajime is held proudly on your arm while the real Hajime sits to your left, feeding everyone the gyoza dumplings he had bought earlier.

You haven’t once thought about what to say to him, almost as though you had completely forgotten. If Iwaizumi remembers, he doesn’t bring it up.

Hanamaki holds out a piece of cotton candy and you lean over the table to take it from him. When you teasingly bite the edges of his fingers, he lets out a shout and pulls away hastily. The cotton candy melts in your mouth and when Hanamaki is busy telling you to repent, how could you bite me? What are you, an animal?, you give him a sticky grin in response.

You’re getting sleepy, full to your heart’s content and memories of this night to last you for as long as you can remember. It helps that Matsukawa had been taking pictures of everyone all night and you had been busy recording your boys and their stupid antics.

You loll your head around and Iwaizumi watches you before taking a large hand to gently press your head onto his shoulder.

“We’ll leave after the fireworks, okay?”

You nod mutely and then the world fades out as you’re lulled into a miniature nap with the conversation your four boys are animatedly having.

Why are you guys wondering how long it takes for a rock to melt?

Iwaizumi wakes you up with a soft shake of your shoulder and you whine, burying yourself deeper into his shoulder and Matsukawa teases him when the apples of his cheeks bear a resemblance to the candied apple Hanamaki was currently munching away on.

You blearily open your eyes and blindly follow your friends out into the open. Iwaizumi guides you with a hand interlaced with yours behind his back.

You admire the way your hands fit into his perfectly, the heat from his warming your cold ones up easily and gently rubbing your fingertips. You miss the way Hanamaki elbows Matsukawa and gestures with his head at the small interaction between the two of you.

They whisper something to each other that only they can hear and grab Oikawa before he can pounce on the two of you.

“Hey guys”

The both of you turn around to see where Oikawa, Hanamaki and Matsukawa stand far away from you. “Matsukawa wants onigiri and Oikawa wants some fruit-”

“What the- no I don’t, what are you talk- ow!”

Hanamaki holds the back of his shirt as Oikawa struggles to escape his grip. Matsukawa waves the both of you away, telling you to go on ahead, we'll catch up with you guys later.

Before you can say anything at the rather weird and obvious hint they were giving you, a loud bang in the sky catches your attention.

You're jostled around as crowds of people stumble around craning their necks to get a better view of the gorgeous fireworks that light up the sky. A few children run into you, sending you backwards and Iwaizumi tightens his grip around you so you don’t break apart from him.

“It’s a little crowded here” Iwaizumi almost has to shout so you can hear him and when you’re getting pulled apart further, he jerks you into his chest. “Let’s go somewhere else”

He tugs you along the path, holding you close when people bump into you as he leads you to the playground on the hill that overlooks the city skyline.

You let out a little breath of air, finally able to fully breathe after the smell of sweat had bombarded you. The clean crisp air does wonders for your nose and you are more than delighted to finally be able to smell the trees and the grass.

The fireworks burst before your eyes, lighting the sky with specks of green and gold. “It’s pretty” you whisper, half to yourself but Iwaizumi hears you anyways and nods in agreement. He’s let go of your hand now, making his way to the jungle set to climb all the way to the top. You flex and unflex your fingers. You miss the warmth he provided.

“Hey, wanna come up? It’s really nice up here” He looks down at you with a hand outstretched. “Give me your porcupine first so you don’t drop him” and you do as he asks, handing over Porcupine Hajime. He settles Porcupine Hajime onto the bars securely before hopping down and you stumble back in surprise.

“What? Why’d you get down? Did you just abandon Porcupine Hajime?”

He rolls his eyes at your accusation before he settles his hands on your waist. This time, it’s your turn for your face to turn a bright red.

“You can’t make it up the top with your yukata on, right? I’ll give you a lift”

Before you can even register his words, he’s already lifting you into the air. Your mouth drops open in shock and the wind flutters around you, causing your hair to sway back and forth and your heartbeat reaches a new speed when the ground is no longer supporting you before you’re dropped gently onto the jungle gym bars.

Iwaizumi climbs up after you, his white yukata spreading out around his legs as he sits down. Porcupine Hajime sits between the two of you as a small buffer. Whether or not Iwaizumi planned it this way, you’ll never know.

You’re not given a moment to say anything because the fireworks are bursting after one another consecutively. The sky is colored with streaks of every shade imaginable, from blue like the color of your yukata to pink like the color of Hanamaki’s hair. They glitter in the reflection of your eyes and the curve of your cheeks are beginning to hurt from your smile.

Iwaizumi turns to watch you instead, the colors in the night sky light up your face but you’re too enamored by the sparkling colors to notice him staring at you. His eyes soften as they gaze upon your plush cheeks, the sharp curve of your jawline and the way your eyelashes sweep against your skin when you blink.

You haven’t changed much from the first time he met you, still as playful and easily embarrassed as ever and yet you have, growing from the awkward girl that once stuttered her whole way through a class presentation to a much more confident person, making friends left and right with just a smile and never leaving anyone behind in the dust.

You were still the same girl he fell for during his first year at Aoba Johsai

“Oh my gosh” You gasp in delight when a firework goes off and the sparks leave behind an image of a heart “Did you see that? They made a heart! Don’t you think they’re pretty?”

“Yeah, you are pretty”

You don’t seem to hear him, excitedly telling him about all the shapes and colors that contrast the deep shade of violet in the night sky. His green eyes land on the soft curve of your lips as you speak and he only has to nod his head and hum in time with your rambling.

When the fireworks stop, you twist your head to ask if maybe you guys can stop and get some sparklers on the way home, but it dies on your tongue when you notice he’s already looking at you.

"Hajime?"

“How was your exam?” He asks awkwardly and his fingers flex at his sides. You hum, tilting your head left and right as you contemplate your answer.

How was your exam?

Honestly, you can’t really remember. All you remember is the pounding headache you had when you walked in and the shining sun’s rays on your face when you finished, worn out from all the reading and numbers.

“Tiring,” you say with such exhaustion that Iwaizumi laughs at your answer because it’s so like you to not remember what you had been tested on, “I genuinely cannot remember anything that exam was asking me. I think I might have died while taking it because I cannot remember a single thing”

You turn to face him with a smile that makes his chest feel tight, “but I think i did pretty well. I didn’t come out feeling like my soul had just been taken from me, so that’s good. I was just tired”

“That’s good”

You watch the way he continuously flexes and unflexes his fingers and how he holds his breath so you wait patiently, wondering what he has to say to you.

“Sorry” he finally tells you, a hand reaching out as though to stroke your cheek but it falls away and lands on top of Porcupine Hajime

“Sorry for making you cry when we fought. Sorry for saying such shitty things to you. Sorry for kissing you out of nowhere. Sorry for barging into your house when you weren’t expecting it and suddenly confess”

He tilts his head up to look at the sky and laughs a little. “I think I’ve been apologizing to you a lot lately”, the corners of his lips quirk upwards at the thought.

“But I meant it when I said I liked you"

The firework goes off again but this time it matches his white yukata. The white and gold light up his face, leaving you to gaze upon him

"I really, really like you"

He talks to the stars, too scared to see the expression on your face and lets the sound of the fireworks drown out his voice.

"It's always been you"

You know he’s not lying to you, he never has.

You like that about him

Scratch that- you like everything about him

He blinks when you link your pinky with his, refusing to look at him when he turns his attention from your interlocked fingers to your burning face.

“Let’s just- let’s just take this slow. I wanna do this right, you know?” You speak to the sky and pretend to be watching the firework leave behind the Japan flag before the wind blows the sparks away.

The soft smile that graces his face is extremely uncharacteristic and he doesn’t say anything but look over the city skyline and the festival down below

When you move Porcupine Hajime out of the way to sit closer to him, the warmth in his chest explodes just like the fireworks in the sky at the shy smile you wear

Like he said before, he’ll do anything to make sure you always smile

“Alright pay up bitches” The grin on Matsukawa’s face stretches wide on his cheeks as he waits for Oikawa and Hanamaki to hand him his 2000yen.

Your jaw drops in shock when Hanamaki and Oikawa pout and angrily shove bills into Matsukawa’s awaiting hands. “You guys were betting on us?”

“Yeah,” Matsukawa shrugs, “I swear we told you about this before” He thumbs the bills in his hand before shoving them into his wallet and your face flushes hot at his words.

“Oh, by the way” you look up again when Matsukawa nudges you with his foot, “Can you tell your friend Kirin that I’ll split the money with her?”

“SHE WAS IN ON THIS WITH YOU?”

You throw your plushie at Iwaizumi who barely catches it in time before rolling up the sleeves of your yukata and throwing your wooden sandals onto the sandy floor of the playground.

The three boys eye you nervously, Oikawa beginning to shuffle backwards at the sight of your narrowed eyes.

“Hey, what are you-”

You hold up three fingers and Hanamaki’s face blanches at the sight, “You have three seconds to run”

“Woah, wait- c’mon [name], it’s just a joke!” Hanamaki pleads but he shuffles backwards nonetheless. Your eyes narrow even further.

“Cutie-chan! I was forced to partake in this! I swear this isn’t-”

“DON’T LIE” Matsukawa roars furiously at Oikawa before holding his wallet up frantically, “I’ll split the money with you! We can go get boba or something, anything you want!”

Your finger drops and then you’re taking off after them. The night air is filled with their yelps of pain and Iwaizumi is unable to contain the grin on his face at the sight of his friends running around each other and you pursuing them, dirtying the bottom of your white socks in your haste.

His arms curl around Porcupine Hajime tighter when you come back with them in tow, each one sporting a nice sized bruise on their head.

“That’s my girl”

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thevoilinauttheory · 4 years

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Music Profile

Rules: For many of us, music is a source of inspiration for our characters, so I want to know what songs inspire and/relate to your muse! Choose between 10-15 songs, compile them into an album and tag some friends to share the beat!

As tagged by @lukawarrioroflight so very, very, very long ago. You made me do a bad thing - which was spend at least 3 hours compiling a list of 10 songs for each of the characters I roleplay the most. M’nhea’s will come first - since I haven’t thought too much about songs for him - and all the others (Maximiloix, Danny, and Amosis) will be listed under the cut. These songs aren’t in a specific order~

I’m going to pick up the tags again for once, so I’m tagging: @renofmanyalts, @jasleh, @amdapori, @prodigalsong, @spotofmummery, @journeybetweenworlds, @astralyehga, @houserosaire, @cadrenebula, @ever-searching, @munchix-home-cooking, @egrine

M’nhea Tia:

Silhouettes - Of Monsters and Men

There's nothing that I'd take back But it's hard to say there's nothing I regret Cause when I sing, you shout I breathe out loud You bleed, we crawl like animals But when it's over, I'm still awake

Coming of Age - Foster the People

When my fear pulls me out to sea And the stars are hidden by my pride and my enemies I seem to hurt the people that care the most Just like an animal, I protect my pride When I'm too bruised to fight And even when I'm wrong, I tend to think I'm right

RUNAWAY - half.alive

I hold my life out in front of me, dreams of who I want to be I'm seeing every empty page But I find that everything I am is everything I should be I don't need to run away I don't need to run away Yeah I don't need to run away

The Phoenix - Fall Out Boy

Hey young blood Doesn't it feel like our time is running out? I'm gonna change you like a remix Then I'll raise you like a phoenix Wearing our vintage misery No, I think it looked a little better on me I'm gonna change you like a remix Then I'll raise you like a phoenix

Knights of Cydonia - Muse

No one's gonna take me alive The time has come to make things right You and I must fight for our rights You and I must fight to survive

It’s Not My Fault, I’m Happy - Passion Pit

It's not right, it's not right How am I the only one who sees us fight? What are we? Who are they? Who says those bastards don't deserve to pay? Well it's enough, it's just enough 'cause we don't stand a chance So long you stay around, you're just another song and dance It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair Still I'm the only one who seems to care

Hunger - Of Monsters and Men

Hungry for the kill, but this hunger, it isn't you Voices disappear when you are speaking, in somber tunes I will be the wolf and when you're starving, you'll need it too Hungry for the kill, but this hunger, it isn't you It isn't you, it isn't

The Best - AWOLNATION

I'm hardly perfect I'm barely good Just shy of greatness Ah-ah I'm heavy metal And hollow wood Just shy of patience Ah-ah

Titanium - David Guetta, ft. Sia

Cut me down, but it's you who'll have further to fall Ghost town and haunted love Raise your voice, sticks and stones may break my bones I'm talking loud, not saying much

I Just Wanna Shine - Fitz & The Tantrums

So I wake up I get out of bed, and stay up Stay out of my head 'Cause it's dangerous And I don't wanna lose my mind, no

Maximiloix:

Warrant - Foster the People

Fear is like a fake friend It warms you up and takes you in You mouth the words but no sound comes out Fear is like your best friend Manipulates and takes you in You mouth the words No sound again

Choke - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Now shut your dirty mouth If I could burn this town I wouldn't hesitate To smile while you suffocate and die And that would be just fine What a lovely time That it would surely be So bite your tongue and choke yourself to sleep

Punching in a Dream - The Naked and Famous

All the lights go down as I crawl into the spaces Fight, flight, or the screams, life tearing at the seams Wait, I don't ever want to be here Like punching in a dream, breathing life into my nightmare

I Am a Nightmare - Brand New

So come shake your Zen out And give me pure energy My heart is glowing fluorescent, I want you to possess it I’m not a prophecy come true I’ve just been goddamn mean to you So what is this thing laced with Please, don't replace me I surrender, embrace me Whatever I'm faced with

Crystals - Of Monsters and Men

I know I'll wither so peel away the bark 'Cause nothing grows when it is dark In spite of all my fears, I can see it all so clear I see it all so clear

Crown of Love - Arcade Fire

They say it fades if you let it Love was made to forget it I carved your name across my eyelids You pray for rain, I pray for blindness

Thank God I’m Not You - Himalayas

You could call me narcissistic You could say I'm of no worth You could call me the scorn of Satan But I could be so much worse

To My Enemies - Saint Motel

You know that talk is cheap Keep talkin' as I turn my cheek You know that no one really cares (Did you know that, did you know that?) It wasn't that long ago You wanted to slit my throat To find out if my blood bleeds blue (Did you know that, did you know that?)

An Honest Mistake - The Bravery

Sometimes I forget I'm still awake I fuck up and say these things out loud My old friend... I swear I never meant for this I never meant...

Forgive Me Friend - Smith & Thell

'Cause I fell in the hole, in the hole, in the hole My heart was turning cold, turning cold, turning cold I never wanted this to end, can you forgive me friend?

Danny:

Upside Down & Inside Out - OK Go

I wish I had said the things you thought that I had said Gravity's just a habit that you're really sure you can't break So when you met the new you Were you scared? Were you cold? Were you kind? Yeah when you met the new you Did someone die inside?

Houdini - Foster the People

Got shackles on, my words are tied Fear can make you compromise With the lights turned up, it's hard to hide Sometimes I wanna disappear

Dance Dance Dance - 65daysofstatic

[Instrumental]

Cradles - Sub Urban

Tape my eyes open to force reality (Oh no, no) Why can’t you just let me eat my weight in glee? I live inside my own world of make-believe Kids screaming in their cradles, profanities Some days I feel skinnier than all the other days Sometimes I can't tell if my body belongs to me

Fire - Barnes Courtney

Oh, a thousand faces staring at me Thousand times I've fallen Thousand voices dead at my feet Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone

Meet Me in the Woods - Lord Huron

I have seen what the darkness does Say goodbye to who I was I ain't never been away so long Don't look back, them days are gone Follow me into the endless night I can bring your fears to life Show me yours and I'll show you mine Meet me in the woods tonight

Simmer - Hayley Williams

Control There's so many ways to give in Eyes closed Another way to make it to ten Oh, how to draw the line between wrath and mercy? Gotta simmer, simmer, simmer, simmer, simmer down

Rawnald Gregory Erickson the Second - STRFKR

All my life There you go Oh please stay Just this once Anyway

Cigarette Daydreams - Cage the Elephant

Funny how it seems like yesterday As I recall you were looking out of place Gathered up your things and slipped away No time at all I followed you into the hall Cigarette daydream You were only seventeen So sweet with a mean streak Nearly brought me to my knees

In the Woods Somewhere - Hozier

The creature lunged I turned and ran To save a life I didn't have Dear, in the chase There as I flew Forgot all prayers Of joining you

Amosis:

Vy från ett luftslott - Kent

Där missilerna möts De viskar: hålen i himlen ska bli våran död Ovanför molnen Där djävulen bor De viskar: hålen i himlen är från hans klor

Where the missiles meet They whisper: the holes in the heavens will be our death Above the clouds Where the devil lives They whisper: the holes in the heavens are from his claws

Panic Station - Muse

Ooh, 1, 2, 3, 4 fire's in your eyes And this chaos, it defies imagination Ooh, 5, 6, 7 minus 9 lives And I know that you will fight for the duration Ooh, 1, 2, 3, 4 fire's in your eyes And you know I'm not resisting your temptations Ooh, 5, 6, 7 minus 9 lives You've arrived at panic station

Destruction - Joywave

I wanna know who you told 'til they're all laying on the floor Frozen to the core I wanna know who you told 'til it's nobody anymore Nobody anymore

Little Dark Age - MGMT

I grieve in stereo The stereo sounds strange You know that if it hides It doesn't go away If I get out of bed You'll see me standing all alone Horrified On the stage My little dark age

The Wolf - SIAMÉS

I’m out of my head Of my heart and my mind 'Cause you can run but you can’t hide I’m gonna make you mine Out of my head Of my heart and my mind 'Cause I can feel how your flesh now Is crying out for more

It Doesn’t Matter Why - Silversun Pickups

You hear us come and go, we know You wonder if we're not alone, we're alone You think about us all the time, don't Because it doesn't matter why we're known We're just known, we're just known

Sleep Alone - Two Door Cinema Club

He sleeps alone He needs no army where he's headed cause he knows That they're just ghosts And they can't hurt him if he can't see them, ohh And I may go To places I have never been to just to find The deepest desires in my mind

still.feel - half.alive

So when I lose my gravity in this sleepy womb Drifting as I dream, but I'll wake up soon To realize the hand of life is reaching out To rid me of my pride I call allegiance to myself

Iron - Woodkid

This deadly burst of snow is burning my hands I'm frozen to the bones, I am A million miles from home, I'm walking away I can't remind your eyes, your face

Content - Joywave

I'm searching for the difference between What content and content can bring Maybe they're no different 'cause they look the same (They look the same) Maybe I'm just an algorithm with a given name (A given name) But... trying to find the difference The difference, the difference, the difference

#tagged answers #character music #about: M'nhea Tia #about: Maximiloix Voilinaut #about: Danny Harold #about: Amosis #the cold truth: tagged

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alphabees-writes · 4 years

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Glee - S1 E7 (Throwdown)

I haven’t done this for a while, and literally nobody asked, but I’ve finished most of my degree and I need something to do in quarantine! So, I’m granting myself little a shitting on Ryan Murphy. As a treat.

Ok so right off the bat I’m pretty sure this is the “you’re all minorities” episode, and I’m placing a bet with myself. If I’m right about it, I get ice cream when I finish. Wish me luck!

Wow, for the first time, I actually needed the re-cap. I be like, wow, so THAT’S what I missed on Glee...

Sue’s fake laugh when Will touches her arm is relatable because I, too, would want to cry if he did that to me,

“It’s glee club, not krunk club” Wow thanks Netflix subtitles I thought it was spelled crunk. Also, Mercedes, please do take season 1 Rachel to the carpet. Please.

Sign #29 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: He asks what the kids want to do, and then tells Mike that his dancing is “not really what we’re going for,” like ok, so you’re not going for TALENT? He doesn’t even give the boy a chance!

Sue’s pink tracksuit is wild.

Why does Figgins care about the plans for sectionals. Doesn’t he want glee club to fail?

Figgins is the real antagonist of the glee club for forcing anybody to hug Will. Yes, Sue is a criminal, but even she doesn’t deserve this.

“I’m about to vomit down your back” me too queen.

“Whatever Quinn wants is fine” Finn... You deserve better than LIES.

“No mutations... Not even any cool ones” why is THIS making me emotional about Cory? Finn just being a vulnerable kid in this scene... He’s so scared.

Why is Mr Schue taking them to the OB-GYN...

Jacob hitting on Rachel genuinely makes me squirm. Like, I don’t find his character or these scenes funny one bit.

I ONLY JUST NOTICED... When Sue calls the glee club “mouth breathers” Kurt snaps his mouth shut all of a sudden. It’s a split-second cutaway but I love it.

Sue not knowing what a piano is? Iconic.

Sign #30 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: He gets mad at Sue for saying she wants the minority students to feel heard. I know that she’s trying to manipulate them, but like... Let them have a solo Will.

Kendra is a fucking anti-vax wow

I literally can’t talk about this Jacob thing because the p-word makes me SQUIRM. I HATE IT.

He gallops away though it’s an interesting choice.

Like say what you want about Sue in general but she’s RIGHT here, Will fails these kids and she’s genuinely showing them a great time for now.

Hate On Me is a BOP. Amber kills it with every god damn number...

MIKE! GETS! TO! POP! AND! LOCK!

Kurt’s fuzzy sweater is such a look. I just want to pet it!!!

Kurt actually joining in with the dancing... AND MIKE AND MATT JOINING HIS MOVE... IT’S SO CUTE!!!

They’re having so much fun. God I adore these kids.

Sign #31 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: He complains about Sue taking up “his time” with the kids, but he wasn’t fucking there? And hey, asshole, they actually had FUN for once!

Sue is dangerous Will, but at least she has TASTE.

...She is a straight up abusive person though and I do not vibe

Terri straight up pushing Will to make bad choices! Fun!

Quinn being like one of five Cheerios that passed Spanish is wild.

“Your psychosexual derrangement would be fascinating Will if it WEREN’T SO TERRIFYING!” Iconic

To Game. Iconic

Oh, fun! Racism.

Please sue him, Sue. Destroy him.

Figgins posting his own stockings commercial online? Iconic

“Let me break it down for you... Nobody cares!” Iconic

SUE’S FIRST TEMPER TANTRUM?

Drizzle.

Finn wanted to name a baby,

D R I Z Z L E

“I read that Gwenyth Paltrow named her baby Apple and I think that’s so cool, because you know how much I love apples, right?” Baby boy...

Ride Wit Me... Look at these kids having ACTUAL FUN SINGING TOGETHER!!! WILLIAM SHOESTIR TAKE NOTES!!!

You can hear them actually laughing together and I’m w e a k...

Santana and Brittany just hugged and it was so tender my heart wiggled

Sign #31 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: He literally IGNORES Quinn when she objects to being a back-up singer YET AGAIN...

I hate this number. It’s one where the backing singers sound nothing like the characters who are back-up singing... And there’s barely any back-up anyway.

Just had a thought while I tune out this shit number... Sue recruits Puck because he’s Jewish, but not Rachel? I mean, I know it’s strategic, but... Eh.

Quinn calling him the fuck out... QUEEN.

No Air put my flatmate to sleep. She’s literally snoring.

Sign #32 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: Yes you were at work all day but that’s no reason to GRAB YOUR WIFE BY THE WRIST because she hasn’t made dinner...

Sign #33 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: Yes you should be able to go to the OB-GYN with your wife but like... Don’t book an appointment for her without asking???

Sign #34 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: “I can’t do a song with three kids” he says, when only 2 of those kids sang any actual lines in the first place.

...WHY is Dr Wu telling them about his bonsai? I appreciate it. I love a good bonsai. But like... What conversation did we just cut into?

Kendra is so awful it’s hilarious. Like, her terribleness makes her funny. TAKE NOTES JACOB.

The eye contact between Quinn and Rachel as she yells at her... Oof. They’re not being nice to each other, but chemistry is chemistry.

“You obviously have a lot you need to express” “Oh, you have no idea” and then she SPINS INTO THE NUMBER... Quinn more like Queen

Quinn outside Sue’s window, singing at her begging her to set her free... To let her make a new start... God my heart hurts. I love Quinn!!!

Keep Me Hangin’ On is a bop. It’s not the best for her voice, but I still love what she does with it.

Maybe my gay ass is just obsessed with the dancing. Who knows? (I knows. My gay ass is obsessed with the dancing.)

Quinn stood in the front alongside Finn and Rachel as if Will actually gave her any lines...

Mercedes’ dad is a dentist. You heard it here first folks.

Sign #35 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: You’re a TEACHER. You can’t THROW SHIT AROUND whenever somebody makes you mad. Yes, this also applies to Sue - but at least she’s hilariously ridiculous when she does it!!!

Sign #36 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: Yes, Sue sucks, but telling her she’s going to spend her life alone??? Fuck off???

“Those of us who still have two parents” Finnnnnnn

The kids: Hey, we’re more than just minorities! Will at the end of this episode: Mmm, are you though?

“Did it fall off” No, but I wish yours would Will.

“Why do I feel like I’m about to fall through a trap door into a pit of fire” God William I wish you would!!!

YOU’RE ALL MINORITIES... [camera focus on a black student, and a gay student] Y O U ‘ R E I N T H E G L E E C L U B

2009 really was a different time

Sue be like: Quinn FAH-bray

This scene of Quinn sobbing in Finn’s arms and him just... Trying so hard to console her... Emotions. EMOTIONS.

KEEP HOLDING ON... Why did they give the female solo to Rachel in this song when Quinn doesn’t really like her, if this number’s really for her. Surely it’d be Finn and Santana, or Brittany, since they’re her closest friends in the club at this point???

KURT AND QUINN SPINNING TOGETHER... I love the few scenes we get of them together. And it’s a CRIME that they never got a full duet. They could’ve been hilarious friends to watch.

Oh god... Just... A close up of Quinn Fabray crying. Kill me why don’t you???

#Glee #Glee Season 1 #That's right #I'm back on my bullshit

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taiblogcomics · 4 years

Text

Mulling Over the Culling

Hey there, moving day. Oh boy. Well, here we go. If you thought the last issue was bad and a character assassination, this issue is even worse~

Here's the cover:

Ah, the boring "team versus shot yelling at each other" cover. It's a really boring cover, especially for an annual. I will also point out that this annual came out after issue 8. So it hasn't actually been a year yet. That's one of the major problems with this story. The New 52 wasn't even a year old yet, and they're doing huge event crossovers between books. A lot of books didn't even make it past this point. Lots of them, like Static Shock, were cancelled after issue 8. So a good third or so of the books were being cancelled, while the others were engaging in unnecessary crossovers. And that's where this story comes in!

Anyway, the cover's awful, let's see how awful the story is too. So, since it's not obvious from the cover (another mark against it), this storyline is a crossover between Teen Titans, Superboy, and Legion Lost. The short description for that is that a few members of the Legion of Super-Heroes come back from the 31st century to find some sort of cure they need in the future. So in addition to the Titans and Superboy--not to mention all the villains and other characters we're going to introduce in this--now you have to keep track of and presumably care about Gates, Dawnstar, Timberwolf, Tyroc, Tellus, Wildfire, and Chameleon Girl. Good luck getting off any sort of emotional resonance with a cast list in the 20s!

So we open with Tim Drake on his back with a boot on his chest. The boot belongs to Artemis, making her comics debut here, following her appearance in the Young Justice cartoon series. Also here are new versions of Thunder and Lightning, a pair of minor Teen Titans characters. In the old continuity, they were Vietnamese twins, but in the New 52, now they're a caucasian brother/sister pair. Lightning's pissed because Artemis is expositing to Tim, because Tim "wears the colours of Harvest". Thunder and Lightning have exactly the same Tron suits as the Titans do.

The backgrounds are horrendous. I hope radioactive lava orange is your favourite, because you're going to be seeing it for a week after reading this. After Tim forces Artemis off him, he suitably impresses the group, and they run off together. Artemis exposits all the way, mentioning she's also not a metahuman, making it really weird that Harvest would want to kidnap her to join his army. They then run into a grungy-looking cyborg guy named Fist Point. He and his goon squad demand a toll, which is stupid. Tim tries the whole "we have to work together!" shtick that might work better on Saturday morning cartoons, but such comraderie has no place in the New 52. They beat up Fist Point and reunite with the other Titans.

This is also where Superboy joins the party. Like, this whole annual could've been about getting Superboy to join up and him working to earn the trust of each member. That would've been really good! Instead we get this, where Superboy agrees to work with the team, and Cassie tells him nobody cares about his opinion. Cassie's continued attitude is one of the most frustrating things about this series. We then cut over to a brief scene with the Legion Lost--remember them? They're in this crossover too!--determining that Gates' warping powers can't seem to get them out of this place. They resolve to keep working together, however. I already like them better than the Titans, since they're not being pissy at each other. This is a bad sign for a crossover~

This then cuts over to Harvest and his goons (including Omen and Leash from the last issue), gloating over how their plans are going to turn out great. He sends out Leash again to torment them, and we can talk about this guy now. He's got a glowing purple ribcage, a leather bodysuit, and assless chaps over that. He's also wearing a do-rag, has pale white skin and red lipstick. Unique among Harvest's goons, he appears to have been made entirely for this series. If this is the kind of guy they could come up with as new characters, maybe making terrible versions of previous characters is the better choice. Anyway, Leash ties them all up with his powers and torments them.

So hey, you remember Skitter? Was she your favourite character? I hope not, because a mysterious person we don't see offers her hand to Skitter and removes her from the comic. No, seriously. Skitter won't appear or even be mentioned again until the very last issue of the series. Anyway, Leash gathers up the Legion and the Titans and pits them against each other. A terrible fight scene ensues. It's really hard to look at, mostly due to the bright orange backgrounds. The fight with Wildfire and Superboy is particularly eye-searing. It's this fight, though, that the pair put together than neither side is working for NOWHERE and probably shouldn't be fighting each other.

Harvest and friends note that neither group is going for the kill, and thus it's time for the Culling to officially begin. What have I been reading up to this point, then? We cut over to another group of metahuman kids, including Thunder, Terra, and Beast Boy. These names are only significant if you know the previous continuity, so any new readers they were hoping to attract are just gonna be confused. Beast Boy is also red now, because the New 52 makes everything edgy. Like, there's an actual explanation that ties him to Animal Man's mythos, but let's face the truth. The New 52 loved it some edgelord '90s designs, and this is just another example.

So the Culling officially begins, and all the metahumans begin fighting among themselves. And you really have to wonder why. Like, nobody's being mind controlled or possessed or anything. All Harvest is promising is a chance to join his side, which isn't exactly appealing to the people you have kidnapped and tortured. So fighting for Harvest isn't exactly great incentive. And yet, even Lightning is out here, begging Beast Boy "Don't make me kill you!" Nobody has to kill anyone, you idiot! Except those who are even bigger idiots, I guess. Remember that Fist Point mook? He shows up and murders Artemis.

Yeah.

They used this series to introduce a new version of a popular character from a popular TV show, to make the character's debut in comics--and then they killed her off in the same issue. That's absolutely disgusting. This is why I hated the New 52. They could've done anything in the world with these characters. Instead, they reinvented them to either be assholes, villains, or dead. This is not restricted to just this book either, but it seems pretty excessive doing this here.

So Tim swears vengeance for Artemis, despite having only met her this issue. The Titans and Legion officially team up and beat back their foes, to Harvest's consternation. Don't they know better not to fight back, he's asking as he destroys his equipment in a Kylo Ren-style tantrum. Can't they tell he's already won? With the fodder dealt with, Harvest sends in his big guns, his personal Ravagers team. This includes Omen, that gold guy from the cover of issue 7, and that Templar guy also from the same issue. There's a couple others, but I'm gonna save the rants about them for their more full appearances in later issues. Next issue, though? More fighting! That's all this crossover is!

And now we’re truly on the downward plummet. I think I’ve said what I need to about Artemis, but please never forget that they did this. Imagine if they murdered Harley Quinn the first time she showed up in comics, in a crossover in someone else’s story. That’s what this is like. It’s stupid and awful and should never happen.

And don’t worry, dear readers. We won’t miss any of The Culling, because I actually followed Teen Titans back when it was coming out. So I even have the issues of Superboy and Legion Lost that make up more of the crossover. We’ll get to that next time~

#comics #reviews #Teen Titans #Taiblog #The Culling

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aacnaz · 5 years

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Playdate

This wasn't how he planned on spending his day.

Just getting back from a month-long mission of taking down sex trafficking ring, he wanted to relax with some of Alfred's cooking. Instead, his day was started not by the sun peeping through his curtain and burning into his eyes, but with a frantic phone call from Dick.

"Jaybird, I need a huge favor!"

He hadn't even gotten out of bed yet.

"No."

"Jason!" Dick whined.

He could hear the other man panicking. Resting his arm over his eyes, he sighed.

"I'm not doing any missions."

And that's how he found himself standing outside the school his niece attended.

Honestly, on any other day, this would've been fine. Sure, Dick could work a nerve, but Kori was one of his closest friends and when the two got married, he was happy for them. The only thing that topped their wedding was when Kori gave birth to Mari. She was a ray of happiness in the gloomy Wayne Manor whenever she visited. He had no problem picking her up.

He did have a problem having to be at her school at 11:45 when he was just waking up at 11.

Apparently, Boy Wonder forgot it was a half a day and he got called in to help on a case with Commissioner Gordan. With Kori off plant handling a situation on her homeworld and the rest of the bat crew preoccupied, Jason was the only person accessible for the job.

Okay.

All he had to do was pick up Mari and he could go back to relaxing. A small hitch but workable.

"Uncle Jay!"

He looked at his niece who stood on her school's steps. With thick black hair basically the length of her height and bright green eyes, she was a ray of sunshine, just like her mother. The smile that stretched across Mari's face as she ran to him was infectious and he couldn't help to return it as she hugged him.

"Hey, Mari."

"Where's dad?"

"He got caught up at work and asked me to come get you."

Her glow in her eyes after he said that made him feel special.

"Can we get ice cream and go to the park?"

He chuckled. A few more hours with Mari wouldn't be so bad.

"Whatever you want, kid. You ready to go?"

He turned with the intention to leave when he was stopped by a tug on his shirt.

"We have to wait on Melvin!"

Wait… what?

He turned to his niece who's attention was focused on the school.

"Mari, who's Melvin?" Jason asked, hoping he won't regret his choices.

"My best friend! You'll love her, Uncle Jay. She's cool!"

Okay.

Maybe Mari just wanted to say goodbye to get beat friend before they leave. Makes sense. She's still a kid. Kids love their friends.

"She's gonna be so happy we're getting ice cream!"

No.

No, no, no.

"Mari, Melvin's not coming with us."

"Yes, she is! It's our turn for our monthly play date."

What?!

"I'm going to go find her!"

Mari ran back toward the emptying school, leaving her confused uncle behind her.

And that confusion shifted to disbelief then annoyance as he called Dick and retold what just happened.

"Dammit. I forgot today was our turn."

"What do you mean it's your turn?! What have you gotten me into?!"

"I forgot that I have to pick up Raven's kids today as well. Normally Kori does it so the kids can hangout and she and Raven catch up but with her being gone at the moment, that falls on me, and by extension, you."

This was too much at one time.

"Who's Raven?" He felt like he's heard that name before, but none of the bells were ringing.

"Kori's best friend. She's cool. You'll love her!"

Apparently, he's gonna love this cool ass family.

Yeah.

Right.

"Dick-"

"Look Jaybird, I gotta go. We normally meet at the park at 3:30, so Raven should be there for her kids by then."

Wait, kids?.... As in plural!

"Thanks again for doing this, Jaybird. I owe you one!"

And then the phone hung up.

He was gonna kill him.

Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he applied pressure to the bridge of his nose and sighed. Murdering Dick would accomplish nothing.

"But a headbutt might make me happy."

"Nobody wins in a headbutt, Mister."

He peeked under his hand to see who said that.

He was met with the sight of a little girl, with blue eyes, pigtails, and probably the same age as Mari. Beside her stood a boy with short red hair, a blankie, and a face that looked prone to tantrums. In one hand, the girl held a baby that bared a strong resemblance to her and in the other, she held… nothing. Her hand was shaped as if she was holding someone's hand, but there was nobody there.

Weird.

"Who are you three?"

He had a very, VERY strong idea who they were. He was just hoping he was wrong.

"I'm Melvin," the girl responded, solidifying his dread. "That's Timmy," she nodded to tantrum face, "this is Teether," she bounced the baby on her hip, "and this is Bobby" she held up the empty hand she was holding.

He wasn't finna get into that.

He was just ready to go.

"Where's Mari?"

No sooner did those words leave his mouth did she appear.

"Present!" She popped up beside him, floating about an inch off the ground and giggling with excitement.

Before he could tell her to land, Melvin beat him to it.

"Mari, you're floating."

"Sorry!" She plopped back on the ground. "I'm just so excited about the ice cream Uncle Jay is getting us!"

All eyes locked on him as the other two talking children said, "Ice cream?"

He sighed.

He did promise ice cream.

"Let's go."

"Yeah!"

The trip to the ice cream shop was fine. Mari walked with Melvin and they chatted. Teether was quiet in Melvin's arms. Timmy shuffled behind his sister and in front of Jason, unsure who to join. Occasionally, a person walking in the side of "Bobby" would get bumped and Melvin would reprimand him to be careful and courteous on the sidewalk, but again, Jason didn't want to get into that.

It was once inside the ice cream shop that problems arose. Mari and Melvin ordered, Mari getting rainbow sherbet and Melvin strawberry.

"Is Bobby getting anything?" Mari asked.

"No. He prefers yogurt."

M'kay.

"What are you getting, Timmy?"

"I want that!"

Jason looked at the picture of the 5 scooped, double bananaed, syrup, sprinkles, hot fudge, whipped cream, and cherry sundae he was pointing at then back to the small kid who couldn't possibly eat it all.

"No way, kid. Why don't you get a kid's scoop?"

Timmy's smile fell.

"I want that."

"It's too big for you."

"I want that!"

"No."

He could see the tears welling up in Timmy's eyes. Then, Timmy plopped on the floor, opened his mouth, and started to cry.

Jeez! This kid had a set of lungs on him.

Jason covered his ears and he noticed all the patrons did too.

Fuck!

"Timmy!" Melvin cried out as she set Teether down and went to her tantrum throwing brother. She tried to soothe him, but he just cried louder.

Jason winced. He had to get the kid to stop!

"What about a kid scoop with chocolate sauce and cherry instead?" Jason asked/yelled, hoping the boy heard him.

Slowly, Timmy's wails calmed down and he nodded his head to Jason's suggestion. Sighing, Jason helped Timmy make his miniature sundae. With a giant smile on Timmy's face, they left after the ice cream shop.

Jason made sure to leave a big tip.

As they walked to the park, Timmy slowed his shuffling until he walked beside Jason. Out of the corner of his eye, Jason saw Timmy take glances at him and his hand every so often.

"He likes you." He heard Melvin whisper from his other side. She nudged his side, making pointed looks between him and Timmy until Jason finally got the message.

With a sigh, Jason held out his hand and Timmy gladly accepted it, smiling as he licked his ice cream.

Once they got to the park, excitement glittered across the kids' faces.

"Melvin," Jason called, stopping the girl who wanted to run but was also taking care of her baby brother. He held out his hands to her. "Give me Teether so you can play."

A big smile graced Melvin's face as she handed her brother over. Mari took off and she started to follow, but she stopped and turned to Jason.

"Can Bobby stay with you too?"

Signing, he shrugged his shoulders.

"Sure. Why not."

Smiling, she gave him a big, unexpected hug.

"Thank you!"

Jason waved his free hand at the girl.

"No problem. Go have fun. We'll be here on this bench."

She nodded her head and took off after Mari.

Timmy was about to follow when Jason picked him up by the back of his shirt and sat him on the bench beside him.

"What-"

"You kicked up a big fuss in that ice cream store. You're not playing until you finish that cone."

Pouting, Timmy stayed and finish his ice cream. It didn't take long and the boy was up and running, sliding down the slides and jumping in the sandbox.

He would admit that time got away from him. Teether didn't really kick up a fuss, just laid in his arms and relaxed. He did put the kid in the baby swing for a while, which Teether seemed enjoyed. He helped Timmy on the monkey bars and played make-believe with the kids when they asked him to be the villain.

They were pretty good kids. He was really enjoying himself.

He was sitting on the bench with Teether napping in his arms when he felt a shift in the atmosphere.

It was strong.

Intense.

And it was behind him.

A shiver ran down his back and Jason shifted, his stashed weapon in his reach and the children whereabouts in the forefront. Teether yawned, waking from his nap and Jason tucked him closer to his chest. He could feel the Lazarus pit brimming as he prepared to protect the children.

Teether wiggled and shifted until he was able to peek over Jason's shoulder. A smile split the baby's face and Teether said the first words of the day.

"Raven!"

Raven?

The other children looked up at Teether's call and smiles stretched across their faces the same way Teether's did.

"Raven!" they said in unison as they stopped what they were doing and ran toward the presence behind Jason. As they passed by him, Jason stood and turned to watch them.

He looked at the figure they were running to and his breathing faltered.

Raven.

He did know her.

At least of her.

He'd seen her a few times in passing during meetings with the teen titans. He also remembered seeing her as Kori's Maid of Honor. Each time, he had the same reaction: his breathing would alter, his heart would speed up, and it would hurt to look at her, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.

She had this ease to her that was effortless and a way about her that commanded attention. Her ebony hair had hints of purple to it and her bright violet eyes were the window to your soul. She was shorter than him, most people are, but she always seemed so tall. She hides her emotions with ease, and when she did show them, Jason wasn't sure his heart could take it.

They've never officially met…

But god did he want to change that.

He hadn't realized he walked towards her until he stopped in front of her. Her attention shifted to Teether, who she took from his arms before she turned her attention to him.

She smiled.

His heart fluttered.

"Hello, Jason."

She knew his name!

"We've met?" He asked, but he knew they hadn't.

He wouldn't have forgotten.

"Not officially. Dick called and told me to expect you. Thank you for watching them today. If I wasn't so busy, I would have relieved you sooner."

"It wasn't a big deal. They're sweet kids. I didn't mind."

She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by Mari and Timmy as they told about their day.

"We had so much fun, Auntie Rae!"

"Yeah! Can we hangout with Mr. Jay again?"

As soon as those words left Timmy's mouth, he wanted to buy the kid another ice cream. Heck, he deserved that giant sundae.

A small frown took to Raven's features that he wanted to smooth out.

"I don't think so, Timmy. Mr. Jason is a busy man. We don't want to bother him."

"It wouldn't be a bother," he interrupted. "I really did enjoy them today."

Raven seemed hesitant, strong, but not so much against all her children's pleading faces. But when she opened her mouth, he could tell she was going to say no.

Jason thought fast.

"I'll be bringing Mari. I'm sure they would love an extra playdate."

At her name being mentioned, Mari's face lit up and she clasped her hands in front of her as she also pleaded.

"Please, Auntie Rae? It'll be so much fun!"

Raven looked at to Mari then back at him. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

"I don't mind at all."

Raven sighed and a small smile graced her features as she nodded her head.

"Okay."

Jason's heart skipped a beat again.

Was Jason really using his niece to get a date?

As Raven and her three kids began walking through a portal Raven made, she paused and looked back at him. A faint blush dusted Raven's face and when their eyes met, Jason's heart exploded.

Yes. Yes, he was.

#jayraeweek2019 #jason todd #raven #parent au #ravensflockofrobins #jayrae

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bigkill · 5 years

Text

One Night | Chanyeol x reader smut

Summary: Chanyeol being an idol and your boyfriend was stressful. So when the man starts coming home late at night, angrily throwing things around and confronting you, things become hectic.

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I'm writing this in class and I'm bored so don't @ me also I think we need more angst smuts out there because personally I get turned on when my s/o becomes aggressive I swear its not weird.

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You stared anxiously at the clock waiting for your boyfriend of three years to come home, your bed growing colder and colder as you chewed your thumbnail. This wasn't normal for him. He always got home immediately after practice and if not, he would call you to make sure you didn't wait up for him, (which you always did, anyway), unless he was on tour; which he very well wasn't because you knew his schedule. It was getting later and later, almost midnight, and still no sign that he was coming home, no phone call, nothing. The thought of anything bad happening to him was starting to scare you.

Just when the clock was about to strike 12, you heard keys jingling as the front door creaked open, and then to your bewilderment, slammed shut loud enough to scare the dogs in the apartment next door. The man groaned loudly at the barking, threw his keys in the glass bowl before the corridor, and began rummaging through the kitchen cabinets for something.

You had tried so hard to be quiet. For some reason, luck wasn't on your side, for when you took one step out into the living area, the floorboard had creaked, and his movements had stopped.

Chanyeol didn't mind it, though. He didn't even turn back to face you, simply continued looking through the cabinets, tossing the components to the floor without a care for the person who organized them weekly (that was you). "Fuck!" He barked, throwing an empty pill bottle across the room after he'd emptied everything out onto the floor, and then proceeded to kick things out of his way. He stalked over towards his book bag, all bunched up with things, and then emptied said things out onto the floor.

"Babe," you chirped, walking closer towards the man who resembled a crazy person right now, "what are you looking for?" You kneeled down beside him, about to reach a hand out to his shoulder to console him, but he only smacked your hands away without answering.

Now you were annoyed, crossing you arms over your chest sternly. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

The man groaned, throwing his bag across the room and breaking an ugly vase you didn't really care about. You stared at it boredly as it was knocked from the table stand and shattered against the floor. He stood up abruptly, still having yet to respond, and then muttered a slew of curses when he attempted to clean his mess and ended up cutting himself.

Sighing, you never knew what to do when he'd gotten so angry he didn't know what to do with himself. The man was very happy, yes, but the passion could also be flipped into a negative emotion if someone or something had been so inclined to make him that way. It was frustrating, sure, but you had gotten use to this behavior, and the usual aftermath that was having to clean up after him, replacing the things he had broken, and then accepting the apology flowers he bought you the next day to compliment the new vase.

You always bought vases you didn't like.

"Where is it?" Now his attention was directed towards you, his eyes bulging from his skull, implying his next phrase was to be an accusation. "Y/n, where is it?"

"Where's what?!" You tutted your arms up, motioning the offhand materialization of whatever it was he wanted.

Chanyeol groaned again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "The fucking painkillers, babe! Where the fuck are they? I have a fucking headache and I can't find one goddamn pill in this apartment—," he kicked over the vase stand, causing you to raise your eyebrows.

"We have Advil in the bathroom—where its always been." Shakingly, you pointed towards the bathroom beside your bedroom, but knew this was more than just a silly headache. Chanyeol never got physical over a headache, in fact, he had become soft and mushy when he had those.

What was happening was way more than a stupid headache.

"No, I need something stronger." The man was on the verge of tears and you couldn't understand why. Never had he directed his anger towards you, and you usually just let him ride it out until morning because aside from throwing a temper tantrum like a five year old, he had no clue what to do with his anger. "Fuck, babe. Can you just fucking get them?" He croaked, his frustration turning into a red face as he sunk to the floor.

Rolling your eyes, you got the Advil from the cabinet and a glass of water, kneeled in front of him as if he were a child that needed guidance, holding both items out to his face. He rubbed his eyes, scooping up the pills from your hand with his lips and drinking the water that you had brought him, his heart thumping in his ears.

You rolled your eyes again and stood up to get ready for bed, but this action only seemed to annoy him further.

"You're not gonna ask what happened? I'm kind of in distress, here." His long leg stretched out, kicking over the organized items from the coffee table. Said items being the paper work that took you days to organize for your clients, scattering around and about your living area like gigantic confetti. For some reason, you felt your blood bubble up in the form of seeing red, your own anger internalizing as you remembered the nights of sleep you missed getting everything down before you had to go back to work. You had called the banks, closed deals over the phone which was especially difficult, talked some of your clients out of whatever stupid decision they were about to publicly make, and managed the social media accounts of upcoming artists.

Suddenly, a laugh bubbled out into the air from the pit of your stomach, your legs carrying you towards the dish rack filled with nothing but wet glass plates. And you snapped. Your body had flickered towards him as fast as the glass left your fingers, the item smashing against the wall he was leaned against and causing the man to bolt up from his seat.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Chanyeol clamored, his large frame closing the space between you, but you didn't care. You threw another plate at his feet, not meaning to hurt him, but meaning to destroy things the same way he did.

"Me?!" You yelled with a condescending chortle slipping passed your plump lips, "oh, so now you see how crazy you act! Here!" And another plate went flying across the room, forcing him to back away from you if he didn't want to get cut again. "Do you know the week I had sorting shit out for ingrate idols determined to fuck up the careers they wouldn't have if I didn't exist?! Do you know the phone calls I had to make—despite being on my paid time off after a mental break down at the office—to make sure nobody fucked anything up while I was gone?! Those fucking papers, Yeol. Those were everything I did! I'm so sorry that your pretty leg hurts after hours of practice!"

Chanyeol scoffed, his own laugh bubbling out into the world, throwing his sweater off because of how stuffy it was becoming in your apartment. "Oh, so you automatically assume that that's what happened?! That I hurt myself during practice?!" He laughed again growing closer towards you, "no, my asshole manager just told me that the album we worked really hard on for months—the concept, choreography, lyrics—was quote on quote, 'too real' for the crowd that we have! Because we sing for twelve year old princesses who can't understand that fairy tales aren't life! They take my artistry for a joke, and my own girlfriend can't even see that."

"What are you even talking about?!" Your voice was only elevating the more he continued to speak. "I support you, I just don't like when you come home like this and do this," you motioned around you, bringing to his attention what a mess he had created, "and you think its okay that you act like a child, but its not because you're a fucking adult and I'm not your mother! I can't do everything!"

Having heard enough, he slammed his fist into the wall that had suffered the most, creating a new hole you would have to plaster some time in the near future. The idea of it made you rub your temples before you encouraged such behavior further by beating the shit out of him.

"I swear, you're so fucking immature! Whose going to fix that and then find the right paint shade? Me! That's who the fuck!"

"Oh, shut the fuck up, already! You're not the only one who works hard!" He spat.

You laughed, however pissed off you were, "you do realize that neither are you!"

Chanyeol suddenly spun to face you, his frame towering over you with each step he took, a passion in his eyes you couldn't quite understand; a mix of lust and infuriation glinting in his eyes. The atmosphere had grown steamy as his body completely trapped your's against the kitchen island, breaths mingling together as you breathed heavily, but the anger was still there. All these emotions had translated into lust for the man, his sexiness vibrating in the fact that his muscles had been showing since he tore his hoodie from his body. Damn him for being so attractive, maybe you could stay angry enough to deny what you knew was about to happen.

His lips roughly encapsulated your's, your arms instantly latching around his neck as he pulled your legs up around his torso, firmly gripping your ass. You always loved it when he'd present his strength during foreplay, letting you know just how little control you had for the moment, or exactly what you were in store for.

Chanyeol was always rough during sex, but he had managed to become extremely rough during times like this, when hate-fucking would commence to end whatever dispute had put a strain on your relationship. Maybe it wasn't the healthiest antic, unlike talking about it, but you weren't ones for talking, anyway, so it didn't matter.

He walked you over towards the dining table, his breath still heavy and hot against your neck as he brought one arm out to clear the items from the table and dropped you against it for a moment to pull away and remove his shirt. You did the same, hastily pulling off the article of clothing, but he beat you to removing your bra, or simply ripping it from your body like an animal. He was always so needy when he was upset, but it was hot as hell and you didn't like that bra, anyway. You let a moan slip, your juices already soaking up your underwear when he dipped back in for another aggressive, sloppy kiss, the sound of his unbuckling pants and heavy lip smacks of pleasure the only thing that could be heard. You trailed your soft fingers down his solid chest, passed his torso, and down to his throbbing manhood beneath his underwear, the touch eliciting a groan that vibrated against your lips and felt like heaven.

Continuing to palm him, feeling his bulge grow harder than a street pole, he forced his tongue into your mouth, not having time to ask permission, and feeling his dominance slip away whenever you took action against his body. You moaned, his hands playing around with your nipples, his hips thrusting against your's harshly, forcing the tables to turn to his own control against you. "Fuck," you mumbled in ecstasy, your head becoming so fuzzy with want, it was almost painful. Seriously painful, he'd sunk his teeth into your jaw and collarbone, and then harshly sucked at the soft skin around your neck, forcing a hiss to bubble in your chest. Not the kind of painful that would have stopped you—the kind of painful that excited you, that turned you into the lewd person you were beneath the professional face you wore outdoors and in front of other people.

Chanyeol was the only person who got to see you in this state. This state of enjoyment, with your head thrown back in pleasure, and your back arched at the feel of his tongue swirling around your hard nipple. Whimpering, your body squirmed, but no other words had bothered to leave your esophagus. Not like they could, his hand was secure around your throat, only enough to assert his power over you. "You talk such a big game when you're angry, baby girl. Where'd all that go?" A smirk had painted his lips, those lips that had stopped midway to tease you. He was always trying to challenge you and it was annoying.

Whimpering again, you tugged at the waistband of his underwear, throwing your head back simply because you didn't want to talk. You panted as his hand slowly slipped down your stomach, beneath the hem of your underwear, and then finally, inserted his two fingers in without uttering a word. Something had tried to force its way out—words—but you choked them back, moaned, and shook your head. "Please, Yeol," you begged, "Fuck me, already."

Chanyeol didn't waste time. He didn't bother with the fact that you were already soaking up the cloth for him, (even though not much had happened), or tell you that you were dirty for getting turned on by his aggression. He tore the soaked up cloth away from your womanhood with such haste, the damn things had split from the middle and hung loosely around your middrift. And as if a shitty warning, or lack thereof, couldn't get better, he clutched the ring of your waist with his nails scratching at the surface of your skin and slammed into you, forcing you to scream out his name, followed by a slew of curses and your body shuddering. "Fuck!"

He grunted loudly, his speed picking up as his jaw tightened, his own curses falling from the tip of his tongue. His body dipped down into yours, connecting his mouth to the rim of your jawline, biting and sucking at the skin that made your knees weak. Your legs around his waist had forced him in deeper, the feeling of his body against yours driving you mad. You needed more. You needed his hands to scratch at the skin of your back, to elicit any kind of pain to bring your body where it needed to be, and that's exactly what he did. His hand kept scratching up the side of your plump ass, then roughly kneading into your breasts, and your own nails had dug themselves into the skin of his back, drawing out a hiss from his soft lips and encouraging him to move harder.

"Chanyeol!" You moaned quite vocally, the neighbor's dogs barking again, but neither of you cared. Chanyeol had only be determined to release his energy, and to break your body in the only way he knew how to. He wanted to fuck you so senseless, you wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow and he'd have to stay home with you to continue what you two had started. He pulled out completely, all of suddenly, and just as abruptly had slammed his entire length into your core, hitting that special spot that had you throwing your head back against the table and moaning ever so passionately. "Fuck, babe! R—right there! Don't stop!"

"I wasn't planning on it." His gravel road voice spewed, his large hands forcing your hips down whenever your back curled up, the actions leaving bruises against your [color] skin. Chanyeol had slowed his pace, not relishing in the idea of coming before you, his own close end rearing when he'd still had yet to satisfy you, and had transferred to long, hard strokes that made your breath hitch in your throat. He latched his lips back to your's, keeping the energy alive by forcing his tongue back into your mouth for further exploring, winning his own game of dominance, and reaching down to rub your clit to accompany his rough strokes. When he felt he was good to go faster, he slammed his palms beside your head and reverted back to his previous pace.

There was a knock at the door, but the both of you ignored it, and instead, he shoved his fingers in your mouth.

"You're fucking loud, you know that?" The man grunted into your ear, feeling your teeth sink against his fingers as you suppressed the urge to whimper his name. Straightening his posture, he lifted your leg over his shoulder with his free hand and came down again to continue his mouth work, his manhood hitting that spot again. That spot that knocked the air from your lungs and sent you for a ride on cloud 9. The spot that made you inhale sharply despite his fingers, and curl your nails around his skin at the sensation coiling in the pit of your stomach.

"Mmf, oh my god," you mumbled against his hand, your eyes rolling back behind your head. "C-Chanyeol, I'm c-coming," the words had fallen from your mouth with the saliva build up around his fingers, the sight alone making his own pleasure an irresistible feat.

"Me, too, baby," chanyeol groaned into your neck, and then placed an unusually soft kiss against your cheek, letting you know that he, too, was coming to his end. "Go ahead, already. I wanna feel you." He whispered, his pace becoming sloppy when your walls caved around him from the release of pressure in your abdomen, the feeling had you shaking in your spot, drawing out a long, loud moan from your throat. Chanyeol had made his own grunts, pulling out shortly after you had come, and releasing his load onto the palm of your hand with a sharp inhale and exhale of a grunt.

"Fuck," he muttered, letting his body fall next to yours on the other side of the table, exhaustion beginning to consume him.

You could've sworn you were seeing stars with the way your body continued to shake, but you could feel his messy hair suddenly resting against your shoulder as your breaths fought to come to a slow. Neither of you spoke, especially not at times like this, when you'd both have to realize how toxic hate-sex could be. But by God, it was the only time he could truly get you off where one orgasm was all you needed.

"Is this healthy," he was hesitant, but continued after a few more pants. "I mean, are we healthy?"

Thinking for a moment, you shrugged your shoulders, truly having no concrete answer to the question he'd just asked you. "I don't know. I don't care," yeah, that's what you were going with, "I like it. I like how we are. Because its confusing, and its weird, and maybe others can't understand—but I think its sexy as hell. You're fucking hot when you're angry."

Chanyeol chuckled sheepishly, his cheeks tinting pink despite how confident he was just a minute ago. "Okay."

#parkchanyeol #kpop fanfiction #kpop #kpop icons #kpop smut #exo k #exo #exo sehun #exo suho #exo series #exo ships #parkchanyeolsmut

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mittensmorgul · 5 years

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5.21, Two Minutes to Midnight.

After spending the season chasing Horsemen and battling for their rings, the final Horseman, Death, just... hands it over...

(with conditions attached, but still, he does hand it over)

I talked about this episode and Death a bit in the 5.15 post I made a couple days ago, and I've talked about Death a lot in general:

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/185868133115/515-dead-men-dont-wear-plaid-mmmm-zombie-pie

And a bit in 4.15 too:

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/185714935120/415-death-takes-a-holiday-jim-i-was-nobodys

and my s12-s14 posts about Death are all obviously tagged Billie the reaper: https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/tagged/billie-the-reaper

while older posts are just tagged like this: https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/tagged/i-texted-my-friend-%27i-like-death%27-but-it-looked-so-disconcerting

But in an episode where Bobby trusts Crowley enough to "pawn" his soul for Death's location, where Cas first feels the "uselessness" of his own humanity, and Sam begins to consider the what-if of saying Yes to Lucifer in the vain hope of being able to drag him into the cage... (mostly hopeless endeavors, with a few unexpected perks like Crowely throwing in the use of Bobby's legs), and then Death basically surprises the heck out of Dean. I'm not sure if he thinks that's better or worse than getting singled out at a birthday party or finding out God had a plan for him...

DEAN So, then why am I still breathing, sitting here with you? Uh...w-what do you want? DEATH The leash around my neck --off. Lucifer has me bound to him. Some unseemly little spell. He has me where he wants, when he wants. That's why I couldn't go to you. I had to wait for you to catch up. He made me his weapon. Hurricanes, floods, raising the dead. I'm more powerful than you can process, and I'm enslaved to a bratty child with a temper tantrum. DEAN And you think...I can unbind you? DEATH There's your ridiculous bravado again. Of course you can't. But you can help me take the bullets out of Lucifer's gun. I understand you want this. ( Death holds up his ring) DEAN Yeah. DEATH I'm inclined to give it to you. DEAN To give it to me? DEATH That's what I said. DEAN But what about... DEATH Chicago? I suppose it can stay. I like the pizza. There are conditions. DEAN Okay. Like? DEATH You have to do whatever it takes to put Lucifer in his cell. DEAN Of course. DEATH Whatever it takes. DEAN That's the plan. DEATH No. No plan. Not yet. Your brother. He's the one that can stop Lucifer. The only one. DEAN What, you think -- DEATH I know. So, I need a promise. You're going to let your brother jump right into that fiery pit. Well, do I have your word? DEAN Okay, yeah. Yes. DEATH That had better be "yes," Dean. You know you can't cheat death.

(and I know I could have more to say about this one, but I have a live zerbe in my living room and we're live-meta'ing) :P

But the setup: God’s plan, derailed by an assist from Death. Sound familiar?

#spn 5.21 #death and his backup dancers doin the old razzle dazzle #s14 hellatus rewatch #it's spirals all the way down

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cloudynames · 5 years

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Pillow Talk

gamers!! we’re back!! living our best lives!! i hope everyone is having a fantastic day or night~ this piece was actually one of my more difficult pieces to write and i dont know it was just hard ;; i hope everyone enjoys this and i will make sure to work harder for the next story!

Word Count: 5,609

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, sexual themes (no actual smut)

lets get it

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“Oh my god, you’re going on a date with him? He’s so cute!” One of your friends giggled, scrolling through an Instagram that you could really care less about. Mindlessly, you stirred your coffee with a straw and reflected on your complicated relationship with love.

It wasn’t that you hated men or whatever. You would’ve loved to hold someone’s hand or to go on cute dates during those four years of suffering to ease your pain. In high school, boys would be drooling over the numerous, gorgeous transfer students while you were just… there.

In your baggy uniform with a head in a book and an awfully little amount of sleep due to studying until ungodly hours of the night.

You didn’t think it was a bad thing at all. Because of this, you had so much more time to study and hang out with friends. There was definitely an unhealthy amount of mocking from your family and friends but it all paid off in the end because you ended up going to a fantastic college with exam results better than any alumni previously. However, like anyone at your age, you still had a pit of desire in your stomach.

“What about you, (y/n)? Any boys hit you up recently?” A voice interrogated, snapping you instantly back to reality.

Rolling your eyes, you slide your phone over to show your most recent text messages.

“The last guy you talked to was your teacher who you asked about the project due in a few weeks.”

With a loud groan, you stole your phone back from nosey eyes and selfish hands. A few moans of complainant lingered the air as they wanted to delve more into your messages.

“I’ll never find a boyfriend,” You whine, fake crying into your arms.

Laughs fill the small part of the cafe you sat at and you felt your face burn up with embarrassment. As much as it was hilarious how you couldn’t get a boy to save your life, it also dug into you, knowing you would probably end up alone for a large majority of your life.

One of your friends patted your back and with an encouraging smile stated, “Maybe you should try sticking your head somewhere else other than a book.”

The crowd exploded in amusement once more and by this point, you were fuming. Yes, the situation was hilarious about how you couldn’t even get a glance from a dog. The fact that they mocked you for it annoyed you to the end of hell. Just because you weren’t actively searching for a boyfriend didn’t mean boys avoided you like the plague.

‘It might’ve been easier for them to get a boyfriend but look who's struggling in creative writing just to earn a C on every paper.’

Similar cruel thoughts invaded your head and you desperately tried to get them out. It took a few minutes but your bubbly smile was back on your face and a newfound inspiration was beating in your heart. You were sick of the laughter and pity. Above all, you were tired of not having someone to call your own. To kill two birds with one stone would be exceedingly pleasing.

Determination filled you and once you were motivated, you were going to meet your end goal.

That end goal?

A boyfriend.

For the plan of attack, you would need to think of boys that you’ve talked to before. There was Jaehyun from biology but you were unbelievably positive that he was eating someone’s face off at the most recent frat party. Yuta, from your economics class, would be a fantastic person to go on a date due to his infectious smile and sweet crescent eyes if you didn’t hear the most recent rumors of him breaking girls’ hearts for money.

Lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, you pondered if there were any boys willing enough to take you on a date. Doubt clouded your train of thoughts and you seriously considered the fact that nobody would ever like you enough to initiate something. As you were about to drift off to sleep, your brain lingered to a boy in your math class. Everyone could see him with hearts in his eyes for you. He would be perfect.

You sat closer to the boy named Mark in your math theory class. He was cute from a distance and especially upclose. If you went on one date with him, all the mockery would stop for good.

And if you’re lucky, maybe the loneliness would go away as well.

A few days later, Mark finally asked you on a date. With nervous, shaky hands, he gave you his phone asking for your number. You cocked your eyebrow in confusion since the two of you haven’t exchanged more words than a quick ‘hello’ and asking each other for the answers on numerous equations.

“M-May I please ask you on a date?”

You stood in front of the movie theater, holding his too sweaty hand as the both of you walked forward in line. For someone that appeared so mysterious and cool, he was really like a tense, little boy. All you could think about was how it felt like you were taking your little brother to a movie.

“Two tickets for Spider-Man.” Mark asked, squeezing your hand. Giving him a small smile, you reached in your bag to pull out your share of price.

Mark’s eyebrows furrow as his hands scramble around in his wallet, looking for his debt card. He shuts it with a sigh and looks at you pleadingly.

“Could… you please…”

You had already given the cashier enough money for the both of you.

This would be fine if Mark didn’t insist on buying snacks at the movie theater.

“Please, (y/n)! How can we watch a movie without food.” He whines, throwing a playful (and hopefully fake) tantrum.

With a long, drawn out exhale, you bought a large popcorn and two waters. Throughout the week, you would definitely need to eat the complementary ramen they stored within the dorm kitchens since you had blown half your weekly allowance on mediocre popcorn and tiny waters.

By the time both of you had been settled down within the theater, you were embarrassed to the extent where you might’ve screamed. Mark had lifted the armrests and comfortably placed his legs on the next three seats. Seeing this site, your throat dried up and you tried to scoot further away so people wouldn’t associate you with someone displaying such poor manners.

If that wasn’t the tip of the iceberg, Mark hogged all the popcorn and took both the water bottles after he had choked on a kernel. With the little side remarks he commented during the movie and his loud chewing, your brain was begging to put it out of misery.

He dropped you off at your house and awkwardly waited for you to deliver a kiss upon his cheek as the night came to an end. Patting his shoulder, you thanked him for the night. Once you escaped to your warm, cozy bed, you blocked his number.

Never again.

As a result, your friends hunched over their respective seats, dying with laughter after you told them about your horrible date.

“It’s not funny!” You yell, gripping onto your fork too tight for anyone’s liking.

The laughter calmed down once everyone found a new topic to dicuss. A normal conversation arises and you soon lose yourself in your thoughts.

So what? Maybe Mark wasn’t your guy but you weren’t upset. There was someone out in this world for you and you just needed to be patient. But as the conversation slowly shifts back to romance, you feel dread creeping up in your soul. Staring at the couples entering and exiting your cafe made you more self-conscious. If everyone was able to find someone, how come your time hasn’t come yet? You weren’t getting any younger and you would be an adult soon.

“And I heard from Eunwoo that she bought a callboy! I don’t even want to repeat the things she did… It was so intimate.”

Ears perking up, their voices drew you into the conversation. What is a callboy? More importantly, they got intimate with someone like holding hands?

Quieter than the rest, you inquired, “What’s a callboy?”

All eyes were on you and heat rose to your face instantly. It was such a stupid question, but excuse you for being so naive! Not everyone has knowledge on everything in the world.

“Oh, well it’s a boy you rent to do... stuff with.”

“Like cuddle?” You asked innocently, excitement showing on your face.

“Yeah! Sure!” They smiled and one of them gave a weak thumbs up.

From that point, you were sold on the idea.

With a budding interest, you researched how to rent one of these perplexing ‘callboys.’ Tapping quickly on your phone, you clicked on the first link presented to you. Under the explicit pictures (probably due to ads and viruses), you touched the phone number and waited for someone to pick up. A minute had passed and you began to grow weary. Perhaps you had called the wrong number. As you were about to hit ‘end call,’ a voice emerges from the speakers.

“Hello, name?”

Almost dropping the phone in your hand, you spoke softly, “(Y/N).”

“What time would you like?”

It hadn’t occurred to you that he would be coming to your house! Your mind was in shambles as you thought about a time where you were in the dorms but none of your roommates would be home. All four of you would go out drinking on Friday’s but maybe you could make an excuse to stay home…

“Ah! Anytime tomorrow after eight at night.”

“Who would you like to escort you?”

Confusion was evident in your voice as you utter, “Escort is a strange word to use. I didn’t even know I had options.”

“So you’re a first time? Well, there’s Taeil, one of the more experienced workers. We’ve only heard good things from Kun as well. Jungwoo is also available around the same time.”

You placed yourself on mute and your tongue played with the names given to you. Taeil rolled off your tongue kindly and left a warm feeling in your stomach.

“May I have Taeil?” You requested, nervousness building up in your body. You couldn’t believe you were actually renting a boy to talk to and cuddle.

“Of course. Payment will be taken after the visit. Please do not hesitate to contact us if something goes wrong. Thank you for your business. We hope to see you again.” And with that, the line was clicked off and you were left in the darkness of your lonely room.

Plugging in your phone, you rolled over in bed and shoved your head in a fluffy pillow.

What have you done?

Finally, seven o’clock had come and you watched your roommates rush around the room looking for a setting spray or a comfortable pair of heels. Wrapped up in a big comforter, you helped one of the girls pick between two lipsticks.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to pick you up some food afterwards? What if you get hungry?” Hani questioned, putting her hair in a low ponytail.

Using your decent acting skills, you nodded without much interest, conflicting from your inner thoughts. You were beyond excited for tonight but you had to hide it from everyone.

“Yeah, I’m okay. If I get hungry, I’ll just eat a few crackers. I don’t have much of an appetite.” You breathed off, clearing your throat after for dramatic effect.

With enough pestering, Hani and the girls left the apartment in a rush. They would forget you were sick by the time they arrived at the club.

Knowing you would be having company over, you skipped over to the bathroom and started to apply natural makeup and changed into one of your more fancier pairs of pyjamas. Sitting on the couch, you waited restlessly. With hands growing sweaty, you wiped them desperately on your clothed thigh. What if he denied service to you since you were presumably so ugly? Or even worse, what if he knew one of your roommates and commented on one of the numerous photo frames?

Your thoughts halted as the ring of the doorbell filled the room. For a few seconds, your mind was completely stilled with every doubt. Rising to your feet, uneasiness set back in and you question your most recent actions. Regret pooled within your stomach. Maybe you should’ve just gone clubbing with your friends. It’s beyond embarrassing how lonely you are to needing a callboy.

Straightening out your shirt, you open the door and with your best smile, you begin the conversation with a simple, “Hello.”

A man with brown, tousled hair stood outside your door, adjusting his watch. Raising his head, he flashed a smirk with a gaze that was too sharp for your liking. It seemed like he was analyzing you already although the two of you haven’t even exchanged greetings yet.

“Are you going to invite me in or what?” He teased, biting his bottom lip right afterwards.

Blushing, you scooted away from the door to make room. He stepped inside your dorm and whistled. “We don’t get a lot of students. Are your roommates gone?”

Nodding your head furiously, “Yes. I made sure that they would be gone.”

Suddenly, Taeil’s gaze darkened and the entire mood of the room seemed to shift. He approached you and took one of his hands, grazing your cheek. Leaning close to your ear, he muttered, “Oh? So you came prepared?”

His hands started to drift to your shirt, rubbing the soft fabric between his hands. Indeed, the man was right when he said Taeil was experienced. He was flirting with you like no tomorrow and it clouded your judgement. A heated, muddled feeling encroached you. You had never been so intimate with a man, especially with someone as good-looking as Taeil. It was so innocent too until Taeil asked, “You look so good in his shirt, mind if I take it off?”

Immediately, his hands slid up your shirt, eliciting a squeak from your parted lips. They roamed over your stomach and back, having you shiver in delight. As his hands trailed nearer to your chest, you came back to reality. What the hell was happening? All you wanted was for someone to hold you, not this. Pushing him away, you tried hiding yourself and making yourself as small as possible. How does one disappear from such a precarious situation?

“What the hell?! I thought we were just supposed to do cuddly things!”

Bewilderment spread across Taeil’s face as he instantly retracted his hands to his side. “You called for a callboy.”

Rolling your eyes, “As a matter of fact, yes. I did call for a callboy! I know what I’m doing. Isn’t a callboy supposed to do boyfriend things with you?”

Annoyance became more evident in his voice, “Clearly not. A callboy is supposed to fulfill your sexual desires.”

Oh.

Sitting on the couch with a cup of tea in both of your hands made the situation all the more uncomfortable. Consequently, it’s hard to talk to someone as you just rejected their sexual advances.

“What do you like to watch?” You questioned, grabbing the remote and flipping through some channels. An icebreaker might destroy all the tension once previously held.

Taeil wasn’t expecting a sudden question and his head snapped up in a second. “W-Well, I like watching action films.”

For someone who was so confident just a few moments ago, he was a stuttering mess now. The duality of this man was absurd.

Clicking on Black Panther, your body soon sank into the velvety couch. This was a strange Friday night but you couldn’t say you hated it. Taeil has given you more action than all your years previously.

“So… Why did you call a callboy? I mean, if you’re not using me for sex or whatever.” Taeil inquired, avoiding your gaze. He seemed to be so focused on your boring, wooden flooring.

“Well,” you start, stretching out your limbs, “it’s a long story.”

Pausing for a reaction, he sat there with a curious look on his face. Moving closer to you and tilting his head back, he replied, “I got all night, baby.”

Damn, he really was experienced.

A blush dusted your face and continuing, “My friends always mock me about not having a boyfriend. It drives me insane and I tried going on a date with this guy but it just didn’t work out. They were talking about callboys and I guess they lied to me about the truth… I seriously just thought it was a service to cuddle and hold hands with someone. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m lonely.”

Taeil chuckled and tapped your arm. Puzzled, you lend him your attention and in response, he opens his arms to you. Tentatively, you climb over and settle yourself in his snug hold. He lets out a deep breath and plays with your hair, curling a strand once he reaches the end.

“Although I am a callboy, I’ll be your rent-a-boyfriend just for tonight.” He winks, stealing a quick kiss on your forehead.

Your heart was beating out of your chest from this unfamiliar interaction. It felt so hot in his arms, almost sinful. The devil would scoff at this proclamation of ‘lechery,’ and you soon start to believe you wouldn’t mind if it got a little bit more risqué. Now, that was something the devil could compliment.

Brushing up against your reddened ear, he whispered, “I can feel your heartbeat going a thousand miles per hour.”

You almost pushed him off the couch for such a statement.

Once calmed down and being cuddled again, Taeil opened up the conversation surprisingly.

“This is nice.”

Humming in response, you push yourself lightly into his chest. Fingers graze near his abdomen, barely applying any pressure.

“I agree. Do… You do stuff like this offen?”

Taeil shakes his head, ruffling your hair. “No. Usually it comes with the pillow-talk after post-sex but I’ve never had a client who just wanted to cuddle.”

You smack his chest instead of replying, earning a laugh a bit too sweet for your liking. Someone as gentle and affectionate doesn’t seem like one to take a job as a callboy. Of course, this probably makes him better at his job than others but it doesn’t suit him. Honestly, it’s rude that you’re judging his profession. For all you know, Taeil could be a real demon under the sheets but chooses to show you the sweet, sickly, intoxicating side of him.

“Can I ask you something that might be inappropriate?”

“I work as a callboy. There isn’t anything more inappropriate than that.”

“That’s exactly my question. Why? Why do you work as a callboy?” You escape his grasp and he whines, turning to face you better. He ponders the question, seeming to be tying up loose ends before he sends his answer into the world.

Nibbling on his bottom lip and smacking his lips, “I don’t know honestly. I was a good fuck in college so why not make a job out of it?”

Furrowing your eyebrows, “How come you haven’t left your job yet?”

Dumbfound, he shrugged his shoulders. A gleam of pain reflected against his eyes as he stared up to the ceiling. He didn’t make any further comment on that topic. Questions were burning inside you due to such an interesting man. Perhaps he was one of those sugar babies who fell in love with the luxurious lifestyle and couldn’t dare to leave.

He spoke up after a horrible attempt at hiding his discomfort, “I guess when you’ve done something for so long, there isn’t a different way to do it.”

Biting your tongue from saying something foolish once again, you set yourself between the arms of Taeil again. If you could make him forget whatever tragedies he has to face in his life just for tonight, you’ll do it. Both of you needed this time to just be held and told that the other was appreciated.

Around eight in the morning, he left. The two of you fell asleep on the couch and thankfully all your roomates crashed at someone’s house. As you were about to open up your paypal to transfer money to his account, he stopped you.

“No need for paying tonight. I enjoyed it.” He flashes you a bright smile and shoving his hands in his pocket.

“Yeah, me too.” You mutter, placing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. A rule for all workspaces, sexual or not, is to not become involved with a client. It was irritating how you couldn’t be friends with Taeil. You sincerely thought he was a wonderful person. All you could hope for now is for him to find someone that night who’ll treat him with love and respect.

He ruffles your hair fondly like he did previously. Seeing your miserable expression tore him apart and he pulled you into a hug. If he could, he would transfer all his adornment to you, just because of the night before. Never in all his years as working as a callboy had someone treat him with such regard. Leaning down to your ear, he whispered a ten digit code.

Before you could respond, he stole a kiss from your cheek and removed himself from your dorm. Slamming open the door, you yell, “Taeil!”

Loud, boisterous laughs fill the air and you sigh happily.

He was pulling all your heartstrings in the right ways.

That night with Taeil helped you realize a lot about your relationships with others. Most importantly, your friends were real jackasses. Secondly, whining over boys isn’t going to attract them to you. When you applied for the job at a local diner, you could say this was an attempt to eradicate both of your biggest problems. With unsystematic shifts, you barely had time to see your friends or cry over the lack of a relationship.

Taeil had steadily risen on your list of importance, consuming a majority of your time as well. If you weren’t working or studying, you were found texting him or going out with him. It was a different pace from your old routine and there was no need for wanting the old one back. Contentment filled you, especially with a weekly paycheck.

One night while cleaning tables from sticky soda spills, the familiar flop of tousled, brown hair caught your eye. Taeil was perched at a booth, tapping his fingers against the fake marble. Casually hustling over with a notepad and pen, you whispered in an excited voice, “Hi.”

His mouth formed a wide grin but as soon as the bell rang, notifying everyone that someone new had arrived, it disappeared. With every small noise, he seemed to jump and be on alert.

“I would love to talk to you dear, but I’m on a job right now.” The corners of his lips soon turned into a frown, seeing your crestfallen look. “After your shift and this job, I’ll visit you, okay?”

“It’s a deal. I’ll be expecting you.” Leaving with a wink, you go back to scrubbing dried soda. Washing tables wasn’t the worst job but it definitely wasn’t your preferred task. If you were taking orders and running the cashier, this night would be perfect.

Apparently the gods took pity on you as your manager yelled for you to switch jobs with Jaemin, a new trainee similar to you. Despite the numerous reminders that you’re in college, he tries to get you to accept his phone number. As you take off your gloves, he attempts to give you a kiss on the cheek which has you yelling from the breakroom.

The fun stopped as the bell rang and the tapping of the manager’s hurried steps has him cut his fun short. Putting on a different apron, you examine what tables haven’t been served yet. Seeing as it was only Taeil’s table, you approach him and the new body at his table.

The new, mysterious man has Taeil’s hand in his and he coos softly, “Yes baby. Anything for you.”

Trying to hide your distaste, you muster the fakest smile. “Hi. May I start both of you off with something to drink?”

The man instantly replies, “A water.”

Taeil hums, flipping over the menu and seemingly less interested in the hand that appears to be gripping onto his too tightly.

“I would like a sprite.” Taeil answers and a groan spouts in the air.

“Really? You’re going to get a sprite? You’ve been looking so bloated recently! No, he’s going to have a water.” The man rolls his eyes, grumbling about how Taeil’s demeanor makes him look like a fatass.

Taeil stares down at his lap, biting his tongue from saying something he’ll regret. You leave in a moment, dispensing a sprite and water from the machine. What the hell was up with that douchebag? Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you walk back over to the table, only dropping a straw for Taeil.

A few minutes later, you took their orders and nearly punched the man when you saw Taeil’s straw in his drink. You made sure to drop off another straw. Pathetic attempts to get back at this asshole won’t work, unfortunately.

The entire night, you observed the two. Subconsciously, you would squeeze your pen every time the man raised his voice at Taeil, screaming profanities about something or the other. Your heart begged you to go up to the manager and ask her to throw both of them out. However, what would happen to Taeil if the two got kicked out? You wouldn’t want to find out the hard way.

It was indeed a grim situation with losing being the only result.

Soon the two left and before Taeil left, you flashed him a wave.

He didn’t wave back.

Tonight would be fun with the amount of interrogation you would pit against Taeil.

“So what the hell was that at the diner?” You fumed, stirring the pot of tomato soup harshly, the contents hitting the sides, almost dripping into the burner. Taeil shrugged his shoulders, buttering the pan graciously. You huffed and turned off the left stovetop, grabbed a bar stool, and scowled at him.

“I don’t know. What do you mean?” He responds, flipping a slice of bread and your eyes drift to the very noticeable purple mark on the inside of his wrist.

“You looked so uncomfortable with that guy!” You whined, eyes narrowing at the boy in front of you. “Are you hiding secrets from me?”

Whipping around, “No! Never!”

“Then what’s the deal with that dude? And more importantly, your wrist!”

The room was stiff and if you could see Taeil’s face, he would most definitely be rolling his eyes. Although you had known Taeil for a short time, his expressions were never hidden. Was he red in the face or was his throat beginning to dry and his eyes begin to water? To enclose Taeil in a cosy embrace was all you wished for.

“Nothing. Now, eat up.”

Sitting in the midnight gleam and quietly munching on grilled sandwiches was definitely a new take on life. As much as your brain told you to stay away from Taeil, you kept giving into him. Taeil was a dangerous man, especially with the way he flirted with you so casually. It was like he wanted you to fall in love with him.

And as much as you try to deny it, you fell hard. His eyes and lips were hypnotizing with how they flicker and create sweet concoctions just for you and hopefully with meaning for only you. He appears so stunning even after a harsh day at work, making you fantasize over what could never be yours. In other words, you were whipped for Icarus.

In addition to being desperately in love with him, you had found yourself being torn apart as he stumbled into your apartment with too many bruises and cuts at an ungodly hour.

Although Taeil wasn’t the biggest man, he was leaning a lot of dead weight on to you due to being incredibly tired, physically and emotionally. With one heavy grunt and a meaningful shove, you forced him to sit on the brown loveseat. He smeared away the blood forming on his upper lip, giving you a melancholic twinkle. As you start to assess his wounds, he voices his thoughts.

“Sorry.”

Your quiet voice speaks up, so different from what you’re used to with Taeil, “For what?”

“Hiding things.”

You catch a glimpse at him rubbing at his watery eyes and try to ignore his insistent tapping on the fake wooden boards. Clear as day, Taeil had most likely never confided to someone about the abuse he suffers within his industry. Before you came along, had he just went home mishandled and barely alive? Did he tend his injuries before going to his next client?

Or would it not matter because each person was the same as the last?

“It’s okay.” Truthfully, you wanted to reject his apology. If you two were friends, he shouldn’t have to keep secrets from you. A deep thought irks you to the bone. What would happen if your positions were switched? How would you even mention to your dearest friend, ‘Oh yeah, by the way the men and women I sleep with exploit me every night.’

A choked cry bursts from Taeil’s esophagus, immediate your eyes were on him. “It’s not okay. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He slides from the loveseat and into your arms, knocking the bandages out of your hand and fills them with his body instead. His entire body shakes, chest heaving up and down abruptly as he attempts to calm himself down, only to make himself weep more.

With a puffy face and eyes red as rubies, he whisper-yells, “And you know what’s the worst part? I’m in love with you and I’m terrified you think that I’m revolting. Every time I’m with a client, all I can think about is you. You’re the one who gets me through the night but you’re also the one who makes me run away to terrible people in fear of not being loved back!”

Hugging him back, squeezing tightly, and sighing, “Taeil,” water pools at your eyes and you stuff your head into his shoulder, damping his jacket within one small patch. “I could never think of you as revolting. I’ve been so obsessed with you but you hadn’t even noticed.”

The whimpering dies down and Taeil pulls away, grabbing your hand in the process. “Really?”

A giggle erupts and you rub the wet streaks across Taeil’s face, hand still in his. “Yes, really.”

-----------------------

Taeil was like ice cream and you were like a warm, summer day. He seemed mischievous and cold on the outside, frightening those who had never come in contact with him before. Inside, he was sweet and irresistible. His touch was addicting, begging you for more and more. You were the summer that engulfed Taeil, melting away his fronts and revealing who he truly was. Summer, a short synonym for home. A time to relax and focus on yourself and your ambitions, something familiar and safe. You were Taeil’s summer, his home.

Lying there on the too small twin bed in the sticky heat in the middle of the night with Taeil made you realize there was nowhere you rather be than here next to his glistening body, watching him breathe softly after another day of work.

“Love,” you break the silence and Taeil shifts over, purring in response, “can we have pillow talk?”

Instantly, Taeil was up and had you against his chest, playing with the loose strands of hair from you moving around in bed so much. “What is it?”

“When will you leave your job?”

“Ah, my dear (y/n), if only I knew.” He blows into your ear, making you scrunch up your face in shock. He wasn’t getting out of this one, however.

“Taeil, you have a degree in Sports Medicine. I’m sure that someone out there is getting their ACL torn and needs you to help them probably take care of it.” You argue, tapping your fingers against his chest.

“I’m scared.”

He begins to melt, gripping onto you significantly firmer than before.

“I know but think about our future. It’s hard seeing you with others, especially when you tell me I’m all yours. What happens in the future if we have kids and they ask where their father is?” You confess, an astounding amount of thought put into each sentence. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t been so worried about him.

He stays silent for a moment before grabbing his phone on the table beside him. Curiously, you stretch your neck to see what he’s doing--or who he is dialing rather.

“It’s me,” he breathes into the phone, “I’m done. I quit. If you have any problems with it, you can contact my partner who is a lawyer.” His voice was dripping with threat before hanging up and cuddling into you.

“You’re right.”

You scoff playful, flicking his forehead. “I’m a lawyer. I’m always right.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” He laughs, pecking you on the lips with a stolen kiss. “Good pillow talk?”

“Very good pillow talk.”

#NCT #nct scenarios #nct imagine #nct headcanon #nct 127 #nct moon taeil #moon taeil #nct taeil #nct 2019 #writing #kpop scenarios #kpop imagine #kpop headcanons #taeil

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cemaine1990-blog · 5 years

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Sculpted In Klay:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/193052466-sculpted-in-klay?utm_source=web&utm_medium=email&utm_content=share_myworks

"Boo, Thompson sucks balls!" Camilla heard the jeer and the distinctively annoying raspy voice coming from the right side of the bar. She squinted through the dim lighting of the ironically named "W" sports bar to see the culprit: a blonde haired man and his two buddies, all sporting Clippers gear. Weird flex for a bar in the Bay Area, but she decided to let it go. She glanced back at the tv, the Warriors were trailing behind. Jeremy, the bartender, wordlessly replaced her empty tequila glass with a new one (extra ice, he knew her too well). She nodded a silent thanks, and they both turned back to the tv screen. It had been a long day, but then everyday for a pediatric surgeon was a long one. However, today was difficult on a whole other level than your typical tough surgery or overpacked schedule. One of her younger patients, Timmy, was doing worse, and she had to have "that" conversation with his parents. There were two conversations every doctor dreaded having. The first one was telling family members that a loved one passed away during surgery. The second one was preparing family members for the fact that their loved one was not getting any better, and that they had to start getting ready for the worst. That was the conversation she had with six-year-old Timmy's parents today. This conversation frequently—and understandably—included many tears, anger, frustration, yelling, followed by more tears and endless "Why?" and "Can't you do something?" questions. Camilla wasn't good at handling tears or feelings. In fact, she spent a majority of her time avoiding and running away from feelings by throwing herself fully into her work. This ensured that she was a kick ass surgeon, but it also left her little to no time for anything else, quite similarly to someone else that she knew.

The cameraman panned to a close up of his face, and she could tell from the way he rapidly squinted his eyes that he was quickly growing frustrated, and almost like a twin, she felt a similar frustration building in the pit of her own stomach. They've been like that since high-school, Klay and her, creepily in tune to each other's moods. When she broke her arm at the age of sixteen during a Big Bear skiing trip, he called her phone almost right away. When she didn't pick up he called her brother Dominick to find out what happened. Klay explained that he suddenly felt a sharp pain and knew something was wrong with her. Nowadays, when she was in surgery and had to miss one of his games (which she would usually watch at the "W" or her home) she would always know, even before checking the score, whether they won or lost. If she felt a warm glow-like sensation spread through her chest, it meant they won and he was happy and elated. If she felt sharp pangs in her stomach, she knew they had lost and he was upset and disappointed. Currently, the stomach pangs were getting stronger.

She took a large sip of the smooth tequila as Curry airballed a 15-footer, an unfortunate and ridiculously rare occurrence that made Golden Boy Steph seem like a mere mortal after all. Camilla sighed as the frustration in her stomach increased tenfold, suggesting that the other half of the Splash Brothers was on the verge of throwing a tantrum. Klay may have appeared like the most calm and down to earth guy on tv, but when it came to his passion he was incredibly competitive and not above showing his frustration. The tv showed Curry chewing on his mouthguard in sheer disappointment, when suddenly Camilla's iPhone screen lit up. A text message from Ayesha. It read, "Girl, this is bad. Really bad." It was accompanied by a crying face emoji. Camilla nodded at the words on the screen. Ayesha was right, this wasn't looking good. The blonde haired Clippers fan proceeded to get louder in his anti-Warriors chants, and Camilla had to talk herself out of going over there and throwing the tequila in his face. Instead, she took a deep breath. "Have faith, we got this," she texted Ayesha back. The Warriors had to go to the finals, there was no other option in Camilla's mind. And she didn't even want to envision the state Klay would be in if they lost.

She grabbed the pistachio bowl that sat at the edge of the bar and pulled it towards her. As she popped a few in her mouth, the first food she'd had in the last six hours, she noticed a handsome man entering the "W" and looking around, clearly searching for someone in particular. She ducked low, but her efforts to go unnoticed failed as he made a beeline for her.

"Cadell!" he called out, trying a bit too hard to sound like he didn't expect to see her. It was a lie, everyone knew this was her place. Not that she was trying to call dibs on it, but she was the one that actually made this place cool back when it was still known as a dump. Before she set foot here, all the medical staff at the hospital turned their noses at the sports dive bar down the street and would instead go to the fancy wine and cheese bar further down the road. She was the first one to come to the "W" and bring her co-workers in for an afterwork drink. And now it was the hot spot for doctors, nurses and anyone else looking to decompress after a stressful shift at work. But upon seeing Steven here, her own frustration increased as she realized that her afterwork sanctuary had now been invaded and compromised. No bar could ever be relaxing with Steven in it. Meanwhile, somewhere inside of the Oracle Arena, Klay had to be held back by his teammates from having the sudden and inexplicable urge to fight someone on the opposing team.

"Steven, didn't expect to see you here," she mumbled as he pulled out the stool next to her and sat far too close for comfort. His leg brushing against hers, his arm taking up her bar space.

"How's little man Tim doing?" he asked. She hated that he called him that.

"Not so good," she replied shortly and continued making progress on her tequila.

"Ah, sorry about that. Is that straight tequila you're drinking?" he asked, not sounding sorry at all.

"Yep."

"Hardcore, Cadell. Hardcore," he laughed, and ordered a long island ice tea. She found that a strange choice, but made no comment. After all, she didn't want to start off on the wrong foot with her new co-worker, but instinctually she knew that Steven was not somebody she could really be friends with. However, for the sake of a healthy work environment, she would give it her best shot.

Steven took a sip of his drink, which to Camilla's amusement Jeremy side eyed while serving, and blabbed on about his old work and how he loved this new job and about his ex girlfriend and on and on. Camilla had reciprocated with nods, where it was appropriate, and simple "ahh's" and "interesting's" where she felt she needed to insert them in order to be polite. But her head and heart was in the game. The Dubs had their backs against the wall, and it seemed to light a fire in them because they were slowly picking up their pace. Camilla popped a few more pistachios in her mouth when all of a sudden the pitch of Steve's voice shot up, meaning he had asked her a question. A question she completely did not hear.

"What's that?" she asked innocently, trying to mask the fact that she hadn't been listening to him for the past fifteen minutes.

"I was saying that you're really into this game, you like basketball?" he asked in a voice that suggested it was strange if she did in fact like basketball.

"I do, Steven. And you don't?"

"Tennis is more my thing, to be honest. But I can get us really good seats if you want, I know a guy," he replied proud of himself, once again putting Camilla at unease. Not only was he crossing professional boundaries now by practically asking her on a date, he was doing it in the most half-assed way imagined.

"You know a guy," she repeated, unimpressed. If only he knew the type of seats she could get them with one text or a phone call. But she decided not to hurt Steven's pride.

"Yeah, a lawyer friend of mine. If you're interested." But Camilla was no longer listening because Klay just nailed a game-tying triple. She smiled, the pangs in her stomach suddenly gone. She knew they were on a wave now, and nobody was going to stop them.

"Boo, hope that asshole breaks a leg!" the blonde man, now well on his way to a blackout state, yelled out aggressively. Camilla poured the reminder of her tequila down her throat, the burning sensation making her shudder for a moment. She pulled out a few bills and handed them to Jeremy saying "no change." Jeremy gave her an appreciative nod.

"I gotta run Steve-o," she said purposely using a name she knew he disliked, "I'll see you at work on Monday."

On her way out she "accidentally" bumped into the blonde man, who was holding a fresh pitcher of beer, causing him to spill it all over the front of his shirt. She smiled as he called her a bitch, and walked out to cheers from fellow Warriors fans. Nobody was going to wish injury upon Klay Thompson in her presence without going unchecked.

Her Lyft driver was waiting for her outside, and ironically had the radio tuned in to the game, so by the time he dropped her off at her loft, she knew the Warriors took the game.

"Evening Jerry," she nodded at the doorman, or the "concierge" as the building management insisted on calling him now. Jerry was in charge of visitor passes, package deliveries as well as hailing cabs for the residents of Camilla's building. Klay had always teased her about being a pediatric surgeon but living in a loft. But her place suited her lifestyle. It was in close proximity to the hospital, which allowed her to get there in less than fifteen minutes in case of an emergency. It was safe and secure, with Jerry on patrol. It was more than enough for her. It's not like she needed a huge house, when it was just her. No family. "Family", the word stung her soul, but she ignored it.

She opened the door and the nearly empty place greeted her. Klay had always made fun of how minimalistic she was, and how un-homey her places tended to be. He didn't realize she did certain things to protect herself. That she needed to keep this place cold and formal for very specific reasons. Her current place was a two story loft, and the base floor was pretty bare. Upon entering and walking through the hallway there was a neat and modern open kitchen to the right. It featured a large black marble island and black leather bar stools. She didn't have a big dining table, after all nobody really had proper dinners here and most of the food she ate consisted of Chinese takeout. Beyond the kitchen, the wooden floors led to a soft beige couch, a glass table and two beige chairs across from it, and further down were doors to a small balcony with an array of low maintenance plants (gifts from her mom who shared in Klay's sentiments about the place feeling un-homey, and who wanted to make the place appear like someone actually lived in it). The stairs across from the kitchen led upstairs into a spacious and bright bedroom featuring a super cozy king sized bed with a luxurious beige headboard and hotel like white bedding, two night stands on either side, and a huge bookcase featuring an endless array of medical textbooks. Next to the bedroom there was a large bathroom with a walk in shower as well as a separate large bath tub. Could she afford a bigger and cooler place? Of course. But this was her spot, this is who she was, and this is all she needed at the moment.

She pulled her hair into a ponytail, grabbed a vanilla bath bomb and started to run a bath. As the water filled up the bathtub, Camilla put on a face mask. It had been a long day and she was ready to relax and wash it all way. She walked over to her bookcase, and grabbed a crime thriller novel. After the tequila shots she had, she knew there was no way she could retain any new medical knowledge so she didn't even bother picking up any of her textbooks to read. No, a good Stephen King book would do it tonight. She immersed herself in the warm vanilla bath and started to read. But slowly her mind began to drift to him.

No matter how hard she tried, almost every night that she was home alone led up to this. She just couldn't put a stop to all the memories. After all, he was unforgettable.

The way he looked in his basketball uniform.

Her hand made its was underwater, and gently touched her freshly waxed womanhood.

The way his arms glistened with sweat.

Her fingers gently parted her labia and began to slowly circle the small button underneath.

The way he licked his lip in frustration.

She moaned as she remembered those same lips kissing all over her body, and that same tongue deep inside of her.

His fingers clutching the ball.

Her body writhed in pleasure remembering those same fingers being knuckle deep inside of her.

His voice as he answered post game questions.

The waves of orgasm washed over her as she remembered that voice groaning while cumming inside her.

The second she came, she regretted giving in to these fantasies once again. After all, she was the one who ended things (once again) and she needed to stick to her word this time. Their relationship had unfortunately been highly complicated for a variety of reasons, and fantasizing about their sex life was not going to make this any easier on her. And really, it was time to move on now. It had been months since they'd seen each other, and Klay was probably already dating a Hollywood starlet or an Instagram model. She had made her choice, and she needed to be firm in her decision. But a part of her couldn't help but give in from time to time and imagine a life and a world where they were able to be together, happy. She shook the thoughts away as she slipped out of the bath and washed off her face mask. She turned off the lights and fell asleep almost the second her body hit the sheets.

When she woke up the next morning, she remembered with fright that it was her birthday. She wasn't scared because she was getting older, no, she was scared because she forgot she had two days off which meant she would need to actually indulge the people in her life who had most likely planned something nice for her, like a surprise birthday party. What bothered her most was that she fully realized her attitude was completely ungrateful and bratty, and that many people could only dream of having such caring friends and family. Yet every year, she found herself aggressively dodging any and all birthday wishes. She glanced at her phone and sure enough there were already endless texts from family, friends and even some old patients who had her personal number. She sighed, guilty for feeling burdened by this outpouring of birthday love, and proceeded to send everyone a very grateful text of acknowledgment and thanks. If it was up to her birthdays would not be a thing. In fact, she decided she would look into what it took to become a Jehovah's Witness so that next year she would not have to endure this.

After she answered as many people as she could, she scrambled up some eggs and ate them with avocado toast. She did not do good on days off, it gave her too much free time to think. She thrived in her work environment where she was constantly busy and didn't have time to ponder things like her complicated relationship with a certain handsome Warriors shooting guard. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. She scrunched up her face trying to remember if she invited anyone over, but couldn't come up with an answer. However, the person behind the door was a delivery man, and he was holding a ridiculously large bouquet of red roses, which anyone who knew Camilla would know were far from her favorite.

"Are you sure these are for me?" she inquired as politely as possible.

"Are you Camilla Cadell?"

She nodded and accepted the bouquet, still confused. Once back inside she looked at the note card and it immediately explained her questions about the unfortunate flower choice: Steven. She wondered how the hell he even got her address and made a mental note to ask the hospital staff if anyone gave it to him on Monday. The flowers were not at fault and she felt bad so she put them in a vase and placed them on the kitchen island. She then quickly changed into her workout clothes, grabbed her mat and walked to a local studio for a morning yoga session. When she got back, her phone had a new array of endless messages and missed phone calls. "Great," she muttered to herself and proceeded to first make coffee. She could tackle the new messages with some caffeine in her system. She brewed her favorite kind of medium roast, added a splash of half and half and a dash of sweetener and began going through her phone. She listened to the voicemail from her brother first:

"Yo sis! Happy birthday, you're getting hella old. Like fine wine though. Listen, don't even try to say no to this. I've got a little get together planned, alright. I know you don't like that stuff but you're my only sister and you can't stop me from celebrating you. So...do whatever you want with your day, but meet me at Dover Lane at 7:00pm for come cocktails with friends, alright? Call me back when you get this."

She sighed. Dominick meant well, but the last thing she wanted to do with her night was cocktails with friends. Having to listen about everyone's lives and then endure personal questions about her own. It was tiring just thinking about it, when all she really wanted to do was lay on the couch and watch a movie, and maybe eat some ice cream. But he was her brother, and she wasn't going to deny him the joy of throwing her a birthday get together, so she texted him back to let him know she'd be there. Dover Lane was a fancy restaurant with a booming bar and sick private rooms. At least she knew she would eat some decent food for her birthday.

A quick glance at her closet revealed that she didn't have much to wear for the night as she had recently went on a closet purge and donated most of her things to a women's shelter. She glanced at the clock, there was still plenty of time to go shopping. Even though Camilla was frugal 90% of the time, she didn't mind splurging on things on occasion. Money was made to be spent, after all. Of course a lot of her money went to helping her family, donating, and causes dear to her heart, but at times she didn't mind to make a dent in her bank account for something a little extra.

And now that she was standing in the middle of Barneys on her birthday, she knew it was time to get a little crazy. First, she needed a nice dress. And shockingly, it didn't take long to find one. She knew it was "the one" right away. A sexy, simple and sophisticated black Bottega Veneta made in Italy. Plunging V-neck and sleeveless. When the saleslady saw her try it on she gulped for air, which is how Camilla knew this was the right choice. Price tag: $2,220. Next were shoes. Camilla spent most of her life in comfortable hospital shoes, but today she decided to spice things up and a brand new pair of nude patent leather Christian Louboutin pumps would do it. All for the lovely price of $695. Even though she made great money as a surgeon, she still had a tiny pang of guilt for spending all this money on herself, but she quickly forgot all about it as she moved to the jewelry section. She splurged on a pair of gold earrings and a diamond necklace, and begged the salesperson to not even tell her the total but just go ahead and charge her. As she was fishing around in her wallet, a credit card fell out onto the floor. Not just any credit card. It was Klay's American Express, more commonly known as the Black Card, one of the most expensive and prestigious credit cards. Camilla was caught off guard, she completely forgot she had it. Klay, who was also frugal with his money, yet highly generous when it came to those he loved, had given her the card one day as she was going shopping and told her to "have fun." When she told him she didn't need him paying for things, he made an annoyed Klay face and told her it made him feel good to splurge on her. So she took the card with her, and apparently never returned it. She was sure he cancelled it by now and had a new one mailed, but she decided to FedEx it over to him right after leaving Barneys, just in case. She picked the same-day service, and then went home to get ready for her dinner.

After she showered, shaved and moisturized, she began tackling her makeup. An hour later, her face was properly caked up and ready to party. She then quickly curled her blonde tresses into loose waves and squeezed into her sexy nighttime outfit. Nobody would point to her and believe she was a surgeon. Tonight, she resembled an Instagram model. She laughed as she looked at herself in the mirror, it wasn't often that she had the chance to wear an outfit like this. But sometimes a girl had to feel sexy, and if not on her birthday then when?

After she grabbed a Dior purse to go with her outfit, she ordered a Lyft and made her way downstairs. She had to hold back a giggle when she saw Jerry do a double take.

"Have a great evening Miss Cadell," he called out.

"You too Jerry," she replied. No matter how many times she asked him to call her Camilla, he still used Miss Cadell, so eventually she just gave up.

The scene at Dover Lane was predictable. Girls squeezed into sexy little numbers, rich gentlemen looking to get lucky for the night, and a slew of waitstaff waiting for their shift to be over. Dominick had gotten them a private room, and as the hostess brought her inside a gaggle of her friends and family screamed "surprise!" and shot confetti straight in her face. Camilla felt tired already, and she hadn't even begun socializing. But she put on a good face, and began making the rounds with her friends. She thanked people, she caught up with girlfriends who talked about their babies and husbands, she caught up with guy friends who all wanted to know why she was still single, she thanked her family for surprising her and caught them up on her work and life (which was her work). Her mother asked her when she would be getting a grandchild, to which Camilla directed her to ask Dominick. This question infuriated her, for reasons she didn't want to share with her family, and certainly not on her birthday.

The private room was a great experience. The food kept on coming, the drinks kept on flowing and the party seemed to be never ending. But sometime around midnight, Dominick's girlfriend began puking her guts out, and slowly but surely people began realizing it was time to call it a night. Camilla said goodbye to everyone, and accompanied Dom and his lady home to ensure that they would be okay. After making sure the girl didn't have alcohol poisoning, and putting Dom to bed, she was free at last. She was finally going to go home, get into some comfy pj's and shamelessly watch a few episodes of Law and Order SVU.

When she walked into her building the downstairs desk was empty, which was unusual. But she chalked it up to Jerry using the restroom. She took the elevator to her floor, and got out to find an unlikely scene at her door. Jerry wan wrangling with a very annoyed looking Klay Thompson. She stood there speechless was a moment until Jerry noticed her.

"Miss Cadell, this gentleman has been insistent on seeing you and will not leave. Do you want me to call the police?" he asked eagerly, as if he couldn't wait to have Klay arrested.

"No, no, it's fine Jerry," she quickly responded trying to diffuse the situation.

"You know me, Jerry!" an exasperated Klay exclaimed.

"I knew you when Miss Cadell was seeing you. I no longer know you, sir, and unless she says otherwise, you no longer have access to her floor." Jerry was a tough one. Because Camilla didn't exactly explain the reasons for her and Klay's breakup, he naturally took her side and assumed that like many of the other NBA players Klay had cheated on her with a groupie, and that's why they split up. Camilla didn't bother to correct him. It felt nice to have someone so squarely on her side.

Klay looked like he was about to start arguing or throwing punches, so Camilla hurried to open her door.

"It's okay, thank you Jerry, we're fine for now," she gently instructed and Jerry begrudgingly made his way toward the elevator with Klay mad dogging him all the way.

"Come on in, before he actually calls the police," she whispered. Klay followed her inside.

"What...are you doing here?" she asked, setting down all her birthday gift bags by the entrance and flipping on the light switch. The light illuminated Klay's handsome but tired face. Poor guy needed some time off she thought.

"This," he said, waving a FedEx envelope in front of her face.

"It's your card," she said, not understanding why he needed to come all this way to discuss an old credit card.

"I know, but you didn't have to send it back to me on your birthday. It still works, you can use it you know? Get yourself a birthday gift or something," he said and she realized he was slightly intoxicated.

"I don't need to use your card, Klay. Thank you," she replied gently. She felt so many emotions rushing through her upon seeing him again. First she remembered how crazy tall he was. Then she remembered how nice his cologne smelled. And lastly she couldn't stop thinking about how handsome his face was in person. It felt so good to see him again, but she knew him being here was bad news.

"It's your birthday," he stated. "I...I couldn't not say happy birthday. I couldn't not see you, CC," he said using his old nickname for her. It made her heart flutter. He inched closer to her face and she felt her breath stop. Suddenly, his eyes darted to something on the side of her.

"What the hell are those?" he asked, looking at the bouquet of red roses and marching towards the kitchen island to inspect them. Before she had a chance to make something up he exclaimed, "Steve! Who the hell is Steven?"

"Just a co-worker," she hastily replied.

"A co-worker? Sending you red roses? You don't even like roses, or did that change too?" he asked with a passive aggressive tone.

"No, I don't care for them."

"Steven, wow. You said you weren't leaving me for another guy. You said you weren't even looking for another relationship," he stated and squinted his eyes in that way that let Camilla know he was not happy. "Do you wish Steven was here instead of me?" and for a second he sounded like an unsure teenage boy.

"Of course not. I'm...I'm really happy to see you. And trust me, Steven is nobody to me," she replied, trying to reassure him. He didn't look reassured, but he didn't comment on it any further.

"You look...amazing by the way," he said and suddenly she felt self conscious in her tight outfit. "I brought you a gift. Sort of. I know you don't want it, but I don't want it either and I don't want to take it back. So take it, sell it, give it to a friend, donate it, do whatever you want with it. I just can't hold onto it," he said pulling out a little ring box. She felt her face flush at the sight of it and remembered the night he had first shown it to her, got down on one knee and asked her to marry him. That night still replayed in her mind often, and saying "no" to his proposal was the hardest choice she'd ever had to make. And now the ring was back, staring her in the face.

"Klay..." she started.

"Just take it," he said and the tone of his voice left no room for argument. She accepted it, knowing very well that inside was the most gorgeous cushion cut engagement ring she'd ever laid eyes on. It was heartbreaking to think about, because she wanted nothing more than to say yes and be happy with him forever. But it couldn't be so simple, of course not, nothing in her life ever was.

"I hated not spending your birthday with you, and not knowing where you were, and what you were doing, and who you were with," he confessed.

"Klay, you have a game coming up, you have to focus," she said, trying to change the subject because the sight of him was becoming altogether far too distracting.

"I can focus on the game but I need to get you off my mind first," he replied as he closed the space between them. She was too breathless to even try to stop what she knew was about to happen. "I need you," he whispered looking deep into her eyes, and then he pressed his lips to hers.

Their lips met like two forces of nature: strong and wild. She didn't even realize how much she had missed him and his smart mouth. But now she remembered, as his tongue exploring her mouth was the most welcome sensation. His hands traveled further down her back to cup her behind.

"Mmm," he moaned into her mouth and she felt herself getting wet for him. This was bad, this was really bad, but at the speed it was going she had no way to stop it. If she pulled the emergency brake now, they would crash and burn. She had to ride this one out.

Their kiss got more and more hungry and desperate, and his hands began traveling all over her body now, in erratic urgency. She felt an electric shock pulse through her when his finger brushed past her nipple. Klay was the only man who could do this to her, make her completely lose control of herself.

"Oh God baby," she mumbled as the sensations continued to build, and the look in his eyes had her weak. She was completely at his disposal, and would do anything for him in this moment. He picked her up so that her legs were wrapped around his waist, and carried her upstairs into the bedroom. Once he laid her on the bed, with once swift movement he removed his shirt. She loved the way he was built, not skinny but not outrageously muscular either. Just the perfect medium.

"Time to get you out of this sexy little number," he mused, looking down at her little black dress. But first he grabbed her expensive heels and pulled them off her feet, one by one. He then reached around her back and pulled down the zipper of her dress, meanwhile she inhaled his delicious scent. It was a Dior cologne she had bought him a while back, mixed with his own natural scent: a heavenly combination. He pulled off the dress, leaving her in a sexy matching set of black lace underwear.

"This is a sight I could look at forever," he said, then slowly positioned himself on top of her as they began another vigorous kissing session. His tall frame and all two hundred and fifteen pounds of him felt deliciously burdensome on top of her, and she felt herself getting more and more excited with each of his grinds. She also felt his hard manhood press into her underwear. She missed that part of him more than she wanted to admit. Just when she thought she was about to explode from all the overwhelming sensations, she felt his hand make its way inside her panties. She let out a loud moan as his fingers brushed against her sensitive clit, then slowly moved down to her very wet opening. He slid in two fingers with absolute ease, and she was almost embarrassed at how ready she was for him.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groaned into her ear.

"I need you inside me baby," she begged, the sensation of his fingers driving her crazy. She needed to feel him, all of him, in her. He quickly slipped out of his underwear and pulled off her panties, then pushed his deliciously large yet proportionate cock deep inside of her in one smooth movement. They both groaned in complete ecstasy at the feeling of their bodies reuniting once again in this most intimate way.

He began slowly thrusting in and out of her, and as they looked into each others eyes she knew that she wasn't going to last very long, and by the look in his eyes he wasn't going to either. It had been too long, and the build up to this was too great. As his cock pressed into her once again she felt herself getting incredibly close to her climax.

"Cum for me baby," he begged her and she could feel by his cock growing slightly larger inside of her that he was on the verge of letting go. The thought of his hot cum inside her pushed her over the edge, and she began orgasming in strong pulsating waves, gripping his hard cock and pulling it even further into her. Her orgasm was his last straw, and as he let out a loud groan she felt his cum inside her. He remained on top of her and insider her, letting their breathing slow down. She rubbed his back gently.

"God I missed this," he confessed, slowly rolling off of her and onto his side. She smiled. She missed this and him more than she could ever articulate into words. But with a sad realization, she knew this would have to come to an end eventually. Yet she decided to give them one more night to relive the old times.

"Did you watch the game today?" he asked, switching subjects.

"You know I did." He smiled.

"I always do better when I know you're watching," he confessed.

"Really?" she asked, taken aback and flattered.

"Yeah, I guess I probably secretly try to impress you," he said and she admired his sudden vulnerability, since it was rare for him to open up about his feelings like this.

"I'm always impressed by you. I have been since high school. You know that," she stated plainly. It was true, she always found Klay's athletic ability and drive to succeed impressive. But what she found most impressive was his big heart, the way he loved his family, the way he cared about his teammates. He was a good man, an honorable man, despite the fact that the media would sometimes try to paint him otherwise.

"Yeah, I know mami," he replied and rolled onto his back, deep in thought. Now it was her turn to move onto her side as she nuzzled close to him. What was the harm in cuddling for one night? It was her birthday, after all. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her forehead, but she could tell from the expression on his face he was thinking about something. She wouldn't ask, didn't want to start up the subject again and cause an argument. She just wanted to enjoy this last rendezvous for what it was. And it was right when she was on the verge of that precipice, the state between awake and asleep, when she heard him whisper "I love you" into her hair, and she realized that they had just made things a lot more difficult for themselves.

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