#celebrating a birthday instead of America | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spatialwave · 24 days

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"𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓯𝓪𝓲𝓻"

pairing: pre-war cooper howard x fem!reader word count: 3k summary: you hadn’t expected to see a celebrity at your nephews birthday party, let alone america’s most recognizable cowboy star. luck seemed to be on your side when cooper howard’s attention landed right on you. warnings: mdni! smut, age difference, cooper eats you out!

you and your older sister had a sour relationship, you hadn’t quite agreed with her husband’s fixation with capitalizing on a nuclear fallout. he worked at vault-tech, some entry-level position with a promise of greater things. after a few dinners of listening to him ramble about the vaults and trying to convince you to buy your place in one, you decided to distance yourself.

but your six-year old nephew had stolen your heart since he was a newborn. you would do anything for him, even if it meant sucking up your pride and going to visit your sister for his birthday.

knowing that he was a little aspiring cowboy, you showed up dressed to impress—meaning denim jeans, cowboy boots, a button down blouse and cowboy hat. you had expected enthusiasm from the other adults, but you were greeted with them all in their sunday’s best.

this was going to be a long saturday afternoon.

you were sitting inside your sister’s house, having kept yourself away from the partygoers as you picked at the hot dog on your paper plate. a birthday delicacy.

just as you were about to call it a day and make haste for the door, you heard the sound of kids yelling excitedly outside where the party had migrated. you hadn’t been told that there was entertainment and curiosity bubbled inside you. a little peak would hurt.

just as you reached the backyard, standing up on the white-painted porch, your eyes landed on the man sitting atop a horse with a lasso spinning effortlessly around his body. of course your sister managed to hire an actual cowboy.

with a smirk on your lips, you watched with a tiny smile—eyes growing wide when you recognized the face hidden behind the hat.

that was fucking cooper howard.

you felt your heart skip a beat as you stepped toward the staircase, looking over the sea of parents and children as the movie star put on a beautiful display of his talents. you had heard the news stories from women gossiping in your workplace, how cooper howard was going through a tough divorce with his wife… who worked for vault-tech.

it then made sense how your brother-in-law scored this gig.

speculating wasn’t going to do you any good, and you likely weren’t going to get any answers, so you pushed thoughts of cooper’s personal life out of your head and instead admired him. who cared why he was there? you were happy to be within the same vicinity as the handsome man. he was just as beautiful in-person as he was on the television screen, big pearly whites shining as he smiled.

then, his brown eyes met yours, even over the crowd of people that he could let his gaze linger on. you felt your body shiver as you both shared a long stare, feeling vulnerable under his eyes and missing it when he instead looked down at a young boy that was cheering for him.

with red cheeks and a giddy smile on your lips, you kept watching, unable to look away. even after he’d gotten off the horse and helped a few children sit atop and take them for a short little walk around the backyard.

cooper was good with the children, you found yourself unable to look away and making little mental notes of what kind of man he was. so far, he was kind, gentle and humble.

before you could indulge any further, your sister sprung up in your line of sight and left you huffy.

“would you be a darling and go into bruce’s car to get donny’s present?” she asked so sweetly, “he wanted to keep it as hidden as possible.”

“i was enjoying the show,” you grumbled, watching as cooper had started to wrap up after taking a few photos with your nephew and a handful of the other kids.

“oh, hush. here.” your sister shoved the vehicle keys into your hand, “just leave the present inside, we’ll be there in a few minutes once the entertainment is gone.”

you hadn’t even gotten the energy to call your sister out for labelling cooper as just ‘entertainment’. you just let out a sigh and followed her orders, grabbing the present out from the convertible and placing it neatly on the large stack of presents on the kitchen island.

your small gift bag was starting to look shameful compared to some of the large, wrapped boxes.

“christ,” you muttered to yourself as you let out a defeated breath.

you made way for the front door, digging in the pockets of your jeans and retrieving a cigarette as you stepped foot onto the front porch. just as you lit it and moved down the short stairs, you glanced ahead and were greeted by none other than cooper howard walking across the large driveway.

“miss,” he smiled at you out of courtesy, giving a nod of acknowledgement as he continued to lead his horse past you and toward the trailer hooked up behind his vehicle.

“hello,” you murmured, exhaling smoke from your lungs as you watched him with wide eyes—starstruck. after a few moments of watching him you mustered up the courage to follow behind him, though doing your best not to disturb the horse and get a prompt kick in the head, “mr. howard?”

the older man looked over his shoulder, hands busy guiding his horse as he stopped just outside the trailer.

“hm?” he hummed, turning slowly to face you, that charismatic smile on his lips, “please, just call me cooper,” his voice drawled with a thick southern accent, “what can i do for a pretty cowgirl, such as yourself?”

you felt your cheeks warm up at his words, wondering if he was flirting or just being overly kind. you hadn’t met a ton of celebrities in your day, so you hadn’t the slightest clue.

“oh, i’m not a cowgirl,” you laughed softly, looking down at your outfit and then back up to cooper, “it’s my nephew’s birthday and i suppose i took the dress nice requirement the wrong way.” you managed to make cooper chuckle, a grin forming along his lips as he tied off his horse to the trailer and able to give you much of his attention.

“well, if i got to choose, you’re definitely the best dressed today. you had me convinced that you’d be coming for my job,” he poked fun at you.

cooper howard had always been a faithful man, but barb’s betrayal was something he’d never be able to forgive. he was also a man with needs, so when a young woman approached him with a naive look in her eyes, he couldn’t help but pounce at the opportunity for some flirting. it helped with his ego, at least, having slowly deflated after needing to take on these entertainment gigs just to pay alimony to his ex-wife.

it wasn’t fair that she’d manage to take most of his assets, the money, the home—full custody of janey with very little visitation. it was brutal, but he was making it work. he’d be having the weekend with his daughter soon enough.

he could be content with you right now, in fact, he desperately needed the distraction.

“if it makes you feel better i can’t even ride a horse,” you said through a giggle, “i won’t be coming for your job anytime soon.”

a breathy laugh came from cooper as he settled a hand on his hip, “that’s reassuring,” he smiled with thinned lips, “you’d certainly take away attention from me.”

there it was again, was he flirting with you? was cooper howard actually flirting with you?

“i don’t know about that,” you spoke quietly, flicking off the build up of ash on the cigarette you hadn’t been smoking, “sorry, i’ll let you get all packed up. i’m sure you’re a busy man. i just wanted to let you know that i’m a big fan of your movies,” you tried so hard to keep a calm and cool composure, “you’re, uh… a great actor.”

“why, that’s very kind of you, miss,” cooper kept a smile on his lips as he looked over you, brushing his hands off on his brown corduroy pants and clearing his throat, “would you happen to have an extra cigarette i may be able to take off your hands? i seem to have left mine at home.”

you nodded, reaching for the pack in your pocket so you could pull one out and pass it to the older man, a smile breaking on your lips when his fingers brushed against yours.

“thank you,” he said smoothly, eyes flickering to follow your hands as you pulled out a lighter for him. he leaned forward with the cigarette between his lips, meeting your gaze as the flame lit it nicely and smoke bellowed from his lips, “you are a lifesaver, darlin’, i’m usually more prepared than this.”

“it’s no worries at all, my pleasure. really.” you took a step back from him, cheeks burning hot as you shoved the lighter back into your pocket and butted out the cigarette you had completely neglected.

“how about i treat you for a drink sometime,” he spoke, tilting his head curiously, “it’s only fair, don’t you think?”

cooper was more than satisfied to see the way you had looked so surprised, your eyes widening and lips curving into a small smile. somewhere deep inside, he knew this was wrong. you were a young thing, not much older than a university graduate, if that. cooper? well, he was at least twenty years your senior.

then, he remembered, it’s not like he had anyone but himself to please. his ex-wife had managed to get his reputation buried so deep that he couldn’t book anymore gigs, hell, not even a lousy commercial. his agent would be letting him go soon, too, he knew it.

there was nothing to lose here.

“a drink?” you questioned, “like a date?”

you were so damn endearing.

honestly, you were convinced that something had happened at your nephew’s birthday. maybe you had walked too close to the horse, and it did end up giving you a swift kick to the head. everything happening was just your wildest dreams as you lay in a hospital in the deepest of comas. it was easier to than believing you were actually sitting with cooper howard in a darkened bar, a place much too expensive for you, but you supposed these were the perks of being famous.

you sat in a velvet covered seat right at the long bar, one leg crossed over the other in an attempt to make yourself feel like you were fancy enough to belong here. you were just thankful that you had a friend who was a seamstress, able to turn a long, frumpy black dress into something that hugged your curves.

it wasn’t every day a movie star asked you out.

“what do you do for work?” cooper leaned his elbow against the bar top, a cigarette in his left hand and glass of whiskey in the other, “other than being a professional cowgirl, of course.”

“i’m just finishing up the last bit of my schooling,” you replied, pulling the martini glass from your lips where a layer of red lipstick marked the glass—your second drink, “going to be a nurse.”

“now, that’s a very commendable line of work,” cooper straightened up, setting down his now empty glass full of half-melted ice, “i’m certain you’ll get a lot of joy out of savin’ peoples lives.”

“i hope so,” you smiled, quite proud of your career choices, “i mean, it’s no movie star, though.”

cooper let out a low laugh, dropping his gaze for a moment as he put out his cigarette in an ashtray, “let me just tell you that being a movie star isn’t all it’s made out to be,” he spoke through a breathy chuckle.

you furrowed your brows slightly, chewing on your bottom lips as you watched him. well, at least he was a modest man. “why aren’t you in movies anymore?” you bit the bullet with your question, “i haven’t seen you in anything new since you started doing the ads for vault-tech.”

a heavy breath escaped cooper’s nostrils as he met your eyes, his smile gone, “you see, that’s a can of worms we oughta’ keep shut, if you don’t mind.”

“i’m sorry,” you were filled with immense regret, seeing the discomfort on coopers face, “i’ve been told i’m too nosy for my own good.”

“no, don’t apologize, darlin’. how were you supposed to know without asking?” cooper reassured you, reaching forward to place his hand on your bare knee, peaking out from the provocative slit that went up the length of your dress, “maybe someday i’ll share.”

you felt your heart skip a beat when his calloused hand rested over the smooth skin of your leg, sending shivers up your spine and making you wonder just where this night would lead. a sheepish laugh escaped your lips as you toyed with the toothpick in your martini, punctured through an olive, “someday? i wasn’t expecting a second date.”

“you weren’t?” cooper grinned, god, you loved his smile, “i thought this was goin’ well.”

“maybe if i have a third drink in me i’ll be more inclined to go on that second date with you,” you teased, thankful for the courage the drinks were giving you.

“why don’t i make you that third at my place? i can mix you up a better martini than here,” he squeezed your knee, his thumb brushing along your skin and all you could do was nod.

the third drink never came, but that was okay. with your lips parted and hands in cooper’s hair, you could care less about a dirty martini when his face was buried between your thighs and your dress pushed up to your hips. you’d always been a lucky girl, but nothing would ever top this.

“oh,” you whimpered, fingers tightening in his hair as his tongue lapped against your folds, the tip flicking against your swollen, sensitive clit, “just like that,” you cooed, your head falling back against the cushion as you closed your eyes and focused on nothing except the pleasure flowing through you.

cooper had long forgotten the worries that tried to rot his mind because for once in months he felt something, a warmth in his stomach—hope. even as war loomed overhead and life seemed dire, you had walked into his life. someone fun, a pretty girl who could keep his troubles away for a night.

his hands gripped at your outer thighs, fingers digging into your skin as he ate you out with the expertise he’d gained throughout the years. quickly learning what made you moan and squirm under his touch.

“fuck,” you cried out, whimpering as your thighs pressed against the sides of his head as you neared climax, “i’m going to cum.”

“no one’s stopping you, angel,” he breathed warmly against your cunt, one hand pulling from your thigh so he could press a digit inside you and coax out sweet sounds from your lips. he pulled back as a second finger joined in, his mouth and chin glistening from your juices, “show me those pretty eyes of yours.”

you were quick to listen, using your strength to lift your head up and look down at cooper. he looked glorious with tousled hair and pink cheeks, fingers fucking you with a practiced touch.

you locked your eyes on him as you breathed heavily through pouted lips. “cooper,” you whined loudly when his thumb made quick circles over your clit and bringing you closer to the edge, fingers tugging on his hair as your back arched and the coil inside your stomach released.

your voice cracked as you said his name, a cry of pleasure coming deep from your throat as you came. you pulsed and contracted around his fingers, hips vibrating as he didn’t let up, not in the slightest. he wanted to see how your face twisted with pleasure when you became overstimulated, grinning as you grabbed at his hands in an attempt to slow his movements.

he listened, his fingers coming to a stop and soon pulling out from you as his lips pressed chaste kisses to your inner thighs while you fell back into the sofa and let out a shaky sigh.

“i have to be dreaming,” you breathed out, hardly able to keep your eyes open as you felt cooper shift so he could sit up and crawl over your body.

“too good to be true?” cooper questioned with a teasing tone, holding himself above you as you pressed your hands to his cheeks.

“very much so,” you smiled, your breath evening out, “cooper, i think you should rest back and let me do some work now,” you hummed as you pressed a hand to his chest and began to push him until he was resting against the arm of the sofa.

cooper showed a toothy, lopsided grin as he watched with intrigue glimmering in his eyes, happily looking you up and down as you moved from your spot on the couch until you were kneeling on the carpeted floor in front of him, “you really don’t need to,” he said, though, he was only being polite. he wouldn’t say no to this.

“aw, come on, cooper,” you whispered, your hands on his clothed thighs, slowly moving up until they could tackle his belt buckle, “it’s only fair.”

“shit,” cooper hissed, eyes fluttering shut as he felt your hands free his erection from the confines of his suit pants.

he certainly hoped for a second date.

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard fic #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul fic #fallout fic #fallout tv #wordsbyspatial

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taey0ngsvape · 1 year

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txt - saying goodbye before they go on tour

yes, i know tour is basically over but i got this idea and i HAD to write it for txt. it's 3.1k words for all five members (i got carried away). pls enjoy :)

yeonjun:

Your phone ringing is what wakes you up and you squint at the screen in front of you noticing it’s nearly four in the morning, but the contact name reads junnie so you pick up immediately.

“Jun?” you ask groggily. He was supposed to be leaving for the airport soon for his flight to America as part of their world tour. You had said goodbye to him last night over dinner so his call is unexpected.

“I’m outside,” he says. “It’s kinda cold, can you come let me in?”

“What?” you ask, shivering as you climb out of bed. “Why are you here? Don’t you have to be at the airport soon?”

“I wanted to see you,” Yeonjun answers. “And it’s really fucking cold can you please hurry up.”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe I should go back to bed.”

“No baby please!”

You laugh. “I’ll be right there, okay? Be patient.”

“Patient? I’m about to freeze to—” his voice cuts off as you hang up the call and drop your phone on the couch as you pass by, grabbing the blanket draped over the back and wrapping it around yourself before opening the door.

Yeonjun is standing there with his arms crossed and tucked into his sides as he tries to keep himself warm, but the way he shivers shows that he’s been unsuccessful. His eyes light up when he sees you and you can’t help but smile and open the door wider to let him in.

“Come inside baby,” you say, closing the door behind him. “I thought your flight was today?” you ask but instead of responding Yeonjun pulls you into a hug. His embrace is warm and inviting even though he’s been standing in the cold. You can hear his steady heartbeat when you press your ear to his chest. You always listen to his heart every time he hugs you and, like always, he mumbles into your hair, “My heart beats for you.”

His hands move to your back and slip under your shirt, his fingers ice cold and startling enough the you push him away from you.

“Choi Yeonjun!” you scold, a shiver running down your spine after the chill of his fingertips.

“You’re warm!” he defends and you just sigh.

“I am not your personal heater,” you deadpan.

“Please?” he asks, pouting in a way he knows you can never resist.

“I’ll hold your hands for now, okay?” you compromise and that seems to please him.

You wrap your hands around his, taking one hand at a time in between your two slightly warmer ones.

“I can’t stay long,” Yeonjun says quietly. “We have to get to the airport, but I just wanted to see you. I had to see you.”

You look up at him and squeeze his hand. “I love you, you know that?” you ask. Yeonjun smiles.

“I love you too sweetheart.”

soobin:

It was two in the morning, but you were busy making waffles for you and your boyfriend. He had to leave for the airport in an hour before setting off on a six week tour in the US so you wanted to spend the last bit of time until his departure with him.

You take another cooked waffle out of the waffle maker and onto a plate. Soobin takes the responsibility of decorating both of your waffles and on yours he even makes a heart out of whipped cream. You both sit at your kitchen table to eat together.

“You better have someone on staff livestream the concert for me on my birthday. I want to be able to see you, even if it’s just through a screen.”

Soobin reaches across the table to take your hand. “I will. And I’m sorry I can’t be here to celebrate your birthday with you.”

“We can always celebrate it another time. Besides, you’ll be back in time for our anniversary and that’s what I really care about.”

Soobin smiles. “I already have ideas.”

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” you tease and Soobin pouts, letting go of your hand and crossing his arms. “I was kidding,” you laugh.

“Well I was going to give you an early birthday gift but now I might just make you wait until after tour—”

You gasp. “No, I'm sorry!” You give him your best puppy dog eyes and he playfully rolls his eyes and grins.

“Fine,” he says. “Let me go get it.”

He returns with a box and gently slides it across the table. “Happy birthday,” he says and you smile.

Slowly, you lift the lid off the box and reveal two silver charm bracelets. There’s only one charm on each one and the prospect of collecting charms is fun and exciting. You can’t keep the smile off your face.

“One for me and one for you,” Soobin says, moving his chair so he’s sitting next to you. He picks up both bracelets and brings the two charms together. “They connect with a magnet.” The two charms stick together and form a beautiful butterfly. “I didn’t want to get a heart, I thought that might be too cheesy.”

You laugh. “I wouldn’t have minded. But this is perfect. Seriously, thank you.” You lean over and wrap your arms around Soobin’s waist and he instantly pulls you closer.

“I’m really going to miss you,” Soobin admits softly. “But I know we’re always connected.”

“I’ll miss you too. But I’ll be right here when you come back, patiently waiting for those not-at-all-suspicious anniversary celebrations.”

Soobin laughs and you can feel the vibration in his chest. You’re going to miss getting to feel him so close to you, but this is his dream and you love watching him get to perform and live the life he’s worked so hard for. You’ll always be there to support him, whether you’re a thousand miles away or right there in his arms, you’ll always be there.

“You know I’m your biggest fan, right?” you ask. He smiles at you, tucking a bit of hair behind your ear.

“Of course I do,” he says softly.

When you kiss him, he holds your face in his hands and keeps you as close to him as possible, knowing he has to give this up for six weeks, but he knows he’ll have a good time on tour and you’ll call him often. And when he comes back, you’ll be waiting.

beomgyu:

“I shall dream of you every night,” Beomgyu says dramatically and you roll your eyes.

“I’m about to kick you out of my house,” you deadpan and he only laughs.

“Let me finish proclaiming my love to you first.”

You sigh. “Fine.”

“I’ll miss your cooking and your cuddles. You’re so warm when you lie on my chest it’s like a heated blanket—”

“Says the human space heater,” you argue.

“You love cuddling me, don’t lie.”

You shrug your shoulders and feign indifference because you know Beomgyu will see right through it. And he does. “I can see the edge of your lip pointing up. You’re trying not to smile.”

You huff in fake annoyance but accept defeat. You love cuddling him. You love being around him, even when he spends most of the time teasing you. You’re really going to miss him.

“I love you,” you say, watching as surprise fills his features. It’s something that the two of you don’t say often. You always show your love for each other in other ways, but those three words were usually reserved for special occasions. Right now was definitely one of those times.

“I love you too,” he says, wrapping his arms around you. You stand like that for a few minutes until the other boys come into the room and start gathering all their belongings, passing suitcases off to staff members. You follow Beomgyu to his room and help him carry his backpack while he wheels his suitcase to the door.

After a staff member takes his suitcase, you hand him his backpack and once he’s gotten the straps on, he’s pulling you into another hug. “I’ll see you soon okay?” he says. “I know six weeks is a long time to be without me,” he jokes.

“Oh no,” you say sarcastically. “What will I do?”

He only laughs and leans down to kiss you. It’s loving and tender but over far too soon.

“Don’t have too much fun without me,” he says as he follows the rest of the boys out the door.

“No promises,” you say with a grin, blowing him a kiss. He pretends to catch it and stick it into his pocket.

Once the door shuts you head into Beomgyu’s room, now half empty, to grab a sweatshirt before you go. Then you grab your own jacket from the hook next to the front door and pull it on, zipping it up all the way to try and keep out as much of the cold as possible.

The walk back to your place is a short one, especially since you manage to catch a bus nearby. At your door, you reach into your pocket to pull out your keys and feel a piece of paper inside. You unlock your door and once you’re inside you grab the paper again.

Puzzled, you pull it out of your pocket and realize it’s an envelope and you can see your name on it in handwriting that is undeniably Beomgyu’s. He must’ve stuck it in there when you hung up your jacket by the door.

You aren’t exactly sure why you’re nervous, but your fingers tremble as you open the letter. It’s just one piece of paper and gently you unfold it.

Sweetheart

Baby

Darling

My Love,

I wanted to say all of this to you, but if I’m being honest, I’ve been trying to tell you about how I feel ever since we started dating and I’ve never managed to do it. I can’t find the words, and if I can then I always end up forgetting them the second I see you. It’s not my fault really, you make it hard to think sometimes. Most of the time. When I’m with you it’s like time stops or something, and for a while it’s just us. I don’t have to be anyone or anything else. I’m just yours.

I’m always yours.

And now that I’m going on tour and I’m going to be away from you for a while I figured now is as good of a time as ever to finally try and say the things I never can when I’m around you. Because when I’m with you I can’t think straight. You fill my mind and I’ll do anything to make you happy. I just want to see you happy, because you make me happy.

You make me so fucking happy. You make me laugh and feel safe and appreciated. You play games with me and put up with all my teasing. You support me always and inspire me every day to do better and to be better. And I always thought soulmate stuff was cheesy, but if you are my soulmate as my soulmate, you are all of the best parts of myself and more. And every day I want to be more like you.

But at the same time you make me feel like I’m worthy of being loved exactly as I am, and that’s more valuable than anything else. It feels like a privilege to be loved by you, and I hope it’s one I can continue to enjoy, because I’m with you for the long run. Six weeks away? It seems like a lot right now, but I want to spend my life by your side, so I know that in the grand scheme of things, six weeks isn’t a big deal at all. And we have all the time in the world to make up for it.

I’m so grateful for you and I hope I can make you feel as loved as I do. You are everything to me and I hope I can continue to make you happy. I’ll give my best on this tour because I know you’ll be watching me, encouraging me, the whole time. And I’m so glad that you chose me.

I love you. So so so much.

Yours (forever and ever)

Gyu

taehyun:

Since their flight to America was leaving early in the morning, Taehyun decides to take you out for lunch the day before instead of making you wait up for him or wake up at four a.m to say goodbye.

He insists on paying for everything and tells you to order as much as you want (he ends up eating some of your food though).

“Let’s go back to the dorms after this,” he suggests. “I still need to pack a few things, plus, I have a surprise.”

Your eyes widen. “You don’t have to get me anything. You know I’ll survive while you’re away.”

Taehyun smiles. “I know, but I wanted to get you something anyway.”

You take his hand from across the table and give it a squeeze. “Thank you.”

Once the two of you have finished eating, Taehyun takes your hand and leads you out of the cafe to the car waiting outside. You both settle into the back seat and the car sets off in the direction of the dorms.

“What stop are you most excited for?” you ask. It’s been forever since you’ve been in America and there are still so many places you want to visit.

“Probably the Newark show,” he says. “I really love New York City.”

You sigh dreamily at the thought of NYC. You’ve always wanted to go, even if the city isn’t actually as magical as it seems in movies. “I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time. Make sure you take plenty of pictures,” you tell him.

“I will, don’t you worry.”

When you two make it back to the dorms you follow Taehyun to his room where his suitcase is still open on his bed. He pats the empty space at the end. “Sit,” he says, “I’ll be right back.”

You sit down and wait for Taehyun to return. He only takes a minute and he comes back with an envelope, handing it to you.

“If you wrote me a love letter I will cry and you will be responsible,” you warn. He laughs.

“Open it.”

Gently you lift the flap of the envelope and pull out a folded piece of paper. As you unfold it you find that the paper is blank, but in the middle is a ticket, a plane ticket from Seoul to Seattle and then another from Seattle to… New York.

“You didn’t…” you say, blinking back tears.

“You said you wanted to go to one of our shows. And you’re always talking about going to New York, so I just thought it would be nice.”

“It’s fantastic,” you say, teary eyed. Setting the papers down on the bed, you get up and hug Taehyun, who immediately pulls you closer to him. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course,” he says. “This means I get to see you sooner.”

You smile despite the tears rolling down your cheeks. Taehyun has always been so attentive and kind and you couldn’t be more grateful to have him as a part of your life.

huening kai:

You’re lying in Kai’s bed, your head resting just below the crook of his neck. He’s playing with your hair gently and you almost feel like you could fall asleep, but your stomach is weighed down by a sense of dread because in two hours Kai will be leaving and this trip will be the longest the two of you have ever gone without seeing each other.

You hadn’t said anything about it to him, not when he was so excited to be going on tour, but you can’t hold it in anymore.

“Kai?” you say softly. He hums in response and you can feel the sound in his chest where your cheek is lying. “Are you afraid?”

“Of what?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.

“Us. Our future.” You sigh. “We’ve never been apart for this long before, not even when we were friends.”

That friendship had lasted a while before he’d finally had the courage to say something, and even then, you were the one who confessed your feelings first. But that had only been three months ago. Your relationship was still relatively new and that meant it was fragile. You weren’t sure how the separation ws going to affect it.

“Are you… have you been having doubts about us?” Kai asks gently, still stroking your hair, an action that brings comfort and calm to a nerve wracking conversation.

“I’m just worried. Our whole friendship started because we were seeing each other so often and now we’re together nearly every day. What’s going to happen when we don’t have that anymore?”

“We can still call. I know it's not the same, but it’s something. And this isn’t going to last forever. I’ll be back before you know it,” he says and you can hear his smile. He sounds completely confident and it’s soothing your worries. If he believes in you, then you believe in him and your relationship.

“Until then, I guess you’ll have to survive without me,” you tease and Kai laughs breathily.

“How will I ever manage?”

You smile and settle back into his side, his body warm and his presence inviting. For a few minutes, you just draw shapes on his chest and enjoy this moment, trying to make it last as long as possible. Kai is the one who breaks the silence.

“You know, if it ever gets too much I can always fly you out to see me.”

“I don’t think you’re allowed to do that bubs,” you say with a soft smile.

“I’m the maknae, I get special privileges,” he says and you laugh.

“Whatever you say love.”

Two hours later, you’re standing with Kai by the door. His suitcase has already been wheeled off by a staff member and Taehyun took his backpack. He’s the last one left in the dorm, but he can’t seem to let you go.

“Kai,” you say, your arms around his waist as he holds you close to his chest. “Everyone’s waiting.”

“They can wait a little longer,” he says, kissing the top of your head. So the two of you stand together, holding each other and even after Kai finally steps away, you feel content. You know he’s yours, the same way you’re his. Time and distance can’t change that. You’ll always find your way home to each other.

#clare’s fics🌸#txt imagines #txt fluff #txt x reader #txt scenarios #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun x reader #soobin imagines #soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu imagines #taehyun x reader #taehyun imagines #hueningkai x reader #huening kai x reader #hueningkai imagines #huening kai imagines

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malfoyscoffee · 8 months

Text

birthday cakes ౨ৎ draco malfoy

♡ draco malfoy x transfer!slytherin!reader ᝰ fluff, slight angst ☆ reader has neglectful parents, use of y/n

a.n.: this is my first fic for this account, so it's not my best work.

6:02 pm

“Finally, in a few hours, our lovely Y/N will be 16!” Pansy clapped her hands together in delight, excited for your birthday.

“Oh Pansy, it's not that serious.” You shrug while picking at your food.

You were a transfer student from Drumstrang, so this was indeed the first birthday you would spend at Hogwarts.

The moment you were placed into Slytherin, Draco approached you and befriended you into his group of friends. Ever since, you have grown closer with all of them.

Mattheo puts his fork down, “But Y/N, this is your first time celebrating your birthday with us!”

“He’s right,” Theodore started, “we should stay up till midnight since we don't have class tomorrow anyway.”

You looked up at your friends, knowing they wanted to cheer you up.

It was this morning when you received your monthly letter from your parents. They wrote that you should study harder to keep up your—currently perfect—grades, along with how they were going on another business trip to America.

They wrote about everything but your birthday.

This was nothing new, after all, they were always busy during your previous birthdays.

Blaise joined in, “If it makes you feel any better, we all had our gifts bought last month because someone,” he looked over at Pansy, “wanted to start gift shopping early.”

You turned to Pansy who simply grinned, “Oh, come on, you didn't have to spoil the surprise, Blaise!”

Pansy playfully slapped Blaise’s shoulder while you, Mattheo, and Theodore laughed.

The laughter died down and you spoke, “By the way, where's Draco?”

Draco Malfoy, your best friend. You would consider him the closest person to you in all of Hogwarts.

You haven't seen the blond a lot this week, mostly during classes. After classes ended, instead of him hanging out with you, he would leave the common room and not come back all night.

Two days ago, he returned late at night to the common room, passing by your group of friends while his dark robes were covered in some white powder. You asked what was wrong as he bee-lined towards the stairs, but he muttered something with a frustrated face; you haven't had a chance to talk to him since.

All the talk about your birthday made you start to feel excited, but you wanted Draco to be around too. But seeing how he has been the past week, you were starting to doubt he remembered your birthday.

You were too busy in thought to see the four of your friends sending eye signals to each other, each of them caught off-guard to give you an excuse.

Unlike Blaise exposing everyone’s early gift preparation, this was something that needed to be covered up.

Theodore cleared his throat first, “I think he's practicing more Quidditch. You know, since the season is starting soon.”

Mattheo added on, his food long forgotten, “You know how serious he is with beating every house, especially Gryffindor.”

“Oh,” you nodded your head “that reminds me, I'll see my first Hogwarts Quidditch match soon!” Your mood was suddenly lifted, thinking back to your old school’s Quidditch games. You always loved Quidditch and attended every game since you were a first-year at Drumstrang.

The moment you started to ramble to your friends about your favorite sport, you didn't hear the sighs of relief at your table.

11:50 pm

Pansy and Blaise were walking with you back to the common room. You just spent a few hours stargazing with them by the Black Lake.

Mattheo and Theodore said something about having to practice Quidditch with Draco too, which you didn't want to hold them back for. They made sure to tell you that they would meet the three of you back before midnight before they hurried off.

“We’re going to the Three Broomsticks tomorrow?”

“Of course, we’re going to have a birthday dinner. We always celebrate our birthdays there.”

You smiled, grateful to have wonderful friends. “It's not even my birthday yet, but thank you both for preparing so much. You guys know already, but I didn't celebrate my birthday during my childhood.”

Pansy and Blaise look at you with sadness, knowing about your life with your busy parents. It was a post-party hangout at Draco’s dorm when you opened up to all of them, partially because you were drunk, but also because you knew you could trust all five of them.

“Y/N, we’re your family too. We will always celebrate your day with you, so don't think too much about your parents.” You smiled at Blaise, grateful for his words.

The three of you finally reached the Slytherin common room. Although it was late, there were many students sprawled out of the room, hanging out with each other.

“Should we go check up on Draco?” Pansy asked, staring at her watch.

“Wouldn’t he be asleep?” You asked confused.

You assumed that since he was busy with Quidditch, he forgot about your birthday. The thought of him forgetting your birthday made you grow a bit sad, but you didn't want to make it a big deal.

Blaise started walking to the stairs, “He doesn't sleep early, come on.”

Pansy followed quickly behind Blaise, leaving you a little confused.

“Y/N!” Pansy yelled from the top of the stairs, “Let’s go!”

You grew confused but followed after your friends, walking up the stairs to Draco’s room.

“Pansy? Blaise? Where did you guys go?” You reached the top and did not see your friends.

You approached Draco’s dorm, knocking on the door.

“Draco? Are you in here?” You pushed the knob, stepping inside the dark room. You took two steps before there was a loud sound next to you, like something popping.

12:00am

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N!”

The lights turned on and you looked around, Draco’s dorm decorated for your birthday. Green balloon letters were written ‘HAPPY 16TH BIRTHDAY’ and confetti was thrown all over the floor. There was also a stash of gifts in the corner of his room, definitely the one Pansy made them buy in advance.

You were immediately hugged by Pansy, “It’s midnight! The start of your big day!”

Blaise, Theodore, and Mattheo chuckled before all saying happy birthday to you.

You had never smiled so hard, feeling so grateful for all of your friends.

“What happened to Quidditch practice today?” You ask Theodore and Mattheo, assuming they must have decorated Draco’s room. However, it may have been the messy arrangement of the balloon letters that gave it away.

Mattheo looked at you with wide eyes, “That was a lie. Sorry, we tried to have you distracted to prepare this.”

You let out a laugh, “It’s okay, wait a minute, then what about Draco’s practices?”

The group felt silent, not before looking behind you at the currently opened door “If your practices were a lie, then was Draco’s-”

“Happy Birthday, Y/N” A voice interrupted your own.

You turned your body to the door, and a smiling Draco entered the room. Looking at his hands, he held a green cake with a single lit candle on top. It spelled out ‘Happy Birthday Y/N’ in frosting.

“Draco? What is this?”

“Well, snake's out of the bag,” Draco said standing in front of you.

Pansy went to stand beside you first, “But before, let’s sing first!”

The others agreed and started to sing you a happy birthday, Mattheo’s off-pitch voice making you laugh the whole time. When they finished you smiled, closing your eyes to make to make a wish before blowing out the candle.

“Yay!” Mattheo screamed excitedly, jumping up and down.

“Let’s go down to the common room to eat!” Theodore suggested, leaving the room to race Mattheo.

The rest of you four laughed, following them quickly.

“So,” you started, “did Draco have practice this week?” You sat down on the couch as your friends surrounded you.

Draco grinned, “You’ve caught me. I made your cake myself.” Your eyes widened in surprise as he put the cake down for Pansy to cut it.

“You thought Pansy reminding us a month in advance to buy gifts was insane? Draco spent the entire week learning how to bake a cake for your birthday.”

Draco took a seat next to you on the couch, hiding behind you as Blaise and Mattheo teased him further.

“Is that true?” You asked Draco, who shrugged his shoulders as if it was nothing.

“Have the first slice, Y/N” Pansy passed you a slice on a plate that she somehow prepared while you were too shocked.

“Come on, tell us if it’s bad!” Mattheo said from the couch across from you, earning a smack in the head from Blaise.

You took a bite and it seemed like the cake was baked by a professional. You savored the taste and smiled, “It's delicious!”

That was all it took for Mattheo and Theodore to beg Pansy for slices, while Blaise was busy helping her cut the cake.

“Thank you, Draco, I didn't know.” He put his arm around your shoulder, leaning closer to you.

“I’m happy you love it, and that the cake didn't taste bad.” You laughed as you kept eating the cake.

“Y/N,” Blaise said, all your friends now settled down with cake slices except Draco, “You don’t understand. Not only did he learn how to bake that cake, he asked all of us to taste test it each time..”

A realization hit your eyes, “Is that why you were all sick a few days ago? It was his previous cakes?”

All your friends laughed as Draco hid his face in your neck embarrassed.

“At least it tastes wonderful now.” Mattheo munched on his cake slice with a smile, “Draco, you need to bake all of us birthday cakes now.”

Draco shook his head, before looking at you.

“Only for Y/N’s birthdays.”

#draco malfoy #draco imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy x slytherin!reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco one shot #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy oneshots #draco malfoy one shots

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hellishattempt · 6 months

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𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 - the girl in new york

cr sybbatra on twitter, sourced from pin

🢥 summary : celebrity!au gojo satoru and rumours swirling around your established relationship, 3.1k words 🢥 series includes : choso, fushiguro toji, geto suguru, gojo satoru and nanami kento, part one of five 🢥 content : celebrity!au, gn reader, angst mostly, established relationship, cheating, paps being an ass, lying, use of baby/love/darling and other pet names, song cr goes to nessa barrett, not proofread lol kinda just wrote this instead of studying for exams. don't like the ending, but i never do.

. . . GOJO SATORU SEEN WITH ANOTHER WOMAN AT NYFW was not the headline you wanted to wake up to. it was a lazy saturday morning, and you didn't have any plans for the day. your boyfriend, the prominent gojo satoru, was currently in new york for fashion week. you had been dating for almost a year, having met a little over six years ago at club heaven in los angeles on his birthday by pure accident. the japanese born model had been dragged to america for his twenty first birthday, and spilled his drink on you. he hasn't left the states since. he's established himself in the modeling world, and fashion week was the busiest time of year for him. being a singer / songwriter yourself, you had quite the busy schedule. your bustling schedules were part of the reason it took so long for you and satoru to get together. there was mutual pining, but you both spent so much of your time in different cities and airports, that there seemed to be no point in it. but geto made a joke that if satoru didn't bag you, then he would, and that about did it for satoru. sure, dating hasn't been easy, but you've made it work. satoru had moved in with you in your luxury apartment in the hills of los angeles, though neither of you were there often. after all, you were both a lister celebrities. everyone knew your names, especially the paparazzi.

neither of you were big fans of the paps, satoru especially. you tried to show grace, after all, they were just trying to do their jobs. but their jobs were to be nosy and wrongfully invade your privacy. there were always headlines about you and satoru, the rumours and scandals never seemed to end, but for some reason, this one hit home. your phone read 10:01 a.m. you were in your los angeles apartment, so you were three hours behind satoru. you didn't have any notifications from him, which was weird, because he usually made a point to send you a good morning text before you woke up, no matter what timezone you were in. even if it meant satoru had to set an alarm for two a.m. so that you would wake up with a "good morning, baby," then he would set an alarm. in fact, the only notification you had was a text from shoko, with a link to the article. "have you seen this??" her text read. you clicked the link and it opened a separate page for people magazine. it took all your strength not to roll your eyes. people was your number one enemy when it came to tabloids. they always fabricated such stupid things, so you didn't think much of it at first. still, you read the article word for word.

"gojo satoru was seen today eating lunch with fellow model, iori utahime, at new york's own per se. gojo and iori have been friends for a while now, but are they more?" you scoffed, adjusting yourself in your large bed, continuing on. "gojo and irori are currently in new york for fashion week, and were photographed outside per se for a late lunch before tonight's opener. the photos were quickly posted, and the response was a mix of emotions. in the string of photos, we see gojo and iori sharing a laugh... while holding hands? in a few, his arm was tightly wrapped around iori's waist as he escorts her out of the restaurant. a few nights prior, photos had of gojo and iori sharing drinks at an elite club on eighth had been released, where they seemed more than friendly. that same night, the took shared a taxi, stumbling into the hotel together. social media shares our reply: has gojo's partner seen this and what do they have to say about it?" the article was short and sweet, but it did the trick. the photos had been attached, as well as a slew of twitter posts. #satohime was the third trending tag on twitter. tears stung your eyes as you white-kunckled your phone in your hand.

you were torn between believing and not believing the article. you knew satoru would never cheat on you, but the evidence was right in front of you. he was out with another woman, someone he's known longer than you, holding hands and wrapping himself close to her. you'd never met utahime, but satoru always returned from fashion week, brimming with stories about her that made him laugh until his stomach cramped. you knew they were close, despite only seeing each other twice a year, they'd grown up together. you tried to tell yourself that maybe it was just a rumour, photos taken out of context. after all, it wasn't anything drastic, like a vulgar makeout video, but it still made you sick. so you did the only thing you knew hot to when it come to your emotions: you wrote a song.

. . . NEW UPLOAD : THE GIRL IN NEW YORK flashed across gojo satoru's screen. it was a youtube notification for your channel. he frown slightly at the words, wondering what you were thinking about when writing this. he was at work right now, so he silenced his phone. satoru would listen to the song on the cab ride back to his hotel. he hadn't heart about the people's magazine yet, despite it being published six hours ago. satoru had been so busy with the fashion week presentations and rehearsals, that lunch with utahime had been the first time in a few days he'd left skylight clarkson. in fact, he'd been so busy, that he'd forgotten to charge his phone the night before. it was currently charging, thanks to utahime letting him borrow hers. satoru felt bad for failing to send you a text, but surely you'd understand if it was just one time. utahime wasn't a model like satoru, instead a manager for one of the labels. fashion week in februar and september were some of the only times they saw each other anymore. every february they swore they'd try to see each other more that year, but sepember would always be the second time they saw each other that year. their schedules just didn't allow for it. and even though satoru was a major pain in the ass to utahime, she prized his friendship. they made a point to spend as much time together during fashion week as possible, hence the drinks and lunch.

when the night had finally ended, satoru was exhasted and couldn't wait to return to his hotel bed. it wasn't as good as sleeping next to you, but he could fall asleep on a bag of dirt at this point. satoru stumbled into a taxi, giving the location of his hotel, and pulled his phone from his bag. it was charged now, and your youtube notification sat prettily on his lockscreen, which was a picture of you laughing with your head thrown back. satoru fumbled in the dark of the cab to find his headphones, finally pairing them to his phone and playing the song. "bags in your hand as you kiss me, tellin' me you're gonna miss me. promised me you'll be on you best behavior." your sultry voice entered his ears as the song started slow, a gentle piano and slow guitar riff. "gave me your flight information, call me when you land, say you made it. sweet little me told you, 'go have a good time.'" the song picked up the pace, transitioning into the pre-chorus and chorus. "i didn't mean forget about me, riding in a yellow taxi. who the hell are you on your way to?" satoru was almost too tired to notice the lyrics. almost. "you said i was yours, but maybe just on the west coast, cause as soon as you left home, you got wandering eyes.

"so i guess you lied when you called me special. you're not as smart as you think you are. who the hell is she, taking you from me?" as the song continued, he was more awake with every bar. "fuck you for making me crazy, while you buy her drinks out on eighth street." were you talking about utahime? wait, did you think he had done something? satoru was so confused, consumed by your obscure lyrics. the song ended too soon for his taste, none of his questions being answered by your final line. "baby, i know about the girl in new york..." your voice faded, his headphones going silent. having reached the hotel, satoru rushed to his room, immediately opening his laptop to do some digging. his phone had been silence all day, and when satoru opened his messages app to see if you had said anything, he was instaed hit with over three hundred texts from shoko and suguru. neither sounded happy with him, while satoru still had no idea what he did. before even acknowledging their texts, he went straight to your conversation. "darling, what's going on with your new song??" he typed out quickly, then added, "not that i don't love it! just kinda confused." he watched as delivered turned to read, which resulted in those damn three dots making two additional appearances before completely disappearing. satoru let out a groan of frustration, going to google and searching your names together. the first thing that popped up was an article from people magazine. "gojo satoru seen with another woman at nyfw." the headline read. fuck, how he hated the paparazzi.

satoru skimmed the article, not pleased with what he was reading. his confusion dissipated into annoyance, both towards you and the fucking paps. you always told him to be nicer towards the media, they were just trying to their job, but these fucking rumours were getting out of hand. how dare they make you think he would ever cheat on you? satoru didn't suffer a friendship with you for five years while being enamored with you every action for one damn article about him and utahime. all of those pictures had been taken out of context. the one where they were holding hands? utahime had tripped on a sewer grate and satoru had reached out so she didn't fall flat on her face. the one with his arm around her waist? they were both completely shitfaced and barely standing on their own. the ones about them at the club and the taxi? satoru can handle a drink or two, but uta gets hammered after two drinks, so of course he was going to take her back to her hotel and make sure she got up all right. that's what friends are for. but now, thanks to the media, he's got a lying article, pissed off friends and a song tearing him to pieces written by the love of his life, who may not ever want to see him again. great, just fucking great.

he dialed your number. you declined it before the first ring. he did this four more times, with you rejecting the call instantly. on the sixth call, there was no rings, and an automated voice responded, "i'm sorry, the number you are trying to reach is not in service or temporarily disconnected. please try again later. good bye." oh my god, you fucking blocked him. irritated with you, the media and with himself for making you feel so insecure, he scrolled to his group chat with shoko and suguru. neither of them were happy with gojo. he didn't bother to read all their messages, he got the gist of it. satoru hastily responded, "i didn't fucking cheat. the article's lying. one of you need to tell them that because i'm fucking blocked." he sent the message, standing in a silent fury. a moment later, satoru threw his phone at the wall with a yell. the device bounced off, falling onto the hotel bed. there was a small dent in the wall nothing extremely noticeable, and his phone was fine. "fuck," satoru breathed, sinking into one of the chairs in his room. he held his head in his hands, mind racing with what to do. an idea formed in his frustrated mind. it was stupid, but it was something. satoru grabbed his jacket and his phone from the bed, storming out of the hotel.

. . . THE SOUND OF SOMEONE POUNDING ON YOUR DOOR pulled you from delirium. groggily, you checked your phone. it was just past four am. who the hell would be at the door at four in the morning? you rolled over in bed, hoping whoever it was would go away. they didn't. they just kept beating at the wood. with a groan, you rose from the mattress. a headache slammed into you as you stood, and you had to sit back down to steady yourself. the last eighteen hours hadn't exactly been fun. after you uploaded "the girl in new york", you had turned your notifications for everything off. although, every five minutes you checked if satoru had texted you. when he finally did, you didn't know how to respond, the images from the article flashing across your mind and filling you with sickness and sadness. you had been out all day, drinking and trying to forget. after getting kicked out of two bars, you went home, where you drank more. throughout the night you emptied the contents of your stomach and eyes, vomiting and crying more than what felt humanely possible. it felt like you had barely lied down when the knocking began.

when you had mustered the strength to stagger your way to the door, you wished you had stayed in bed. a red eyed, messy haired, heaving gojo satoru stood at your door. neither of you spoke. what was there to say? he had cheated on you. you had retaliated with an exposing song. or maybe he hadn't cheated on you, and you simply misunderstood. either way, what had happened, happened. as far as you were concerned, he was here to beg for your forgiveness. you began to shut the door, but he stopped you. with a sigh, you let him in. it was his apartment, too, after all. you wobbled to the kitchen, leaning against the counter and pouring yourself a glass of water. satoru watched you in silence. "well?" you croaked out. "come to apologize? gloat?"

"baby..." he whispered, stretching his arms out to you, but retracting when you took a step back. satoru took a breath, steadying himself. "i didn't cheat," he stated plainly. "i know you think i did. but i didn't. uta is just a friend. i've never thought of her that way, and i'm never going to think of her like that. i'm not dating her, i'm dating you." his words sounded slightly reheards. he must've been practicing on his flight here. it dawned on you that it was four in the morning in los angeles, and seven a.m. in new york. satoru was missing fashion week, here, trying to fix things. a flight from nyc to la was just over six hours, so he would've had to get on a plane by one am est. he had texted you just after eight fifty p.m. pst, so eleven fifty new york time. which means almost as soon as he heard your song, he was on his way to the airport to fly to you. "please baby, you gotta believe me. those paps fucked everything up, the photos-"

"are they fake?" you cut him off. "the photos. are the fake? photoshopped or otherwise edited?"

gojo slightly squirmed, "well, no, they're not edited, but they were taken out of context." he rushed out the last part of his sentence. "please, love, just hear me out."

he looked like a disaster. satoru's normally bright irises were dim, the usual joy gone. he looked sleepless, violent violet bags forming like bruises under his red-rimmed eyes. his fluffy white hair was flat against his forehead, matted and lifeless. he was still in his work clothes, with his favorite blue jacket hanging open on his shoulders. satoru looked like he hadn't ate or slept in the last eighteen hours. maybe it was how pitiful he looked maybe it was how much you still loved him. but you nodded your head, allowing for satoru to explain. his sigh was audible, and some color returned to his eyes.

"okay, first, i love you so fucking much. i've loved you since that first night we met into the bar six years ago. if you don't forgive me tonight, or ever, i'm still going to spend the rest of my life trying to make up for the hurt that i've cause you from that stupid article. i didn't cheat on you, not with utahime or with anyone else. i spent five years trying to work up the nerve to ask you out, i'm not going to let you go easily." satoru meant every word he said, his tone convinced you of that. "second," he continued, "is that the paparazzi are always pulling things out of their asses, we know this. the first photo they talked about, the one with me and utahime at per se, where we were holding hands? her heel had got caught on a sewer grate, and uta tripped. i grabbed her hand to prevent her falling on her face, which honestly, would've been funnier." you chuckled lightly, and a smile formed on satoru's lips. from his perspective, this was going much better than he had anticipated. "the next photo with my arm around her waist, utahime was so drunk, she could barely stand. i was pretty drunk, too. we were the only ones keeping each other up. same with the pictures of us outside the club on eighth. i wasn't as drunk in that one, but she was pretty hammered. i didn't feel comfortable just sending uta off in a cab back to her hotel. something easily could've happened to her, so i went back with utahime to her hotel. nothing happened between me and her," satoru finished. quiet settled over you two again as you contemplated his words.

everything he said made sense. you wanted to believe him so badly, but you weren't there yourself. "okay," you said slowly, after what felt like an eternity to satoru.

"okay? wh-what does that mean? does... does that mean you believe me?"

you took a deep breath. "i believe you."

those three words were all he needed to hear. satoru rushed over to you, his body engulfing you in a crushing embrace. "oh, thank god," he breathed into your hair. when he pulled back, his blue eyes were shining once again. satoru almost kissed you, forgetting his exhaustion, but your hangover still gripped at you. you winced at his strength, your arms hanging limply at your side. satoru whispered out an apology, guiding you back to bed. before you both finally found the sleep you desperately needed, you mumbled, "i'm sorry about the song."

satoru laughed quietly, resting his head in the crook of your neck. "don't be, i think it's your best one yet."

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technoblade-updates · 2 years

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Technoblade is listed to receive the Courage Award at the Sarcoma Foundation of America’s 20th annual fundraising gala, Stand Up to Sarcoma, which will be held on September 28, 2022, at the Edison Ballroom in New York City.

Here is a link to the article.

[Image ID:

A series of screenshots showing the listing for this year’s Courage Award from the Sarcoma Foundation of America. It reads:

“Courage Award honorees illustrate, through their personal efforts and actions, sarcoma advocacy. These individuals are patients, survivors, caregivers, and advocates who inspire others by using their platform on behalf of sarcoma patients and survivors to create hope and a better life for the sarcoma community. Many do not think they have done something special but who have inspired others and are making a difference for sarcoma patients and their families. The Courage Award honors patients who have demonstrated strength and perseverance in their sarcoma diagnosis.

Technoblade

*attached is, instead of a photo of the honoree like with other award listings, Techno’s YouTube icon.*

Technoblade, real name: Alexander, was an American YouTuber and internet personality known for his YouTube channel, Technoblade, a Minecraft persona in the guise of a pig that he started at 14 years old. He is widely regarded by the game’s community as one of the best Minecraft players and Minecraft content creators. In the beginning, he plugged away at making videos, attracting a small but steadily growing group of followers with a goal of accumulating 10 million subscribers, an achievement reached by very few*. In July 2021 at the age of 22, after noticing pain in his right arm and a sudden lump, he was diagnosed with sarcoma and chest scans revealed metastasis to both lungs. Alex endured chemotherapy and radiation treatments, an embolization procedure tumor, and also participated in a clinical trial for the treatment, Milademetan. Throughout his sarcoma journey, he decided to use his significant platform to help support sarcoma research, even if it most likely would not gain results in time for him. His first effort for SFA was “Minecraft But Viewers Control The Game (Charity Event).” Still weak from chemotherapy, he played for almost four hours, raising over $360,000. Throughout his treatment, he continued to do more for research, and made February 2022 his own Sarcoma Awareness Month, raising an additional $150,000. In total, Technoblade rallied his followers to raise over $1 million for sarcoma research. Unfortunately, tests revealed that his sarcoma had continued to grow and the masses in his lungs had begun pressing against his heart. He died in June of 2022, shortly after his 23rd birthday, at home, surrounded by his family. The public reaction to the announcement of his death was overwhelming. And rather than focus on what an amazing gamer he was, or how smart or how funny he was, instead people talked about his kindness and his generosity. People spoke about how much his videos helped them through a difficult time in their lives. Other well-known YouTubers such as Dream, expressed their admiration for him. Simon Collins-Laflamme, the co-founder of Hypixel, and business magnate Elon Musk expressed similar feelings. YouTube posted its condolences to his family, friends, and fans and Technoblade was described as “one of Minecraft’s most celebrated personalities.” Mojang Studios, the creators of Minecraft said that Technoblade “became synonymous with a source of good.” Even now, people are still quoting his oft-repeated catchphrases, including, “Technoblade never dies.”

*In June 2022, Technoblade’s channel had reached 10.8 million subscribers and in August 2022, it posthumously reached fifteen million subscribers.”

End ID]

#technoblade #mcyt #image id #no id in alt text #cw cancer #tw cancer #cancer mention

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blindmagdalena · 3 months

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Eat Your Ego, Honey ( Ch 8 )

homelander x oc 18+ escort services, sex work, voyeurism, stalking, Homelander in general. see ao3 link for detailed tags. chapter index. check out the playlist!

chapter summary: After the disastrous spectacle that was Homelander's birthday celebration, America's "disgraced" hero is forced to reconcile with the demons in his head, and what that means for Layla, the woman standing precariously in their path.

additional tags: unhealthy/codependent dynamics, threats of violence, themes of abuse, canon deviation. 🖤

Sleep is a scarcity. Homelander fades in and out of consciousness, but he never truly rests. It’s strange to sleep somewhere he can't see the comfort of his own gaze endlessly mirrored back at him. Those mirrors make the world so much bigger, but for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t mind how small it is. What would normally be a dark, claustrophobic thing is now a great deal safer than the open expanse of a stage.

Layla’s warmth and the faint weight of her arm around him is the only thing that keeps him somewhat tethered. Her heartbeat is a steady metronome against his back, her breaths warmly ghosting over his neck and shoulder. It’s been hours, but it feels too soon when the covers move on his skin as she readjusts in her sleep, pulling her arm from him. He lifts the blanket and rolls to face her.

She’s turned away from him, her dark hair fanned out in a wild splay on the pillow beneath her. Light from the unsleeping city spills in through the window, illuminating her figure. It’s strange to see her sleeping in day clothes and not the sleepwear he’s used to seeing her in. She didn’t have the time to change tonight. She was too busy taking him back into her arms, into her bed, into her life. He brushes his knuckles down between her shoulder blades, the disheveled silk of her blouse soft beneath his fingers.

He’ll find out why Starlight’s scent is lingering on her when she wakes.

Sliding closer to her, he flattens his palm over her hip and noses at the line of her throat, inhaling deeply, chasing the scent beneath shampoo and lotion until he finds what’s simply her. Her wine flush has followed her into sleep, her skin warmer than usual. She responds to his touch with a sleepy sigh of pleasure. Even now, the sound of her voice does so much to quiet the storm in his heart. He screws his eyes shut and buries his face into the soft tresses of her hair, gritting his teeth against the urge to squeeze too tight.

The urge to keep.

The urge to break it all apart and let the storm rage. Instead, he keeps himself perfectly still, trying to swallow the thrumming energy coiling in his tense muscles. End this, the darkness in him hisses, tempting him. How many days has he resisted the urge to reach out, not with his hands but with this thing inside him, and ruin everything? Everyone? A flash of crimson is all it would take to cleave this world in half.

But he can’t afford to. Not then, not now.

The only way he made it out of the cold isolation of the lab, far away from the bad room, was by convincing the staff, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was good. He was their perfect man-made hero. Logically, he knows they can’t ever put him back in the bad room. He’d never let them. It doesn’t stop the nightmares.

He folds in on himself, doing his best to forget that he even has power to wield against others—a whim as sharp as glass. Now, just as then, he orders his body and mind to still, to calm.

If Layla had stayed yesterday morning, things would have been different. His tightly controlled grip on her hip flexes minutely. How can she sleep so deeply knowing that she’s ruined him?

What was she doing with Starlight?

The inkling of a deeper betrayal slithers into his mind. He slides his hand up the length of her torso, traversing the familiar scape of her body, and into her hair, coiling his fingers into a gentle fist of it. One twist is all it would take to quiet her soothing voice forever. Would hair ever feel the same to him again, or would it start to smell like burning tears and cornea? The stench of grief hits him so suddenly that his eyes sting with it, and he recoils from Layla like he himself has been burned.

Has she been scheming against him all along, too?

Fucked. He’s so completely and entirely fucked.

He exhales harshly, curling his hand into a tight fist and biting into the meaty curve just below his thumb, muffling a tearful keen. He can’t think back to that morning without reliving how horribly it went wrong, and how the dominos just continued to fall until he was losing his senses in front of the entire world.

Those moments on stage play over and over in his mind, but each instance of them grows more warped than the last. He’s starting to forget what he really said, conflating memories with nightmares. How much of himself did he really let slip? How ugly does the world think him to be now?

He can see the headlines now.

Homelander: America’s Fallen Hero

Homelander: Vought’s Poster Boy Throws a Tantrum

Homelander: Deranged Freak Snaps On Stage

He’s spiraling worse than he did during Stormfront’s smear campaign against him. It isn’t just dissenting opinions and slander—he’s finally given them real ammunition to use against him. The question is: how much, and how will he refute it? He needs to be able to recover from this.

His voice of reason is treacherously quiet. Nothing but the dreadful echo of I warned you.

With his thoughts twisting in on themselves like a pit of angry, writhing snakes, he finds it impossible to stay still any longer. His whole body is plagued with a restlessness that turns into agony. Carefully, he extracts himself from Layla’s side and slips out of her bed. He needs to see it for himself. He needs to understand the degree of damage that’s been done to him.

Stepping out into her living room, Homelander picks up the remote for her television and flips it on, dropping the volume to such a miniscule level that he’ll be the only one to hear it. He lowers himself down onto the couch and stares, watching his body move and speak, seemingly puppeteered by someone other than himself, operating in ways he’s never seen himself behave in front of a camera before.

“I’m done being persecuted for my strength–”

Erratic.

“Persecuted for my strength–”

Unhinged.

“Persecuted–”

Alive.

If they want to take us down, we’re going to take every last one of them down with us.

The sky is just barely beginning to turn with dawn’s light when Layla wakes to a chill that rolls up her spine. Her bed feels colder than it has any right to, and as the fractured events of last night spill back into her mind, it doesn’t take her long to figure out why.

Homelander—who knows if he’ll accept that name yet—is nowhere to be seen.

Her temples throb with the aftermath of emptying a hefty bottle of wine as she lifts herself from bed, running her hands through her hair, breaking apart the tangles with her fingers.

The breadcrumb trail of Homelander’s suit leading from her balcony to her bed tells her that he hasn’t left. The image of him streaking through the sky in the nude does occur to her, though. Straightening her borrowed blouse and tucking it back into the waist of her skirt, she steps lightly through the dark of her apartment, head on a swivel, until she spots her quarry.

Reclined on her couch, Homelander paints an image somewhere between a renaissance painting and a billboard for depression, his body illuminated by the flashing light of the television. His expression is morose, his hand sitting on the couch next to him at an angle, the remote tilted in his loose grasp. As she approaches, he begins tapping on the volume until his own recorded voice fills the empty space between them.

It’s his tirade from last night.

“Hey, babe,” he drawls from the couch, voice pitched low and despondent. The way he pops each consonant makes the pet name sound downright derogatory. “So, what’s the verdict?” He asks, lazily gesturing to the television with the remote. “Is it everything you thought it would be?” His gaze slides from the screen to her, his head lolling to the side with it.

Any concern or lingering sleepiness in her face is swiftly replaced with bewilderment. “Excuse me?”

“‘Excuse me?’” He mocks, pitching his voice up condescendingly. Her expression hardens as he stands, the remote bouncing along the couch cushions where he tosses it. “Don’t play dumb with me.”

“I’m not playing anything with you,” she responds tersely. She’s never been a morning person. Compound that with the ache in her skull and the naked pain in the neck standing in front of her, she’s not feeling her usual bounty of patience. Last night, he was a weepy, sopping mess. Now she doesn’t know what to expect from the tight line of his shoulders, or the agitated curl of his upper lip. “I have no idea what it is you think you’re picking at.”

“Since when are you and Starlight pals, then?” He hisses through his teeth.

Shit. Annie. She never sent that text.

“Since yesterday,” she answers, her calm stretched thin. “She saw me at the elevator. She offered a shower and a change of clothes. That’s all.” She doesn’t find it necessary to explain why Starlight might have offered such a thing. He knows exactly how she looked when she left his penthouse, bruised and disheveled.

The memory looks to serve as a crisp slap, some level of clarity filtering into the incensed glaze of his eyes. His grip flexes, and he bares his teeth in an animalistic flash of frustration. He isn’t willing to accept fault for that yet.

“Stop fucking lying to me!” He snaps, the sudden jump in volume startling her. He advances on her sharply, halting her step backwards with an iron grip, his palm against her throat, his thumb and index finger notching perfectly behind the curve of her jaw below her ears. The contact is minimal, and yet the strength in those two fingers alone is more than enough to hold her firmly in place.

“You’re all the fucking same! Agendas, lies, all of you trying to control me, use me, and you—you’re exactly the fucking same. You’ve taken everything from me,” he snarls. Despite his fervor, his grip remains remarkably controlled. Sometimes it’s as if his mind and his body are two independent entities: one an unstable, emotionally malnourished psyche, and the other a finely tuned weapon.

The human mind wants dangerous things to be ugly, but even now, Homelander’s twisted, angry expression is not an ugly thing. Though adrenaline surges the thrum of her heart, it isn’t laden with the fear any reasonable person would have. The thrill coursing through her isn’t rooted in some comfort that he won’t hurt her. It’s the knowledge that he—more devastating than any man she’s ever known—absolutely will if not handled correctly.

It’s like holding a thundering storm in her bare hands.

Layla stares wide-eyed and astonished, so thoroughly unaware of what he’s accusing her of that she struggles to speak around the hard lump in her throat. He leans closer yet, clutching her with all the same strength, tenderness and menace of the ocean cradling a ship.

“I killed her,” he whispers, the words passing between them like a confession to God himself. He’s so near, she could rest her forehead against his if she wanted. “I killed her for lying to me. I’ll kill you, too.”

Madelyn Stillwell. The name returns to her like a ghost, the hairs at the back of her neck prickling. Or was it Stormfront? The unnamed mother of his child? One was the victim of a domestic terrorist, one committed suicide, and the third is yet undetermined. All of them are apparent casualties of Homelander’s turbulent presence in their lives. Is she to be the fourth in a string of tragedies? Rage swells so suddenly in her heart that she almost chokes on the fire of it. What right does he have to interrogate her and threaten her?

“Are you glad?” She asks, her voice steady despite the tremble in her hand holding his wrist in turn. “Are you glad to have killed her?”

His expression flips as if he’s been struck, crinkled brows shooting up. “What?”

“Will you be glad to have killed me?” She asks tightly, her nails biting ineffectual crescents into his titanium flesh. Her tone is sharp and no longer meant to soothe. She speaks to cut. “Or will you just be even more alone?”

Like hers, his eyes turn glassy. “No,” he says softly. She doesn’t know if that’s an answer or a plea.

“Let me go,” she tells him firmly, fighting to hold onto the fires of her own indignant anger. His abrupt flashes of softness and vulnerability compromise her resolve.

“Go where, Layla?” He snaps, suddenly loud again. His broken desperation and seething anger make his voice reedy. “Where the fuck could you go that I wouldn’t still feel you? Kill you, fuck you, love you; you’re in my fucking head!”

You’re all the fucking same!

She isn’t dead, but he’s treating her like a ghost nonetheless. As if she’s already one of the many specters haunting him.

“You love me?” She asks him, snatching that precarious lifeline out of the messy slurry of his words. She’s not sure that he knows the meaning of it.

Does she?

The tension in Homelander’s face goes slack, stricken to hear those words fall from her lips. His mouth opens and closes as he tries and fails to form the right words. It’s too vulnerable to say yes, and too complicated to say no. Ultimately, he can’t bear to answer first.

“Do you love me?” He asks, defensive, as if she were the one who brought the terrifying gravity of love into the equation in the first place. The weight of it turns her tongue to lead.

There’s an adolescent sense of fumbling in this moment that would be endearing if he were not clutching her jaw with inhuman strength, the whispered promise of her death hanging over them like a creaky guillotine. In another life, this could have been a very sweet confession.

“Do you?” He prompts her again, desperate. He cups the back of her head with his other hand, taking a step closer. His chest bumps her forearms where she has them tightly braced, hands clamped tightly over his wrist. It’s a meager barrier to uphold, but she does so steadfastly. His hold on her is suffocating, his agonized ocean eyes filling up her vision. He’s larger than life, leaving space for little else in her life ever since he crashed into it.

Even when he’s gone, she is consumed by him like a fever that refuses to be sweated out. When her career first began, she knew well enough not to entertain superhumans. It wasn’t a bias she held against them per se, but the opposite: she knew from the start that she would become intoxicated on the danger of them. Homelander is the epitome of everything she’s ever been too afraid to let herself love. He’s the first person to ever be enough of a risk to scare her, and enough of a reward to satiate her. She can feel her destruction lurking in him just as plainly as her parents found their own in their shared thrill seeking.

“I want to,” she whispers, a secret she’s denied even to herself until now. “But you’re making it so fucking hard.”

He exhales roughly, something like hope softening the tension in his expression before he screws his eyes shut, another wave of agony contorting his features. His forehead thumps gently against hers. “I don’t know—I don’t know how else to be. I don’t know how. I don’t know how to make it easy.”

Finally, he releases her jaw from the snare of his grip, only to take either side of her face between his hands, pulling away to look at her. He’s always been younger than her in a multitude of ways, but in this moment, the agonized youth in his eyes takes her breath away. “I was—I was made to be loved. I was supposed to be everyone’s hero. They poked and prodded me, manufactured me in a-a fucking lab to be perfect, but no one—”

Layla’s eyes widen, her heart seized. What?

Homelander bares his teeth like a wounded animal, breath hissing in and out of his clenched teeth as tears roll down his cheeks. “But no one does, no one fucking does, no one loves me,” he says through his teeth, nearly choking on the words. “I don’t understand how to make it easy, Layla,” he sobs, hands shaking on either side of her face. She can’t tell if it’s from sheer emotion, or the restraint it takes not to crush her between them.

“So just—tell me what I need to do, please,” he begs her, devastatingly beautiful in the same way the sprawling webbing of a shattered mirror is. “Tell me how to be easy to love.”

Breathless, Layla stands there with her heart bleeding so freely, so painfully, that she swears there’s warm blood soaking onto the pristine white blouse she wears.

There is a monster in Homelander. At times, she can feel the claws of it in his grip on her. Hear it growling in her ear. When it comes to handling monsters, banishment is always the remedy. Slay the beast, free the man. Homelander’s monster is not so easily felled, nor is she certain it should be. He was not born with sharp teeth and claws. From what she’s gathered, they were filed into fine points long before he was a man.

People like to think of the monster within them as an outside force. Corruption, propaganda, the devil. Layla has spent enough time in bed with people’s deviance to know better. The proverbial devil is not outside of humanity, but embedded deep within It cannot be safely extracted any more than a beating heart can.

But corruption isn’t a heart—it’s a stomach.

It craves and yearns, it twists and aches and growls when hungry. Just as Eve ate of the apple, humans take bites of sin to satiate their monster. Like people, monsters come in a wide variety of shapes, temperaments, and cravings. Some beasts can be satisfied with a nibble here and there. Others require more. Some never learned how to know when they’re full.

After all he has been deprived of, Homelander may never be truly satisfied, but does that mean he doesn’t deserve to be fed at all?

No, Layla thinks. It doesn’t.

Both of their faces are streaked wet with tears as they hold one another’s gazes. Gingerly, she brings her own hands up to cup his face, wiping his tears with her thumbs. “Okay,” she whispers, afraid her own voice of reason will hear her. “Okay, my darling.”

Relief helps smooth the crease between his brows, but it doesn’t dissipate entirely. “Say it,” he urges her, the hands still upon her face giving the faintest nudge. “Say you love me.”

“I love you,” she says, teary and quiet, but with conviction. She leans in, and he allows her to, no longer holding her firmly in place for fear that she might suddenly vanish. “I love you,” she says again, a promise that ghosts his lips. He shudders. “I love you. You’re in my head,” she says, echoing his own words back at him. Her lips brush against his in a not-quite kiss. “You were from the start.”

He exhales a pained, keening sound, pushing his fingers into her hair and pulling her deep into a feverish kiss. His hunger for her is voracious, and his desire is a force she might not withstand—not by virtue of its violence, but because of its sheer magnitude. He kisses her fiercely, one arm slipping around her middle to keep her body from bowing under the weight of his love.

“I love you, too,” he breathes, the relief in his voice palpable. She takes the air of it into her lungs like it might save her. “I love you so fucking much.”

It’s dangerous, she knows, to trick herself into believing she can satiate his mountainous hunger. Danger is like an ice bath, though. You grow accustomed to the bite of it.

Morning light creeps slowly into Layla’s condo. Homelander trails her as closely as her own shadow, breathing in against the crook of her neck while she cooks breakfast. He’s partially dressed in his undershirt and underwear, his suit folded neatly upon her vanity for the time being. It’s nice to feel his arms around her without the obstructive padding of his suit. Without the bulk of it, she fits more closely against him, his superhuman warmth like a particularly cuddly space heater pressed against her back.

“One egg or two?” She asks him, plucking one from the container on the counter.

“Mmm… Two,” he says, the deliberation making it sound more like a trivia answer than a preference.

She cracks four eggs into the pan, one at a time. “Over easy, medium, hard…?”

He grins against her neck, and she gives his hand at her hip a playful little swat with the back of her silicone spatula. “I dunno,” he says, nuzzling her. “However you like it.”

“Have you never had eggs before?” She asks, looking back at him.

He’s got his chin propped up on her shoulder. His gaze flickers up from the sizzling pan to meet hers. “Just scrambled.”

…I was made… manufactured in a fucking lab…

She swallows a small lump in her throat, turning back to the eggs. She flips them all over easy and plates them with the toast. When she takes the toast off of the plates and begins slicing them into strips, Homelander makes an inquisitive noise.

“You’ll see,” she says cryptically, shooing him to the table as she plates their breakfasts and carries them to the table.

Homelander sits, and she sets his plate down in front of him. She sits on the adjoining corner to his, but within seconds he has a grip on her seat. The chair legs groan as he slides her closer to him, smiling at her look of surprise. “That’s better,” he says, his knee bumping hers.

He’d likely prefer she be in his lap. There’s always a lingering sense that she’s never quite close enough, even when they’re pressed tightly against one another. He might not be satisfied until he finds a way to open her up and crawl inside.

Huffing a small laugh, she gestures to his plate. “Use the toast sticks to break the yolk,” she tells him, and then demonstrates on her own meal, jabbing a piece of toast into the soft yellow yolk, coating it properly before taking a bite.

Blinking, Homelander does the same. He hums appreciatively, nodding with a mouthful of food.

“My gramma insisted that all food tastes better when it’s dipped. She always made my breakfasts this way,” she explains, her smile tinged with bittersweet nostalgia. “I can’t remember the last time I did it for myself.”

Silence follows. She glances up to find Homelander staring intently at his plate, a cut of toast pinched between his fingers, dripping yolk back down onto the egg. Layla takes a breath to speak, but that inhale is all it takes to snap him from his thoughts, his sharp blue eyes meeting hers.

“Ryan would like this, I think,” he says. She can tell he’s working to keep his voice conversational.

“Ryan?” She echoes, though it clicks a second after she says it.

“My son,” he confirms, clearing his throat gently. She shares his trepidation as he enters this particular topic of conversation, considering the fallout the last time it was broached. He dips the toast again and takes another bite, seemingly buying time with deliberate chews.

Layla bites her tongue, choking back her own knee-jerk response. She likes children just fine, in theory. She’s had very little practical experience. Still, words of unbidden advice bubble up on her tongue as if she’s an expert. She wants to tell Homelander to go to the boy, talk to him. He told her that she had taken everything from him, presumably referring to his very public meltdown, but that isn’t true in a number of ways. He has a son out there somewhere, confused and without either of his parents.

It sets a sympathetic churn in her gut. Grieving her own parents as a child made an adult of her far too soon. She may not have raised any children herself, but she can speak as a child who was left behind.

“He’s nine. He’s strong,” Homelander continues tentatively. “I mean, really strong. Strong like me,” he says, pride underlining each word, driving out the hesitance. “He’s so much like me. I never thought I’d see it, but he’s real. He’s—” he breaks into a small, incredulous laugh. “—He’s a miracle. A real, born miracle.”

Unlike you, she surmises from his tone. He said that Vought had made him. The world has been rocked by the revelation that supes are the result of Vought’s pharmaceutical ventures, but the way Homelander talks of his son makes him sound different. An exception to that fact, somehow.

“You should go to him,” she encourages, still holding onto a level of cautiousness on the matter. “I was left behind by my parents. I don’t wish it on anyone.”

“I didn’t leave him behind,” Homelander corrects sharply. She was right to tread lightly. “He left me,” he says, though he doesn’t speak with anger so much as he does woundedness. He’s never expressed anything but love—bordering on reverence—for his son, and yet he has completely roadblocked himself from reaching out.

It’s complicated, he told her before.

“He’s nine. It’s not his job to uncomplicate things or bridge the gap,” she says as gently as she can muster, though even she can hear the weariness in her own voice. “It’s yours. He needs you to be the adult, to help the world make sense. It’s one thing to give him space, but you can’t abandon him.”

At first, there is a flash of petulant defiance in Homelander’s eyes, obvious in the tight set of his jaw. To Layla’s relief, however, it fades into quiet consideration. He looks back down to his half-finished plate.

“You can’t take personally what anyone, much less a child, does out of grief,” she says softly, reaching out to put her hand atop his where it rests on the table. “Ryan needs wisdom. Support. People who love him. He needs his father.”

He looks up at her with a level of vulnerability in those ocean blue eyes that never fails to pull her into the depths. “You think so?”

“I know so,” she says firmly. To this day, she can’t imagine what she wouldn’t do for just one more day with her own father.

Slowly, the wateriness of his gaze becomes a sparkle. Homelander smiles. He has as many smiles as an ice cream shop has flavors, and this one says he’s just had an idea.

“What?” Layla asks after a beat, an edge of suspicion to her tone.

“Nothing,” he says placatingly. His smile shifts. She knows that flavor of smile. That one means he’s lying. “Just relieved is all. Could I use your phone?”

It’s a wonder the ease with which Homelander glides from mood to mood, as if he puts each one neatly in a box before he takes out the next one. Layla only hesitates for a second before she nods, sliding out of her chair to go and fetch her cellphone. She still needs to text Annie.

“Jesus,” she says softly, staring at her screen with a deep crease in her brow.

“What?” Homelander asks, leaning in his seat.

She has thirty missed calls, and about as many text messages.

THIS IS ASHLEY BARRET. HAVE YOU SEEN HOMELANDER? IF YOU KNOW WHERE HOMELANDER IS, PLEASE CONTACT ME. PLEASE CONTACT ME IF YOU KNOW WHERE HOMELANDER IS. MISS ALDEN PLEASE CONTACT ME AND ONLY ME IF YOU HAVE SEEN HOMELANDER. IF YOU CAN PLEASE INFORM HOMELANDER HE IS UP.

Ashley Barret. Layla recalls the name from Homelander’s initial booking. She had been the one to handle the details and arrange payment.

“Ashley Barret is very desperate to find you,” she says, reading the texts as she walks back towards him. “She says that you’re… up.” She stops at the table, looking at him. “What does that mean?”

The chair legs scrape audibly against the floor when Homelander stands up. “Give me that,” he says, taking the phone from her outstretched hand. His expression pinches tightly as he scrolls through the messages, lips parted. “I’m… up,” he says slowly, processing the words that mean nothing to Layla. With a tap, she hears a dial tone. Homelander holds the phone to his ear.

“Miss Alden–” answers a feminine voice immediately.

“What do you mean I’m up?” Homelander interrupts, a harshness to his voice that Layla doesn’t expect to hear outside of an argument.

“21 points with your base,” Ashley says breathlessly.

Homelander’s expression softens, becoming wonder-like. “What did you say?”

“21 points. They loved your speech!”

He looks at Layla, familiar glassiness returning to his eyes. He lifts his loose hand, which curls slowly into a fist, as if he’s taking hold of something precious, some nebulous concept of grace he had thought lost.

“A massive 44% uptick with white males in the Rust Belt.”

“Yes,” Homelander hisses through his teeth, pumping his fist triumphantly. “Fuck yes! Yes!” With that same hand, he suddenly takes hold of the back of Layla’s neck, pulling her into a deep kiss. Her noise of surprise is muffled against his lips, his tongue a slick demand on hers.

“They’re saying you’re confident and unapologetic!” Ashley’s voice continues to prattle from the phone, though Layla’s finding it hard to pay attention with the way Homelander’s taking a fistful of her hair, bowing her back, kissing her hungrily. “That you’re not afraid to be yourself!”

He outright moans against her lips. She breaks away from him with a gasp, hand pressed against her chest. “Should I give you a moment alone with Ashley?” She asks breathlessly, only half-joking. The man is absolutely alight against her, heat radiating in his touches. The news trips an alarm bell somewhere in the back of Layla’s mind, but she’s struggling to process it in the wake of his voraciousness.

“Christ, no,” he says. The phone hits the ground with a clatter, Ashley’s confused voice continuing distantly on the line. He cups both sides of Layla’s face and pulls her back in, exhaling a pleased little growl against her lips. “Did you hear? They love me. They fucking love me,” he says between kisses, breathless and downright giddy.

Drawing back, he strokes her cheeks tenderly with his thumbs, his smile broad, eyes shining with relief, joy, and something Layla can’t quite place, though it causes a small knot to form in her gut.

“They want me to be myself.”

#this chapter took everything out of me but it's here and i hope to god it doesn't take this long for the next chap #bc i already have portions written and i know where it's all going!!!#blood sweat and tears in this fic fr lmao #homelander x oc #homelander x original character #homelander fanfiction #eat your ego #my writing

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buckrecs · 1 year

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Hi Sera! I’ve been wanting to ask for recs for a while but every time I think of something you’ve already posted it, but I am a bit obsessed with this right now so I thought I’d ask anyways(you are a gem and do so much for the bucky girls on this hellsite and I love you for it!)

Have you got any Brother’s Bestfriend/Best Friend’s Brother Bucky recs?

Brother’s BFF / BFF’s Brother Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

i follow you (pretend you want me to) by @buckys-black-dress

your best friend’s older brother who has never once given you a second glance finally does one day when he seems to be fond of your new tattoo. it throws you for quite the loop, to say the least.

The Number One Rule by @justkending

Y/N has always been seen as “Steve’s rambunctious sister.” However, she grew up, graduated, and moved to London to study abroad for 4 years and get her bachelor's degree. The girl that returns looks nothing like the teenager that left. But don’t worry, the attitude is still there and stronger than ever. What’s to come of the two grown adults that used to push each other's buttons, but now have a lot more in common than they’ve ever realized?

Untouched by @buckyalpine

A series of discovering all your firsts with your brothers hot best friend.

Save Me From Myself by @fatecantstopme

You and your boyfriend get into a fight and he beats you. You go to your brother’s house for support only to find his best friend and roommate, Bucky Barnes, instead. Bucky is furious when you tell him what happened and he takes care of you.

This Must Be A Dream by @lunarbuck

You've been best friends with Becca Barnes since third grade and have been pining over her older Bucky just as long.

super rich kids by @traitorjoelite

kids with too much money, parties every night, and an incident with your best friend's brother is just the norm on the upper east side.

The First Birthday by @eviesaurusrex

It’s not his first birthday after Hydra, but the first birthday he thinks he actually wants to celebrate—only because of YN.

it’s really you (that’s on my mind) by @heavysoldat

inseparable since middle school, it was no surprise that you ended up falling for your long-time best friend. what was surprising, was who you actually ended up with at the end of the day.

Miss America and the Heartbreak Prince by @fangirlovestuff

Your brother’s best friend, Bucky Barnes was a serious pain in your ass. Shame, since he used to be so nice when you were younger. Too bad he’s changed now in high school. Or has he? All it takes is some detective work, milkshakes and pranks for you to finally figure it out.

Bucky Barnes x Rogers!Reader by @itsapeterthing

You’ve known your brother’s best friend Bucky Barnes since before you can even remember. As the two of you get older, your relationship grows from one of teasing friendship to an everlasting love. Despite all odds and decades apart, you never fail to find each other every time.

Not as Subtle as You Thought by @marvelousmarvelimagines

You and Bucky have been hiding a relationship from your brother successfully for several months now. Bucky’s getting tired of it though and wants to tell Steve. Are you willing to risk that?

About Time by @vanillanaps

Coming clean about being in a relationship with your brothers best friend is never easy—or is it?

A Secret by @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo

You’re Steve’s younger sister and secretly dating Bucky and Steve finds out.

Brother vs Boyfriend by @marvelous-imagining

I Will Always Pick You Up by @eviesaurusrex

Usually, Bucky would pick her up wherever she is, but today, with a night out with some of her fellow Avengers (and her brother), it wasn’t possible that her secret boyfriend could come and pick her up, would it?

Hands Off by @buckysgoldenheart

You’re Steve’s cousin and he has some rules when it comes to you that Bucky isn’t a fan of. Mainly, that he can’t have you.

i wanna be yours by @noctumbra

you’d support him no matter what. he was yours at the very end. and you were his.

On My Mind by @targaryenvampireslayer

You haven't seen your Brothers Best Friend in far too long. Neither of you can wait. Sexy challenges ensue.

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copperbadge · 1 year

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Notable Births Of 2022

Every year around this time the newspapers run those “notable deaths” features, where they memorialize famous or infamous people who died in the past year, which is...appropriate to the season but also deeply morbid.

I would like to suggest we have a Notable Births feature instead, where we discuss all the people who will be famous decades from now who were born in 2022. Not real people, obviously, but like.

On March 3rd this year the first gay president of West America, Annalise Jorgensen, was born!

Also born this year, DieXel -- the composer of the smash it AI Baby, which launched the Electropopstep movement -- on September 29th.

Inventor of the Warm Drive (like the warp drive only more comfortable) Aidan Dietrich was born on July 9th.

The man who would eventually bring down the entire Coca Cola empire, Barry Smith, born Robert Smith on December 29th (hasn’t even happened yet!)

Founder of social media platform Dorp, Julia Nygard, and destroyer of social media platform Dorp, Ron Mellis, weirdly were BOTH born on April 22nd this year.

And of course NeeNar, first alien to openly land on Earth, was born outside the galaxy but traditionally celebrates his birthday as August 10, 2022, because 81022 is a lucky number in his culture. (10822 is a highly unlucky number which is why he landed in America instead of Europe.)

#happy new year #here's a bunch of people who died this year #winter is traditionally a time of horror and death but honestly

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bixels · 11 months

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In light of recent news, instead of celebrating whatever America's got going on on Tuesday, you should celebrate my birthday.

#the big two one #personal #not art

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gucciwins · 1 year

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birthday gifts

harry and y/n celebrate twenty-nine

A/N: hi friends!!!!!! happy harry day! thought I'd write something for bel and harry on celebrating harry’s birthday. hope you enjoy! I love you, sweet angels. happy reading 💝

Word count: 1797

love on tour series

29.

Harry had spent 29 years on this beautiful earth. He had impacted thousands of lives in his short time, including yours. You sit in bed watching him sleep and pray to the stars above that you get to love him for the rest of your life. That’s all you’re asking for, and hope he loves you the same in return.

“Feel you staring at me,” he mutters, burying his face in your covered lap.

You giggle, running a hand through his soft brown hair. “Admiring you at 29.”

“That’s what you said last night.”

That is true. Harry went to bed early last night after a beautiful sold-out show, but for some reason, you were restless. You tossed and turned until Harry had enough, wrapped an arm around your waist, and kept you tucked at his side. Once the squirming was done, you traced his face with your eyes memorizing every freckle and wrinkle. “You were twenty-eight last night.”

Harry shrugs, not correcting you because he’s sure it was past midnight then. It doesn’t make a difference. He blinks his eyes open and finds you smiling down at him. “Feliz cumpleaños, mi vida,” you whisper in the quiet of the room.

He sits up, wrapping you in a giant hug. You press repeated kisses to his bare chest. “Happy Birthday, Harry. I hope all your wishes come true. I have no idea what this year has in store for you, but I want you to know that I love you. Te amo.”

You pull back when you feel his shoulders shaking. “Amor?” He’s crying, and you know he’s okay because his dimpled smile doesn’t lie to you.

“So happy you’re here, love. Thank you.” You lean and kiss Harry. Neither of you care about morning breath. You’re quick to get lost in your own world. The kiss is slow, allowing you to explore each other as if it were the first time. There’s no urgency because you have the rest of the day to enjoy each other. Harry doesn’t want to stop kissing you, but he knows you both must breathe.

“Fancy seeing my birthday suit?” He huffs out with a cheeky grin.

You roll your eyes and push him away. He pouts, but it’s quick to fade when you throw your (his) shirt, and it lands on the floor. “This is my gift to you. Now enjoy amor.”

It’s the best way to start his birthday celebrations.

Harry was happy. He was celebrating his birthday doing what he loved with the people he loved. His family called to wish him a happy birthday, and he promised to see them all as soon as possible. He’d leave North America to settle at home for a bit before preparing to head to Australia, trying not to think about the fact that he would be away from you for longer than he’d like since you were scheduled to start filming in a month.

“Mum loved the flowers,” Harry tells you as he stares at the large bouquet of flowers you’ve sent his mum as you did the previous year. “It’s kind of you.”

“Someone has to thank her for carrying that big head of yours,” you tease as you smile at the selfie he received.

“Heeyy!” He whines.

You roll your eyes, giving him a kiss to help him forget about what you said, and like magic, the topic is long forgotten, and instead, he gets lost in kissing you. He’s always shared how intimate kissing is and how he’d kiss you forever if he could. “Love you,” he mutters against your lips.

“Dork,” you push him away, going to look for his gift.

Harry sighs, “come here, baby.”

“So needy.”

He gasps, and you can’t help but laugh at his reaction. He makes it easy to tease him, and you know he loves it.

“It’s my birthday. You have to be nice to me,” he chastises you.

You apologize, making your way back over to him and hand him his present. You go to sit next to him, but Harry makes you sit in his lap. He’s been extra clingy today, not that you mind. You love being close to him. “Mermaids,” he giggles. It’s blue wrapping paper with mermaids and different sea creatures who look like they’re swimming around. The paper reminded you of Harry, and you knew it would be perfect for the gift you had for him.

“I didn’t need a present,” he reminds you as he’s already begun to tear into the wrapping paper.

He made you promise not to get him anything extravagant. Although you loved giving grand gifts, you knew Harry didn’t need anything he couldn’t buy himself, so you did the next best thing and made him a gift. You feel your palms beginning to sweat as Harry is close to seeing the gift you made him. You place your hands on top of his, stopping him from opening the box. “Do–m-maybe you want to save it for later?”

Harry frowns, picking up on your nerves. He lets you hold his hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “No matter what it is, I’m going to love it,” he promises. “Whether it’s a strawberry cake you made or socks you found at the market. I will love it because you bought it with me in mind.”

You let out a deep breath and know he’s right. “I’m going to make you your cake as soon as we’re back home.” With his schedule, there was no time to bake and decorate a cake–at least you didn’t have the time because he will have a cake for later tonight.

“I look forward to it,” he assures you. “Can I continue, baby?”

You nod, and he lifts the top of the box. There's a wrapped frame and a card waiting for him. He picks up the frame and turns it around carefully. You don’t look down at it. Instead, take in his reaction. You love taking photos. They allow you to look back at a memory. All you had left of your family were boxes of photos. Boxes of memories. You remembered a quiet night in your house with Harry photos scattered around you as you told Harry story after story. It’s one of your favorite memories. The frame opens up, displaying three images. It was a struggle to pick only three.

The first is one of you both at the beach. You’re sitting between his legs, both smiling at your phone. You managed to stand in front of you after a few failed trials. The second photo was taken during Christmas. You sat outside Anne’s home wrapped in his yellow puffer, both of you laughing at a dumb joke Harry made. You’re happy Anne was able to capture the moment. The last one was taken during your time in Italy during the new year. You set up the camera without telling Harry and captured the moment he decided to bring you in and dance with you. The photo was a bit blurry, but it captured his grin perfectly. Your love for each other was on display, loud and proud.

“For your bedside,” you whisper.

His eyes are full of tears. You didn’t think it was anything special, but it was the perfect gift for Harry. You picked out your favorite moments with him and framed them so he could see them every morning he woke up. Harry doesn’t say a word. No, instead, he leans in, slotting your lips together. The kiss tells you everything he didn’t say. Thank you. I love you. I love it.

“I love it, baby. So much,” he promises.

Harry looks down at the box and picks up the card, and you feel your throat close up. The card is a baby blue color reading “Happy Birthday” with a cake in the middle and the number “29” on top.

“Happy Birthday,” he reads. “Why thank you, Bel.”

You can’t help but laugh. Harry knows you so well he noticed that you were beginning to get lost in your head, your nerves almost getting the best of you.

“Para mi estrella.” His Spanish is good. Harry makes many things look easy. There were times when you spoke too fast you confused him, but he’s been practicing with you and Sarai. It means everything to you. “Still your rockstar.”

“Para siempre.” Always.

Harry opens the card and finds doodles of balloons and flowers. It wasn’t anything special, but you thought it’d be something he’d cherish, especially because of what you’d written inside.

Happy Birthday, mi amor.

Now, how about I be the last voice you hear at night?

And every other night

How about in the morning I be the first thing you see

And every morning after

When I wake, I want to see you staring back at me.

Now how about we add one more title to our lives:

From best friends to partners to mi corazón.

To flatmates. To housemates.

Yours, Y/N.

He doesn’t know what to think. Many emotions are running through him, but you can see the surprise clear on his face. “Baby, is this—what are you saying?”

You raise your hand and caress his cheek. He leans into your hold. “I know we’ve got a busy year ahead of us, but when I return to London, I want it to be at our place. One place we both call home.” Your life with Harry is so intertwined that you don’t want a part of you without him. “Only if you want that,” you add in a rush.

Harry laughs, trying not to let his emotions get the best of him, but this really is the best gift he could ever receive. “Baby, I have wanted this since we finished tour back in New York,” he reminds you.

“Worth the wait?” You ask.

“You will always be worth the wait.”

You believe him.

Harry stares at you as if memorizing every part of your face until he stands up with you in his lap, spinning you around. “We’re moving in together,” he yells. “Yes!!!”

“Harry,” you shriek in delight.

He settles you back down. “I love you, Bel. Thank you for the best present.”

“Doesn’t feel that big,” you try to downplay. You both know it means everything to you. There are many things to talk over, but for now, you’ll celebrate his birthday. Everything else can wait.

Harry pouts, “so you weren’t nervous to ask me?”

You pinch your fingers close together, “only a little.”

“I love you. Life with you is all I want,” he vows.

He kisses you pouring all his love into you, a reminder that you are his and he is yours. Together you are creating a beautiful life.

taglist: @alienorknight @harry-is-on-route-66 @myfavfanficsever @springholland @michellekstyles @harryismyfwend @japanchrry @charlessgf @golden-hoax @itsmycorneroftheinternet @harryspirate @tenaciousperfectionunknown @thurhomish @thelovecayon @shawnieeboyy @dontworrysunflower @a-strange-familiar @caramello-styles

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sincerely-your-fo · 5 months

Text

Howdy! Have a birthday coming up and want your family member to wish you a happy birthday?

What about a desire to receive a valentine's day confession from your crush or a romantic letter from your significant other to celebrate?

How about a simple slice of life letter from your best friend telling you what they've been up to and what fun things they'd like to do with you next time you see each other?

Want to read how proud and happy your parent is to call you their child?

Then you've come to the right place ♡

Electronic

● $3 USD per letter

● guaranteed 4 paragraphs minimum

● can easily be a birthday/holiday gift for a beloved mutual via you giving me the username of who you want me to send a letter to + their f/o's information :)!

● will always be sent via anon (if anon is allowed) with my handle @sincerely-your-fo attached in small letters at the bottom like so: @sincerely-your-fo

Physical

● $13 USD per letter

● guaranteed 3 paragraphs minimum ($5 per additonal paragraph)

● comes with the electronic copy sent to your askbox so you may have it there too (it will likewise bear the mark '@sincerely-your-fo' in the bottom corner)

●*can easily be a birthday/holiday gift for a beloved mutual via me sending the envelope containing the f/o envelope to you so you can then send it to your friend or you provide me with your friend's mailing information; whichever is more comfortable :)!

● will be sent in a second envelope to add protection to envelope containing letter

Customizable:

-wax color(s) & wax stamp

-envelope

Available upon request:

-flower petals

-perfume/cologne spritz

-star confetti

-washi tape

-miniature framed artwork

Additional notes:

-will do NSFW thirst writing for adult clients requesting a letter from a canonically adult character (ergo, a character that is NOT aged up by the client).

-I will need links to webpages / docs regarding the character I am writing for so please have that on hand or be ready to make one once I contact you :)!

- I have and will exercise the right to politely refuse a commission request if I am uncomfortable with the topic given to me to write or the character the client wants me to write for.

Important Qs & As

1. How to request a letter:

Please contact via sending an Ask and I will DM you.

2. How & when to pay for a letter:

Payment is required upfront and can be paid through PayPal or Zelle.

3. Which Fandoms do you write letters for?

I do not focus on Fandom but instead on individual case by cases instances when given a character to focus on; part of the process of writing the letter is me asking questions and getting webpages to refer to the character's personality.

4. Do you write for OCs?

Yes I absolutely do! Please be ready to answer lots of questions/have a doc on hand to describe your OC so I may be a good scribe for them :)

5. Do you have any references of already written works to browse?

Indeed I do! Please turn to this post to be able to view what I have done so far ♡

6. Do you ship internationally?

Yes I do! I am based in America (for now) and indeed am open to shipping physical letters internationally.

Please tell your friends / tell your mutuals ♡

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deadpresidents · 2 months

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"[President] Coolidge chose to celebrate July 4 [1927] -- which also happened to be his fifty-fifth birthday -- by remaining in South Dakota, where he was having the time of his life. In recognition of all the publicity he was generating with his trip, the state of South Dakota presented him on his birthday with a cowboy outfit and horse. Named Kit, the horse was charitably described as 'spirited.' It was in fact all but untamed. The President, who was by no means a horseman was prudently kept well away from it. Instead his delighted attention was focused on his other main present -- a cowboy outfit consisting of a ten-gallon hat, bright red shirt, capacious blue neckerchief, chaps, boots, and spurs. Coolidge retired to put it all on and emerged clankingly, and a little clumsily, in the full regalia a few minutes later. He looked ridiculous, but very proud, and posed happily for photographers, who could not believe their luck. 'Here was one of the great comic scenes in American history,' wrote Robert Benchley in The New Yorker that week.

Coolidge loved that outfit and wore it for the rest of the summer whenever he could. According to lodge staff, he often changed into it in the evening after his more formal day's duties were done, and for a few hours ceased to be the most important man in America and instead was just a happy cowpoke."

-- Bill Bryson, on President Calvin Coolidge's genuine love for an utterly goofy cowboy outfit given to him as a birthday gift during a vacation in the Black Hills of South Dakota in July 1927, recounted in Bryson's book One Summer: America, 1927 (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO).

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arabriddler · 1 month

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hello Americans who don’t like America did you know that my birthday is on July 4th therefore you can celebrate me instead isn’t that fun

#/jk #i do love making this joke

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jasmine-the-fox · 1 month

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I'm better in Japan then in Paris

Picapollo made this really good request over on ao3 and I can't wait for you guys to read this amazing story i have made for you guys.

Anyways! Please enjoy!

Marinette smiled as she floated on the floaty bed in her pool. She was relaxing in the sun as she faintly hears her husband cooking on the barbecue as they wait for there guests to arrive "Mari! You sure you don't want something to drink?" her husband asked making her turn to look at him "I'm sure Izu! Why don't you instead come join me? The others aren't going to be here for a while and it seems like a waste to cook right now" Mari said making her husband Izuku Midoriya also known as pro hero Deku to smile towards her and enter the pool after closing the barbecue.

"I was just working on a few things that need to cook for a while so were fine" he said as he swam to her side, Mari had met Izuku two years before graduation. Kagami had brought her to Japan, she was so happy and excited when a villain attacked but Deku came to save her... that was how there relationship began making them very happy together. Because of Mari's life in Paris, she decided to keep her relationship a secret which Kagami was alright in doing since she knew they were dating.

As a result... no one in her class knew she was dating Izuku at all... which was a good thing because had lied about getting cheated on by someone and within the hour of saying that the class attacked the guy online for cheating on Lila. As a result, it was for the best to not let them know and instead let them believe she was single and in love with Adrien... especially after they stopped being her friends after Lila lied about Mari sending her death threats... so it was better than Izuku getting contacted about the lies so they break-up.

Izuku did know about Lila and her lies of course but she just wanted him safe until she can live in Japan with him which her parents were alright with only after she graduates... and now here she was two years after graduating and she was married to her husband for a year now. Her parents were able to open a bakery in Japan that had become very popular and Mari opened three stores so far... and let's not forget there sweet two year old son Kazuki that they named after his godfather Katsuki Bakugo who is also Izuku's childhood best friend.

Currently... the BBQ was to have a little party to celebrate Kazuki's second birthday... and also for Mari to surprise everyone with the fact that she's pregnant again... not even Izuku knew as she wanted to surprise him. A while later little Kazuki began to wake up from his nap "Where's the little birthday boy!? I need to see him now!" shouted Katsuki making Kazuki squeal of joy as Katsuki came over with a gift bag and then picked him up to hug him "Hey Kacchan! glad you could make it" Izuku said while Mari giggled.

"How was that mission over in America?" she asked as Katsuki entered the pool with Kazuki in his arms "It was tough since two pro hero's bailed a day after we started" he explained making Mari huff in anger while Izuku sighed "My hero suit also got trashed so i'll need a new one from you Bug" he added making her smirk and nod as Tikki giggled. Before Mari left for Japan... she had located Hawkmoth and Mayura, she threatened Gabriel and Nathalie with going to the police if they didn't hand everything relating to the miraculous over... while promising to help bring back Gabriel's wife.

After getting everything, she went and took Adrien's ring and then left without leaving a trace of her. She did this so to keep the miraculous safe from Adrien... but Gabriel swore that he, Nathalie and Emily would keep Adrien under control and not try to find her to take back the ring from her. Now here she was, safe and happy with her life... and she didn't care about anything that was happening over in Paris at all "Did anyone message about being on there way here?" Mari then asked making Izuku smiled.

"They should be here soon. Ochako said she and Tenya were just buying some sweets and some wine to enjoy after Kazuki goes to bed later today but the others were on there way" Izuku said making her smile and nod to his words as sure enough there friends were slowly coming to join them by the pool... including Inko and Mari's parents making her smile and greet them with a bright smile. Kagami walked into the yard a little while later with her husband Felix... Adrien's cousin but Mari was very happy to see the two of them so they could celebrate Kazuki's birthday... and her little surprise.

Meanwhile... back in Paris...

Adrien has been upset for the last two years... as it had been two years ago when his miraculous was taken from him by Ladybug. He couldn't believe she would take the ring and still not reveal who she was behind the mask! He just didn't find it fair... not only that but after graduation... Mari had left Paris. Her parents refused to tell them where she went other then she left to be happy and wouldn't be coming back... after that her parents began to leave Paris from time to time leaving the bakery to a few employes they hired, he asked why and they simply said that they opened a new bakery somewhere and would go to check on it.

He tried contacting Mari like the others did... but she had them blocked so they couldn't call or text her for anything that they needed or wanted to know about her. Right now the class was meeting up at the park for old time sakes and to catch up, when he arrived at the park he discovered that everyone was already there but Lila, Chloe and Sabrina... and they looked upset for some reason. He went to join them and quickly found Nino to talk "Hey man. Why is everyone looking upset?" he asked making Nino sigh "Look around... who isn't here?" he asked making Adrien look confuse before looking around and then it clicked.

"Marinette... she isn't here" he whispered making Nino nod "I found out with Alya from Chloe that she was in Japan now... married and had a son... today is his second birthday" Nino explained making Adrien look down "So she... moved on from us? She really isn't coming back?" Adrien asked making Nino sigh "Seems like it... turns out Chloe got invited to the party so she, her sister Zoe and Sabrina aren't here because of it" he explained making him nod in understanding. He had tried asking Kagami to hang-out with him but she refused saying she with Felix were going to Japan for a while.

He was now certain she had also been invited to the party... finally Lila arrived with a big bright smile. At that moment Adrien got a notification from Chloe's social media accounts with a post she made... it was of Marinette with her husband hero Deku celebrating not only there son's birthday... but the fact they were going to have another baby. Everyone had checked but Lila as she was focused on talking about herself... and then it happened... something that Adrien was certain Mari had always wanted to see happen with her very own eyes.

Lila's downfall... has arrived... because of her latest lie...

"I just wish you guys could meet my husband! But being the pro hero Deku he's really busy saving lives right now!" she said making there eyes widen... and then Juleka slapped her "You bitch! Your really are a LIAR!" she screamed... at that moment... everyone else began to scream at Lila. Adrien kept quiet as Alya revealed Chloe's post about Marinette being married to hero Deku making Lila freak out and try to lie her way out of it... claiming that the guy she married didn't look like him and she must have been tricked... but it didn't work... and then... her eyes landed on Adrien... and she smirked.

He went pale at her expression... and he couldn't stop her in time...

"Fine then! But this time i'm telling you the truth when I say that Maribrat wasn't the only one who knew i'm a liar! That's right Adrien also knew from the very start and he didn't try to stop me from lying or stop you from hurting your 'Everyday Ladybug' at all!" she said before running away as they went silent... and then turned to him "You knew?" Nino asked in horror. Adrien tried to speak but nothing came out and this time Kim spoke "YOU FUCKING KNEW SHE WAS LYING TO US... AND DIDN'T TRY TO WARN US!?" he shouted making him flinch.

The group ganged up on him and pointed out how he could have told them at any point in time and they would have listened to him... but he didn't and now they lost Mari possibly for good and there was no way of them fixing anything with her now. He tried to claim it wasn't true, that they could ask his friend Kagami or Juleka's brother Luka to talk to her but they weren't listening to him at all and continued to scream at him at how he caused all of this to continue for years and hadn't tried to fix things even after they had all graduated.

And now... it was all far too late... Lila had left to go who knows where to lie to people once more... Mari was married and has a family and here they were in Paris... suffering because they lost an amazing friend forever...

And while they believed it was all Adrien's fault... they all knew that deep down... it was there own fault for not looking into Lila's lies from the start...

#miraculous ladybug #crossover #bnha #salt fic #miraculous salt #class salt #lila salt #Marinette x Izuku

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wildissylupus · 9 months

Note

Share us your wisdom of the Overwatch cookbook

Alright so let's get started on the little bits of lore sprinkled in this book! In the book the recipes are separated into continents so I'll do the same here.

Also please not this book came out awhile ago so many characters are not going to be included. I am forever asking for a new cook book everyday.

I'm only really going to get into the descriptions but if people want I can analyse the recipes themselves, but I think you would need to specify the specific character.

Anyway let's get into it!!

The Americas

Cassidy

Cassidy always got Carne Adovada when he was in New Mexico, he specifically got it from this whole-in-the-wall on Route 66 just outside Albuquerque. It also states that he got a "hearty serving" of it.

Cassidy often has Bizcochitos when celebrating or just when he's having a break. It also seems like he enjoys them specifically because they remind him of home. I personally read that as they were something his family made pre-crisis.

Cassidy's cocktail of choice is called "Deadeye", it's sold at the Calaveras bar. It contains four black tea bags and four ounces of bourbon. making it like that gives you two servings. Also the description of this drink implies that Cassidy regularly put bourbon in his coffee.

The drinks name being "Deadeye" could imply that the bartender named it after Cassidy. The description of Deadeye also comfirms that Cassidy is a regular at Calaveras.

Ashe

Corn pudding is a comfort food for Ashe, B.O.B often makes it after a heist has gone sideways. She also eats it after every encounter with Cassidy. B.O.B makes it without being asked.

Ashe doesn't like a lot of deserts because of her parents neglect and the amount of bad birthday's she's had, however, Orange Crème Caramel, a flan dessert, is one or the few deserts she likes, even calling it one of her favourites.

Ashe's choice of drink to unwind with after a long day of running the Deadlock gang is Texas fizz. It also seems like her drinks of choice are more on the fizzy side.

None of her recipes imply that she cooks anything herself.

Soldier 76

Jack and Ana often made pancakes in the morning before Overwatch collapsed, Jack often adding cinnamon and orange zest to the batter to give it more flavour. When asked Jack would say the flavour would give the pancakes a little extra pick-me-up first thing in the mourning.

Jack's family had a meatloaf night and a chicken-and-biscuits Sunday.

Jack often makes an old family recipe when he's feeling wistful, specifically he makes a "Tater Tot hot dish", it basically a shepherd's pie with potato gems (tater tots) instead of mash potato. The reason he makes this dish specifically is because of how flexible it is, allowing him to use whatever meat and veg is on hand.

Before he and Vincent broke up Jack tended to make Hoosier Sugar Cream Pie for them both during the rare peaceful weekends.

The 76 was a milkshake Jack used to get after working on his families farm in the summer.

He grew up in Bloomington, Indiana. (idk if that's been mentioned anywhere else)

From all the recipes he has I think it's safe to say that Jack has a sweet tooth (like seriously all the recipes have a ungodly amount of sugar, even the tater tot one-)

Reaper

Reyes go to breakfast is a Breakfast Quesadilla, something that he has always made even when growing up in Los Angeles.

Even as Reaper he can still eat regular food, something I have seen people ask if he can still do.

In the early OW days Ana, Jack and Gabe often sat down and shared some churros. His go to food after a rough day is Chili Con Queso.

Reyes made his own cocktail, called the "Scythe", to drink after a difficult Blackwatch mission, such as the Venice Incident... when I say there is a lot of alcohol in this drink I mean it-

Sombra

Molletes are Sombra's go to food while she's working (I've made this recepie and same girl same)

Sombra's Sopa Azteca recepie implies one of two things about her, one she was taken in by a family at some point, or two she managed to get a home on her own when she was a kid. My bet is on the former since it's implied she doesn't really make it herself. Though this does seem to be a comfort food from her childhood.

Sombra likes Conchas and it's implied that she gets them from the Bakery Alejandra and her mother work at/own.

Sombra favouite cocktail is the Dorado Sunset, something that seems to be a common cocktail in Dorado but the Bartender at Calaveras makes the recepie shown in the cookbook specifically for her. This confirms what it does for Cassidy and that is the fact that they are both regulars.

Lucio

Lucio's go to snack is Pao De Queijo.

Lucio tends to go fishing, or that at least what his Moqueca recipe description reads to me.

Lucio's father made him Brigadeiros on his birthday, leading to Lucio considering them a very special treat.

(in all honesty the descriptions for Lucio's recepies are small and don't really reveal much so-)

Africa

Ana

Ana never learned how to cook because of missions and training, so her go to meals were salad and soups.

Most of the recipes Ana did know were recipes she made for or with Fareeha.

The descriptions of Ana's recipes never mention Sam, only ever mentioning sharing these recipes with Fareeha, further signifying that Ana and Sam are divorced though it seems to me that it was earlier in Fareeha's life then I initially thought.

Pharah

Baked Kibbeh is a recepie she learned from Ana and after Ana's "death" it was a comfort food for her.

Canadian Butter tarts are something that both Fareeha and her father bond over and often share during the holidays.

This is were Cassidy and Sam's relationship is described as "complicated". It's also implied that Pharah was often sent to spend the holidays with Sam, meaning Ana seemingly had majority custody over Fareeha.

Sometimes, Pharah dreams of just sitting down with her mother and sharing a glass of Sahlab.

Doomfist

Doomfist seems to be similar to Ashe in being implied to just... not cook for himself.

Before missions he eats a bowl of Jollof rice, something he did bac when he was doing martial arts.

When he was a kid his favourite sweet was shuku shuku.

Doomfist considers gin over rum because it's more sophisticated.

Orisa

Puff Puff's are one of Efi's go to foods, they are also mentioned a lot in the Hero of Numbani novel.

Efi made a Sundae inspired off of Orisa.

Efi's go to drink when working is hibiscus tea.

Europe

Tracer

Lena comfort food is Sticky Toffee Pudding, she often makes it whens she's feeling low to remind herself of what she's fighting for.

Lena's favourite meal is fish and chips, specifically the ones from Bell's Fish and Chips.

Lena and Emily like to share Battenberg cake, usually after a date at the movies.

Lena got a Primm's cocktail renamed after her after her efforts in restoring peace after the Kings Row Uprising. The drink was renamed the Cavalry Charge and it is something even Torb enjoys. Though he does mutter to himself that he should have never given her that catchphrase.

Moira

Moira's go to breakfast is a Full Irish Breakfast washed down with a cup of coffee

Moira and her family had regular Sunday Family Dinners, to the point were Guinness Stew is a comfort food for her. It is something she makes when she's craving the warmth and comfort of home.

Moira makes Barmbrack after a day in the lab though she sometimes changes the original recipe to fit with the tastes of Oasis, implying that she sometimes shares this dish with her colleagues there.

Torbjorn

Torbjorns favourite thing to cook is kroppkakor because how easy it is to tinker with.

Ingrid is a chemical engineer and she a very inquisitive, something she passed down to Brigitte, and to the surprise of no one her apple pie the favourite of one Angela Zeigler.

Brigitte

Toast Skagen seems to be her go to brain food, often eating it when she's working on something.

Brigitte like donuts, but not more then semlor buns.

Brigs go to drink is the Saft Drink, however she often changes the recipe to include a variety of different things each time, only ever using a template to help her make the drink.

Widowmaker

Widow often cooks herself since she is now living in her the abandoned Château Gilliard, one of her go to meals is Vichyssoise, which she finds fitting due to it being served cold.

Gratin Dauphinois was a favourite of Amelie and Gerard's, now she only really eats it for sustenance.

Widow loves pavlova, both when she was Amelie and even now as Widowmaker. She often eats it after a successful mission.

It's implied in the desciption of her "Widows Kiss" drink that she drinks it at the end of every day, she likes the bite of the drink.

Reinhardt

To no ones surprise Reinhardt eats a lot.

Kasespatzle is a comfort food for Reinhardt, often eating either for his own enjoyment or because he is feeling discouraged.

One of the things that help Reinhardt remember the possotive memories he has in Eichenwalde is the cake that is made there.

Reinhardt is a loud but fun drunk.

Bastion

Bastion likes Bird-Shaped Pretzels

Bastion knows how to make treats for birds.

Mercy

Mercy's go to meal is Bircher Muesli, she often recomends it to patients and even made Genji eat it while he was in recovery. Though he seemed to have not enjoy it at the beginning he has since grown to like it.

Like Cassidy, Angela takes enjoyment in eating cookies while taking a break or just when she's feeling overwhelmed, her favourite cookie is the Basler Brunsli.

Angela often mixes brandy in with her tea after a life-threatening ordeal.

Australia

Junkrat

Junkertown has a local burger called, well, Junkertown loaded Burger, which is one of Junkrats favourite meals.

Honestly these recipes confirm my belief that Junckrat should not be allowed near a kitchen.

Junkrat like Boba, idk if this is in his emote or not but it's not just a little reference, Junkrat just likes boba.

Roadhog

Roadhog often makes snack mixes because he and Junkrat never really have time for a full meal.

Roadhog used to be a farmer before the crisis, from this time fairy bread has become a comfort food.

Asia

Genji

Genji and Hanzo both loved the Rikimaru ramen shop when they were younger, often challenging eachother to see who could eat the spiciest bowl. Though Genji has made peace with his past those happy days with his bother still weigh heavily on him.

Soba-cha custard was something invented by the Shimada chef as a way to reward Genji and Hanzo for studying. Genji used to eat his on the roof of Shimada castle in order to look over the rest of Hanamura.

Green Dragon Tea seems to be something Genji made while he was under the teachings of Zenyatta.

Hanzo

Hanzo seemingly doesn't know how to cook complex meals like the ones he used to eat with the Shimada clan, right now he often eats simplistic dishes like Tamago Kake Gohan.

When he was younger Hanzo would have Shimada Tempura to reward himself after getting all his jobs done, his doesn't eat it anymore but the smell of it brings him back to a simpler time.

As a child Hanzo used to enjoy Sakura Mochi during Hanami

DVA

Hana's favourite food, other than chips and nano-cola, is Kimbap, so much so that when her fanbase found out MEKA made an official MEKA Kimbap, specific to all of Hana's favourite fillings.

When Hana finally takes a break, Dae-hyun tends to make her his Japchae.

Hotteok are Hana and Dae-hyun's go to victory food.

Hana has a drink named after her, well more specifically her mech, called the Bunny Hop Punch, it is one of her favourite drinks to order

Mei

Mei often cooked for her friends at the Ecopoint, now when she cooks she gets a bitter sweet feeling. Even so, she still cooks the recipes she did back at the Ecopoint to relive the good times she had with her team. This includes when she makes hot chocolate.

Despite cooking a lot, Mei was never able to make certain recipes out in Antarctica, now though with her travelling the world she can make more of the food she wanted.

Zarya

Her favourite soup, Borscht, might be the inspiration for her hair colour. This was also something she had often as a child, along with being one of her favourite meals.

Like many others Zarya got a drink named after her called the Super Nova, it is a pink twist on the White Russian.

Symmetra

Pakora is a childhood favourite of Satya's, though she can't eat it a lot with Viskar, she still enjoys a plate when she can.

Symmetra often enjoys the flaovors of the food from her home, even though it is worlds apart from the food Vishkar serves. It is a comfort food for her.

Symmetra likes making Kaju Katli because she can make the dough into any shape she wants.

Zenyatta

Zenyatta often uses food to spread empathy and understanding, often using it as a way to bond with the people he encounters.

Zenyatta often make Vegan Momos to share with those met meets during his travels, Genji being one of these people

The go to Tea for the human Shambali pilgrims is Tibetan Butter Tea.

The Moon

Winston

Winston likes Pineapple on Pizza, this type of Pizza was often enjoyed on Gibraltar and other Watch points, often being on the centre of the table

Harold Winston used to make Lunar Colony Pies for Winston before he died, Winston still has fond memories of these pies

Bananas are WInstons least favourite food, only tolerating them if they are dipped in peanut butter

Wrecking Ball

Hammonds favouite snack is a wrecking ball made out of cheese... because it's a wrecking ball made out of cheese.

That's all for now, and if you'll excuse me, I am very tired after writing that all out-

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch lore #overwatch headcanons #analysis #cole cassidy #ashe overwatch #elizabeth caledonia ashe #elizabeth caledonia calamity ashe #pharah #food

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