#Be some shell of something somebody I am supposed to be

[devilfic]

❝small favor❞

IV. another white guy from new york.

parts: previously / next plot: it's uncanny, but it can't be. right? because that would be stupid. and spider-man isn't stupid. right? pairing: mcu!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: violence, guns, knives, blood mention, alcohol consumption, peter parker isn't beating the average white guy allegations, well. when he smiles like that he might. words: 6.7k.

You almost expect them to turn you away at the door when you hand over your badge, some paranoid part of you thinking they’ll take one look at you and know you don’t belong here, but the man at the check-in hands it back to you with a pleasant, “Enjoy your evening.”

That was half an hour ago, and Parker was nowhere in sight.

He was going to “meet you there” as Jameson promised, though without a clue what to look for, you found yourself aimlessly floating through perfume clouds of high society. You didn’t want to hit the bar this close to eight, but if you didn’t find an anchor quick, you’d vibrate right through the floor. Worst of all, you didn’t even have the guy’s number. What would you do if he was a no-show?

Your job, you suppose, sullen and already dreading the evening to come.

There’s no sign of Wilson Fisk either. In your usual setting, you might’ve already flagged down a guest or two to ask what they thought about the rumors, but your usual settings were messy, bloody, and out in the real world. Here, you had a list of questions to ask that didn’t even scratch your curiosity.

What’s your name? Are you excited to be here this evening? How does the Stark Charity Ball reflect the New York City you know and love? Were you attacked? Can you confirm Wilson Fisk was on the scene?

You hadn’t even made it to the fourth question before you’d given up. How would you last a night like this?

Slithering through the crowd, you make your way to the snack table with hopes to eat your way through the night. At least you could count on rich people to shell out on good cheese.

There’s a band playing in the corner, a gentle stringed melody that you appreciate over the chatter of the guests. You make your way over and let yourself get carried away in the tune, only glancing every so often at your watch to gauge the time. It was nine minutes to eight, nine minutes until Pepper Potts took the stage to start the night, and you still had no idea where your partner was.

It’s almost natural the way your hand finds your phone, swiping over the familiar contact name and pressing out a quick message.

The party can’t start without you.

Towering windows make up most of the ballroom, fading sunlight overpowering the chandeliers above, and you take advantage in hopes it might reveal your webbed friend hanging off the roof.

Almost immediately, you get a text back.

Aww, you really do like me :) No kidding. Are you already in place? Just about. Doing a quick perimeter check. You enjoying the party? I would be if my partner was here on time. Hey, cut Parker some slack! His train’s probably late and I don’t see any signs of Kingpin yet. I'm just glad you've stopped trying to fight me on this. If you can’t beat ‘em... And maybe look up every once in a while, you’re gonna run into somebody.

Just as your eyes scan the very last word, your senses go haywire. There’s cold liquid running down your hand and you've just run into something. When you finally tear your eyes away from your phone, you unfortunately realize that something is now wearing the remainder of your drink.

People nearby have formed a clearing around you, but it feels less out of courtesy and more to point and laugh at you. Regardless, you’ve got to fix this, “I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you okay?”

Your victim stands in a small puddle of sangria, the front of their tux dripping in it still, and you could see how red stains crawled up crisp white. You could only imagine how much every bit of their suit cost (and the Daily Bugle definitely didn’t have the budget to cover it).

They lift their copper head and you’re at first struck by the smile on their face, then the peppering of freckles across the bridge of their nose, and finally... their name.

He carefully removes his suit jacket to assess the damage to his shirt, “Nah, don’t worry. I was looking for a reason to leave early anyway.”

You’re breathless, certain you should be rushing to grab towels or begging him not to sue you into oblivion, but you don’t really get that far, “I’m... really sorry.”

He laughs, so genuine that you feel the tension in your shoulders deflate just at the sound. Just then, a waiter rushes over with a hand towel, insisting he lead him to the men’s room to clean up, but he’s waved off with little more than a “thank you” and “I’ll survive, I promise.”

He steps out of the puddle to allow someone to clean it up, bringing him that much closer to you. When he's done with the towel, he hands it off to you. His eyes trail to your chest and his eyes widen some, “The Daily Bugle. You a reporter?”

You realize he’s spotted your press badge and rush to introduce yourself, wiping absentmindedly at your sticky hand, “Uh... yes. Actually. Crime beat reporter.” You set your empty cup on a passing waiter’s tray and hold out your clean hand to shake.

His hand is warm, if not a little sticky like yours, though you have no grounds to complain, “Nice to meet you. I’m Harry.”

“Oh, I know.”

He quirks an eyebrow, still smiling, “Then... was that drink a calculated assault?”

“No! God, no. I genuinely wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Not very safe for a crime beat reporter, don’t you think?”

You’ve got to be on fire. You feel like it, struggling between a laugh and a whine, “I’m sorry you had to be the one to teach me that lesson.”

“No worries. Like I said, you did me a favor.” Harry glances around, “So… you're reporting on what, exactly? You betting on a robbery or something?”

The humor of that isn't lost on you, “Actually, I’m filling in tonight. Our usual reporter definitely wouldn’t have ruined your nice shirt.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I find this stain rather charming.”

You can’t help it. You giggle and he smiles even wider, “May I ask why you want to escape so soon?”

“Not if you’re gonna write it down.”

“Off the record? In exchange for the stain.”

Harry Osborn has a boyish look to him even though he’s steadily approaching 26, some baby fat still clinging to his cheekbones when he smiles wide enough, “Well, this was my first stop since hopping off a nine hour flight from Oxford and I’m, as the English say, absolutely knackered. I was gonna leave in half an hour after photos but…” He laughs, casting a look over his shoulder at the stage, “I’ve made my donation. I won’t be missed.”

Perking up with an idea, you reach into your bag and pull out a recorder, “In that case, how about I get you down for a comment on your generous donation of…”

“Five million.”

You blink, swallowing hard, “Five million… to make up for it? I'll even throw in a few questions about your study at Oxford. I hear you're working on a revolutionary breakthrough with lab-grown bacteria that breaks down plastic.”

Harry's eyes light up. For a moment, the image of Harry Osborn is just Harry, “You sure Jameson would let you publish something nice about an Osborn?”

The Daily Bugle was no friend to Spider-Man, but neither was it a friend to Norman Osborn. You recall some of the more scalding headlines about Oscorp’s president that you’d published in the past. It was the one thing you and Jameson could agree on. “You know Jameson well?”

“Of course. I’ve got a buddy who works there too, actually. You might know him. His name’s-”

Harry’s voice is drowned out by the collective oohing and awing of the crowd when the lights dim, shrouding the grand ballroom in the fading glow of the sun. The stage, once empty, is now illuminated with the presence of Pepper Potts. Uproarious applause fills the room. Harry smiles politely at you. His buddy would be a conversation for later.

You want to focus on Pepper, you really do, but it’s like you’ve broken out of a spell the second Harry’s eyes leave yours, and you find yourself once again scanning the crowd for Parker. There was no good reason for him to be this late and you couldn’t even give him a piece of your mind about it.

You shoot off an indignant text to Peter.

Your guy better have been hit by a cyclist on the way here or he’s getting an earful when I see him. Pepper looks amazing :(

But no instant reply. In fact, three minutes pass and there’s nothing. You glance up to the windows for any sign of him watching and find none. Was... he here?

You glance at Harry. If Jillian were here, she’d punch you in the face for what you’re about to do, for the opportunity you're about to squander. Okay, maybe not a punch, but it’d be violent.

But then you’re thinking about Peter, about that night that changed everything, about his blood and bruises and the men with guns for hands. You think about how Peter worried for you. You think about Harry, who has just donated five million dollars to charity, and how there are over a hundred more of him packed in this ballroom right now. You think about Wilson Fisk, and how much havoc he could wreak if he put Spider-Man out for good.

And then you're elbowing yourself through the crowd, searching for the nearest emergency stairwell, hoping that if Peter’s still watching he might meet you halfway. Parker and those questions be damned. You'd find a way to make it up to Jameson somehow.

You’re about ten feet away from the nearest exit when someone takes a hold of your wrist, a few seconds away from the end of Pepper’s speech, and whoever is holding you back has a grip so iron it stings. You can’t clearly see the face of who’s grabbed you but it doesn’t feel familiar. Your heart jumps into your throat. Had Fisk's men infiltrated the room already? Had they gotten to Spidey? Did they know you? Were you next?

You’ve got no pocket knife on you, but you have a fist.

You curl your fingers inward and aim right for your captor’s head. Your fist makes contact with skin. The room erupts into thunderous applause. The lights go up.

You never actually land the punch, but your captor looks a little too wide-eyed to be one of Fisk’s men, too soft in the face. His own hand has completely stopped yours in its tracks, just a hair away from breaking his nose, and he’s staring at you like a deer in headlights. A big, brown doe-eyed deer. “Uh, hi,” your eyes flicker down to the camera hanging from his neck, almost blocking the badge beneath it that reads "P. B. Parker", and then you meet his eyes with the same bewilderment, “sorry I’m late.”

Parker is about average height with a build you can't quantify when his shirt is draping off him. It's a ridiculously huge plaid thing, the kind of thing someone would wear to hide themselves, but all he does is stand out in the sea of Armani and Givenchy. Old jeans, old shirt, high-tops, and a muddy-grey beanie to top it all off. It was a wonder they let him in the door at all.

What you can feel is the strength behind his hand as it holds your fist in place. Some people are looking—you realize, after the tremors of your punch reverberate back up your arm—and so you yank your hand back before any security can take notice.

Your partner waits a full second before holding out his own, offering a subtle, wobbly smile, "I would've been here sooner but... traffic, ya know?"

His voice is low, you notice this next. Practically a mumble. You kind of realize why your coworkers said you weren't missing much; outside of his awkward mannerisms and sweet, unassuming baby face, he looked like any other white guy from New York. He also seemed like he didn't want to be seen or heard, and you imagined that Jameson had no problem with that.

But his mumbling forces you to take notice of his lips so you can read them, and their thin, blushy quality is only marred by a little dryness. Broken by biting or... or something. "You're late." Is all you manage to say.

His lips part, turning downward, "Yeah, I know," he stutters, the pitch of his voice going up a hair, "I said- um, I caught the last half of Mrs. Potts’ speech." And then he turns his camera to you, flicking through images that are too small on the screen for you to assess the quality of. You actually have no doubt they're good, but you're upset he's late and you're certain there's nothing remarkable about this guy—nothing at all—and yet you can't stop staring.

"You know Spidey?" You blurt out next, and his eyes widen and zero in on you. You don't know why he's surprised. "He's mentioned me, hasn't he?"

Parker blinks, "Oh! Yeah. Yeah. All the time. You're very... good. At your job."

"Thank you. So are you."

And wouldn't you know it, he actually blushes. It's sweet and alarming how quickly red blooms across the apples of his cheeks, how his hands wobble around his camera a bit, how it disarms you for a moment. It'd be cute if you could just figure out what about him was throwing you off.

In fact, you're so enthralled in figuring out that something that you see his lips moving but just miss his question, barely hearing the tail-end of it. You watch his lips again as you ask him to repeat it, but the musicians have started up a jaunty tune with trumpets and high white keys, so you duck closer to him and ask him to repeat it once more.

"I asked-" And as you get closer, you have an excuse to look at him more deeply.

Your eyes follow the curve of his mouth to his chin (and all its little hairs that he hadn't caught shaving), down to his neck where you see, just peeking out beneath the lip of his beanie, a curl. You've abandoned his question now. You just feel, as strange as it is, that you need a closer look...

Your hand is moving before your mind can catch up with it, until it's caught in Parker's halfway to his throat. You're so close to him that you can see the way the skin of his chin rolls with the effort to lean away from you, or the honey speckles in his eyes that are all but eclipsed by his blown-wide pupils.

His fingers are latched around yours. He's not using the same strength he was before, doesn't need to, but you can sort of feel it beneath the callouses. Even then, it's so gentle. You don't know why you react with just as mush wonder. The world might as well be at half-speed. You almost wish him to speak again because you've got nothing to say for yourself here.

Parker looks on at you, still holding onto your hand. He smells... like the city.

"Do you-" He starts, chokes on his spit, and then swallows, "are you always this friendly when you're tipsy?"

You blanch. "What? I'm not-" You yank your hand back, cup it to your mouth and nose, and breathe in the sangria. Could he smell it on your breath? "I'm not tipsy. I barely even had a drink before I spilled it all over..."

You catch Parker's eye to find him looking interested. "Spilled it all over...?"

"Someone. Whatever. It was an accident."

"You spilled your drink on someone?"

"It was an accident."

"You know, I was feeling real bad about showing up late, but Jameson's gonna have a field day with this." You're mortified. He wasn't interested, he was amused. "Are we gonna get sued?"

"No!" Your voice draws the attention of a couple nearby, making you shrink even closer to Parker, "I told you it was an accident and I apologized. And you're still not off the hook for being late."

He folds his arms across his chest, smiles steadily this time, and agrees. The action is so unmistakable that it saps all the lightheartedness right out of you. Parker notices the change.

The only thing that breaks the moment is Harry Osborn finding you both.

Your head whips at the first "Peter!", thinking you'll see red and blue somewhere nearby, but Harry is gunning straight for Parker with the widest smile on his face. You break away just in time for him to envelop Parker in a big, friendly hug that would've knocked Parker off his feet if not for how solid he was. A few onlookers take in the scene, some amused, others not so much.

It takes you a moment to digest that Harry meant Parker, had called him Peter with such love and affection that there was no way he was mistaken, and Parker had returned the hug a beat later without correcting him.

There were probably a million Peters in New York alone. And yet...

They stay intertwined a minute longer, only breaking away so that Harry could hold... Peter's face in his hands. "Peter Parker! What the hell are you doing here?" Harry seems to remember you're there. He releases Peter and points to you, "So, you two know each other after all. Pete's the buddy at the Bugle I told you about. We've been best friends for years."

As if this Peter business wasn't enough for you to wrap your head around, you struggle to imagine these two being best friends. One of New York City's richest heirs and a contractor for the Daily Bugle. Your disbelief is evident as you ask, "How did you two meet...?"

"College. We went to ESU together. We were even roommates before I went off to Oxford." Harry smiles proudly, patting Peter on the back. It's then that you notice Peter is looking very, very uncomfortable. You wonder for a moment if this is all some elaborate joke Harry's playing, but it hadn't struck you as his type of humor.

This is, in fact, a man named Peter Parker. He works for the Daily Bugle, he's best friends with Harry Osborn, he works with Spider-Man, and they both share a name. Unremarkable Peter Parker. Nothing you were missing, they'd said.

Peter must see that you're focused hard on him, so he turns to Harry, "Yeah, Oxford. Why aren't you... there? Again?"

Harry laughs, unbothered, "Don't tell me you didn't miss me?"

"No, it's just... last I remember, your dad wanted you there until your project got approved."

The very mention of Norman Osborn kills the mood entirely. Harry's smile falls quick, though he tries to hide it, and shuffles a bit uncomfortably. "That was the deal. But you know dad: the world revolves around his every whim." Harry's eyes cut to you so fast that you tense up, recovering quickly. "Off the record."

Jillian would not accept that. You, on the other hand, swallow it down and tuck it away for another day, "Anything for a friend of a friend."

That gets Harry smiling again, however terse. The conversation quickly changes course as Harry pulls at the stained white of his shirt to show Peter, "Speaking of: you like? Our new mutual friend gave it to me."

Peter glances at you, chuckling with a nervous edge, and grabs at the fabric to examine for himself, "Something tells me you deserved it."

Harry immediately resorts to banter that Peter melts into. It was no doubt now that they were friends, that Peter's awkwardness had only been on account of you being here.

You can only smile and nod, smile and nod, while you watch Peter's every move. You couldn't say anything even though you were bursting, but now your heart was beginning to pound in your ears, making it hard for you to do what you were trying to pretend you weren't doing.

Spider-Man was smart. Beneath the quips, he was extremely smart. He wouldn't tell you his real name and then show up here as a civilian, so brazen, knowing that you'd instantly figure out it was him. That'd be too easy. He trusted you, sure, but he wasn't stupid. He'd been uncomfortable at the very thought of unmasking when you'd mentioned it last night. If Peter was... Peter, he wouldn't have come at all. Because that would be stupid.

And he wouldn't have bothered to pretend, up until the last second, that he wasn't Peter, if he was just going to flay himself before you like this. Because you would've figured it out eventually.

So, surely, there were a million Peters in New York and you happened to know two of them. And they knew each other. And one of them was a superhero. Of course.

You slip your phone out, checking your recent messages with your heart in your throat. If Peter wasn't Peter, he'd have texted you back by now. Because Peter—fuck—Spidey wouldn't miss a chance to make that joke.

There's one new message. You barely get to see what it says before broken glass sprays from above.

There’s a cacophony of sound all at once. Glass breaking, screaming amongst the crowd, and the sound of gunfire letting off into the ceiling. One minute, the room had been in peaceful bliss, and the next, a tidal wave of terrified guests were rushing at you.

You’re lucky that Peter’s arm is like iron, strong enough to rip you back and away from the crowd that converges on the exits, because if you had stayed in your spot for a second longer you would have been trampled underfoot. Like your phone, which is in pieces the second it slips out of your hand.

Harry is there too, huddled against the two of you in the corner, but that doesn’t stop you three from all being pressed upon by the panicking crowds. There’s no rhyme or reason, no order in the chaos. Beautiful clutches embedded with Swarovski crystals lay abandoned at your feet. Everyone in the room can see, whatever it might be, that their life is worth more than a single thing in this room. Even worth more than the lives of the other guests they shove to get out first.

You try your best to see over the heads of the swarm to get a glimpse of what had set the entire party off, and immediately two things are visible. One: Pepper Potts is center stage, the bright white stage lights beating down on her. If it weren’t for the sweat beading at her brow, you’d think her bored. The second thing was that there was a man standing beside her who wasn’t standing there before, a microphone in one hand and a gun in the other.

Even from all the way at the back of the room, you could see the gun trembling in his grip as the barrel kissed Pepper’s temple.

The next thing is his voice. It’s loud, feedback screeching off the walls so high that you think they might shatter the windows. The crowd is loud and he’s louder. You can hear him saying something about how everyone shouldn’t leave just yet, that they’d want to see this front row and not on the 10 o’clock news. You do not see Kingpin. This man is utterly alone.

Harry is shouting something at you, you can feel his breath and the spit that flies out in the hurry of his words, but you can barely make out what he’s saying over the guests. Peter clutches you both even closer.

“We… we have to…” You start, glancing up at the windows for any sign of Spider-Man, but you see nothing. Your eyes drop to Peter’s to find him already staring right at you. You’ve no idea what’s going through his head, and the adrenaline rushing behind your eyes makes it hard to speculate. You only know what you need to say, “…we need to find Spider-Man.”

“We need to leave!” Harry argues. He wriggles out of Peter’s grip and starts pulling you both toward the nearest exit, but he only makes progress with pulling you forward.

You were about to argue back until you felt Peter’s hand at the base of your spine, pushing you into Harry with ease and right toward one of the exit doors. You turn, clutching onto Harry as to not lose him in the crowd, only to find Peter isn’t following you. “You both need to get out of here.”

“Both? Wh- Peter! We’re not leaving without you!” Your attempt to grab at him is futile. He shrugs away from your touch, keeps pushing you and Harry through the stampede as if he really intended on staying behind. “Peter!”

He finally looks you in the eyes that second time, the desperation with which you’d said his name snapping him out of some dissociative spell, “I’ll be right behind you! I’m gonna help get people out. Some got trampled, I-I’ve got to-”

Harry is next to admonish him, “Pete, come on. This isn’t the time to play fucking hero!”

But Peter’s not listening again—eyes faraway, slipping over the crowd as if searching for something—he’s heading back into the fray, calling to you some half-hearted promise that he’d follow soon, and then his head disappears into the whirlwind of bodies. You were able to follow him up until the moment his hat got pulled off, and then… nothing.

The current pushes and pulls at you and Harry, dragging you down the hallway. You feel your ankle twist awkwardly and are thankful that Harry is still clinging to you because had he not been, you would’ve been dragged down and trampled for sure. He holds you upright, pressing you to his side, assuring you over the noise that you’d go back in to get Peter in a minute.

You think that Harry Osborn is much kinder than his father seemed to be, and that you really do owe him a good soundbite in the Bugle after this.

You feel a draft coming from outside, promising you were close to being free from the confines of the hallway. You grab Harry’s hands and peel them off of you, pushing him forward into the crowd without a second thought, just as you see the light of the city come up ahead. His head whips to you. He calls your name as he’s swept away, but you press yourself hard against the wall and let the crowd lead him out to safety.

The crawl back to the ballroom is awful.

There are fewer people escaping, thankfully, and so it’s less like an undertow, but there are so many people and all of them are perfectly fine with throwing their bodies forward with caution thrown to the wind.

It takes you longer than a minute to get back to the door you’d come out of, even longer to squeeze through with elbows hitting you square in the chest and heels digging into your feet.

The room is less than a third of what it had been when the gunman had arrived. You frantically search for Peter in the remaining, scattered crowd; people are frozen in awe, in horror. Some people in the crowd were begging the gunman to reconsider, and others were praying. Your heart sank. A woman was about to die and there was virtually nothing you could do.

You look up to the windows one more time. You couldn’t see him, couldn’t call him, but you close your eyes and pray too. Whoever he was. Wherever he was.

And then you hear it. The familiar thwip! cuts through the air. You open your eyes and a second later, the clatter of the gunman’s pistol hitting the floor follows. You’re blessed with a whole five seconds of glee before the gunman surges forward and pulls a knife on Pepper, holding it to her throat in a panic.

“Easy there, buddy.” Your head snaps up to the rafters. From a single thread of spider silk, Spidey descends from the ceiling with a hand outstretched. He’s a ways away from the two of them, offering some sense of space. “You don’t wanna do this.”

The gunman has since abandoned his microphone, but his voice reverberates in the near empty room just fine, “Get out of here, Spider-Man! You’re next!”

“Why don’t you and I hash it out, then? Just you and me. Leave Mrs. Potts out of it.”

“No, no,” the man mutters; you can hear sirens growing closer to the building, “she’s part of it. You’re all part of it.”

Pepper speaks up for the first time, “Whatever you want, I can get it. This doesn’t have to end badly.”

That must’ve been the wrong thing to say. The man jerks his knife closer to her skin and you can see, after a moment, a thin bead of red dribbles down her collarbone.

Spidey holds out both his hands, “Whoa, whoa, whoa-”

And it happens in a flash. One second, Pepper is being held at knifepoint, and the next, she’s being pushed off the stage.

Spider-Man immediately swoops in and catches her, swinging her to safety on the other side of the room, but you’re too mesmerized by the new body on stage pinning the attacker down by the throat. How you’d missed him, you’ve no clue, but he’s wrestling the man onto his stomach and restraining his arms behind his back just as the doors to the ballroom are thrown wide open.

Cops stream in, rushing the stage to take the gunman into custody. Some head straight for Spider-Man and Pepper, but it’s the guests that catch your attention. There are maybe fifty of them in the room altogether, but applause catches on like wildfire. All of them, and the musicians and the cops at the door, erupt into applause.

Because the man on stage, the man who’d thrown himself at the gunman and disarmed him, the man who had just saved Pepper Potts’ life… was Wilson Fisk.

You can’t find Harry anywhere. Most of the guests had stayed behind out of sheer curiosity, but Harry was nowhere in sight.

You stand out on the sidewalk with the rest of the crowd as the police escort the gunman into a cop car, murmurs flitting from ear to ear on who he’d been, what he’d wanted, and whether they should stay behind for interviews. Pepper was still inside getting questioned. But Wilson Fisk was out here.

You’d been in the same room as Fisk only once before, the night of his infamous press conference three years ago when you were still an intern trailing after the likes of Jillian. He’d struck you as a measured man, one who carried himself with impenetrable humility, and even in the face of his detractors kept a cool head.

Back then, he’d been accused of money laundering, something to do with all his companies not adding up. In and out of trouble, he was. Jameson had likened him to a cockroach: never quite dead, even when he really ought to be by now.

And now he stands before reporters, guests, onlookers, and the like, giving a statement about his “harrowing” rescue of Mrs. Potts. He hadn’t even been invited.

You know you should be right up there with the rest of them, fiending for a soundbite, but you’re gnawing your bottom lip from afar trying to catch him in a lie. Something about this was refusing to add up, and thankful as you were that Pepper was safe, the whole thing was off. Convenient, even.

You watch him smile and nod, none of the charm ever reaching his dead eyes, but everyone eats it up anyway.

Just as you’re about to force yourself to head over, knowing Jameson would have your head otherwise, you’re flying.

“Jesus!” You screech, scrambling to cling onto Spidey as the crowd below watches the two of you swing away. Your stomach drops as he carries you to a nearby rooftop, and you all but collapse when you meet solid ground. “Oh my God, don’t ever do that again.” You expect a quip in return, but when you look behind you, Spider-Man is sitting with his head on his knees, utterly silent. Your stomach drops again, “Spidey?”

That gets him to look at you, big white eyes narrowing, “We’re not on a first name basis anymore?”

You’re stunned, and then you scowl, “Peter Parker.” When he says nothing, you repeat it, “Peter Parker.”

“That’s his name.”

“His? Or yours?”

His eyes stay narrowed at you, only now his head is lifted upright, “I’m not the only Peter in New York.”

“I’m sorry if I find it a little suspicious there’s a Peter Parker who works at the Daily Bugle selling the only decent photos of you in the city, who just so happens to share your name and- and your lips.” That last part awkwardly tumbles out of you and his eyes are no longer narrowed.

“My lips?”

Peter’s lips flash in your mind. You don’t know how to say it without sounding more suspicious than him, “You’re… you both… your mouths are very similar.”

A beat passes. The silence isn’t enough to convince you you’re wrong, but it is enough to make you fidget.

But then Peter bursts into laughter, and, well, it’s not funny to you at all. “Quit it.” You demand, meek.

“I’m sorry, I just- I stick to walls and you think it’s crazy that we’re both named Peter?”

“You can’t convince me I’m off with this one.”

“There were like… four Peters in my graduating class!”

“He even kind of sounded like you! When I could hear him clearly.”

“He sounds nothing like me!”

“He sounds a lot like you.” You say, and wish that there had been a moment when you’d caught him speaking at an octave higher than his, frankly, forced baritone and an octave below shouting. Peter—this Peter—has a voice you know well enough. You’ve memorized his vocal fry when his voice gets a little too high, that nervous ramble-y pitch of his. It’s so distinct. If you had just… heard him use it just once, “You can’t make me feel crazy about this.”

“’m not trying to make you feel crazy, I swear. You’re one of the smartest people I know. I’d be skeptical too.” You wait patiently for a confirmation or a denial, but he gives you none. He takes a deep breath and stares out over the edge of the building where Fisk is being escorted to his car. You crawl over to sit beside him.

Part of you wants to ask him to prove it, to peel his mask off and show you, but you can’t make yourself do it. He’d only just given you his name. He trusted you with that. You’re wary about pushing it.

Because the pieces fit so well, but he’d never make that kind of mistake. Would he?

Would he think it was a mistake?

Peter sighs. “Hey, you alright?” You ask.

He doesn’t really look at you, though his voice answers at a lower volume than before, "This was too convenient.” You hum in agreement. “That guy… he said we were all ‘part of it’. Like it was planned.”

“You think Fisk planned it.”

“I think he’s a little too eager to be in the spotlight about it.” But getting that off his chest doesn’t seem to change the solemnness in his tone.

“Pepper was never in danger.” Your hand presses against the scratchy concrete, itching to touch him. To comfort him. “If this was Fisk’s plan, it was all for publicity. Pepper was never gonna get hurt.”

“She got hurt.” Peter whips his head to you.

You knew Iron Man was his mentor, had plucked him off the streets and thrust him into a world of gods and aliens before his untimely death. And maybe with Tony gone, he thought it was his job to keep her safe.

“Peter, you can’t… you can’t think like that. You can punch your way through a lot of things, but that? That back there? You did what you could.”

“I could do more.”

You get that urge to touch him again, only this time, you let yourself do it.

Your hand touches the side of his mask, cupping below his ear. He watches you the entire time but doesn’t move to stop you. Your thumb rests on his cheek and your pinky- it brushes the overlap between his mask and the rest of his suit, “It’s not just that you’re Peter, too.”

You feel the muscles in his neck twitch, “What?”

“It’s that… in all that chaos, you chose to stay behind. To help people. You made sure me and Harry got out, but you stayed behind. Everyone was so busy trying to save their own lives and you were thinking about them. I don’t know Peter Parker very well. Maybe he’s just that kind of guy. But I know you. I know if anyone in that room was you, he’d be it.” Peter doesn’t say anything. You feel the tension in his jaw, feel the way his throat bobs with a hard swallow, but he doesn’t say anything. He just watches you. You stare hard into those white eyes and imagine a someone staring back at you. “Or maybe that’s just the kind of people Spider-Man hangs out with.”

He huffs humorously, “Yeah, that checks out. We’re friends, after all.”

Your heart swells to hear it, “friends”. “Don’t make this about me when I’m trying to expose your secret identity.”

“I think Peter Parker would be flattered you think so highly of him. He was kind of worried he made the wrong impression… after you tried to punch him in the face.”

Your jaw drops, having nearly forgotten in the mess of the night. “Well, maybe Peter Parker shouldn’t go around grabbing people in the dark.”

“You were walking so fast. How else would Peter Parker get your attention?”

“Are you just saying Peter Parker over and over to convince me that you’re both completely different people?”

“I just think it’s funny that you don’t believe more than two Peters can live in the same city.”

“There are other factors!”

“Can’t believe you’re the type of reporter who flies by the seat of their assumptions. But you do work for Jameson, after all.” When Peter stands, you naturally follow.

You decide to switch tactics, bruising the alter ego, “You- you know what? You’re right. You couldn’t be Peter Parker. Peter Parker would be shaking and crying if I so much as raised my voice at him.”

“Wow. I’m gonna tell him you said that—wrap your arms around me?” And he snakes an arm around your waist, sending your heart into overdrive again, “he’s never gonna talk to you again. He’s probably gonna issue a copyright claim every time you put his pics on the Web-Blog, now. Legs too.”

“Wait, no. We are not swinging again. We are taking the stairs.”

“How else am I gonna get you off the roof? Legs, please.”

“We can take the stairs!”

“Door’s probably locked and Kingpin’s already on his way back to his super-secret evil lair. Legs or I’m webbing you up in a baby wrap.”

You grumble. It’s enough to make you grab onto his shoulders and jump, locking your ankles across his back with the fear of gravity instilled in you. You reckoned he’d be fast enough to catch you if you did fall. The very possibility makes you sick to your stomach, though. “Please don’t drop me.”

Peter dips his chin into the crevice where your neck meets your shoulder. "Don't worry," and it's not even that you hear his voice, you just feel it, "I've only dropped someone once."

And you're plummeting off the ledge before you get the chance to run away.

[dreamtydraw]

i gotta know more about your mc and baxter (i am never free from this man somebody help me). do they date in step 3, or just crush on each other? and the angst, pls gimme some angst >:D

oh, and do you have any headcanons about them together? :3

*slap my knee* WELL HONEY you have a BIG storm coming-

I’m a multi-shipper so Cerise has a storyline where they date and one where they were just really good friends and in both cases: Baxter was someone extremely important to Cerise.

Important context to understand: Cerise was nonverbal for almost half of her life. She has an important communication problem that actively ruin her personal life as she struggle to talk to people and so not isolate herself. Regardless of the nature their relathionship take, Baxter is extremly important to her as he's the first person she managed to befriend by herself. He came off strong and she took her chance to try talking with someone else and it ended up feeling easy around him.

They are vastly different and this is one of the main reasons they work together: They get to experience, learn and witness a new way of living life. Cerise gets to build her confidence slowly, they have an agreable moment and the dating is all new and attracting to her. She feels a lot and is in the company of someone who appreciates her and makes her come out of her shell.

You can imagine how such an impactful relationship can turn from the loveliest encounter of your summer to the most emotionally damaging event of your life.

Also worth mentioning is that in my playthrough Baxter closed the door in Cerise's face while she was bawling her eyes out on his porch... Yeah it didn't went well....

The reason why this breakup impacted Cerise so much is how some little details spiral in an endless train of negative thoughts: "If I was worth it, he would have tried" and "I am not even capable to move on from something so insignificant for him" "I feel stupid for having felt confident" "I should have known that I was not made to be around people, I can't even talk to someone properly" "I'm too much"

Cerise's self-confidence got shattered, having walked right back of all the effort she managed to make and her mutism coming back into her daily life. It only took one conversation to ruin an entire process of self grow.

The reunion was a painful one and here is where I call my phase the: Baxter pain and regret.

Just imagine for a second, you are so miserable because of your own choices, you left someone who loved you by convincing yourself they'll move on and 5 years later when you meet them again they are a shell. You hurted them so much that to this days your presence haunted them, the person you loves because of their positivity, their smile and bright kindness are now dull, sad and scared. The regret of it all and the pain of wanting to ask why, to wanting to help but also desperetly not wanting to furter implicate yourself while they still look at you with hope. How much would it hurt you to be given a chance even after all you destroyed ? After all the joy you denied for both of you and with all the regrets of have spent so much time in your selfish perception of the world. It would sting and that something that can never dissapear, even if she's back, even if you try again, even if you make progress, you simply can't make up for what you caused and it hunt you at night. You always been loved, you always loved them, and like a fool you reciprocate those feelings by doing the opposite of what love is suppose to be.

NOW THAT ANGST HAVE PASSED- Here is some cute dating headcanon I have of these two :D

Oh and one last sad stuff :

Cerise cut and dyed her hair because Baxter used to say he liked her long orange hair and the compliment felt so bittersweet that she couldn't stand seeing herself in the mirror...

ANYWHOOZIE

-Cerise likes jewelry and likes to make colorful jewelry so she wanted to make bracelets for Baxter. One colorful green to keep as a souvenir and one black and white.

-Still on jewelry, they traded. In exchange for a bracelet, he gave her some rings of his (that she kept wearing for the 5 years )

-They kissed in the car watching the firework because Cerise doesn't like loud noises

-Cerise doesn’t like sudden louse noise but had fun listening to Baxter’s music during some car rides.

-Because she can’t drive she asked him to pick her up or give her a ride to some stores just to have some time with him.

-They met at the cypres during the "soirée" moment and this fun fact always makes them laugh, life sure like them together.

-Fear of the ocean vs Fear of height, both are here to help the other fight against their fear with a little help

-Cerise gave Baxter a glass shot as a souvenir and he only once drank in it alone but was too scared to break it so he kept it hidden.

-I have this hc that once they get married ( because yes they will ) Baxter has a picture of her somewhere in his office and if someone asks "Are you married ?" he just pull up the pic of his very colorfull and and cheerful wife so people look at him confuse

you married a rainbow ?!

-Everyone had their moment of "don't ever hurt her again" with Baxter but the worst one was Liz who profaned murder hunt if he did.

-Still, Baxter got accepted nicely back into the family.

-Cerise's services as a photographer got added to Baxter's wedding contact of people he can recommend and they at least worked on some weddings together.

-Neither of them are morning people, but they spend a lot of their nights hanging out and simply talking until late.

-Some dinner nights they take a detour to dance a bit on the side near the beach

-Travel around the world travel around the world! Cerise has some nice vacation places she wants to do with Baxter and they sometimes need some calm time.

-They just love each other, 5 years are nothing compared to the rest they spent together

THANKS YOU FOR READING THIS FAR

[samynnad102687]

Caught in the act (SFW)

@struttingstag

March 14 Prompt: Caught in the act. | 1213 words | SFW version

James just came home from work and he was exhausted. It had been a hectic day and he just wanted to relax. Regulus would still be at work for another hour when he walked in the house and Sirius had texted him to let him know that he had plans with Remus that evening and he didn't know how long he was going to be. Sirius and Remus had just hit their year mark last month and had been talking about moving in together, but they hadn't really made any headway on that front. And don't get him wrong, James liked living with his best friend and his boyfriend but it did make things difficult when James and Regulus wanted to be alone.

James took a quick shower to clean off the grime from his work day and changed into some comfy joggers and the red jumper that Regulus bought him for his birthday. When he went to the kitchen to grab a drink and something small to eat, Regulus was already sitting at the kitchen table.

"Oh, hey, baby. I wasn't expecting you home yet," James replied when he saw him sitting there.

"Why? Did you have somebody else in your bed that I should know about?" Regulus teased as he took a sip of his coffee and pushed James' mug towards him.

"Of course, not. You know you're the only one for me," James laughed lightly as his smile grew on his face.

"Am I?"

"I- Of course, you are. What would make you think any differently?" James was concerned now.

"I'm just teasing, Jamie. I know there's nobody else in the house," Regulus laughed lightly and James took a deep breath. "What do you want for dinner?"

"I don't know. What do you want?"

"Pizza?"

"Sure."

They ordered a pizza and some chicken wings from the new pizza shop down the road. It was delivered quick enough and they settled in on the couch to eat. Regulus had also gotten out the wine before he turned on the telly and started to flip through the channels. After he found nothing that he wanted to watch Regulus turned the telly off and turned towards James. And James knew that look like the back of his own hand.

James was nervous. He didn't want to make Sirius upset but he also didn't want to upset Regulus. His boyfriend had been begging him to do it for the last week and James' resolve was cracking. He didn't know how much longer he would be able to hold out before he inevitably caved to Regulus' begging.

"Please?" Regulus asked again for the third time in the last ten minutes.

"What if he catches us? I really don't want to be in the dog house with your brother... again. Once was enough," James whined.

"He won't know, besides Sirius isn't supposed to be home until at least later tonight, based on what Remus told me the other day. We have the whole house to ourselves."

"When did you talk to Remus?"

"Last week. He said he had a date planned for them. Something big I'm thinking, if the smile he failed to hide was anything to go by. I'm pretty sure we are safe for a while."

"I don't know, Reg. Every time I even think about doing something that could hurt him, he always seems to know. I don't know how but he does." James was fidgeting with his ring.

"I'll make it worth your while, Jamie," Regulus replied with a tone dripping in honey as he sat up on his knees on the end of the couch and ran his hand gently down James' chest making him shiver.

"Oh. Oh, that's not fair."

James threw his head back onto the back of the couch and groaned. He knew if he looked into Regulus' deep grey eyes when he was like this then he was going to crack within a second. James could already feel the fissures forming. It wouldn't take long and Regulus knew that, based on the smile he had when James chanced a glance at his boyfriend. Regulus was crawling over James' legs and dropping all of his weight down onto his lap. James closed his eyes.

"You know you want to," Regulus whispered into his ear as he ran his lips along the shell of it.

"You're going to be the death of me, love," James groaned, refusing to open his eyes.

He knew what would be there when he did. Regulus would have his best pouty face with the puppy dog eyes that James could never say no to. It was an evil tactic and it worked every single time. James took a deep breath before he slowly tipped his head back down and opened his eyes to find exactly what he thought he would.

"If we get caught," James started slowly, "I won't hesitate to blame you."

"Oh, I know," Regulus beamed as he got off of his lap and gave James his signature smirk before he walked back to the kitchen.

They didn't even make it ten minutes before the door was slammed open and Sirius let out a shriek that could be heard in every room in the house and probably outside as well. James groaned as he ran his hand down his face, knocking his glasses askew. He looked at Regulus, who was now sitting with a scowl and his arms crossed over his chest. As soon as James looked over at Sirius, he started his tirade.

"James?! How could you? And with my brother of all people." Sirius was flailing his arms all over the place.

James thought about actually blaming Regulus like he said he would but he didn't have the heart to.

"It's not what it looks like," James tried after a few moments of contemplation on what to say.

"Really? Let me guess, he just happened to crawl into your lap and you couldn't help it. Is that what you were going to say?"

"Well..."

"James, don't you even confirm that you fell victim to my baby brother... again."

James didn't say anything and he could see that Regulus was trying not to laugh beside him.

"James?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm waiting," Sirius said firmly as he tapped his finger on his now-crossed arms.

"Do you want me to lie to you?" James asked after a minute as he tried to hold back the smile that was threatening to appear.

"I can't believe you. You said it wouldn't happen again."

"I know that but he is very convincing," James tried to defend himself but Sirius just glared at him and he looked at Regulus for help.

"Will you fucking calm down, Sirius?" Regulus grumbled. "It's not like we can't restart it from the beginning."

"That's not the point, Reggie." Sirius sunk into the chair opposite them. "We were supposed to watch it together."

"Yeah, well. You weren't home and I wanted to watch it." Regulus shrugged his shoulders in nonchalance.

Sirius gaped at him and James groaned again before he picked up the remote and started the next episode of Peaky Blinders over again. Regulus curled into James and Sirius grumbled something about them being traitors but got comfortable in the chair anyway.

Also posted on Ao3: Tempting Choices

[tobiasdrake]

In a world filled with terrible wrongs that have been committed, the worst has finally been righted. I'm so proud of us.

Look at that smile. Have you ever seen a more beautiful smile in your life? The answer is no. You haven't.

That is the face of hope rewarded.

The sun and moon still helped. We didn't get the surge of power until the sun was shining directly onto the moon, which is itself glowing so obviously it's doing something.

But also, this is definitely some proto-Guardian Gods shit. Luanna and Solen's power was with us.

Which means we should be able to fly under our own power now. Fort Fleshy is no longer unassailable. We should go see how he's enjoying the monsoon.

But first?

This is an unmistakable declaration of war. We're coming for you, Aephorul!

Right. Uh. Right after we do some other stuff.

Stuff like that. There's a whole lotta stuff that still needs doing before I'm ready to besiege Ganon's Castle.

This looks interesting. Let's start here. What's this place do?

IT'S PRETTY AND I WANT IT

Some people might have reservations about cultural graverobbing. However, counterpoint: gimme gimme I want it.

As dissatisfied as I am with their prophesizing, these liquid walls are pretty sweet. Sturdy enough to stop an object from passing through without a certain amount of force behind it.

Okay so this is where the pretty thing goes. Somebody wanted whatever's in here kept locked away so badly that they broke the key into fragments and stashed the fragments in different corners of the Docarri civilization across the globe.

I bet it's treasure. Blindly opening ancient vaults is usually both rewarding and profitable. Or there's an unkillable horror behind them. One of the two.

Combination lock. I have no fucking idea how we're supposed to open this.

I guess there's no pressing reason why we'd want to open this, other than to rob Roro again for funsies. Though that is a valid reason.

Hm.

Finally, we get to see what's behind this--

MOTHERFUCKING LAVOS SPAWN ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS SHIT

AGAIN

AGAIN!?

NO I REFUSE

Fuck out of here with your "knock people down to 1 HP" bullshit. I'm having none of it.

I love how even the Achievement is outraged. "Hey, that's a reskin!"

What. What. No. How dare.

I am so furious right now. Nobody fucking appreciates the work I do I swear to the moon

He's not listening, Zale. he's a hollow shell of a person that Resh'an left to mock us.

Uh, he didn't lead us here. I came here of my own volition. Nobody fucking appreciates my leadership decisions either, apparently.

Let's get out of here. I'm mad and I want to punch something.

Speaking of, I wonder if the arena's finally open? Brisk's been working on that for ages.

Interesting choice of branding. Personally, I would not name my business after a national tragedy that claimed the lives of countless people. One that's so fresh in people's memories that the victims are likely still in mourning. That's a good way to get molotovs thrown through your window. But sure.

Oh, sure. Glad you like it, B'stie!

And now it's all about me again. Sorry to steal your thunder during your big moment, B'st but... What can I say? The public knows who the superstar here is.

Aww, Serai's up there cheering us on. I almost didn't recognize her in her getup. THIS ONE'S FOR YOU, "CAP'N"!

Is that supposed to be intimidating? The claws are literally the only threatening part of a crab. What are--

*heavy sigh*

"Please welcome the legendary Supreme Lunar Abbess without whom all of our lives would have been forfeit on that great and terrible day! But she still has to work up through the ranks from zero anyway."

Okay. It's fine. At least the crowd already knows my name. I'll take out your trash for you.

[ifievertoldyou]

"Who are you, Quackity?"

Wilbur whispered, staring into Q's eyes as though he was searching for something– or someone.

I'm somebody who escaped from a shipwreck but is still going to drown because he can't bring himself to take his fucking armor off, even as he realizes that he's sinking further and further from where he should be, down until he can't breathe anymore and his vision's going black, and everything is so, so heavy, but he just can't do it, Q thought.

I'm a pathetic little house cat that tries to act like the King of the Jungle, as though that'd make him any less in over his head.

I'm a pale imitation of Quackity, too cruel to be human, yet too human to actually be cruel.

I'm nothing now. Just an empty shell where there's supposed to be a person. A sad combination of traits that just cancel each other out and do absolutely fucking nothing for anybody. Until not even I know what I'm supposed to be anymore.

I'm hurting and I think I've forgotten what it's like to not be constantly pushing away the pain and memories of the past.

I'm a haunted house that's full of ghosts and demons and so, so much torment, that people are either terrified of even stepping foot inside of it, or else they see it as some sort of gimmicky joke that they can laugh at.

And I'm both at the same time. Both painfully, bone chillingly real and yet somehow still superficial. A sick juxtaposition of all that is real and fake, coagulating into a single fucking entity of confusion that isn't sure if the blood he sees spattering the floorboards is real or fake anymore. Or if it's even his…

I'm burning up inside and yet I've never felt as cold as I do now.

I'm pushing people away whether I mean to or not, and I see people being scared of me and I hate it because that's not who I am, but I also love it because that means I'm safe. That means that they won't ever think of crossing me. That I won't get hurt again. And I hate that I feel that way. I hate it…

I'm everything that I was afraid of when I got here. Nothing like how I was before. I'm… I'm…

"I'm stronger." was the reply Q managed to force out, times more confident than he actually felt. Those two words felt like fireants that were biting his tongue. He wasn't stronger, not at all. If anything, he was the exact opposite. But Wilbur didn't need to know that. Q refused to let anybody gain an advantage over him ever again. And so, he just let the lie sit in the air, weighing uncomfortably on his chest, as Wilbur looked at him with an unreadable expression on his face. The inscrutablity made Q more nervous than he wanted to admit. But he didn't let it show. Or couldn't.

He wasn't fucking sure anymore.

[aquadestinyswriting]

Incorrect Quotes Tag

Thanks to @blind-the-winds for the tag! :D

Quotes are getting pulled from this generator, there's going to be a mixture of the Titan gang in here. Popping under a cut to save peoples' dashes because there is going to be a few. Also because some of these may not be entirely SFW. A reminder that Aurianna is a young gold dragon.

Aurianna: You know what bothers me? Bats. Why can bats fly? Meredith: Not again! Aurianna: No. Seriously, who gave them the right? They're mammals! Mammals walk on land, no exceptions. Elowyn: Just wait until you hear about whales. Aurianna: What now? (Aurianna being insulted that a certain type of mammal can fly is an adorable thing to think about)

Meredith: *in a jail cell* What about my Miranda rights!? You’re supposed to say I have ‘the right to remain silent’”! NOBODY SAID I HAD THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT! Elowyn: *in the cell next to them* You have the right to remain silent, what you lack is the capacity. (..... this is actually pretty accurate....)

Snotgrut: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast? Quentin: Several traffic violations. Meredith: Three counts of resisting arrest. Felix: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks. Elowyn: Also, that’s not our car. (let's pretend that snotgrut let himself get caught but got in over his head for this one. No way is anyone actually catching him)

Elowyn: Where are you going? Aurianna: To get MYSELF a gift cause somebody didn't get me one! Elowyn: I told you I did! Its coming here on Friday! Meredith, knowing full well that Elowyn got Aurianna an expensive ring: *eating popcorn* (I had to modify this one slightly because Aurianna is Elo's paladin mount and a *child*)

Snotgrut : I can't take you seriously wearing that. Felix: Aw, you take me seriously at all? Snotgrut : Fair point. (snotgrut is savage, we all know this. I love our accidentally autistic coded gremlin goblin)

Selene: *slams books down in front of Edwin* Selene: Boil up some Mountain Dew. It’s gonna be a long night. Edwin: You could have said literally anything else. Selene: Cauldron boil and cauldron bubble, Baja Blast to fuel my trouble. Edwin: I’m going to just stop challenging you when you say random shit. I won’t win. I realize this now. (in a modern au setting, this is definitely something that would happen. Sel is a caffeine fiend in canon)

Selene, handing out popsicles: Which flavor do you want? Chrackle: Blue flavor! Selene: Uh, you mean Blue Raspberry? Chrackle: Blue flavor! Blue flavor! Selene: Blue is not a flavor! Chrackle: BLUE FLAVOR! (this is a nice summary of Selene and Chrackle's entire relationship)

Laurence: Thank God you were there, Elowyn. I knew you wouldn't let your best friend die. Elowyn: I'm still gonna arrest you. I just can't do that if you're dead. Laurence: Whatever you gotta tell yourself. Baby steps. It's hard getting them out of their shell.

Laurence: Though I admit I don’t know much about you, I am feeling pretty confident in my assessment that you are probably some sort of sick deadly fuck. Snotgrut: Who told you my secret?

And here are some for the original Heroes, just so they're not left out of the fun

Selene: Why would you give a knife to Ivan?! Alexis , shrugging: Ivan felt unsafe. Selene: Now I feel unsafe! Alexis : I’m sorry… Alexis : Would you like a knife?

Ivan: Egrim told me to stop being immature, so I told him to get out of my fort.

Selene: ARE YOU- Ivan: Fucking. Selene: KIDDING ME?! YOU- Ivan: Fucking. Selene: IDIOT! Alexis: …What was that? Ivan: Egrim banned Selene from swearing, so I’m helping her out.

5.6: I'm not that stupid! Alexis: 5.6, you literally ate the wax from a babybel. 5.6: IVAN TOLD ME IT WAS EDIBLE! (.... this is totally accurate. 5.6 was a flesh golem and was pretty much a small child mentally)

Alexis: Look, I’m glad everyone’s on the same page. Alexis: But it’s the last page in a book titled “we’re all going to die”. Selene: That’s not even clever.

Selene: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends. Edwin: ... Your what? Selene: My friends. Ivan: Is she saying “friends”? Alexis: I think she's being sarcastic. Fai: No, no, no, this is delirium, she's cracked from being awake all night. Hey, Selene! All of your friends are in this room. (.....yeah..... this is the kind of brain fart Selene would have in the middle of a crisis)

Fai : I dare you- Selene: Alexis is not allowed to accept dares anymore. Fai : Why not? Alexis: I have no regard for my own or others personal safety

Selene : Edwin, you love me, right? Edwin: Normally I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere I won’t like.

Alexis to Edwin: First rule of battle, little one... don’t ever let them know where you are. Ivan, shooting out of frame: WHOO-HOO! I’M RIGHT HERE! I’M RIGHT HERE! YOU WANT SOME O’ ME?! YEAH YOU DO! COME ON! COME ON! AAAAAH! Whoo-hoo! Alexis: 'Course, there’re other schools of thought.

[presidentbungus]

request from @truekingpumpkin because he drew something for me (yes i take these in exchange for drawings and fic trades hmu). spy helping scout out while he's disguised or something along those lines, I don't know, I am very tired. enjoy!

ao3

Don't get him wrong—thank god for respawn, or whatever. He just hates dying. Especially this kind of dying: too hurt to move, just kinda laying against a wall and waiting for the blood to stop running. It doesn't even hurt that much anymore, compared to the other kind of shit that's happened to him (burning to death sucks balls)—it's just annoying. Sitting still and waiting. He should stop taking the flank routes. No one comes by the flank routes.

He hears explosions somewhere, Soldier's barked calls--maybe a spy decloak, and his entire body twitches, and he remembers where he is and curses very loud. His vision's starting to swim a little. To be honest, actually, he's tired as shit. And his whole body feels like a ton of bricks, so maybe that makes sense.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to rest his eyes. Just for a little.

"Scout! There you are."

He jerks awake. "Five more minutes," and then it sets in that he's still on the battlefield and his whole body's burning to hell, and Engie's sitting next to him shaking him awake and unpacking a medkit with his other hand. "... Engie? What the hell?"

"Don't move, you'll make it worse. You were almost dead, you know that?"

"... What? Aren't you supposed to be... at your nest, or something?"

Engie rubs his shoulder, and something about it feels unmistakably weird but his nerves also aren't really in the best shape right now. "Was just passing through and thought you needed some help. It'll just be enough for you to get Medic, I'll be done lickety-split."

"Your voice is... weird."

He just scoffs, uncapping one of the heal juice-thingies and holding it in front of Scout's face. "You've lost a lotta blood, son. Open up."

Scout does, even though the liquid in the bottle tastes like bitter lemon and seems to coat his entire mouth, and his body still hurts but he's finally able to feel his legs again. He pulls them to his chest, hissing--his clothes are still encrusted with blood, but he's pretty sure the active bleeding has dropped to a minimum. "Agh... thanks Engie. I think my head's gonna explode."

"Well, that oughta do it," he chuckles, and he tosses the medkit shell somewhere into the battlefield and slaps Scout on the shoulder. "Alright, sport, get back out there. Cause a ruckus. Be more careful."

His brain feels like it's sloshing around in his skull. "… Whatever.”

“Alright, see ya ‘round.” And Engie stands, and Scout blinks, and he’s gone. Scout cranes his neck around the corner and sees nothing.

… Huh. Must be bookin’ it today. When he gets to his feet he feels like the weight of about six heavies are sitting on top of him, but nothing catches him on the way to the point—and Engie’s nest actually ain’t that far, he seems to find it after only a little bit of stumbling, and he brushes past him (he’s already there, that’s weird) and collapses on a dispenser, sighing as his body cools and his headache gradually starts to vanish.

A metal hand comes up from behind and ruffles his hair. “What happened to you?”

“… What?”

“Nothing. Gotta get back out to the point soon, son, their pyro’s on everyone’s asses and we need somebody to flank.”

“Weren’t you there?”

He chuckles. “Weren’t I where?”

“By the, uh…” In the distance, Heavy swivels and mows down an outline of a man, and Spy’s corpse goes sprawling across the ground, and…

“You okay there?”

“Oh, shit.”

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Please

Summary: Hello. I hope somebody is listening.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, loosing yourself, bad mental health, pill consumption, attempted suicide

Word count: 1083

a/n: I’m scared to post this so I’m going to disappear for the next unknown amount of hours

Somedays feel never ending. It’s difficult to put to words, but you know it’s bad when the first feeling after waking up is the want to go back to sleep. Not just because of tiredness, but because you know the day will be more than you can take. It’s a heavy feeling. It pushes you deeper and deeper, no matter how many times you try to climb back up. Still you have to get up. Responsibilities don’t stop just because you’re feeling tired.

When those kind of days keep coming and you don’t listen to them, they multiply. All the smiles and laughs that you force during those days push the weight to the back of your mind. So they pile up and up till you can’t see. You desperately try to walk down the right path blindly while everything is yelling when you get near the edge of the path and dark forest, but you can’t hear. So, you step into the forest. It’s dark and quiet, somehow comforting. The moon is full and moss on the ground is soft under your feet. Compared to this, the sun shining on the path feels excruciating.

Dreading the dawning light you start walking deeper and deeper amongst the woods. Slowly you start to get lost, but it’s so hard to notice it in time. Everything looks the same in the forest.

Soon your body feels like it’s floating. Is it even your body anymore? All you can see from a mirror is a smudged picture of something. But that something isn’t you, no matter how much you squint and wipe the mirror. Maybe it’s your fault for loosing yourself. You didn’t check the mirror enough, not liking the person staring back at you. Now no one is on the other side. Do the others see the same as you? Only a shell of who you’re supposed to be. Perhaps the reason no one dared to approach you before it was too late.

Y/N stares at the ceiling as she lays on her bed. The room is dark, only source of light being a small digital clock on her bedside table. It’s 3 am. She can’t fall asleep. She doesn’t want to. Because the minute she falls asleep the next day arrives, and when the day is there she has no other choice than to get up. At least during the night she can just be, though she isn’t sure that’s possible with a mind that feels like it’s racing and stuck at the same time. Every time she blinks, she hopes she’ll see the same dark ceiling when she opens her eyes. Sadly, that isn’t the case after the 17th blink.

Opening her eyes, Y/N sighs when she sees the room full of light and the clock showing 7 am. Time to get up. She presses her hand to her forehead. To her disappointment, it isn’t warm aka she isn’t sick as she had hoped every morning before starting her day. Which also means she has to get up, again.

The continuous yells of Get up! Get up! fill her mind, but she can’t. She can’t get up. Anger and frustration brew inside of her as she tries and fails to get up. It’s like her body isn’t listening to her anymore. Or like it finally is listening.

So Y/N stays in her bed, not moving a muscle. She closes her eyes and tries to fall back asleep, even though she knows it won’t work, only wondering if the others will notice.

A day turns into two, two into seven. A week goes by with just laying in bed, only occasionally going to the toilet and getting water plus some snacks. The protein bars and noodle cups don’t keep her full, but they’re enough.

The only person to come knock on her door was Peter on day three. He asked her to play video games with him, but she said she had caught some kind of virus and couldn’t do anything for the next few days. Hence why no one else came by her door.

Sobbing Y/N stares at the pill bottle laying on her bed. She looks around her room. All the surfaces are full of empty or half eaten noodle cups and the floor is filled with trash and clothes. It makes her cry even more. She takes her water bottle to her lap, opening the pill bottle and emptying its content to the blanket. Although, her mind is racing with different thoughts, the sight of pills makes her feel calm. A sense of relief washes over her. She takes the first pill, then the second, swallowing them one by one with water.

Wanda walks past Y/N’s door, stopping in front of it when she hears muffles sniffles. She was worries when Peter told them about Y/N being sick and she wanted to make her some soup, but he said she didn’t want to see anyone. Not wanting to disturb her, she dropped it. But now she is even more worried. Not seeing Y/N around the tower for a week was strange.

Completely going against her teammates’ wish for privacy, Wanda reads Y/N’s mind through the door. It wasn’t difficult, her thoughts were almost yelling at Wanda before she even used her powers.

With a gasp, Wanda slams the door open and runs to Y/N. She pushes the bottle out of her hand practically forces her mouth open, making the pill fall to the bed. “How many did you take?” Her voice cracks and tears are falling down her cheeks, but she ignores it all. “Y/N, tell me, how many did you take?”

Y/N starts sobbing, trying to pull away from Wanda’s hold. “Four.” She whispers as her body slacks against Wanda, too tired to fight, too tired to do anything.

Wanda takes a deep breath, calming herself down, and tightens her arms around Y/N. “Why did you do that?”

Y/N lets out a humorless laugh. “I’m sure you know why.”

Wanda nods, staying quiet. She presses her face to Y/N hair, as if she’d do something like that again if she let go. All she wants to do is apologize, yell out sorries, but it wouldn’t be helpful right now. This isn’t about her. Instead she holds Y/N as long as she lets her and whispers comforting words, ready to listen whenever Y/N feels like talking.

[jxthics]

As somebody with zero knowledge of firearms who has never even held one: feel free to rant about the most common mistakes you see in movies and shows? I love that sort of thing!

OH I HAVE SO MANY HANG ON

(if anyone wants to keep this as reference you're welcome to!)

this list is nonexhaustive i could complain all day but here's some top ones

- BULLET PHYSICS. i don't really have an issue with bullet physics in terms of how they hit people because the research required for learning that usually requires like, looking at actual injuries? and i am pretty harshly against traumatizing some poor intern working in the entertainment industry with exposure to real violence just for the sake of "realism" when stylized violence would have been more interesting to look at from an audience standpoint and without cruelty from an industry standpoint. but everything else about bullet physics makes me so mad!! this is usually an issue with comics, but bullets do not fire with their shells on! BULLETS ARE NOT FIRED IN A CURVED LINE! if a bullet hits something, it will generally go through it unless it is very very thick! keep in mind what is behind your target!

- the amount of ammo a gun has. the number of times i've seen someone fire like, 15+ rounds out of a 6 shot revolver..... as a general rule of thumb, revolvers usually fire 6, a standard pistol USUALLY fires 10-15, though extended mags exist. in this specific instance realism would make your action scenes SO much better too so i dont understand why its skimped on! make your characters force themselves to contend with and manage resources!!!

- TRIGGER DISCIPLINE. this is an extremely hard rule when handling guns, you need to keep your finger off of the trigger until exactly when you are ready to fire. if you need to rest your trigger finger while holding a gun, that is what the trigger guard is for. it's fine if like, your guy has literally never held a gun before in their lives? but if they have even a slight understanding of handling guns, they're going to follow trigger discipline because that shit is insanely dangerous. so watching "trained assassins" or whatever wave around guns with their finger on the trigger drives me nuts.

- sound from guns! when someone fires a gun in a small room and then immmediately starts talking after? or like, someone fires a gun in a small room and then is 100% Profoundly Deaf For The Rest Of Their Lives? both of those are incorrect. make more of your badasses wear hearing protection pleeease they make electrical earpro that only blocks out sounds from guns and does not block out everything else so they can still talk. you don't have to make them wear full on cans you can just wear some earplugs. it's ok. i promise

- this one's kind of broad, but incorrect terminology almost always takes me out of it.... especially when the character is supposed to know their shit like lol you just sound like a douche. unless your character is using ammo that is designed to physically clip onto their vests they probably do not carry clips for their guns, they carry magazines/mags, for example. big badass people in action movies looove to talk about technical aspects of guns and just completely get it wrong, which is such a simple fix. and like... for the most part tech talk about guns isn't very advanced, it's not like scientific terms, they're usually slang terms meant to be understood by a lot of people, so if your character fucks up those it tells me that they do not actually know what they're talking about. in the very instance that is supposed to show me that they do.

and like... the thing that drives me up the wall with stuff that has to do with the user itself is that IT WOULD ALWAYS ADD TO THE CHARACTER especially in like long term tv shows. everyone has their own preferences on what they use and everyone does things in their own ways, especially if they are trained to work with firearms. it's not just "oh this guy's using a weapon" in most instances and it would tell so much about how they act!!!! are they militant about cleaning their guns, do they enjoy that part of the process? do they have favorites? do they prefer revolvers or automatics and if they have a preference, why? do they have a type of gun they dislike? why? if you're handling guns day in and day out for a long time you will inevitably develop these!! and it would humanize them so much..... i wanna see some guys in an action show on their downtime cleaning their guns, or some guys getting along by debating about AK vs AR. just like.... cmon. make your professionals look professional.

i could go on for waaaay longer but i will cut myself off here tysm for asking i go nuts on this stuff 🫂 UM AND IF ANY WRITERS ARE READING THIS the best way to avoid inaccuracies is by contacting someone who knows shit about guns to beta read, i promise you will not be bothering them. myself included cmere let me proofread your fics so i can tell you about your heroes firearms pspspspspsp

[shokami]

I HATE ALL MEN...

pairing ; megumi fushiguro x reader

word count ; 2.8k

genre ; fluff to angst. established relationship!

warning(s) ; major character death (not descriptive). mentions of blood, injuries. minor spoilers to ep nineteen.

i hate all men, but when he loves me… i feel like i’m floating...

doubling over in laughter, you held your side as you let out several gasps of air. listening to the ridiculous spout of words between itadori and kugisaki, never failed to make you crack a wheeze or two.

your bubbly sounds echoing around the room quickly caught your boyfriend’s attention. those laughs were always capable of making him stop dead in his tracks, all so he could take a mental picture of that moment. your laughter slowly died down as you turned to look over your shoulder, finding fushiguro watching from afar. he looked at you with nothing but fondness in his gaze, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

fushiguro swore that you were the sunshine in human form. that genuine smile, and intoxicating laugh— was exactly what he would expect the sun to appear as. those were also the very things that had made him fall for you so long ago. he never spoke about it, but he was glad that being surrounded by curses, and the constant negativity invading your life, never dulled your happiness. he didn’t know what he would do without such a beaming sunshine.

“you know, i heard that staring isn’t polite.”

basking in your presence, and appearance caused megumi’s mind to momentarily drift off into an abyss of his own thoughts. so much so, that he hadn’t even noticed that you had approached him from across the training room.

“earth to megumi— hello?” you snapped your fingers in front of his face, rolling your eyes at the distant minded boy as his eyes suddenly snapped to yours “hi, yeah. there you are!”

“sorry, i was distracted.” fushiguro said simply, that same soft smile from earlier returning to his face.

to those who didn’t see him the way you did, or even to those who weren’t a part of your immediate friend group— no one saw fushiguro smile. ever. if you had to compare his daily facial expressions to someone, you’d probably say he reminded you of nanami. always straight faced, serious, and ready to get to the point. but his smile was never foreign to you.

despite the assumption to anyone else, a smile or laughter, or sense of joy from megumi was not a rare sight. in fact, it happened more and more than usual. his tormented soul began to lighten up, and feel free once more. some say it was because of you, but that wasn’t a credit you deserved to claim. not when itadori existed, and gave him the friends he deserved.

you were but a mere bonus in his life.

megumi was no stranger in displaying the fact that he fell for you based on your smile, and humor. he would tell you until he was blue in the face, but what he didn’t know was that the sight of that once rare grin is also what had you swooning in a matter of minutes.

leaning up towards his face, you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek that quickly became the rosy color of the flowers outside in the garden. he was always so easily flustered, “distracted by what, hm?”

between you and megumi, neither one of you craved public displays of affection. you preferred keeping any acts of shared love just to yourselves, behind closed doors only accompanied by the soft glow of the moon.

that however, never stopped the occasional peck on the cheek, or subtle hand holding.

“what am i ever distracted by?”

“training? cursed techniques? shadow puppets?”

fushiguro snorted, “shadow puppets?”

several more giggles left your throat, sounding just the same as earlier, “yeah! you know, demon dogs… flying owl things—“

“divine dogs, and nue.” he interrupted.

“shadow puppets!”

“... shikigami.” megumi looked at you, quickly shaking his head at your antics and refusal to use his cursed techniques proper titles. “no, to all of those... i was distracted by you.”

you gasped loudly, drawing the attention of yuuji and nobara still standing across the room, “by me?! me oh my! not THE fushiguro megumi being distracted by little ‘ol me!”

yuuji and nobara bursted into a fit of laughter, enjoying the scrowl that crossed megumi’s face. though you loved him indefinitely, there was nothing more you enjoyed doing than bringing him embarrassment from your flare for dramatics.

“you’re worse than gojo, you know that?”

“worse than gojo how?” you jetted your bottom lip out, creating a fake pout.

“annoying. a nuisance. unnecessarily loud,” for what felt like the first time in your relationship, megumi took no care in sharing a moment of affection with you in the public eye as he leaned in to steal a kiss. “and a brat… but i suppose that’s why i love you.”

three words was all it took. three words and suddenly the world froze. you couldn’t see anything beyond megumi, you couldn’t hear your friends gasps’ in the background, and you struggled to exhale the breath stuck in your chest. love?

neither one of you knew love before each other, just like neither one of you dared to drop that damned four letter word until now… love terrified you. how could it not in this life? how could love not make you want to run in the opposite direction, fearing that the moment you loved— something would rip away that serenity.

“you… you love me?”

“i love you, y/n.”

another long pause.

your mind was racing, your heart beat felt like it would pulsate out of your chest at any given moment. why did the temperature skyrocket so suddenly? please don’t faint, you told yourself over and over.

surely, at this rate megumi thought he screwed everything up. did you not love him back? was the feeling not mutual? after months of being with one another, growing close, learning each other inside and out… did he read it all wrong?

“y/n, i’m sorr—“

“i love you too.”

that was the moment everything in this dark and gloomy world suddenly made sense. if you had nobody to love, what was the point of living?

megumi fushiguro may have seen you as the sun, and his never ending happiness… but he didn’t know that he was your reason for becoming that light. he would never understand the joy he brought to your dull world.

when he calls me pretty, i feel like somebody.

why is it always raining? you wondered.

to be fair, you didn’t hate the rain. you enjoyed it at times, and found peace in the sounds that came along with it; but it became a hassle when you’d have to travel across the jujutsu high campus. you cursed them for making the dorms such a distance from classes.

mentally preparing for the journey to your room, you tucked your books away into your bag to shield them from the downpour.

the onslaught of rain grew as you stepped out from the awning that protected you. an earthy smell wafted through your nostrils, filling your senses. the wetness against your skin was freezing, making goosebumps rise with each prick of the harsh rains. seconds ago you dreaded stepping out into the horrific weather, but now you stood perfectly still with your face tilted towards the sky enjoying the refreshingness.

all you could hear was the raging thunder up above, and it made you feel free. no sounds of other students could be heard, no screaming noises from the bustling city of tokyo, no ugly walling from cursed spirits. just the thunder, just your breathing, just the droplets of rain falling against the concrete and rooftops around you.

it was a beautiful moment.

which is why you dropped your bag, spread your arms as far as they could reach, and spun in the violent rainfall. the world slowed down for those few seconds.

“are you crazy?!”

your eyes snapped open as you turned to watch fushiguro rush towards you, an umbrella in hand.

“you’re going to get struck by lightning one of these days,” he picked up your bag and tossed it over his shoulder, before holding the umbrella over both of your bodies. “what the hell are you doing out here?”

smiling up at fushiguro, you stepped out from the umbrella once again with a laugh, “i’m enjoying the rain! enjoy it with me!”

you snatched the umbrella, quickly closing it and tossing it to the ground. letting all of your worries and fears fade away, you yearned to have one moment with megumi that wasn’t ripped away by the darkness of your world… one normal moment.

one normal moment where you were just kids playing in the freezing rain.

expecting him to look annoyed at your antics like usual, you were pleasantly surprised to find him matching your smile and looking at you with nothing but bliss.

“you’re so annoying.”

“and you love me,” you grinned.

“... and i love you.”

fushiguro stepped towards you, encasing his arms around your waist as he picked you up and spun you around in a circle. laughter filled the air, and you felt nothing but joy.

time froze as the two of you basked in your youth, enjoying only the company of one another and the rainstorm. it felt like an eternity before your feet met the ground once more. your hair and clothes were soaked, strands of your own hair felt plastered to your face as you giggled. megumi pushed those strands aside, and replaced them with smothering kisses.

“you look different when your hair is wet,” you told him as you pushed it all out of his eyes.

“and you look just as pretty as ever.”

ever since your relationship with megumi began, he’s slowly come further out of that shell that he placed himself in. seeing him be able to enjoy himself like this… it brought a new type of happiness.

kissing his nose quickly, you looked up at the sky as the rain finally lightened up, “you know, if i didn’t know any better i’d say i’m wearing off on you.”

“is that so?” megumi asked, picking up your bag again along with the umbrella.

“mhm! you’ve let loose more,” you huddled close to him underneath the safety of the umbrella for warmth, “finally taking back your youth.”

megumi chuckled, holding you close. “i guess i have my beautiful sun to thank for that, don’t i?”

even when we fade eventually to nothing...

everything was blurry. there was an ache spreading throughout your body, and it felt as if someone was landing a blow to your rib cage over and over again. there was barely any fight left in you, but you would continue to push forward until someone got to you. surely one of the teachers would find you soon, right? of course they would! gojo must’ve been on his way.

that’s what you thought.

it’s what you desperately wanted to believe, but as the time passed you began to think their fight had just begun. you knew what was happening back at the school, you were there when that special grade stepped out and attacked you and inumaki.

the problem was, everyone knew you weren’t strong enough to fight in that battle. inumaki knew. before you knew it, megumi’s divine dog was shoving you away as inumaki commanded you to run in the opposite direction. damn him.

you wanted to curse him for sending you away with the shikigami, but deep down you knew he was right. there were still lower level curses running around, and they needed to be dealt with… but you didn’t foresee coming face to face with mahito as he made his get away from jujutsu high.

“your friends left you all alone? what a shame.” he spoke with a bubbly laugh, watching the blood trickle down from your hairline.

you wanted to speak, you wanted to charge at him and rip him to shreds for everything he’s done. yet, all you could do was cry out in agony as you fell to your knees. every part of your body felt like it would combust into flames at any given second, you weren’t sure if it was from the pain or the sickening warmth of your blood soaking through your clothes. your eyes became heavier, struggling to focus on the laughing maniac in front of you.

the shikigami shielded you from mahito, a deep growl emitting from its body as it took a stance to protect you. the divine creature had one job, and it was to protect you when he was not with megumi; but you couldn’t stand by and watch another one of his shikigami be destroyed. not for your sake.

“return to megumi.” you reach out, your fingertips barely ghosting over it’s fur.

with a sad whine, the divine dog gave you one last look before disappearing from the air. he was safe, and that is all that mattered. he could protect megumi now, and be far away from the monster you faced.

“that demon dog could’ve been your only chance of survival, y/n!” mahito laughed again, causing you to grimace at the sound.

“divine. dog. you scum,” you made no move to try and stand, nor defend yourself. the wounds in your chest, and side were fatal and crippling. there was nothing left for you to do, other than to accept your fate.

as a jujutsu sorcerer, you are taught to live without regret. to live without fear of death. to accept it, when your time comes… but you were terrified.

what kind of cruel life was this?

this was why you did not want to love fushiguro… because every sweet thing, has a bitter end.

you couldn’t remember when your eyes had closed, or when all of the pain in your body seemed to go numb. all you knew is that when you awoke, mahito was gone. you were face to face with gojo as he carried you away from the scene.

your teacher noticed your eyes drifting open almost immediately. for the first time, you saw him look concerned. he wasn’t smiling, or laughing like usual— he looked like he was in as much pain as you felt.

“gojo…” you coughed, blood quickly filled your lungs and nearly made you collapse at the loss of breath.

“save your energy, yn.”

your eyes slowly shut once more, the willpower to survive was fleeting, “tell him… tell him i love him?”

in a whisper that you barely caught, gojo tried his best to scold you for your shitty goodbye, “you’re not going to die, you’re staying here.”

“protect him, satoru… protect them all.”

they say that when you die, you experience a flashback of your entire life in seconds. that was the worst lie you had ever heard. aside from finally escaping the pain, all you saw was a blinding flash of white and the memory of the very last kiss you ever shared with megumi…

… you will always be my favorite form of loving.

weeks after your funeral, megumi visited your grave every single day. each day, a new flower was brought from the garden of jujutsu high. the garden where he grew the nerve to ask you to be his girlfriend, the garden where you kissed for the very first time, said your first i love you, and danced in the rain as if your youth depended on it.

an array of flowers built up around your grave, and you all swore that before you knew it? megumi and nobara would have their own garden to tend to around you.

you hoped they would, and that it would bring them joy… just as you once had.

staring down at where you laid in the ground, megumi placed down the head of a single lotus flower on the front of your tombstone.

ETERNAL SUN Y/N L/N.

friend. family. student. lover.

cherished by many, adored by all.

in life, or in death, you would always be the eternal sunlight to megumi fushiguro. no matter the consequences to your spirit, you vowed to never leave his side and to always protect him and your friends.

a loyal guardian from the other side. their guide.

your spirit smiled, glancing from megumi’s tear streaked face to the sight of the moon as you placed a hand on his shoulder. being a part of the supernatural world now, fushiguro could sense your presence.

“the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” megumi mumbled to your grave, the rain pouring down around the umbrella you once shared together.

you whispered to the wind, “i can die happy…”

authors note ; this was so fun to write. this is the first thing i’ve written that’s over 1k words and posted. if megumi is ooc, mind your business </3 i’m trying to learn him as a character xoxo

reblogs are appreciated!!

© All rights reserved by SHOKAMI. Do not modify, repost on any platforms, plagiarize, or claim as your own.

[valerianavow]

"Val."

The frog stood in the entryway to the tent. Valeriana set her quill and the cipher key down, sighing as she pinched the brow of her nose. Val, Val, Val. Nobody called her 'Mother' anymore. So much for the grand tradition. "What is it." She felt like she got a year older every day, the way things had been lately.

Her visitor stepped into the torchlight, her deep pink skin tinted even redder in the fire. "I'm going."

"Tonight? We've not yet finished the preparations."

"He suspects something. Barrel had to kill two of the Thronesguard that were getting close to our embedded contacts." She pulled her hand out of her cloak, dropping two medallions of the secret Leviathan-loyal police on Valerian's desk.

Valeriana blinked down at the symbols, picking one up and flipping it over in her hand.

She looked at up at the other woman. "You realize this is deeply incriminating, yes? It's a very dramatic reveal to be sure, but even taking the badges is dangerous. It  tells those who find the bodies that somebody targeted them for their role, not just money or violence." She watched the frog's back stiffen under her cloak and smirked to herself. "Well, it's no matter. Damage done, and I half-assume we'll all be dead by this time tomorrow, if you're going off as half-cocked as I think you are."

"I am not," growled the woman through gritted teeth, "going off 'half' of anything. I can tell he's getting suspicious. I have his deepest trust. I'm the only one who can get close enough. If we don't move now, he'll likely activate one of the Battalions ahead of schedule, and then there won't be guards that can be tricked or bribed in between us and the box. It'll just be cold, unfeeling-"

"Still unconfirmed, on that," Val interrupted dryly. "They do draw their power from our temple's gem, as it were. It stands to reason that they'd have feelings. If you wanted purely logical drones, you'd tie them to Mind, and I think the old bastard's scared of keeping anything smarter than him around." She chuckled to herself. "Not that that's hard to do. His horrid master does all the thinking for him."

The frog's arms were crossed. "Right." Her voice was out of patience. "Well, I'm going, before we lose our chance. So."

Valeriana waited, stretched back in her chair, staring at the other woman. Her visitor shifted awkwardly under her gaze. "I suppose I was looking for... advice? I don't know. I'm quite scared, Mother," she finally admitted, and there was fear in her voice.

Valeriana sighed. There it was, finally. "Your grand plan is to place hands on the device, warp to some distant, likely deeply hostile world and seal the Calamity's Harbinger away. I understand why you are scared. It amounts to stealing a beetle's saddle from her jockey and then letting the bug trample you underfoot."

She stood, turning to face a map of Amphibia that was spread out behind her chair. She didn't want to admit to herself that she didn't want to look the other woman in the eye.

"You are dooming yourself. You are surrendering this chance to halt the path of the empire forever on the assumption that removing the key will bring it grinding to a halt. This is a one way trip, and if there are sentient creatures where you travel, they are bound to discover it. Soon enough, be it a hundred or a thousand years, the unbound energy of the plane will recharge it. And someone, some poor creature, will open it, and we'll be right back where we started, less one brilliant young disciple who I trust more than any other amphibian on this vast green plane."

Valeriana heard the woman draw in a breath. That may be the only compliment you have ever paid her, she observed to herself. You really should get better at that.

She looked over her shoulder. "It will not stop him. He will rave and slam against the walls thrown up by you, and he will mutter and plot and connive as he retreats to his little shell of a city and waits for his precious box to fall back into his lap. You know that the former wielders of the Gem's powers cannot die by natural causes. Just as I have lived and seen the world since the day of Leviathan's grandfather, so too will Andrias Leviathan persist long after your death on some distant, lonely world."

Her hand came to the empty sleeve on her bad shoulder, and she rolled it experimentally, grimacing. Heart's powers had a heavy cost. The woman behind her gathered herself and ventured, carefully- "But you'll be here, Mother? You'll still be ready to fight..."

"To fight? In a thousand years?" Valeriana threw back her head and cackled, enjoying the long moment. "My dear Daughter, in a thousand years I had hoped to be dead and dust. I'd say this immortality is not a fate I'd wish on my worst enemy, but his majesty has done a level job of filling in for that role! No, no, my hope was that we'd be done with this nasty business in a decade or so, and the throne and the temples would lay empty and toppled, and that great bloody hive mind of a ship could serve as a grave for the damn souls it stole. And I'd be able to die in peace, since none of the scattered worlds would ever need to know what a damnable gem was ever again. But, alas! All plans are made to be broken, and suchlike."

Her visitor was studying the ground at her feet. She drew in a breath and Valeriana stopped, watching her. The woman sighed.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I wish it had worked out. I just, if we don't act now..."

"Oh, Plantar." Valeriana smiled. "I expect nothing less of you. I may be annoyed that you are happily flying off to your death to taunt the mad emperor for a fleeting handful of years, but I agree with you. What other plans we had are falling apart at the seams as the throne unravels our threads. It is only a matter of time before the inevitable comes." She paused, sitting back at her desk and steepling her fingers against her gloved tail. "So, yes. Olm Daughter Plantar, Sister of Heart, be it a hundred or a thousand years, the Mother of Olms will persist. We will find the bearers of the gems who come long after you, and we will hope that time has been long enough for Amphibia to rise against the cruelty of the Leviathan throne."

The frog sighed. "Thank you."

Valeriana inclined her head in response, smiling slightly. "Never let it be said that I did not take every single dramatic opportunity to be completely insufferable." This caught her visitor off guard, and she laughed, her breath hitching in her throat. Val leaned forward on her desk.

"Go, Plantar, with the Olms' blessing. The fate of all the worlds merely hangs in your hands."

The frog shook her head. "You are insufferable."

"It came with the job," Valeriana drawled. "Now, get out of here. I have evidence to destroy." She scooped up the Throneguards' badges and stood, pointing at the much shorter woman. "If that overstuffed armchair of an emperor catches you, you have no idea who I am, understand?"

The frog turned with a bright smile and a lilting tone, saying, "Of course, Val. Wouldn't dream of selling out the cause!"

Valeriana shook her head with a matching smirk. "You children and your causes. I am an idiot for continuing to get involved in this worldly nonsense. You'll be the quite final death of me, one day."

...

A thousand years later, Valeriana sat at the edge of a vast pillar, looking out over the sea of clouds at her feet. Somewhere beyond, there was Newtopia. Somewhere below staggered out the machinations of a mad emperor and his petty old master, mucking around in the mud for a silly little act of prophecy.

She looked up at the moon on the horizon, musing as she picked at the fraying edge of her black cloak. It'd be time to repair the hem again soon. She sighed. If this girl didn't pull it off, there'd be another inevitable wait, and she might squeal about her involvement and what she saw of the Olms, and Valeriana would have to go to ground again for probably another hundred years to dodge the stuck-up old man, and it was all just so inconvenient...

"Bwaaawk! Time to go!"

She lifted her eyes to her companion, the little parrotfly that followed her everywhere. He had been repeating Anne's words for weeks now in her absence.

"I suppose it is, Leander." She pushed herself to her feet. "I suppose it is."

Valeriana stood at the edge, and looked out over the world.

One way or the other, this will be over soon. Either the Heart breaks and the Empire picks up their conquest where they left off, or the Heart prevails.

And then what?

Her hand curled around her staff. Valeriana thought of the frog child with her poor long lost Daughter's face and color. His smile, looking so familiar. His human sister's fierce and stubborn determination, how much she sounded like her. Their family name, how she thought she would never hear it again... how much she had lost in a thousand years. How strange it was, to see it all come around again.

Leander landed on her shoulder and puffed out his chest. "Bwaawk! Gotta go!" Valeriana chuckled, and fed him a scrap of meat from her cloak.

I don't know. But I'd like to find out.

The lonely Mother of Olms stood at the top of the world and waited for the sun to rise again.

----- Based on this art by the talented @dashintrash! Thank you for reading.

[dailydaemons]

It is interesting how a lot of the aspects that make Ayeoh who he is, are things that I generally struggle with.

He is confident, expressive, proud, all things I am not. He is more open about his emotions than I am.

While I tend to be reserved, he pleasure seeks. He will play games (either with me or alone) just for the fun of it. He will run off to look at something because it excited him, or do something just because it seemed fun.

He is very outward with his affection towards me, always wanting to be near me or snuggle, whereas I am terrible at self-love and giving myself patience and empathy when I am having a difficult time or when I mess up.

If I was asked to describe how he looks, I might struggle with specific markings or colors, but the one word I would consistently use to describe him is handsome or pretty - as far as foxes are concerned, he definitely looks handsome, maybe even vixen-like at times because of his sleek and confident appearance. This is unlike myself because, boy do I struggle with my appearance at times (I normally feel neutral/ambivalent at best, and dysphoric at worst). It is much easier for me to appreciate his appearance than it is to appreciate my own.

Philosophically, I think that while a dæmon‘s form highlight’s a person’s nature and internal Self, the dæmon’s personality often makes up for what their person lacks, highlights traits that the dæmian would benefit from, or expresses aspects of the dæmian's subconscious Self. The dæmon of somebody who is typically anxious or high strung might have a personality that is very grounded, reminding the dæmian to slow down when needed. Somebody who is very shy might have an outspoken dæmon who helps their person come out of their shell and make friends.

Of course, some outwardly expressed traits of the dæmian's personality will also be shared with the dæmon, but because dæmons are supposed to be aspects of a person's soul I think it makes sense that the personality a dæmon has takes on aspects of their dæmian's personality that they keep hidden or is difficult to access.

[geekwritersworld]

Wait for her

pairing:Henry cavill x Ginny 

warnings: teeny tiny bit of angst, fluff towards the end. mentions of mental abuse.(its not detailed)

summary: Henry fell for her, really hard. But there isn’t much he can do when she’s already in a relationship.

Requested by : @1960memories​ Hope you like it!

It never made sense to Henry why she defended the man she was with. Nobody understood what she saw in him, and everyone saw what she didn’t. Or rather what, she refused to acknowledge. The lies being covered with even more lies became more obvious by the day. 

Over the course of just a year, Ginny had become a shell of a woman she once used to be. Her once contagious laugh now resonated sadness. She didn’t speak much. The calls she once answered immediately , now remained unanswered. 

It hurt Henry to watch the woman he met at that bar 7 years ago, become someone he no longer recognized. 

He’d fallen for Ginny not too long after he met her, but he never said a word to her. The fear of of loosing her even as a friend held him back.

But her sitting here in their living room, wrapped in another man’s arms , made his heart drop. 

His brother had thrown a huge birthday get together for his wife, and he’d invited Ginny as well, because she’d become such a huge part of the Cavill family’s lives.

Ginny had introduced her sister to Charlie’s wife, and the two had become quite close friends. And despite her sister, Elena , being late to the party, Ginny didn’t even notice her absence.

Faking smiles and forcing laughter had kept her quite busy. Ginny wanted nothing more than to leave, she wanted to leave him, the party, the city; everything. She wanted to go somewhere and start fresh; Forget that the only man she loved didn’t feel the same about her; instead she was sitting on his brothers couch in the arms of a man she couldn’t stand.

But it was all mindless dreaming. Henry watched her smile falter, when Matthew leaned in and murmured something to her. Yet his arms remained tight around her torso. 

The party had only just begun and the seconds were already crawling. It wasn’t because he didn’t enjoy his sister-in-law’s birthday party, but because he couldn’t help but stare at Ginny from afar, with his drink in his hand. Every second passed with him wanting to go over and tell her he loved her, but every second brought him pain as well, knowing she wasn’t his.

It physically made him want to throw up. Henry found the man Ginny claimed she loved, to be physically repulsive. Henry knew of the mental and emotional scars and bruises she hid. They shouldn’t have even been there in the first place. 

It angered him, to see a woman be mistreated. He’d heard the words her boyfriend uttered to her, but Henry couldn’t intervene and defend her , because he wasn’t exactly supposed to be standing behind the large and neatly trimmed bushes when Matthew verbally abused her.

His stomach twisted, when he saw Matthew grab Ginny’s elbow, thinking no one was watching. 

“If you decided to hand his ass to him, I'm just saying, I’d side with you” Elena rest her elbows on the cold metal railing of the balcony, as the summer sky turned a soft shade of blue. 

“Can’t fucking stand the way he treats her” he despised the way Matthew held her , the way he talked to her and the way he’d manipulated her. “I truly don’t understand why she’s still with him” He sighed , turning around, he faced the ocean that the balcony overlooked. He wanted to be holding her in his arms right then, standing on the balcony with his arms wrapped around Ginny. 

But she was being held by another man, a man who did not hold her gently.

Ginny could feel Henry’s stare. She knew he was watching. Which was why, holding up her smile, was getting harder but all the more necessary. She was so close to breaking. She no longer wanted to be in this relationship, where she felt like it was a test of how long till she would completely break. 

The only reason she ever said yes to going out with Matthew, was because she had to get her mind of off Henry. She’d found herself falling in love with him, and each time she saw him with some girl, it hurt her. 

She thought she was saving herself from the heartbreak of losing Henry , but she didn’t realize she’d thrown herself into the arms of someone who made her lose herself.

And she’d tried to get out, but she also knew that Matthew wouldn’t let her go easy. She knew Matthew would harass her family and her friends the moment she tried to get away. She knew because he’d done it the last time she left.

“I'm going to go get some air” she pushed Matt’s arms off of her.

“Be fucking quick then” The tone of his voice frustrated her,  but the last thing she wanted to do was create scene at Heather’s birthday party.

Ginny didn’t head to the balcony. She knew Henry and her sister would try to start a conversation about Matt and she did not want to talk at the moment. 

So she rounded the corner of the room, pretending somebody called her, because she knew Matthew had his eyes on her. 

As soon as she knew he couldn’t see her anymore, she quickly went downstairs, through the first living rom and pushed the sliding glass door and walked out on to the portico, and sat down. The tears inevitably started rolling down her cheeks. Everything had become so messy, and she didn’t know what to do. 

The music from inside the house seemed muffled, and the sound of the ocean waves and the summer air, calmed her a little. 

But the calm didn’t last long.

*

Watching from the balcony, Elena watched Ginny sit down on the couch and break down. Her heart broke for her sister, but she knew that the only person who had the slightest chance of talking some sense into her little sister was Henry.

“Henry, talk to her, please” she nudged his arm, making him turn around and take his rage filled eyes off of Matt. He’d seen Ginny leave, but didn’t know where she was going.

“Wha-” he saw her small figure , on the couch. “fuck” he handed his drink to Elena and walked inside, through the small crowd of people.

As he walked past Matt; who had some random girl sitting on his lap, it took everything in him not to punch him.

He pushed open the door and stepped onto the portico.

It hurt him to see her looking so utterly defeated and broken. It made him angry, but most of all he felt helpless. His chest tightened when he heard Ginny sniffle.

And the moment she heard him walking, her shoulders tensed and she quickly wiped away her tears. She didn’t look up though.

“Matt I was jus-” she was quick to get on her feet ,“Oh Henry”  looked up and plastered a smile. If he didn’t know the woman in front of him as well as he did, he would’ve fallen for all the false smiles and laughter she’d learned to master over the course of the last few months.

But he knew her like the back of his hand, he noticed everything she did. He’d always been so smitten with her, and she didn’t even know it.

“Ginny” he whispered, taking slow steps towards her. 

“Yeah?” she raised her eyebrows, she tried to play it off, but both of them knew the effort was pointless now. 

Henry didn’t know how to proceed “why” the only thing he could get out. The only thing that made sense to ask.

“I don’t fucking know anymore, I don’t” It took him by genuine surprise when she’d openly said that. He expected himself to be shut out the moment he asked her why. That had been her immediate response to anyone who brought up her relationship with Matt. She’d shut them out and close herself off.

“I hate him. I hate him so much” she breathed out. She didn’t let out any tears, because now the long ignored anger was starting to get to her.

“then let us help, Me and Elena, we can help, Ginny.” He felt confused but relieved at the unpredictable outcome of their conversation.

“There’s nothing you can do, but I can. I’ve done it before-”

“wait, if you’ve got out before, why’d you get back with him?”

“i didn’t, he started harassing my family. threats and all that. I couldn’t let them get caught in the whirlwind of my issues.”

“no” 

Ginny furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and turned towards the broad built man that stood next to her.

“no ?what do you mean?” 

“you can’t stay with him any longer. He’s fucked up and he’s ruining everything for you. Alright? We can all see it!” she let Henry’s words sink in,  looking down, but she didn’t expect to hear what she did next “he’s ruined it for me”

Ginny whipped her head in his direction “for you? what the fuck could he have possible ruined for you”

“nothing” she was obviously not supposed to hear that.

“No what the fuck is that supposed to mean Henry?” 

He was terrified now. There was nothing he could say to get out of this. Or maybe he didn’t want any other way ? After all these years and months of thinking of her in crowded rooms and watching her being held by someone else from afar, he knew there was no other woman he’d love like he loved her. He wanted no one but her in his arms. 

“I-Ginny, I may or may not have liked you for quite -uh-for quite sometime now ” he could not look her in the eyes, He wouldn’t. He knew she was going to turn around and leave. And he couldn’t watch. He couldn’t watch his world just leave.

Sweat sheened his palms, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“wait what?” The air seemed thicker, and she kept wondering if this was some cruel joke he thought was ok to play on her , “I- no you don’t. Fuck off. Stop fucking around with me”

he didn’t expect that “I'm not messing with you. I do , and if you don’t that's” he breathed out “ that's fine”

“Henry” she lifted his face to look her in the eyes “ Are you telling me the truth right now?” and that's when he saw it. For the first time in months, he saw some hope in her eyes. 

“I am”. 

He felt nervous, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this anxious or nervous, but he knew if he didn’t take a chance now, it would never come back around a second time. 

She was soft, as she always had been. Her lips were warm and tasted of the whiskey she’d just drank. But they molded with his perfectly. 

He was a big and burly man, but his hold was gentle and loving. He held her with absolute love, and his hands were warm as they slowly slid around her head. Both his hands held her head, his thumbs keeping her hair out of her face. She slid small hand around his warm neck, she stood on her tiptoes to reach him properly, but she held him like as if she was holding on for dear life, because she was. 

His presence brought with it a sense of tranquility , she’d forgotten the feeling of.

“What the fuck!” She let go. She didn’t want to, but she needed to.

“What the fuck are you doing!”  the anger that seethed in his words, made Ginny flinch. But she soon realized that this was her way out. She could finally get away from him. 

Before she she could respond, Matt lunged forward to grab Ginny by the arm , but she was quick and moved out of his reach. She knew him all too well.

“Do not touch me, You’re nothing but an asshole, and I will not take your shit anymore” she yelled. Ginny was thankful that the music inside the house was too loud for anyone to hear what was going on outside.

“You know you’ll come back , you fucking know it” The anger in his face made Ginny feel even more infuriated. He had no right to to be angry. He’d made her life miserable for months.

“No she won’t ”  Henry stepped in front of Ginny. Protecting her wasn’t the only thing on his mind. Matthew needed to understand that he didn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as Ginny, leave alone go out with her. And Henry would make sure that, that point got across to the vile man in front of him.

He wouldn’t watch from the sidelines anymore. He wouldn’t watch Ginny get hurt anymore.

He glared at Matthew. His fists clenched, taking deep breaths. He had his left arm stretched outward slightly to keep Matthew away from Ginny.

“She’s fucking belongs me to Cavill!” Matthew screamed. 

“she’s not a fucking object!” He’d really pushed Henry too far. Henry hadn’t punched someone in the face before. It was never a  necessity. But he soon realized that there was no way matt would leave her alone if he didn’t let him know that he would be right there , ready to hand his ass back to him each time. “ and she does NOT belong to anyone”,  Matt lay on the floor. His nose bleeding. Henry was much bigger built than him, and Matthew knew he wouldn’t win a fight against Henry at any point.

“stay away from her” Henry clenched his teeth.

“are you alright” Ginny knew it would take her a while to actually be alright. It would take her a while to be herself again, it would take her a while to find herself , but she‘d find it. She’d find herself, as long as she had Henry’s support. she’d slowly find her way.

“I will be”, she smiled and held his left hand , and guided him back into the house.

She gave her sister a smile, a knowing one , as she passed by her, and opened the door to the bathroom. 

“Here” she held his hand under the cool water, under the tap. 

But Henry paid no attention to it. He just kept staring at her . Turning off the tap, he further ignored Ginny asking him why he turned the tap off, and kissed her. 

This was what home meant, he realized. She was the only thing he wanted, she was the only thing that mattered to him , besides Kal of course, She was who and what he needed. And she could absolutely destroy him, and he wouldn’t care, because he’s so smitten with her.

there were no words spoken , just the two of them holding each other. And when they had to break their kiss, she held her forehead to his. The two of them just looked into each others eyes, which didn’t last too long, because Henry attached their lips once again. They couldn’t help it. 

“I’ve wanted this for far too long” his warm breath hit her neck, sending small tingles down her spine. 

Ginny didn’t respond. She simply just hugged him tight, her arms around his neck, Henry’s big arms around her torso. Her eyes were teary when she gave a small chuckle.

“me too” 

“Fucking FINALLY!” Elena stood in the doorway, she dramatically rolled her eyes. But didn’t fight off the smile that graced her face at the sight of her sister being truly happy.

She shook her head and turned around to leave Henry and Ginny to themselves. 

[tothemeadow]

Can I order a hotdog with ketchup and french fries to share with Denki and Shinsou?! - 🌸💐

Normally, I'd tell someone to keep it to one character for events like this, but this was too good to pass up 👁👁

Summer Feelings Event

'sandy boy' / Kaminari D. x Reader x Shinsou H.

warnings: NSFW, semi public sex, blowjobs, anal fingering, bottom Denki because yes

words: 1,343

-

“Ugh, I have sand everywhere!” Denki whines, his face scrunching in discomfort.

Both you and Hitoshi snort in amusement. Unlike your other boyfriend, you and Hitoshi decided to stay situated on your shared towel, hidden away under the umbrella. Denki was the one who chose to roll around in the sand. Sharing a look with Hitoshi, you sigh.

“Denki,” you start, “what gave you the idea that rolling in the sand was a good idea?”

Denki flashes you a pout as he plops down before you; instinctively, you spread your legs, allowing enough room for your boyfriend to shimmy in between and rest his back against your chest. “We’re at the beach, aren’t we? You’re supposed to play in the sand.”

“Yeah, but not roll all over like a dog,” Hitoshi speaks up. He quirks an eyebrow. “How bad is it?”

Clearing his throat, Denki squirms in his spot, reaching down and tugging at the hem of his trunks. “Uh…” He trails off, a slight blush blooming on his sun-kissed cheeks. “I’m feeling sand in places where it shouldn’t be.”

You wrap your arms around Denki’s thin torso. His skin is warm yet grainy; naturally, he didn’t even bother to brush off any of the sand clinging to him. He really is a baby that needs constant supervision, isn’t he? “Alright,” you say, glancing over to Hitoshi, “guess that leaves no other choice than to get you cleaned up.” You pinch his side, causing Denki to squeal. “Get up, big boy. We’ll help out.”

With that, the three of you get up and take off towards the public restrooms; the building is significantly cooler on the inside, the fluorescent lights a stark difference compared to the sunshine outside. Surprisingly, nobody else inhabits the space, not even to take a quick breather and cool off.

“Jesus, you’re a mess,” Hitoshi grunts. “What you’d do, take half the beach with you?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Denki shoots. “Just help a bro out, won’t you?”

“Yeah, bro,” you say to Hitoshi, a teasing smirk growing on your lips.

Hitoshi scoffs. “I didn’t know a poly relationship came with the bro title. My bad.”

At that, Denki laughs, his entire face cracking with a bright smile. “You can always put a bro title on anything! Why wouldn’t you?”

Hitoshi mutters something under his breath, but neither you nor Denki catch it. The three of you settle into a comfortable silence as you work at brushing Denki off. It’s quick work, drifting your hands over his arms and legs to rid them of the sand; things only truly begin to slow down once you reach his swim trunks.

“You’re gonna have to strip,” you tell Denki. His face drops. “What?” you ask him. “You said that you got sand in places where they shouldn’t be. Take the chance and clean it up now while nobody else is in here.” Hitoshi hums in agreement.

Denki laughs awkwardly and rubs the back of his neck. “Well, yeah, but uh…” The blush on his face only continues to deepen as you and Hitoshi glance downwards.

“Oh for the love of-“

“Seriously, Denki?”

“I’m sorry!” Denki exclaims. “How else am I supposed to react when you guys have your hands all over me?”

Dragging a hand down his face, Hitoshi heaves a sigh. “You could try not to get a hard on.”

“Christ,” you mutter. Leave it to Denki to turn a seemingly innocent act into something lewd. “Welp,” you continue, “can’t have you walking around like that. You might scare the kids.”

Denki’s jaw drops. “No it won’t!”

“Says you,” Hitoshi says. “Just drop trowel, bro. We got you.”

Audibly gulping, Denki hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his trunks and yanks them down, leaving them pooled pathetically around his ankles. His cock gradually swells to full size under yours and Hitoshi’s attention; and, just like Denki said, it’s covered in sand. The room falls into silence once more while you wet some paper towels and take your place before Denki, Hitoshi stepping behind him.

“Ah, shit, that’s cold!” Denki exclaims once you begin to wipe the sand off his dick. Funny that he complains about it, though – his cock says otherwise.

“Quit being a baby,” you mumble. “You’re the one who brought this upon yourself, after all.”

Hitoshi snickers. “You really did say sandy cheeks, huh?”

“Shut up,” Denki shoots over his shoulder. “Don’t say things like that…”

“Aw, is Denki getting all shy?” you coo. “What happened to our confident baby?”

“Shut up.”

You and Hitoshi share a snicker, but you then fall into yet another silence. Denki bites his lip and shifts in place, clearly trying to keep some level of composure, but you can see the beads of precum oozing out his cockhead as clear as day. Jesus, if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that’s he touch starved. Besides, you did say that Denki couldn’t walk around the beach like this…

He gasps as you wrap your lips around his cock, tongue sweeping over the head and collecting the precum gathered at the slit. His entire body jerks, hand shooting out and grabbing onto the ledge of a sink to keep himself upright. Hitoshi merely looks over his shoulder at the commotion; he’s pleasantly surprised when he finds you looking straight up at him, Denki’s cock stuffed in your mouth. Ah, so it’s going to be one of those days. Might as well join in on the fun, right? Spitting into his hand, Hitoshi grabs Denki by the asscheek and pulls it apart, slick fingers reaching down and prodding at the tight ring of muscle.

A squeal bursts from Denki’s mouth. “Wh-what are you doing?!”

“Quiet,” Hitoshi grunts. “I don’t got lube on me, so sorry if it’s dry.”

Denki shudders as Hitoshi wriggles a finger inside his ass, the rigged muscles clamping around it immediately. Mixed with the feeling of you sucking on his cock, he’s feeling dizzier by the minute, arousal swirling in his tummy. He feels so hot, that delicious flame licking at his insides while the two of his boyfriends play with him like the little slut that he is. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t like it, that uneasy feeling that anyone could walk in at any time. And so, he keeps a tight grip on the sink while his other hand clamps down over his mouth, muffling his pleasured sounds.

“Dirty boy,” Hitoshi husks into Denki’s ear, lips ghosting over the shell. “Getting horny over the slightest of touches, eh? What if somebody walked in, saw you getting your cock sucked and your ass played with? You think they’d want to join in or watch?”

You groan from your spot on the floor at Hitoshi’s dirty words, at the way Denki’s cock twitches in your mouth. It is exciting knowing that the three of you could easily be caught like this. It only drives you to go harder, to swallow around Denki’s cock and fondle with his balls. His breathing quickens, head falling back onto Hitoshi’s shoulder. You imagine the sight of Hitoshi fucking Denki with his fingers, easing that tight hole open and prodding at that sweet, sweet spongy spot inside him.

“I’m gonna cum,” Denki whimpers. “Fuck, I wanna cum, lemme cum – fuck, fuck, yeah – ah!” His breath catches in his throat while he shoots his load down your throat, hand instinctively clutching you by the hair to keep you in place. His hips shallowly rut into your face while he rides out his high. You pop off with a wet sound, licking the excess cum off your lips as you haul yourself to a stand. Hitoshi withdraws his hand and kisses Denki on the temple.

“Look what you did, dirty boy,” he tells Denki. “You made a mess of yourself. What’s more, you made us hard.”

You hum. “That’s right,” you say, moving in closer and effectively sandwiching Denki between you and Hitoshi. “It’s your turn to take care of us, baby.”

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Asorted ADA x Reader | The "happy" friend

BSD misc. Reader insert

Warnings- mentions of suicidal thoughts. Mentions of Verbal and mild physical abuse.

The happy co-worker, happy friend, happy ex, happy girlfriend. No matter what you pushed it on to yourself. So many of your peers had it worse. Look at Dazai, he manages to smile and joke despite his pain. You thought you could do it too. So, that’s what you did. Since you joined the agency. You never let them see you break down. They never got to see you cry. They never got to see you under anything but happy. Even if you were annoyed, you held onto your smile. There were so many orphans among your mighty crew of detectives. The ones you were the closest to, you confirmed them to be orphans from a young age. Dazai, parentless at 14. He may have been an orphan for even longer than that. You just know he didn’t have any at 14. Then there was Atsushi, who had lived his whole childhood abused in an orphanage. Kyoka, she lost her parents to her ability. The others you were not too sure about, but the sneaking suspicion this organization was full of gifted orphans, was high.

Then there was you. A girl, no older than Dazai. Not the best looking, at least that’s what you told yourself. The others had no idea about your insecurities regarding your body. Maybe you were too tall, too short, too thin, too fat. Some days were better than others. Some days the situation flipped. There was always something you could nit-pick about yourself. Your mind wandered constantly back to the words of your parents. “Not skinny enough, too skinny. Not fit enough, but don’t be too fit. Men don’t like to be threatened.” you had parents. Maybe they weren't the best but you had parents. They were a bit abusive with words but never had they placed a finger on you. Well, there were a few times but it was normal right? For a parent to lose their cool and lash out once or twice, maybe even a handful of times over the years. They judged you for your choice of occupation and the people you hung around. They called you out on outfits and the way you acted. That’s why you were here now. Far from them, but their words still haunted you. In truth, you feared them but wanted their approval.

Today, you stood with your coworkers finishing up the latest job. You hummed in your outfit. It covered your arms, which you already bandaged but wanted to keep that a secret. The things you did to keep this false joy were extreme. The things you took in impacted your state. Listening to Atsushi, holding Kyoka when she broke down. Hell, you were even there to scold Dazai and occasionally listen to his drunk words. The tales of how much he had suffered broke you. Even Kunikida learned to confide in you. He would tell you about his stress, and the pain he felt about past mistakes that resulted in his ideals being missed or broken. There was nobody in the agency who didn’t trust you with their problems. To them, you had none. They were okay with talking to you. They felt better after talking to you. That’s how it worked.

Biting the inside of your cheek, your feet moved to Kunikida. You knew he’d want to talk about this one. He hated seeing people killed before his eyes. He’d already nearly beaten Dazai for letting the boy die. Atsushi was off in the corner, fidgeting around with the tight atmosphere. You had arrived a little too late to prevent the death of the kidnapped child. Things like this happened, mistakes were bound to happen but… they had larger effects on some than they did on others. Dazai was facing the wall, his hands in fists. His head against the wall. You could tell he was blaming himself. Atsushi just felt awkward being here. “Kunikida?” you whispered trying to keep a joyful yet soft tone to your voice. Your hand reached out to tap his shoulder only for him to slap it away with a heavy glare.

“How can you smile like that? Somebody died in front of us and all you do is smile! You're always smiling no matter what happens! Do you even understand what’s going on right now? We failed (Y/n). Do you need somebody to explain to you what you should be doing right now?” his voice kept raising pitch by pitch. It sent flashes along your eyes. The way your father's voice would start soft and gradually get louder by the second, until he slammed a fist against the wall and screamed at you. Those yells always ended in the verbal assault. The comments on your form, the comments on your social life, and the useless degrees and jobs you had.

The wince you suppressed went unnoticed. The shaking of your hands is easily hidden behind you. Hands clasped together as your eyes trailed Kunikida. His body stood towering over you. Heavily glaring as he turned away. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” you tilted your head to play this off with a smile.

It was no help to your situation. He pushed past you, heading for the building exit he froze in the doorway. “We have to go tell a parent we failed to save a child's life. Do you understand how hard that is for a parent? How could I be alright? How can any of us be alright?” he was one step from overfilling your glass. The cracks forming were starting to show. Your eyes unable to meet his eyes. “You can be heartless and an idiot at times. Smiling in the presence of death.” there it was, the same words you had gotten at your grandmother's funeral. You’d tried to stay strong for your mother. You only knew how to smile. You knew no other way of staying strong. Hearing it from a friend sent you into overdrive.

“Shut up.” you hissed through clenched teeth.

This time Atsushi seemed to join in. shocked by your sudden negativity. He had never seen you like this. None of them had ever seen you drop a smile. “Are you mad?” Atsushi asked before you shook it off and smiled.

“Huh? Of course not! I'm just as normal as ever! I don’t know what you mean? Did I seem mad? Sorry, guess I just let that slip. I meant to say you shouldn’t assume I'm heartless, just cause I'm still… happy! I feel the pain you guys feel over this! I just think we should move over this!” giving a closed smile, Kunikida's raised voice washed over the room again.

“Move past?! We could have saved them if we had been a bit faster in getting here! The kid wasn’t supposed to die! Stop smiling and grasp the situation! Stop being insensitive to your acting just like Dazai does sometimes!” Were you that bad? Was it really that bad to just want to stay happy? “You have everything perfect, you can’t even grasp the situation!” you couldn’t do this anymore. His words were starting to turn from accusations to frustration. He was taking his pain out on you. Instead of doing it in the kind form he normally used, he was using anger to express how hurt he was right now.

Unable to take any more of the words he spat, you dropped it all. His words were getting on the triggering side. The words he spat slowly started to inch closer and closer to your parents' words. Words that made you have to act like this. “I can’t do this anymore,” you whispered trying to keep your tears locked inside. It was useless though. The container shattered as his words brushed by your ears. Faded and fuzzy, the world drifted away. You were pulled back into the world by a brunette. His slender hands shaking your shoulders. You shoved him away glaring.

“Woah, she’s pissed,” Atsushi whispered before you shook your head looking at the ceiling, you smiled.

“No Atsushi, I'm sad, for lack of a better word. I want to walk up the stairs of a very tall building and dive into nothingness. I want to lay down with a bottle of whiskey and drink myself into sweet relief. I want to look in the mirror and like the way I look. I want to walk to my parents with the courage to tell them I'm perfect no matter what I look like. I want to tell them that what I do for a living makes me strong. I want to have the strength to shout and tell them I don't need a man to dictate my life. I want to scream at them that the only man I want is a man who isn’t afraid of a fierce, strong, and independent woman.” the words fell from your lips as your tears fell. They fell through your smile. The happy look stuck to your face.

“(y/n)...” Kunikida started before you chuckled, closing his sentence off.

“Aren't I just perfect? I hate my body, I hate my personality. I hate everything about myself. I hate my gift, nobody would like the real me. Nobody knows the real me. Hell, I don't even know the real me. I am nothing without my smile. But… it's okay as long as I can keep smiling! I can just fake it until it's real. I fooled all of you, didn’t I? I really seemed happy! Even I was starting to think I was! But then, I get home, look in the mirror, and all I can see is a useless shell.” your voice stopped before you were wrapped in bandaged arms. Those arms ran over your back to pull at your arms. Concerned hazel brushing skilled tender fingers under the cloth of your sleeves. Those fingers dancing over the white cloth. His hair falling over his now darkened eyes.

“You too…” he whispered just as you yanked away your arms and held them, still keeping a smile.

Of course, he had to lift your spirits just a bit. So, as you looked away unable to meet his gaze, he got to one knee and pulled your hand to him with a smirk. Kunikida facepalmed realizing the words the brunette would spout next. “Dazai, this was a crime scene. Are you seriously going to… I'm going to kill you!” he shouted stomping over to you two.

Dazai’s eyes met yours as he put his playful smile on. “Would you commit a double suicide with me~?” he hummed before being shoved into a wall. “Kunikidaaaaa! Why would you do something so cruel?!” he dramatically put a hand over his chest and his other hand on his forehead. Kunikida clicked his tongue, turning to you. His eyes reflected only guilt, as if your outburst had been all his fault. Even if you had been dying to talk to somebody about the crumbling emotions for months.

“I’ll think about it, Dazai-san!” you playfully responded to his request. For a moment you truly did feel a flutter of joy.

“I swear if you start doing his habits, I will add to your paperwork!” the worst kind of threat. A threat that made both you and Dazai cringe but chuckle.

“We should get going.” you hummed looking up to the ceiling again. “We do have a family to comfort.” Everybody fell serious and nodded.

[simpingwriter]

Birthday-Bonus:

Incorrect but totally Correct Quotes for Aitor and Casey

Aiden: Words ending with 'ie' just sound adorable by nature, like Cutie, sweetie, cookie-

Emily, casually: Eyy homie!

Casey: But then there's cooties-

Jake, scared: Die.

------

Aitor: How the fuck are we supposed to put a penny sized tracker onto Aiden without him noticing??

Casey: Hey, Aiden, i bet you on one inhibitor that you can't swallow this penny!

Aiden: *basically inhales the tracker* Pay up, bitch.

Aitor: ...

----

Aiden: If i say 'i love you', will you say it back?

Casey: yes? Of course?

Aiden: !?!

Aiden: I love you!

Casey: It back, bitch.

Later:

Aitor: Why is Aiden crying?

Casey: *shrugs innocently*

----

*Something crashes into the training area in Seneux*

Reactions:

Aitor: Shit—

Aiden: *runs outside in a panic* WHO GOT HURT!?

Casey: *walks by the crash calmly* What died?

----

Aiden: I have a terrible feeling about this...

Casey: *chewing something* What chu mean?

Aiden: Do you ever get that small voice in your head that keeps warning you if you're about to do something that will definitely get you into trouble?

Casey, honest: No???

Aitor: That actually explains so much...

----

Casey: Sometimes i like to place my hands onto somebody's cheeks, look into their eyes...

Aiden: *about to say she's cheesy*

Casey:...and violently jerk their head until their neck snaps.

Aiden: T-that took an unexpected turn...

Aitor: So did their neck.

----

Casey, hungry and excited: Imma eat the chicken breast!

Eric, chuckling and drunk: Yeah, eat what you're lacking...

Casey, looking down at her full chest: ...

Aitor, deadpanning back at Eric: In that case, maybe you should order brains, monthly subscription as well...

----

Aitor, about Casey: When she was born, the gods said "She's too perfect for this world."

Aiden: Please, when she was born, the devil said "Oh, competition!"

Casey: I...i can't really deny either...

----

Aiden: Not gonna lie, sometimes I'm kinda afraid of Casey...

Aitor: As you should be...?

Aiden: No, for real, she kinda-

Aitor: As. You. Should. Be.

----

Casey: When i said "Bring me something back from the beach." I meant something like a conch shell!

Aitor: *struggling to hold onto a seagull* Bloody fucking say that next time!

----

Casey, Aiden and Aitor: *dangling above a fire pit by nothing but some rope*

Casey: Remember when I said I'd tell you when we're in too deep?

Aitor: Yes?

Aiden: Let me guess...

Casey: Way too fucking deep.

----

Emily and Jake want to draw

Casey: *opens a drawer to pull out crayons*

Aitor: You have crayons?!

Casey: Ye, i do.

Aitor: You're— how old are you again??

Casey: YES, I AM AN ADULT AND YES I HAVE CRAYONS, I HAVE A MASSIVE BOX OF EMERGENCY CRAYONS IN A DRAWER, OKAY? BECAUSE EVERYONE NEEDS FUCKING CRAYONS!

----

Aiden, to Casey: You're violent.

Aitor: You don't think the quickest do you?

Casey, to Aiden: Well yeah...but I'm also short, which makes it adorable.

Aiden: I beg to differ.

Aitor and Casey: Then beg.

----

Aitor, near tears: Casey, please, i don't speak meme! I don't know what a 'yeet' or a 'yoink' is!

Casey: You will, soon : )

----

Casey: Okay, if we can't do it by sheer force, we'll do it my way.

Aitor: But your way is sheer force?!

----

Casey: I typed 'Bitch and Asshole' into my GPS, and guess what, I'M IN YOUR DRIVEWAY!

Aiden and Hakon: ...

Casey: Vroom Vroom, come out already!

----

Aiden: Life is like Casey. A short bitch.

Casey, behind him: *was about to give him a bite from her expensive snack: a pop tart* ತ_ತ

----

Casey: I'm going to hell, aren't i?

Aitor: Probably...

Casey: I'll pick you up?

Aitor: *nodding* Carpool.

----

A Renegade: I have your partner.

Aitor, lying: I don't have a partner?

A Renegade: Oh yeah? Then who just called me a lowlife, cockless bitch, spit in my face and threatened to skin me alive if she manages to get out of her restraints?

Aitor: Oh fuck...you have... you're fucking dead, bye idiot.

----

Aitor: I asked Casey out.

Aiden: Oh...I'm sorry.

Aitor: Why?

Aiden: Well, i assume she said no?

Aitor: No, she said yes, happily.

Aiden, jealous: Really? In that case I feel sorry for her...

----

Aiden: You can't move in with Aitor!

Casey: Uh huh, and why would that be?

Aiden: Well, um...how do you feel about him getting to see your face without any make up??

Casey: I don't wear make up???

Aiden: Holy shit, you're fucking beautiful!

----

Eric: Soooo...are you gonna explain how you two crashed the truck?

Casey: Well we were driving...and there was a deer on the street. So I said, "Aitor, deer!"

Eric, worried: ...and what did Aitor do?

Casey, also worried: ...he said, "Yes, Honey?"

----

Aitor: H-hey... It's pretty cold outside, do you wanna come closer and hold my hands?

Casey, blushing and timid: O-okay!

Aiden, equally annoyed, jealous and disgusted: IT'S FUCKING SUMMER!

----

Aitor: There is no way that she likes me back!

Hepper: Casey would throw herself in front of a moving car for you...

Aitor: Concerning enough, Casey would throw herself in front of a car for fun.

Casey: Maybe.... probably.

----

Aitor: I love you...

Casey, not paying attention: What was that?

Aitor: I said I'm selling you to the fucking zOo-

----

Aitor: Are you ready to commit?

Casey: I need you to specify. A hate crime, arson or a relationship??

----

Casey: I'm proud to identify as morosexual. I am attracted to himbos and dumbasses exclusively!

Aitor: what the fuck kinda animal is the pink panther?!

Casey, already undressing: God, Aitor, you're so stupid and hot...

----

Casey: What are you in the mood for?

Aitor, casually: World Domination.

Casey: It's a bit ambitious but i lik-

Aitor: You are my world.

Casey: Awww...

Aitor:

Casey:

Aitor:

Casey: OH-

----

Casey: We've got a serious problem!

Aitor: Nah, i just got a bloody idiot who keeps making them!

----

Maybe more soon ❤️