#I did end up going with itchy due to the thing that made me make this poll in the first place

[2018-01-20]

if you still have your 1k words of kissing satoru pls bestow it to me 🧎🏽‍♀️i’m grabbing him by the back of his blindfold and making out with him fr

pairing. high schooler!gojo satoru × gn!reader

content. fluff + one kiss, implied that reader is shorter than gojo, somewhat proofread (i hate everything) read slowly!!

sticky-note. IM CRYING the way u worded this ask made me want to write an entirely new thing of making out w gojo 😭 ty for sending this in leeee 🫶

it is no secret that gojo satoru looks like a good kisser.

he’s attentive; one large hand on the small of your back to hold you steady while the other rests on your hip, eyes on you to see if you’ll make the first move. to both his and your dismay, you don’t move a single inch.

“i can’t do it,” you finally say, exasperated, pulling away to quickly hide your face in your hands. you awkwardly twist away from his figure, unable to stand the way that you’re able to see his stupidly pretty eyes through his sunglasses. it infuriates you to no end. “i give up. this is too embarrassing.”

“that’s so mean of you to say,” gojo whines not unsimilar to a toddler, but there is only amusement in his tone as he lightly tugs on the waistband of your pants, trying to get you to turn back around. “shouldn’t you be honored to kiss the one and only gojo satoru?”

“shutupshutupshutup,” you chant, mostly to yourself than to the obnoxious boy behind you. you swat weakly at his hand while trying to ignore the demonic voices in your head.

it is no secret that you’ve liked your classmate for a long while now. as cute and funny (and hot) as gojo is, he is twice as annoying and unpleasant. you swear he makes it his daily goal to get your blood boiling every chance he gets. that is the sole reason why you don’t plan on professing your love anytime soon: due to the fact that shoko will forever be disappointed in you and will never let you live it down if she knew. you don’t even want to think about what utahime would ultimately think of you.

he continues to bug you, “c’mo-on...” you can practically hear him sporting his signature smug grin. “do you really wanna go back to jujutsu high like that and kiss suguru instead?”

at that, you spin around in an instant—a mortified look on your face that further urges you to stab an accusatory finger at his chest. “y-you’re a damn liar! there is no way that there is an actual curse who’s goddamn antidote requires you to kiss someone when you get hit.”

sneakily, he wraps a palm around your wrist but makes no move to push your hand away. “but you just got touched by that cursed spirit, right? doesn’t your skin feel all sticky and itchy, like i mentioned?”

as much as you hate to admit it, you know that he’s right. before the two of you had gotten into the fight in the first place, he warned you not to get hit and the symptoms you would have to face if you did. your skin does feel like you just took a swim in poison ivy, and your head feels dizzy with a sudden migraine that should not be there, since gojo had instantly caught you the moment you faced a hit from the cursed spirit.

“b-but it doesn’t make any sense,” you sputter out, a weak last-minute resort. you really do not want to kiss gojo satoru—at least, not because of a measly curse—and have to hear him blab about it later on to your friends. you rant on, “if such a technique exists, then why didn’t you just kill the thing right away? aren’t you the strongest? why am i even on this mission with you?”

“hey!” he feigns an offended gasp, “are you saying that you don’t like hanging out with me?” he groans and dramatically lays an arm on his forehead, reminding you of a mistress in distress. you stare blankly. “how cruel of you. and besides, just because i’m the strongest doesn’t mean i can kill a first-grade so quickly.”

you keep staring at him with a disapproving look, but he only looks back at you with a joyous glint in his eyes. “...you’re insufferable,” you finally huff out, your hand still in his. but the both of you can hear the undertone of surrounder in your voice.

you stand awkwardly still in front of him for a few solid seconds, narrowing your eyes as he returns your defeated glare with a sheepish smile. you can’t help but sigh to yourself—you’re going to have to prepare yourself for a mouthful from shoko when you both head back.

you let him pull you closer when he tugs at your hand, your other palm moving to rest on his chest to steady yourself. but even then, you don’t get to kiss him until he leans down from that freakishly tall height of his— gently meeting his lips with yours.

it isn’t a quick peck. in fact, it’s a sweet and slow kind of kiss that makes your heart skip a concerningly amount of beats. a free hand of satoru’s moves up to softly cup the back of your head to deepen the kiss. nothing about his movements show that he’s in a rush to get the whole ordeal over with—and as much as you would like to lie and say that you hate it, you can’t help but step forwards to reach him better too.

your mind is in so much of a daze that you don’t even realize that satoru turned his limitless infinity just for you.

when you finally step back into reality and—reluctantly—pull away, gojo is grinning brightly with his sunglasses tucked into his hair. you didn’t even notice that he pushed them up to make the kiss more comfortable for you. however, you do notice that your skin still very much feels uncomfortable on your body and your head is pounding (whether it be from the symptoms or the kiss, you don’t really wanna know).

“you’re so cute,” gojo chuckles unabashedly, laughing again when you avert your gaze with another huff and a warm face. you are more than used to his flirty remarks and his more-than-platonic habits, but somehow it feels more... genuine this time around.

“and gullible,” he suddenly adds, the out of blue comment making you turn back towards him with a raised eyebrow. you squeak out a sound of surprise when he unexpectedly, but gently, pushes your head downwards, his other hand now in your line of sight. you feel more confusion swirling in your head when you see him holding a small vial with some clear, greenish liquid inside of it.

“here’s the real antidote,” gojo casually cheers, and he does not have a single shame in the world. a whole minute seems to pass by until you connect the dots, and when you do, the first thing that pops up in your mind is the thought of absolute murder.

“are you serious?” you practically screech. “you made that whole kiss thing up?”

[monstersandmaw]

Male 'yautja' x female reader - alien 'reverse harem' - Chapter Two

Due to Patrons' enthusiasm over on Discord and your comments on the previous chapter (thank you!), here's the second chapter! As I said on Discord, this is gonna be a mix of reader POV and 'hunter'/yautja POV. I'm not giving away our friend's name in this one, but future 'hunter' chapters will have their names in. The next chapter is reader POV again, and we meet the rest of the crew.

Also there's this:

(text is a screenshot of a Discord message: Ghosti: It’s basically just an excuse for the reader to boink different aliens (sometimes more than one at once) but I’m really enjoying writing it so far.)

So yeah, this is just a fast track to 'how many aliens can the reader boink?'

Content in this chapter: young (but still adult) horny alien POV, self-deprecating attitude and self-worth issues, non-human anatomy referenced ('slick, sheath'), and his quite severely injured state continues...

Wordcount: 2690

<- previous chapter (free for anyone to read on Patreon)

Preview:

I wake slowly and painfully, blinking up at the ceiling of my ship and wondering how I came to be there, when the last thing I really remember was scrapping with the Enemy.

A series of rattling clicks rises in my throat and my mandibles twitch in indignation. Surely one of the others hasn't come to help me? It was my First Hunt, and they were honour-bound to let me make my first kill, or let me die trying! I had actually thought I was going to die when the Enemy’s tail spike punched through my gut like that. And my shoulder.

Actually, now that I think of it, I’m surprised that I’m alive enough to be surprised at all.

Fuck. Ouch.

Oh, fuck, my guts hurt.

Nothing in training ever hurt like this. It does hurt less than it did when it first happened though, and all because…

…because the human helped me.

Fuck.

Did this even count as a successful First Hunt if… No. I killed it. I ripped its damned head right off. I feel a growl rumble up from my chest and my mandibles flare. Nasty fucker. The growling makes my stomach hurt though, so I force it to stop.

Where is the human now?

Carefully, I sit up and discover that the healing gel has closed off the wounds and kick-started the healing process. My flesh beneath the hardened patches of gel feels itchy where my body is already knitting itself back together, and it’s so tender, but at least it’s healing. I’ve always hated feeling weak and small. Ever since I was a pup and I was made to feel less than worthy because of my runty size. Well fuck everyone who said I’d never make a Blooded Warrior. I’ve found my squad now and we hunt together. And now I’ve completed my First Hunt and killed an Enemy by myself. Even Stark tolerates me, though I can tell he still thought I wouldn't survive this hunt.

Well, I did it, so fuck him. Actually, if I know Stark, it’ll be the big guy getting fucked, not Stark himself. He’s the only one of us who never takes it. Whenever he fucks me, I always end up walking funny afterwards. Bastard. Gods, it always feels so good though…

Despite my injuries, my cock twitches deep in its sheath at the memory of getting pounded by Stark only a few days ago, and I groan. Now’s really not the time to think about being fucked. Alchemist is only a few years older than me, but no one else on our squad seems to have as high a sex drive as I do, damn it. The Old Man says it’s natural and healthy – desired even – in one my age, but I can’t help feeling a bit embarrassed that it takes quite so little to set me off. It’s not like I’m a randy adolescent in the communal barracks anymore. Gods, that was… inconvenient.

Fuck.

All the same, I’m halfway to slicking myself already at the mere memory of Stark’s aggressive snarls and the way his claws had actually punctured the skin at my hips while he drove his cock repeatedly into my dripping wet slit…

Fuck fuck fuck. Not now, you moron.

With another chittering sigh, I ignore the way my sheath is throbbing, and swing my legs off the bed before I leave a mess on the sheets. When my clawed paws hit the cold ceramic floor, I have a go at standing up. It takes me two goes, but I get myself upright eventually, and then I cast about for my helmet.

Read the whole thing right now on Patreon and get access to the 9k word monthly story, featuring a huge Shire centaur who tows the reader's truck for them when they break down...

[writing-till-i-am-dead]

Tylo oneshot - Tire Swing

Everyone was walking around their camp, doing something.

Ashlyn was teaching Aiden how to throw a proper punch, Ben was restocking the first aid kit, Taylor putting in new light bulbs in their stage lights, and Tyler was kind of just sitting there, bored.

He had gotten an injury at his last baseball game, and everyone insisted that he sit down to avoid him overexerting himself. He just thought they were all overreacting. It wasn't an awful injury. He wasn't a baby. And besides, it was only his arm.

It really just frustrated him. He hated not being able to feel helpful. Helping and being productive is how he's managed to keep his family from crumbling for years.

Though, there was one thing he did notice, since he wasn't too busy working. Logan was missing. Everyone else was so busy with their own tasks that they just didn't seem to notice.

And, honestly, the more he thought about it, the more concerned he got. Logan hasn't been in a very good mood today. Sad and melancholic.

Out of instinct, Tyler checked Logan's tire spot, but was reminded that it wasn't there anymore.

Due to Logan getting overwhelmed easily, they decided to give him his own quiet spot a little farther from the rest of the camp. A tire swing, hanging from a sturdy tree.

Tyler got up and froze like a deer in headlights for a split second, hoping no one noticed him leaving. Namely Taylor, who's been keeping him under surveillance like a security guard.

Once he saw that everyone was distracted enough, he slinked away. The grass was getting really tall and itchy. He waded through it and spotted the swing, gently moving back and forth against the wind. And there, in the swing, was Logan, the evening sunlight reflecting off of his glasses, casting a faint shadow.

Tyler hesitated. Logan looked sad and rather serious. Lost in thought. Should he really interrupt him?

Tyler shifted a little bit and decided to try and take a step back, only to end up stepping on a branch.

Logan's head quickly turned to where the noise came from and froze, staring at Tyler.

"Um... sorry. I just came to check on you."

Logan stared at him for a bit longer before turning his head and blinking a bit. "It's ok."

Tyler stood there before taking slow and steady steps forward. "So, uh... what are you, uhm-"

Logan turned to him again, his brow furrowed and tears in the corners of his eyes.

"-doing...?"

They stared at each other, another staring contest before Tyler clenched his fists.

"You're crying," he said. Pointing out the obvious, thanks Tyler.

"Who made you cry?" Tyler asked, seething with rage.

"It's not something you need to worry about, Tyler."

"But you're crying. I can't not want to-"

"I said it's ok!"

Tyler's eyes widened, and Logan's did too. Neither of them expected the outburst.

Tyler almost felt helpless. And he hated feeling helpless. When Taylor was sad, he always managed to make her feel better. Who was he if not someone who could help the people he cared about?

Tyler turned his head, thinking, before stamping his foot into the dirt in frustration and climbing into the tire swing with him.

"H-Huh!? Tyler, what are you doing?"

Tyler uncomfortably got situated and grumbled a little. "How do you spend so much time in this thing?"

Logan pouted a little and repeated his question: "What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna stay in here until you tell me what's wrong."

Logan's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Yep. You shouldn't bottle it in, or whatever."

"Tyler, you're too cramped. Your arm-"

"-will be fine," Tyler finished for him. "Don't worry."

Their legs awkwardly tangled together. Tyler's legs were definitely too long for this.

Logan sighed a little and looked out at the distance. "Why are you doing this?"

"I.. I don't like not being able to help," he said gruffly. He hated saying that stuff out loud, but if he was going to force Logan to open up, he should probably as well... just a little. He didn't like being too vulnerable.

Logan doesn't say anything for a good minute before rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. "Nothing specifically is wrong. I'm just.. sad."

"How can that be? You can't just be sad for no reason."

Logan shrugged. "Sometimes I am. I have a bad habit where I think about things, make up scenarios in my head, fake conversations in my head and I get sad about them before forgetting what it was that I thought to make me so sad in the first place."

Tyler doesn't know what to say to that before being Captain Obvious again: "That sounds awful."

Logan chuckles halfheartedly. "It is what it is. I've been like this ever since I started to live with my grandparents. I just get sad for no reason and I hide myself away."

Tyler pauses for a moment before gently tapping on Logan's knee. "What can I do to help?"

Logan shakes his head. "Nothing. I can't help that this happens. Most I can do is ride it out."

"But how am I supposed to make things better? I'm supposed to...-" I'm supposed to be the problem solver.

Logan sniffles a little. "Honestly... knowing that you care is almost enough."

Tyler pauses, sweat dripping down his nose from the heat of being in the tire, the Georgia sun, and Logan's body heat so close.

"It is?"

Logan nods and their hands almost touch before they both stop themselves.

"So should I stay?"

"I'd like that.. just no talking. I want your presence."

"Will that make you feel better?" Tyler asked. He didn't know why his voice was so quiet, it just was.

Logan thinks for a second before nodding again. "Ya. It really would."

The swing gently swayed in the wind, the almost setting sun in the distance, casting a shadow over the tree, giving them a cooling shade, as if the world itself was saying:

"Stay and rest."

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[villxinmiixx]

their darling with anger issues and an itching problem hcs

characters; all for one, shigaraki tomura, gigantomachia, dabi

♡ extreme anger issued reader, the reader itches their body when they get mad

♡ genre; extreme fluff, comfort, sort of cringe, idk i was mad and needed comfort from my villains <;/3

♡ extra; ooc all for one?

♡ note; i got angry from something and now im writing about it, also sorry for not posting fics!! ;( been really unmotivated and didn't know what to write even though i had a lot of drafts and asks with ideas already.

﹫ ALL FOR ONE; he thinks it's adorable when you get pissed off, and admirable when he sees you letting out your anger on a poor not-so innocent soul. he supports the whole idea of you killing someone (that's actually guilty of something) when you're angry. but he quickly realizes you're similar to tomura when you start itching your neck, your wrists, your arms, your calves, your scalp, etc.

ㅤwhen you start doing that near him he'll come to you and put his large hand on top of your head, pulling you closer when he put his other hand on your waist, and tug you into his embrace. smelling your hair and telling you to breathe slowly.

ㅤhe found out you have this problem when you were itching like crazy over not being able to do your hair right.

ㅤ“sweetheart, are you alright? ” he came up to you with a concerned face ( or a molded face with slightly frowned lips ) while he took your wrist to stop you from itching the side of your face. “huh? oh yeah! im fine, don't worry about it hunny! something just bit the side of my face and it was itchy. hehe ” you made up an excuse.

ㅤhe could practically feel your heartbeat going faster due to the tension. you smile while you grew nervous. you don't wanna make him worry, he's already too busy trying to make plans to end hero society. you don't wanna be a burden to him.

ㅤall for one lifted you up from the chair you sat on and hoisted your butt using his arms while your own was wrapped around his neck, your chin laying on his shoulder.

ㅤ“i know something terrible happened in your past for you to have this issue but i assure you i'll be with you every step of the way, and i want you to be beside me when i put japan onto it's knees. ” he told you in his soothing deep voice, you started tearing up. you pushed your face onto your husband's shoulder, feeling actual care coming from him.

﹫ SHIGARAKI TOMURA; whenever you get frustrated over the smallest things he'd look at you dumb founded before telling you to calm down while he wrapped an arm around your back and rubbing your forearm... as you itched away the skin on your wrists.. ( without him knowing )

ㅤhe only realized that you had an itching problem after dabi pointed out that you have one. “yo, shig. didn't know your bitch has an itching problem like you back then. ” “the fuck are you talking about, dabi. ” “yo ass don't know? she itches her skin each time she gets mad. ” your boyfriend stared at the black haired lieutenant. the fucking hell is this burnt fuck talkin' about?

ㅤhe didn't exactly know what to do; should he trust dabi and talk to you about it or just play it off as some weird joke. again, he didn't know what to do or should do. so he just checked up on you at random, ( surprisingly ) most of the times you weren't angry when he did. so of course he decided to just play it off as a weird joke dabi said.

ㅤbut one day he catched you itching your arm furiously as you screamed at an PLF worker for making an idiotic decision, he screamed at your name and you stopped itching and yelling at the unfortunate worker.

ㅤyou turned back to your normal nature clasping your hands and saying “yes, dear? ” flowers decorating your aura. “follow me. ” he said you gladly followed after shooting a quick glare at the person you were yelling at awhile ago.

ㅤwhen you and tomura were in a more private area you asked him if he needed you to help him with something.. or something - but he shook his head and placed his hands on your shoulder blades. “whenever you get pissed and start itching yell out my name, i'll be here to calm you down. ” “wh- what are you talking about? ” you start laughing off what your dearly beloved boyfriend told you, a sweat dropping from your face.

ㅤ“[your/name], you know what i'm talking about. ” his grip on your shoulders tightened. “hey you don't need to worry i'm fine! i don't have an itching problem! ” you smile warm heartedly. he took your arm and showed the red scratch marks on it. “eh- i swear it only happens sometimes, it's oka- ” before you can countinue your sentence he pulled you into a hug. mumbling comforting words in your ear, telling you it's okay. everything will be okay.

﹫ GIGANTOMACHIA; he didn't notice that quickly since of course, he's large and your height is not that able to compare to his. he found out when you were itching both your arms so strongly to the point you started bleeding, the smell of metallic and the sound of itching made him wonder. he looked around but there was no one there, it was just you and him. he examined you more and realized you're the reason why there's a metallic scent in the air and the sound of itching.

ㅤ“master... what are you doing? ” he asked, you stopped itching. “ah, machia i thought you were still sleeping. ” you smiled up at him rubbing your arms and pulling down the sleeves of your clothing. “master.. ” he frowned, while your sweat dropped. he lifted you up using a finger and laid you on the palm of his large hand.

ㅤ“master, you may always tell me if you have a problem you and master all for one know more than anyone i can defeat your enemies if any of you told me to. ” even when gigantomachia had a terrifying appearance, he's a sweetheart at times.

ㅤyou held his chin with your small hands are kissed his nose “thank you, machia. but i'm alright, really. it's just a small habit, it won't affect me that much. ” you smiled at him, a blush formed on your cheeks knowing he cared about you and would rather die than live alone if you or all for one left him, all alone.

﹫ DABI; “compress stop protesting, my bitch managed to hit more idiots than you. ” your boyfriend smugly smirked at his co-worker, while compress stared at him and sighed.

ㅤyou started itching your knees and legs out of frustration from not being able to full combo a song in pjsk ( project sekai ) a few minutes later you started itching your neck and the side of your face.

ㅤdabi started getting concerned, so he stood up from the comfortable sofa and went towards you. your boyfriend's arms snaked around your waist, placing his hand on your hip before he lead you to his room. dabi entered the room, his hand still on your hip while he turned the dim light on.

ㅤ“you okay, baby?” dabi asked, settling you down on his messy bed. your boyfriend's hands on the sides of your arms awaiting your answer. “i'm fine i just got a bit frustrated is all!” you replied, a sweat dropping down your face. dabi's lazy eyes stare at your face then slowly descended to your neck, he leaned into you and started kissing your neck and collarbone. a small blush appeared on your features, your face still frowning.

ㅤwhen dabi was finished kissing your neck, he pecked on your lips. “let's go to sleep early. how's that sound, doll?” he asked. “okay.. ” you said before dabi fixed your position on his bed. discarding his jacket, shirt and pants leaving him in his boxers. dabi placed himself beside you. you automatically wrap one of your legs on his waist and bundled up on his chest. your head laid on his masculine arm while his hand entangled itself in your hair, he put his free hand on your lower back moving it up and down.

ㅤnight's like these weren't that rare, but it didn't happen all the time either. so you enjoyed every second of it, and so did your lover. he cares, it's obvious. when later that night while you were asleep he put ointment on the places you've been scratching.

[sirowsky-stories]

The Flowers Always Know

Chapter 10 - Coalescence

Description: Refusing to let you go back to work until he'd seen that you'd returned to your normal, tenacious, strongwilled self, Marcus made sure you kept your mind on other things for the time being.

**Beware! Author chooses NOT to display warnings on the individual chapters of this story. Read at your own risk!**

Rating: Explicit 18+ONLY Word Count: 4145 (1988 words added) Masterlist (this story)

   You woke up slowly, as though your brain and body were in disagreement over whether you were rested enough, until their argument got sufficiently loud for you to gradually become aware of yourself.    And the first thing you noticed was that something was making you uncomfortable, and you slowly learned it was due to being tangled in sheets with your blouse and skirt twisted around you.

   You didn’t remember going to bed in your clothes. You never did that, it always ended up waking you since you moved around a lot in your sleep.    And why did the bed smell like lilacs? Your detergent smelled only faintly of citrus.    Too much perfume in anything meant to rest against your skin had always made you itchy. Not because you were allergic or prone to eczema, it just irritated your skin.

   So, if the bed smelled wrong, it had to mean…

   You sat up with a jolt, making yourself dizzy, and you briefly wondered if you’d hit your head yesterday, before it all came back to you.    The room was small, filled with bookcases and trinkets. Lots of stuff Missy must have made when she was younger, and things she’d probably outgrown, but which they hadn’t gotten around to selling or throwing away yet.

   There was one large window to your right, and the blinds hadn’t been closed, so the daylight was coming in unhindered.    Daylight… not morning-light.    You scrambled to free yourself from the sheets, then jumped out of bed and hastily tried to pull your clothes into some semblance of order as you left the room.

   But you were momentarily disoriented when you stepped out into a hallway you didn’t recognize. It was long, probably stretching through the entire inner half of the house, and the room you’d come out of was in the middle of it.     Thankfully, at the end of the hall to your right, you could see a part of the kitchen and you did recognize that, so you headed there.    You walked in to find Marcus behind the stove, frying something which smelled really good, making your stomach wake up with a growl.

   “What time is it?” you asked, or more like demanded, and he jumped in surprise at the sound of your loud and gruff morning voice behind him.

   But when he turned around, he was smiling, looking over your rumpled state and apparently finding it cute, because he hummed in a giddy sort of way when he replied.

   “That watch on your wrist broken, or something?”

   “Honestly, I don’t trust it anymore,” you deadpanned, to which he chuckled and shook his head, returning his attention to the frying pan.

   “It’s almost midday. I’m maki-…”

   “What!?” you cut him off and then started frantically looking around for your shoes. “Marcus, what the hell? Why didn’t you wake me, I’m beyond fucking late!”

   “Cálmate, preciosa. You’re taking a sick-day, I called it in this morning,” he responded, perfectly at ease, not missing a beat as he flipped something in the pan.

   And completely unaware of how peeved you suddenly were, stopping your search to glare at him.

   “And what exactly gives you the right to decide that for me? Do you have any idea what I have on my plate today?” you accused, before something else occurred to you. “And why the hell did they just take your word for it, without checking with me first?”

   At first, all your saw was his broad back, seemingly unbothered by your little tantrum. But then he turned the stove off and moved the frying pan off the hot plate.    He turned around, and there was a gorgeous smile, mostly in his eyes, as he came over to you and put his hands on your cheeks, before he kissed you. Just once, but tenderly.    You were a bit too annoyed to appreciate the gesture, until he leaned back and spoke.

   “There you are, my feisty, headstrong hermosa. I’ve missed you.”

   It took you a couple of seconds, but once it dawned on you what he meant, you sighed and allowed yourself to fall forwards, and he let go of your face to wrap his arms around you instead.    The irritation vanished, but was instantly replaced by a sense of idiocy, because you knew he was right. You hadn’t felt like yourself ever since you’d taken the job, and of course he’d noticed even before you had.

   “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you,” you offered, meeting his eyes to let him see how bad you felt about it.

   “Thank you, but please don’t worry about that. To be honest, I’d expected worse,” he replied, trying to lighten your mood, but you really did feel awful.

   “I crashed and burned, honey. Don’t let my mildly panicked morning mood fool you, I’m still way too tired for any elaborate comebacks,” you said, but he got a strange look in his eyes then, and you couldn’t work out what it might mean. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

   “Because you just… called me a nickname,” he realized, starting to smile as he continued. “You’ve never called me anything other than Marcus before.”

   “Oh. Is that okay?” you nervously asked, suddenly worried, even though he looked happy about it.

   “Are you kidding?” he said with a laugh, before starting to count out all the ones he regularly used for you. “Hermosa, preciosa, querida, cariño…”

   You still didn’t know exactly what they translated to, and you didn’t care, because you loved hearing him say them. Still, feeling less stressed and more joyful, you playfully scrunched your nose at him.

   “Alright, so I might not have a dozen cute Spanish words to offer, but honey suits you, since that’s what your voice has always sounded like to me,” you admitted, and then thought about just how important that sound had been to you, for a long time. “Hearing your voice is the first memory I have of you, except for seeing your face at the hospital. And for so long it was all I wanted to hear.    I waited every day for your visit, hoping you’d find time for me, but I was still so surprised every time you showed up. I just couldn’t understand why I would ever matter to you. Why you would take the time to sit there with me, in that boring room with all those machines, with nothing to do.”

   His smile faded as you spoke, replaced by that look you’d only seen on him once before, and assumed you’d imagined.    Something like reverence.    But he didn’t seem to know what to say, or how to respond right then, which left you with a good opportunity, since he was clearly very emotionally open, to let him know just how much he’d come to mean to you. If you only had the courage to say the words.

   “I think I knew even back then,” you timidly started, searching for the right way to phrase it, while he curiously tilted his head and waited. “Don’t ask me how, I didn’t even know you, so it shouldn’t really be possible. But somehow, I knew… that I’d already fallen for you.”

   You weren’t sure, but he seemed to stop breathing then. And once again you were terrified you might’ve said too much, moved too fast.    How was it possible you could be so desperate for him to know, and at the same time so absolutely terrified of his reaction? It wasn’t that the two emotions were impossible to have at once, of course not. It was just that the intensity of them should be too much for one body to experience at once.

   Also, you felt so stupid and hypocritical, since you were the one who’d wanted to slow things down.    Yet here you were, declaring your love for him like some infatuated teenager, awaiting his response with the sensation of a lead-weight being wrapped around your neck, ready to pull you down through the ground and choke you if it turned out he didn’t love you back.

   He made you wait for it, probably just because he couldn’t speak at first, holding your eyes for a long moment before he finally managed to draw a jagged breath.

   “Te quiero, hermosa,” he finally whispered through a windpipe which sounded much too tight. “I know what you mean. God, I know exactly what you mean, becuase I felt it too. From the first time I walked into that med-chamber and saw you, I knew you mattered. I felt it so strongly it nearly made me panic.    I’ve wanted to tell you every day since then. Thought I’d go crazy while I waited to find out if you could possibly feel the same...”

   He trailed off when his voice faltered, and you could hear the overbearing emotions which were causing it.    Letting his arms tighten around you, as if he found strength in the sensation of your body safely tucked into his own, with a few breaths he seemed to find a deeper power, giving him back the usual honey smoothness of his timbre.

   “I love you,” he declared, and there was no tightness bothering him now.

   These words he spoke with the conviction of the leader he truly was, and all the power within his heart. Then he stood still and waited, looking for your guidance on how to proceed.    A declaration wasn’t automatically an invitation, but you’d never met a man who hadn’t treated it as such, so it took you a moment to grasp what he was doing.

   You’d never felt anything like the feeling that spread through your blood in those moments. It was warm and tingling and exciting, comforting and joyous and fucking scary.    But also, just… perfect.    You weren’t sure if his lips reached yours first, or if it was the other way around, only that once you felt those soft, hungry lips try to devour you, the heat inside you flared like never before, and you were suddenly absolutely certain that if he didn’t touch you, you’d spontaneously combust.

   Slipping your arms under his t-shirt, needing to feel his skin like a parched person needs water, you silently begged for relief, but it was nowhere near enough.    You squirmed in his arms, reaching down to his ass and holding him to you while you rubbed your sex against him, gasping with the intensity of feeling his hardening member grinding into you in eager response.

   Reaching for his hand, you pulled it down between your bodies, reluctantly pulling away from him just enough that his arm fit between you, placing his fingers over your mound, and he eagerly obliged.    He barely even needed to touch you, but his hand was perfect. In no time at all he’d figured out how to stroke you just right, so that even through both the skirt and your panties, he had you cramping in a matter of seconds.

   You couldn’t have spoken to save your life, but your throat was making all kinds of sounds, all on its own, and he apparently loved hearing it.    His fingers danced over your hyper-sensitive clit, and you unravelled. He kept his other arm around you, holding you to him so he could feel your orgasm against his body. And while it was strong, it was also more like a precursor than a full-blown release, and if anything, it only made you hungrier for more.

   Marcus watched you ride it out, wetting his lips repeatedly in the meantime, as if he couldn’t wait to taste you. Finally growing so impatient that he licked your neck and bit into the top of your shoulder, before moving back to look at you again.    And then as soon as you were starting to come down, he picked you up and without even waiting for you to wrap your legs around him, he started carrying you down the hall to his bedroom.

   Once there, he set you down right by the bed and in one fluid motion, ripped your blouse clean off. You hadn’t even had a chance to react to that before he quickly followed up with your skirt, discarding both the ruined garments by throwing them over his shoulder.    Right. Super-strength.    He’d never really flexed that side of himself in your presence before, but now that he did, you found you liked it. A lot. You had lots of blouses and skirts, after all.

   Clearly very eager not to waste time on anything trivial, his own clothes met the same fate right after. Although, while he’d kept your underwear intact, his own was shown no such mercy, leaving him bare and exposed. But he seemed perfectly comfortable with it.    When he reached for you again, his hands were soft, removing your bra slowly, obviously worried the tight-fitted fabric might burn your skin if he ripped it. But you also felt certain it was to give you time to object, should you feel uneasy.    You didn’t, though.

   He slowed down then, caressing your breasts, exploring their shape and softness, first with his hands and then his mouth, and every second that passed seemed to deepen his desire.    Especially when his efforts drew sounds from you, making you gasp and moan involuntarily with the intense pleasure he gave you, even with the smallest and simplest touches.    It spurred him on and he righted himself so that he was flush against you, his now fully hardened length pushed into the little gap between the tops of your thighs and your pussy.

   Pushing back until he could put one knee on the bed, he then slowly lowered both of you down, while keeping your body pressed against his.    As soon as your back was on the mattress, you reached down to rid yourself of the last bit of cloth between you, to show him just how much you wanted this, and he lifted his hips up to give you more room.

   But before your panties were even half-way down your thighs, you felt the weight of his torso lessen, before he sat up to reach the obnoxious fabric and quickly ripped it on both sides, relieving you of having to try and shimmy them down your legs.    You stole a better look at his cock while he was seated upright, feeling yourself grow wetter with the anticipation of having him inside you. And when he caught you admiring him, that excitement only intensified.

   He moved slowly, probably to tease you, but definitely also to prolong this wonderful feeling you knew he was experiencing just as intensely as you. It was practically written on his face while he caressed your hips, massaged his way up your sides, sliding over your chest and then around to the backs of your shoulders when he dropped his elbows to the mattress to support his weight.

   You let your own hands roam along with his, tracing the muscles of his abdomen at first, then as he dropped lower, caressing the length of his spine all the way up to his shoulder-blades, where you wrapped your arms as far around him as you could, and then tried to pull him down heavier on top of you.    He kissed you with such heat, you could’ve sworn you heard purring somewhere deep within his chest, content to finally taste you, but also desperate for more.

   Rubbing his shaft firmly against your slit, he was making your entire body tremble, while coating himself in your wetness. Of which there was a lot by then. There had to be a minor pool underneath you already, you craved him so badly.    Growing dizzy with desire, you slipped your hands down the length of his back, lightly clawing at him along the way to the enticing curve of his ass, where you pulled him down harder against you, and he immediately took the hint.

   He didn’t even need to use his hands to guide him, there was no mistaking the heat and slick which was practically oozing out of your entrance.    As he pushed the head of his cock inside you, you both gasped as your bodies reflexively tensed with the overload of sensations, and he had to stop there for a beat, just to remember how to breathe.

   When he’d regained some of his composure, he tried to push further, and seemed to utterly lose control of himself. His arms moved as if operated by someone else, snaking further underneath you to wrap all the way around your back, squeezing you about as hard as you could take, while his hips relentlessly drove forwards even though he was trembling with the effort.

   And you? You had the curious sensation of hanging on for dear life, but devoid of all fear, instead experiencing the most intense pleasure anyone could ever imagine.    Your limbs seemed strangely detached, each one tingling and sparkling in its own way, but at the same time saturating your nerves system with so much vibrancy it was robbing you of all your higher brain-functions.

   The way he was holding you meant he couldn’t support his own weight, leaving your tightly held torso to carry all of it, and oh, how you loved the feeling of him pushing down on you, as he slowly stretched you and went deeper.    Once he was buried inside you, all he had to do was flex his hips a tiny amount, and your entire core clenched in on itself.

   Your abdomen constricted so much it forced your back to curve against the massive hold of his arms. He growled deeply against your cheek, and then you felt his forehead drop to the mattress above your right shoulder, as he tried to ride out your reaction.    You were starting to tremble with the sheer effort your muscles were being made to expend, and you could feel drops of sweat trickle down the backs of your thighs, down your neck, and even along your ribs.

   There was no thought involved with any of this. It was purely physical. Both of you lost in a world created by the other’s body, to which only the two of you had invitations.    But somewhere in your mind, you knew you’d never believed it possible to feel this much. And while your body was practically ripping at the seams with the need for release, the only thought you were aware of having, was just not wanting it to end.

   God, had you ever actually made love before? It had sure as hell never felt anything close to this with anyone else.

   Marcus was so relentlessly captured by your internal walls that all he could do was stay buried all the way inside you, and just grind his base against your opening in small circles. But that was also all it took.    You would’ve thought it impossible for your core to constrict any more than it already had, but it did. A lot more.

   As you tumbled over the edge, you lost all control of every muscle, tendon and nerve. Your abdomen drew so harshly in on itself that your entire upper body actually lifted clean off the mattress, even with your partners added weight on top of you.    Then it unclenched to let you fall back down, again entirely out of your control, only to repeat the motion a second later when the next wave rolled through you.    Your knees drew upwards as well, your legs clenching hard against his hips, and you couldn’t have let him go if you’d wanted to.

   Marcus didn’t really have a choice but to topple over along with you, as no one could have held off against that much pressure, squeezing, rolling, and demanding his release.    But while your orgasm was quite literally taking all the breath out of you, your partner’s reaction was the opposite. He cried out when he spilled into you, with a completely involuntary, raw and almost animalistic sound, which was honestly the sexiest damned thing you’d ever heard.    There was something primal and pure about a total loss of control.

   The waves of pleasure kept rolling through you for what had to be a good minute, continuing to force your torso to push up against him, while clenching down on him to milk him of everything he had.    They lasted long enough that your abdomen was seriously hurting towards the end, having been cramped up as tightly as it would go, and then some.

   But when they finally ebbed out and soothing dopamine began to replace the harsher edges of the craving, you quickly became completely limp underneath him. Your arms and legs fell to the sides and you felt as though your bones had turned to jelly.    You felt the same thing from your partner as he seemed to grow droopier, slumping down heavier on top of you with each passing moment. But even now, when you were pleasantly exhausted, you didn’t mind his weight on you.

   The way his broader frame almost enveloped you made you feel safe, and after a few minutes, when he turned his head to press light kisses into your neck, you were glad he didn’t rise back onto his elbows or hurried to roll off you.

   “Holy fuck, woman. What the hell are you made of?” he said with a strong exhale, still noticeably affected by what had just happened.

   “I could ask you the same,” you countered, blissfully languid but also just as taken as he clearly was.

   “So… this wasn’t a normal experience for you either?”

   “Hell no. Not even the same ballpark,” you admitted, and then something occurred to you. “Could your powers have affected us somehow?”

   “No, I don’t think so. At least, they never have before, and if they were, I didn’t even notice it.”

   “Does that ever happen, though? Have you ever used your powers without realizing?”

   “Sure, on a few rare occasions. Usually if I’m really stressed or pissed off.    But never like this. Not even close.”

   “Hm… Maybe we’re just super-compatible, then,” you joked, smiling as you turned your head to meet his eyes.

   “Now that’s a theory I could get behind,” he grinned in return, before kissing you softly.

   When he pulled back, he took a deeper breath and managed to muster enough strength to drag his arms out from underneath you, making it more comfortable for your back. But you quickly wrapped your arms around him to make sure he stayed on top of you a little longer.    And you were ridiculously pleased when he not only remained in place, but also jutted his hips forwards to make sure he wouldn’t slip out of you yet.

   “You do realize this means I’m never letting you go again, right?” he wondered once he’d stilled, his face now directly above yours.

   You noticed that there was an edge to his voice, though. As if he was worried about something, needing to confirm he hadn’t misunderstood anything. Which felt utterly illogical to you, after what you’d just shared.    But he really seemed adamant about not making any assumptions, which made you wonder if he’d been burned before after moving too fast or maybe just not communicating well enough.

   “We’re… together now. For real, right? I get to call you mine?” he continued, and you couldn’t help but smile at the notion that he could be so insecure, even after such an amazing experience.

   But he was seriously asking, so you gave him as a clear of a response as you could come up with.

   “Yes, Marcus. I have professed my love for you and then consummated it. We’re practically married. Of course, I’m yours.    And you’re mine,” you added, which wasn’t a question but a statement, and you could tell he really liked hearing you make such a claim to him.

   He kissed you again, and when you reciprocated, letting him taste your devotion in the way you let your lips linger on his, asking for, and offering more at the same time, you felt him stir inside you.    And even though it should’ve been impossible, given you were still fucking spent and couldn’t move right, the heat somehow sparked within you again when he started slowly rolling his hips, working the sensitive nerves around your opening to get you to release a bit more lubricant for him.

   “I’ve made a decision, honey,” you hurried to tell him before you lost the ability to think again.

   “Hm. What’s that?” he hummed, already getting lost in the fresh volleys of pleasure.

   “From now on, all rights of decision-making concerning my sick days, fall to you,” you declared, and he smiled in a way which made his entire face light up, happy, giddy and definitely mischievous.

   “Careful, mi amor. Or I might just make you lose your job on purpose.”

[kitty-on-the-brink]

Dear world. Dear those who have the power to stop this. Dear people who could make a change but won’t

By the time you get this it will be too late

For days upon end this month fires have raged and burned, yet you say ‘it’s not that bad! The smoke is fine to breathe’, and you continue to heal the promises you made as you dig another oil line.

This week has started for me with a heat wave, sweat dribbling down my legs, and an itchy nose from all the polen. Storms have been raging on the evenings, and as much as I like storms -for they are very calming- I can’t help but think that the storm’s usually come after the summer, not right at the beginning. Or just before, even, in spring. But no, here are the storms and the heat waves in June.

It wasn’t this warm this time last year, or the year before, or the year before that. Or any year I can remember in fact. We had to switch out our winter duvets for the summer ones much sooner this year, and already I don’t want to have a blanket on my bed at all. I hate the sounds of the plug in fans whirring through the night; this country doesn’t come with air-con in the houses, just some fancy schools and offices for rich workers ran by richer people. I bet they have air-con in parliament, where they sit and discuss the rising temperatures, melting ice caps, and never seem to really do anything about it.

Did you know that just stop oil disrupted a flower festival last week? I wouldn’t choose that particular place myself, but it’s admirable work when the government won’t listen any other way, and the news will not report the legal non-disruptive work. And yet my friend, who was writing a book about climate change when we were eleven, still called them the morons. Funny that.

I feel guilty, every time I have a tuna sandwich or get driven down into town when I could have walked. I really shouldn’t. And yet rich people who could speak out and make a difference take half an hour trips on private jets and feel no remorse. It saves them time and convenience. And they eat rare caviar. Big oil and fossil fuel companies that destroy habitats and pump out atmosphere destroying gasses only care about the money they receive and not the impact that what they are doing has. They don’t care that a rare species of bird just went extinct. That a polar bear cub didn’t make it out of its first weeks after I near starved then drowned due to their not being enough ice or food around.

Dear people, while you sit back and watch this happen, just know that you will be dead before this get too bad, and I’ll be left to pick up your mess. I’d not want to go into politics. I want to act or dig up segments of the past and marvel over what happened. But I might just need to take a seat at that table to get things to go right.

[thatonesystemig]

What it's like to have cptsd, did, and schizoaffective disorder

(Tw: this goes into my past and involves horrible things that happened to me like abuse and SA)

Not speaking for everyone else's experience being diagnosed with DID, CPTSD, or schizoaffective, but this is what I went through, have been going through for a bit, and will probably go through until the day I die or the inevitable heat death of the universe happens, whichever comes first:

I can't control when I switch "personalities", better known as alters. I can't control what triggers me to switch, and the triggers change depending on what alter I am at the moment. Each of my alters have a very small grip/understanding on what gets us to switch.. but we can't just make it happen when we want to like others that have the same disorder can seem to do.

When I get overly anxious or feel too much of an emotion I get very lovely textile and auditory hallucinations. The specific textile hallucinations are what I call "the crawlies", where it feels like there are bugs literally crawling all over me. It's very itchy and ive nearly scratched myself raw from it before. Auditory hallucinations range anywhere from single words, the stupidest shit, demonic voices, violent voices, just overall negative voices, etc. I've heard it all

I only know who I am (half the time) based on how I type/talk, how I act, walk, what pronouns/name feels like 'me' in that moment, etc. Sure we're able to "talk" with each other, mainly by journaling and looking back/looking back at texts we've sent people or posts we've made on social media. We make mental notes on each other by reading things we've wrote/been told we do. Like I have 3 alters that switch between fronting, and 4 that are mainly protectors/harmy/a little that stay out of the way that I only know exist due to what I've seen and been told. By the way, what I mean by "little" for those that don't know is that my brain gets so fucked up when I switch sometimes it's like I woke up one day as a 4-5 year old. Like im convinced im 4-5, i only have the mental capacity of a 4-5 year old. Its super fucking embarassing and I hate it because one of the very few times I switched into that alter I got taken advantage of by someone I was with for 10+ years. But I'll get into it later. I dont know when I do it unless that alter becomes traumatized by something that happens in that state and you know, I have constant nightmares every fucking night about it. Yeah apparently that's a thing that can happen. I dont control it. I just blank out and have other people tell me that alter was in control, or that I was acting weird.

I have absolutely shit memory, and the blanking out is hellish. I feel like I have dementia, and unfortunately, with most schizo-typal disorders, I most likely will unless they somehow find something to prevent or reverse that in my lifetime. I know I'm most likely going to end up in either an asylum, nursing home, or a ward the rest of my life when I get older due to being so far gone. I journal so much now because when I'm to that point, I want my family to remember the person (or should I say the parts that make up me ig) I used to be. Im absolutely terrified of where my mental health is going to be when I'm 50+ because I've been in and out of psych wards since I was 14 (mainly just to adjust meds when psychs wont do their job or my trauma gets to me way too badly, worry not, im not TOO crazy lmao.. tho I am crazy ngl). I also take 6-7 pills a day depending on the day I'm having (some are as needed). Im only 27 yet I'm already starting to lose a grip on reality and I'm terrified. My trauma and multitudes of mental health issues drive me fucking insane. It's terrifying when you don't remember a majority of your life, let alone what yesterday was like, other than the trauma that constantly haunts you and what you write to your friends/in journals/have to look back on.

Art is my biggest passion, and I hope when I die from either my own hand/my mental health getting to the point of no return I can at least be remembered for that. I know it's cringy chubby furry girls and landscapes but it makes me so happy to draw.

My mental health, especially my DID, is something I'm completely ashamed to talk about other than on reddit, my secret tumblr, and with certain friend groups on discord for a multitude of reasons. Those being that I don't know who to trust with this information anymore. My ex used it to his advantage and did shit to me (technically my little) and I still have nightmares over to the point where I stay up from 1-2 days at a time then sleep for a full day. Force myself to say up by drinking a shit ton of coffee and smoking nearly a pack a day. Didn't realize the shit happened until after the same nightmare kept replaying over and over and over in my head. Kept it to myself because I really loved this guy. Didn't want to believe he was a monster. Kept telling myself that wasnt what really happened, that it was my brain making it up.

I was with him for 10 years, we planned to get married and spend the rest of our lives together. But it's been over a year since the incident happened and the trauma keeps snowballing. After the incident I went from wanting to be around him 24/7 along with the other partner we were with, to being so scared and driven to near panic whenever either of them would call or text and being afraid to go outside out of fear of seeing them. Still struggle with that. I finally realized it was an actual memory after I talked to my psych about it.

She told me not only did I have the same trauma and reaction to this all as a victim of SA, after I explained to her how it felt like it was much more than a dream because there were way too many.. specific things, but that when it comes to people with some form of PTSD, they either have 'flashbacks' or nightmares of the very traumatic event over and over again and relive it. Mostly seen in veterines and people who have gone through shitty stuff like me. We also talked about other things that went on in the relationship over the 10 years we were together because there was a lot of stuff that happened to me that was nowhere NEAR normal and I was convinced that it was because my feelings were always invalidated, i was always told what made me upset was nothing to be upset over, that everything they both did to me was normal. Psych what they did was abuse, that they both seem to have narcissistic tendencies, and seemed to have this weird need to control me and make me into what they wanted me to be. And of course my dumbass didn't fucking listen until it all came to a head.

I finally broke up with him just as it started to snowball, right after our other partner broke up with me for venting in my discord server of all things, about something that wasn't even vaguely related to them because it made them look bad that I couldnt come to either one of them, despite them getting mad at me and kinda resenting me for coming to them too much because "I needed to deal with it on my own and not rely on anyone as much." Though to be fair, I was coming to them a lot so I can kinda get where they're coming from. Idk I think I just. Expected a relationship to fix me? Idk, still thinking about this one.

Then they'd get mad when I went to friends to vent about anything because apparently it makes them look like bad partners?? Idk. I kinda spaced out those past few months aside from the fucked up stuff they did to me, but somewhere between a visit with my psych and a week long stay at the psych ward when i was about ready to cease existance from not wanting to face the truth, my original childhood diagnosis of PTSD was changed to CPTSD. Still don't really understand the difference tbh. To me theyre just forms of PTSD, C in front of it or not. If youre wondering why i had the diagnosis of PTSD in the first place, i went through some very fucked up shit as a kid ive already worked through. Then i subjected myself to even more fucked up shit because of love and i also thought it was the best there was and everyone was like that. Yeahhhh there was a lot of fucked up shit in that relationship.

I stayed friends with them after the fact despite how much it was fucking with my mental health because despite what my psych said, I was still in complete denial of what happened to me and it was easier to accept their lies than the truth. I confronted him about it. He didn't say anything, he just blocked me. Then my other ex, his partner, messaged me asking to explain. So I explained to them and they p much told me they both didn't know I was in that state.. when they both knew because they both acknowleged I was. Both knew i have DID. Both knew who i was. They even went as far to acknowlege that alter and kept me away from their family the same night it happened because they didnt want their family to see me like that. I know this because the same fucking scene replays in my head when I sleep, like when I had to eat out on the porch away from the family while they all ate inside because they didnt want them to see that im that fucked in the head, nor explain it.

I can still taste the fucking steak and feel the summer breeze. Isn't that hilarious.

They also told me he didn't stop because I didn't use the safe word (when I told him repeatedly I didn't want to, when I told him I was scared, and he told me to "just fucking do it anyways" "don't be scared, it's what mommies and daddies do") Then I let him do whatever because everyone in my body loved and trusted this guy so i should too right??

So I forced myself to believe what I was told I kept telling myself that it was just in my head, I just had some fucked up repetitive nightmare that was the same that scared me too badly, and that they'd never do that to me.

The trauma kept getting worse. I kept having that same god damn nightmare. But started having different nightmares that weren't trauma based that did involve them. Still made me terrified to sleep. I want to forget how they both look. How they both sound. Everything about them so I can fucking move on with my life. Every single night, be it reliving one of the most traumatic events of my life, or just a regular dream, they fucking worm their way in and show up and turn it into a nightmare because I start panicking.

Half the time I sleep in the chair because I kick my husband or my roomie/best friend in my sleep (yes we share a bed it's complicated). I hate hurting either of them. Ive done it multiple times and I really don't want my personal demons to keep them from getting the rest they need.

I confided in a handful of my most trusted friends about it like idk, 3-5 months after it happened. I wasnt doing it to start shit or "spread rumors" like they told all our mutual friends when one of those friends told them about what i hoped theyd keep to themselves (a lot I didn't even tell. And a lot didn't know what 'rumors' he was talking about until they asked me). I did it because I was hurting and I felt so alone and broken. That it was some dirty little secret I kept. I just wanted someone to comfort me because I felt so fucking alone.

The trauma still hits. From when the incident happened up until now, I developed really bad agoraphobia. I was afraid of going outside at all because there's a few people in the trailer park I live in with the same make, model, and color of the car they have and im paranoid that maybe they moved into the park im at and I didn't know.

I was afraid of going out in public in the slight chance that they might be where I am. And the one moment I got comfortable enough to go back to my favorite coffee shop location for the first time in many, many months I swore I heard one of their voices and thought they were talking shit about me and had to leave. I had a breakdown in the car and just. Cried for awhile, all during the ride home and a little after. Thankfully my roomie/best friend was with me to calm me down while i drove (only reason she didnt is because i was trying to force myself to focus on something. Anything) Then I became so numb when i got home. I just leaned back on the loveseat in my room and stared at the ceiling for god knows how long, feeling not.. there. Then i blacked out. Don't really remember what happened after but the next time I guess, gained consciousness was the next day while I was in the middle of making coffee. So because of this experience I'm even more paranoid of leaving the house so I just don't. I don't even hang out with friends. I'm too scared of seeing their car on the road when I'm driving.

I know this all sounds really stupid and yall probably think I'm beyond crazy or need to be in a psych ward idk.

I mainly keep my mental health to myself now other than with my family, online friends who don't live near me and can't physically harm me with the information, or very very close friends with similar issues to me that have an understanding of it. because I've realized even the people you trust with your entire life, no matter how long they've known you for, how much they claim to love you, will use your shit mental health to take advantage of you when they think they can get away with it.

And despite how bad it sounds, it's not all doom and gloom. I met my best friend when I went to the psych ward around the time me and the exes broke up. I know the doctors tell you not to do that at all, but if I didn't, I wouldn't be where I am now. I thank God every single day I didnt listen to those doctors. She offered me a place to stay, and since an ex friend of mine that lived with me kept trying to drag me into dangerous stuff with them, I agreed.

My best friend, what started out as her boyfriend, and I started dating a few months after I moved in because I fell. Very deeply in love with them. Yeah I knew it probably wasn't a good idea but they were the first people that I ever felt like.. I actually belonged with. They'd tell me how much they love me and appreciate me all the time, how my best friend always wants me to be a parent to her 3 year old even if anything happens between us.

Well, hate to spoil it, but my best friend and I did break it off, she also broke it off with my boyfriend, but we're still on good terms (otherwise I wouldn't call her my best friend lol) and I still consider her son my son aahahha.

Anyways, about our living situation. Everyone living in the house are: My hubby, my hubbys ex and her partner because they have an agreement they'd all always coparent their kids together, let them grow up together, and not let their relationship not working out keep them from living together and raising the kiddos together cuz it was just easier that way. Together my fiance and his ex have 3 boys, one being nearly out the door because he's an adult. My fiancé's ex and her partner have a little girl together who I have the pleasure of being the god mother of, and my best friend and her toddler which I also consider mine. She's also on her way out the door, settling some custody stuff first with her baby daddy, then moving her and the kiddo elsewhere.

I know this sounds stressful, but its actually the opposite. Yeah as a family we get on each other's nerves, but we all love each other. We rarely fight. My fiancé's ex and her partner are also some of my closest friends as well, in fact we have a little ladies night coming up where were gonna let my god daughter do our hair, makeup, and nails. She requested we wear face masks with little cucumbers over the eyes like in the movies. She's precious.

And then my fiance, I flip between calling him my fiance and hubby because we're getting officially married on the 9th haha. And ik what it sounds like, yall might think my best friend is jealous or upset over it. No. The breakup was on mutual terms, and she's even offered to let me wear her old wedding dress since we're the same size, so I'm really looking forward to that.

For once in my life, after all the pain I've been through, I feel like I belong somewhere. I feel like i belong right here. And ive never felt like that before. I was trying to convince myself that with my exes, told myself that being with them is what true happiness feels like, that i belonged, because life really is that shitty and i should just settle for that because it wont get better. This is better than the horrible shit you went through in your childhood, so it must be the best, right? Then i moved in. Fell in love with the family, with how they accepted me. for once i know what true happiness feels like. My hubby, all my kids and everyone in the house adores me and make sure I know every day in different ways. And don't get me wrong, just because I felt like I didn't belong anywhere in the past doesnt mean I didn't love/care for the people I lived with, or that I'm not greatful for what they've done for me and all that. I just felt like a burden more than I was wanted around because a lot of folks couldn't accept my mental health issues/didn't like my breakdowns/got tired of me/started to resent me/etc.

But for once I feel like I'm not a burden. That I belong somewhere. Being a step mother and wife have given me this purpose, and I've been here for a year now. For once I don't feel like I have to do anything to earn love because its just freely given.

As scared as I am of the future, and as much as I hate dealing with my mental health issues and trauma, I didn't go through all that shit for nothing, because if I didn't go through what I went through, I wouldn't be where I am now.

I wouldn't have ended up in the psych ward from the crippling trauma and thoughts. I wouldn't have met my best friend. I wouldn't have met my husband. I wouldn't have met my family or found where I truly belonged.

Anyways, I'm going to end this whole essay about my life since my hubby wants me to come into the bedroom and cuddle him and talk for a bit. That'll cheer me up a bit more, besides who can resist a cuddly cutie?

If you read all this, thank you for coming to my Ted talk

[lettucebee17]

Hi! So, about your twst summer camp au, I'm very curious about the Octatrio. Why did they decide to move to land? Why are they going to this summer camp? How long have they been on land? Did their families approve of them going to the surface world? (I'm assuming that since humans don't know about mers in this au the mers are afraid of humans knowing about their existence in the same way they were in The Little Mermaid, correct me if I'm wrong though lol)

And any other info you wanna share about them!

Yo! You know anon, you have posed a wonderful question that you'd think I would've thought about before...

That's why these asks are so great though, because I have been thinking about this just about nonstop since receiving this ask.

First of all, the relationship between humans and merfolk is very much the same as in The Little Mermaid. Humans don't know that merfolk exist but there are plenty of myths and stories about them. Merfolk tend to steer clear of the surface for fear of the humans discovering them, they're taught from a young age to fear humans.

However, I think Azul has a lot of the same curious tendencies as Ariel - exploring old shipwrecks for things to add to his collections. Plus, he's not too content with his life under the sea due to the amount of bullying he endures for being an octopus (which is probably even more because I'm not really sure the Great Seven exist in this au?)

I think, around the time Azul was around 14 his fascination with the human world had grown to the point where he actually ended up going to the surface just to see what it was like (and naturally the tweels followed him because they were curious too and it sounded fun). After actually seeing humans for the first time, Azul started working on creating a potion that would turn him human.

Side note: merfolk don't really have innate magic in this au or anything (the tweels can't do magic at all), but some of them can make potions and such, Azul is particularly skilled at it.

I don't think the tweels' parents were ever really afraid of humans, so they find out pretty quickly what's happening and are like 'you guys do whatever you want, as long as you're enjoying yourselves.' Azul was a lot more hesitant to tell his mom his plans but she ended up finding out on her own. She's very supportive of him, she just worries about him...

Azul managed to figure out the potion when they were around 15 and they took an experimental trip to land. They lived off the coast of Sage's Island so that's where they ended up on land (which was probably good because in this au Sage's Island isn't densely inhabited and it's pretty off the grid so no one really did much about the three of them acting very strangely at first)

While they were on land that first time, Jade overheard something about the summer camp and essentially went 'you mean I can look at those cool mountains more?' and told Floyd and Azul that he wanted to go. Floyd was instantly on board, Azul was significantly less on board, wary of how well they could blend in.

Obviously Azul gets talked into it and he takes a little while to perfect the potion before he feels confident it won't wear off randomly while they're at camp. Unfortunately, they don't really understand the concept of registering for a summer camp or anything so they just kind of show up the day it starts. Luckily for them, Crowley doesn't really care so he just lets them stay. Azul insists they actually sign up correctly the next year though.

At this point they've managed to remain undiscover at camp, although Floyd has had some close calls because he gets itchy when he stays in human form too long.

Azul also very quickly started to enjoy camp and very much enjoys his human form (mostly because he has the same number of legs as everyone else so no one can bully him about it.)

All in all, camp is pretty much just a way for them to experience human culture and explore the human world and they've all made friends(?) so they're having a great time.

Sorry if this is kind of rambly, I went a little stream of consciousness...

I'm just very excited about this au!

[cr0ftisprocrastinating]

Crofty! My favorite and beloved academia Dramione writer! Will you be a student again this year? What is the back to school season like for you?

I also want to ask, how do you set intentions for the beginning of the semester/school year and make sure that you stay committed to them? How do you balance separate writing projects with your coursework?

In addition, would you be willing to share advice for a reader halfway through her undergraduate degree? For context, I’ve had some rough setbacks in my first two years, but I’m really eager to prove myself. I want to build back my GPA and earn my way into a humanities PhD program.

Thanks so much! I hope your academic years are wonderful (in the true old meaning of the word!) and give you great joy, wisdom and inspiration.

#ADHDinacademia #PhD #dramione #darkacademia #hogwarts #oxford #oxbridge #ivyleague #columbia #manuscript #marauder #hermionegranger #undergradwoes #lumos

Sweet Piedra! Happy September, aka the best month of the whole year! (it may or may not include my birthday).

I will be a student this year again! I'm just about to start my second year as a phd student (programs in the UK are usually 3-4 years, so I'm nearly halfway through already?!).

The biggest advice I can give about studying is firstly: wanting to do well is the first step to doing well in anything, so you are already a good chunk of the way there!

2. pick things that you are naturally interested in (for option papers). Life is a hell of a lot easier when you're not making it harder for yourself, even if you think you *should* be studying something bc it sounds impressive (personally, I am not into Russian Literature at all, so I just don't force myself to slog through Crime and Punishment, etc. This simple realisation improved my life by at least 100%)

3. Do as much reading as you can. When I did my undergrad I was so surprised at how little reading people did lol, and doing the reading makes a big difference. The Professors have made the reading lists for a reason and they want to help you.

4. Utilise office hours! It took me ages to realise that I can just...go to the office hours and talk to the people who were teaching me. Go in person if you can. Talk them through your essay plans and they will course correct before they're marked. Let them know that you're interested in pursuing it further, and find out what they think you need to do to fill in any gaps you may have. Don't be discouraged if they're short with you, bc academics are a weird bunch.

5. Try not to be so focused on an end result that you forget to enjoy what you're doing right now. Romanticise the hell out of your life whenever you can. It's short!

In terms of my 'process' (sorry this is SO long):

This term is going to be pretty hectic! In addition to my PhD I work Tuesdays and Wednesdays at a corporate job to help pay the bills. I have funding, but funding in the arts is just...not enough.

I will also be teaching this semester for the first time ever (yay!) so I have reading lists and essay questions to put together before Oct. That's every other week though, so it's not too much work.

My supervisors and I try to get a 'chunk' of my thesis written a term (8-10k roughly). I have about 8k due at the end of this month as I have written 2 chunks over the summer, and will have another due at the end of term in Dec.

Also, I've been asked to give a talk about my research at the end of the semester which I am SO excited about, but it means I'll be adapting one of my thesis chapters for that, too! :)

Broadly speaking I do fanfic writing Tuesday and Wednesday evenings, as after grown-up-job-things my brain is too toasted for academic work. When I'm getting to the end of a story however I get real itchy fingers and have to get all the words out as quickly as possible, so I let a lot of other things slide, like cleaning or cooking or washing my hair or also doing my work. Gross, I know, but I've never been particularly functional when I have an idea in my head.

However, I do believe that if you are busy then you are more productive. I have 2 modes: INSANE or blob. I do not recommend this approach, but that is just the way that I'm wired. Today, for instance, I spent the entire day in bed. Tomorrow I really must go back to the library.

Oxford terms are only 8 weeks long, and honestly no matter how prepared I am at the beginning, by halfway through I'm clinging on by a thread. I try not to be too hard on myself when that happens, and focus on getting my work done and not keeping my house clean or whatever else I've decided to beat myself up about.

My username is about procrastinating for a reason. I just kind of productively procrastinate and then at some point everything just gets done?

Some personal mantras:

'everything in moderation, including moderation'

'say yes and figure it out later'

'the work comes first' (normally I say this to try and galvanize myself into staying in the library when I want to go to the pub)

'fuck it' (said when the pub wins out)

'it'll get done, because it has to' (said when I have a week to write 4,000 words because i've procrastinated too close to the sun, again)

[erimeows]

Complications

Deidara hates Itachi Uchiha. He always has and he always will- or, that’s what he tells himself. He’s in tune with himself enough to know that, at times, he can be hot-headed or jump to conclusions without any real reason to do so, but when it comes to Itachi? Well, he has plenty of reasons, and they all make sense in his head.

It’s a cold December day. Some stupid bug has been going around and Deidara has been cursed with it. Itachi has been, too, it seems, but apparently the Uchiha has one thing or another wrong with his immune system that makes him more susceptible to the symptoms of illnesses. Everyone else is out on missions, leaving them both alone in one of the rooms in the base. He thinks it’s Itachi’s. Pein demanded that they quarantine there to keep everyone else from getting sick. He also demanded that, since Deidara only has a cough and a slight fever, he should be the one taking care of Itachi to minimize the risk of anyone else getting it.

Deidara hates the thought. He hates that he became free of the Stone Village and the control they tried to have over him only to be forced into the Akatsuki so he could be controlled there, too. 

Thankfully, he at least has one solace; his art. He sits on a wooden stool at Itachi’s desk, making statues out of his clay. He doesn’t dare blow them up with Itachi in the room, though. Whatever the older man has seems like it’s a respiratory ailment, and Deidara doesn’t want to make him breathe in the smoke from his explosions while he’s trying to recover.

Wait.

He shouldn’t care about that.

Deidara shakes his head. Maybe it’s just because he’s trying to follow Pein’s orders; take care of Itachi while he’s sick, quarantine, and don’t make it worse. He clears his itchy throat and looks around for something to distract him. He follows Itachi’s charcoal eyes to a framed photo that sits on his nightstand. There’s Itachi in it, though he looks a lot younger; fuller face, brighter eyes, a small smile, even. In front of him is a little boy with a similar face and navy hair. To his left is an older teenager with ash-hued hair and stress lines akin to the one Itachi has now, and to his right is a young girl with long hair and a beauty mark. She has her arms wrapped around Itachi’s shoulders. Her smile is bright and radiant. 

It’s a little too quiet. That’s one thing that Deidara hates about Itachi; the fact that the Uchiha is so comfortable with silence. If he didn’t know better, he would say that Itachi revels in said silence because it unsettles those around him. To break the calmness in the air, Deidara speaks.

“So, who’s all in that picture with you?”

“You despise me,” Itachi says with a sickly rasp. He coughs and sits up just enough to shoot a glare in Deidara’s direction before flopping back down. Apparently, he’s grumpy when he’s sick- the opposite of Deidara, who usually becomes very affectionate. “Terribly so, in fact. Why are you acting like you want to get to know me now that we’re in a situation such as this? You’ve been talkative all day. It’s bothersome.”

Deidara pauses. The sharp words from Itachi’s end make his chest hurt, though he tries to ignore that like he tries to ignore all the other god-awful things Itachi has made him feel since they met. This has been the most talkative that Itachi has ever been with him, and of course, it’s because he’s sick and annoyed by Deidara’s presence.

“I was just curious, hm,” Deidara shrugs.

“Izumi, Shisui, and Sasuke Uchiha… Those are their names… Ah, never mind, I shouldn’t get into it. I don’t know why I even told you any of that, actually.”

Deidara’s eyes flicker back to the framed photo. He knows the many stories about Itachi Uchiha, the man who single-handedly murdered his entire family- spare his little brother. If all of it is true, that means that half the people in that picture are deceased due to Itachi himself.

“So, they’re all dead now. You killed them like you did the rest of your clan,” Deidara mutters and looks over at Itachi, who shrugs.

A non committal answer, but if the framed picture of those three by his bedside is anything to go by, then Itachi probably hasn’t accepted it. Or maybe he has and he’s just not over it. 

“Yes, you’re correct... You can leave, if you want,” Itachi murmurs. He’s lying on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Regardless of the fact that Deidara is in the room, he seems totally relaxed. Deidara is a little unsettled by it, to be honest. “I won’t tell Pein. I really don’t care what you do, Deidara. I don’t need you here to take care of me.”

Deidara rolls his sky blue eyes. If he were a worse person, he’d take advantage of Itachi’s illness and off him right now, but that just isn’t fair. He wants to beat Itachi at his best, after all… Or that’s what he tells himself. Deep down, the thought of killing Itachi under any circumstances makes his stomach drop, even if he’s been fantasizing about it for years. Itachi makes him feel things he doesn’t want to feel and having him dead would make those feelings go away. It would make life ten times easier… Right?

“You look half-dead. I don’t want to take care of you either, but if something happens, someone needs to be here, hm. If Pein shows up to a dead you and no one in sight to hold accountable, he’ll be pissed,” Deidara makes up the excuse on the fly, and surprisingly, Itachi looks convinced. “Unfortunately, the person who needs to be here just so happens to be me.”

“I see,” Itachi sits up and pulls his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs. It’s an odd posture for someone so tall and lanky, but Deidara doesn’t say anything; simply watches as Itachi rests his cheek against one of his knees. Soft-looking, feathery raven locks frame the circumference of the Uchiha’s neck and head like a halo. They’re so pretty that Deidara briefly considers cutting them off. “Tell me why some part of me was hoping you were here because you cared and not because Pein told you to be? I’m actually a little hurt.”

Deidara’s eyebrows shoot up.

Since when does Itachi care about that sort of thing?

His face flushes. Really, he could ignore Pein’s orders and leave if he wanted to. He could completely disobey Pein and try to kill Itachi right now. Itachi, however, is a subtle and reserved man who usually doesn’t question him about his motives when it comes to such things. He doesn’t question the way that Deidara spends so much time staring at him or question why Deidara purposefully starts trying to bicker with him any time they’re in a room together. It’s a game of cat and mouse, and finally, the mouse has decided to stop avoiding the cat.

Deidara refuses to give in and catch Itachi once and for all. Instead, he stands from his chair, crosses his arms, and starts pacing around the room with his back turned to where Itachi is sitting on the bed.

“I don’t know what gave you the impression that I’m physically capable of caring about you,” Deidara crosses his arms over his chest and looks away from Itachi. 

“I’m not sure what gave me that impression, either,” Itachi says in a hushed whisper. “You have my sincerest apologies.”

Silence hits the room once more, and again, Deidara is uncomfortable. All he can really here is the cacophony of low-pitched noise that is the mixture of his own heartbeat slamming in his ears and Itachi’s sniffly, wheezy breaths.

“Hm,” Deidara starts up. “As strong as you are, I would’ve never guessed that a bug would take you down like this.”

And, to his shock, Itachi laughs. Not a chuckle, not a small smile, but a deep, genuine laugh characterized by him throwing his head back and laughing so hard into the cold air that it starts his cough back up. Deidara snaps his head back around to observe. When Itachi manages to clear the cough with a few slaps to his chest, he shakes his head, grins up at Deidara, and speaks again. 

“You’d be surprised at all the things that could take me down, Deidara.”

Deidara quirks a brow and scrutinizes the wistful look in Itachi’s dark eyes for a few seconds longer than he honestly should.

“Care to give me a list?” He prods in a manner that makes Itachi shake his head. 

“No. I don’t want to make it too easy for you, lest you get bored with your fantasies of blowing me into unidentifiable pieces once you realize just how easy it would be.”

“You must be screwing with me.”

Itachi looks up. His eyes pour into the one of Deidara’s that’s visible, two orbs of charcoal burning into a pool of blue.

“Am I? Am I really?”

A few days pass. Deidara and Itachi both recover from whatever sickness it was that they had. Sasori was even kind enough to help out with some medical ninjutsu to heal the soreness in Deidara’s throat. As much as a mean bastard as the puppeteer can be, there are times where he’s actually quite helpful, hence why Deidara has gone to him for advice a handful of times in the past. Tonight is no different.

“What is it, brat?” Sasori spits without so much as turning from where he’s sat at his so called ‘art’ station, nimble wooden hands fast at work to adjust the threads of a new puppet.

Deidara lingers in his open doorway, his own hands clutching the wooden edge. He gulps and starts to speak.

“Can I get some advice?”

“Advice of what variety?” Sasori asks coldly.

Admittedly, the puppeteer is less than comforting and far from compassionate, but that’s just how Deidara likes his people. It makes things less awkward when situations such as this one come to light. 

“I’m… Not sure how to define it,” Deidara responds and stims by running his nails up and down the rough wooden surface of the doorway. His heart beats a little faster in his chest than it normally would. “Interpersonal, maybe?”

At that, Sasori sets his work down, turns in his chair, and faces Deidara with crossed arms and raised eyebrows.

“As in a relationship with another person?”

“Hm, yeah,” Deidara nods and slowly but surely eases out of the doorway so he can sit in front of Sasori on the carpet. The bedroom door is half-shut behind him. “Something like that.”

“Spill.”

“There’s this person that I like… Romantically,” He starts to explain with a rose blush dusting the tops of his cheekbones. Sasori appears interested yet simultaneously unamused. “They hinted the other day that they may like me back, but they have a habit of pushing away anyone who’s interested in getting to know them. I don’t know why they’re that way, but it’s frustrating as fuck and every time I think I’ve made some progress they push me away again.”

Sasori shrugs.

“I think you have a simple problem with a simple solution.”

Deidara pauses, opens his mouth to speak, and allows it to fall shut again. Simple? He has not a semblance of a clue as to how anything regarding his relationship with Itachi could be considered simple. It’s a complicated issue with a solution that he has yet to figure out, because every solution he’s thought of has a vast list of negative complications that could come with trying to implement it.

“Simple? The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t let them,” Sasori states plainly.

“What?”

“Don’t let them push you away,” He reiterates, making Deidara’s brows furrow together in a mixture of awe and confusion. “The solution is to simply push back. People like that tend to push those who care away because they’re afraid of vulnerability despite secretly craving it. If you push back, this person is sure to break and let you in.”

With that, Deidara stands, determination flickering in his core.

“Hm… I hadn’t thought of it that way before, but actually, you’re right,” He nods and looks Sasori dead in the eye before heading towards the door. “Yeah! I’m gonna go give Itachi a piece of his own medicine, hm.”

“Wait, what the fu-”

Deidara excitedly leaves Sasori’s bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Usually, at this time of day, Itachi is locked in his own bedroom or training. When Deidara looks outside through the windows to see that the Uchiha isn’t at the Akatsuki training grounds, he heads towards said Uchiha’s bedroom instead, only to open the door and find that it’s empty. He enters before he can think better of it, one big blue eye darting around and taking in his surroundings.

It’s cleaner than it was the other day when he was there, he thinks. That photo of Itachi and his clan members is no longer on the nightstand, probably hidden away in a drawer or a cabinet somewhere. The bed is neatly made and the floor is spotless. He considers leaving, but just as he does, Itachi walks in behind him and closes the door so quietly that Deidara doesn’t even realize he’s there until the smell of cologne hits his nostrils. 

“What do you want? And why are you in my room?” Itachi asks in his usual monotone voice, that one he uses when he’s around people he’s either trying to blow off or intimidate. After what happened when Deidara was in there the last time, the blond can’t help but be offended by it; by how Itachi is acting like nothing happened between them. “This is quite… Invasive.”

“Drop the formalities, Itachi. Shit happened while I was in here the other day and boundaries were crossed,” Deidara turns, walks to Itachi, and gets in his face. Though they’re only four or five inches apart in height, the difference feels staggering. Itachi doesn’t slouch nor does he look away, simply standing tall and meeting Deidara’s gaze with crossed arms and a painfully neutral expression. “Things aren’t the same and I have questions.”

“Such as?”

“You made that comment about being hurt that I don’t care for you,” Deidara starts, reflecting on that genuinely hurt tone Itachi used and tried to thinly veil with feigned sarcasm back when they were sick together. “I don’t understand how you can expect anyone to care for you when you act the way you do. You do what you can to keep people at a distance and no one knows anything about you except for the fact that you’re a psychotic murderer who slaughtered his entire clan, you’re ridiculously strong, and you have some sort of autoimmune disorder that takes over when you get sick. That’s it. No one knows your favorite color or your hopes and dreams, or anything you’re passionate about, or what foods you like, or what you consider art.”

“It’s not an autoimmune disease.”

Deidara’s surprised at how the first thing Itachi addresses is his sickness. He expected the ravenette to avoid the subject at all costs. His eyes widen in shock at Itachi’s bluntness.

“...What?” Deidara quietly demands, hoping that Itachi will elaborate.

“It’s not an autoimmune disease, it’s… Rare, and terminal. I was diagnosed with it when I was a teenager, just days before I killed my clan members,” Itachi explains and pulls away from Deidara so he can go lay on his bed and stare at the ceiling. Unsure of what else to do, Deidara stands there quite awkwardly and listens to Itachi’s woes. The part of him that hated Itachi and everything the Uchiha stands for from the very start of their correspondence wants to laugh. The rest of him wants to cry.  “It’s a sort of stress induced Chakra depletion. The more stressed I become, the less Chakra reserves I have, and let me tell you, I am stressed. All of the damage that’s been done to my body is irreversible. Eventually, I’m going to slowly run out of Chakra and die, and there’s nothing I can do about it. It just so happens to be more draining when I’m sick like I was earlier this week.”

Silence. Neither of them talk for a few moments after Itachi finishes. Deidara scans Itachi’s body up and down with his eyes, trying to memorize it in case today (or tomorrow, or the day after that, or the next day, or the next day) is the last day that Itachi has in this life. Itachi doesn’t pay him any mind without being prompted to do so, either, so Deidara asks-

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Why not? It’s not like you’ll tell anyone. The one person you talk to is Sasori and the only interest he’d have in my terminal illness is the potential of obtaining my corpse to turn into one of his puppets afterwards, not my wellbeing.”

“I-” Deidara starts, desperate to argue, but Itachi doesn’t let him get more than a word in, simply steamrolling the conversation.

“And even if you were to tell anyone, they wouldn’t believe you. How would telling the other Akatsuki members benefit you, anyway? It wouldn’t. They’d laugh- though whether it’d be at you or at the thought of me dying, I’m not sure.”

“Itachi-”

“So? What else do you need to know for you to care about me?”

And there are a million things Deidara wants to ask. He wants to ask why Itachi murdered his entire family, why he willingly joined the Akatsuki instead of having to be forced in like most of the other members, what kind of art he enjoys, what his favorite foods and drinks are, what books he enjoys, what his favorite color is, whether he’s a tea person or a coffee person, what his deepest fears and desires are. First and foremost, though, he asks-

“When- do you… Do you have a prognosis? Or, any idea of when you’re going to die?”

“If I had to guess, within the next two years,” Itachi answers while raising a hand to look at his fingernails, as if inspecting them. They’re short, yellowed, frail, and slightly clubbed.

“Then why should I care about you if you’re just going to leave me soon?” Deidara huffs and crosses his arms.

“I’m not saying you should. Really, I’d advise you against it, but part of me suspects that you’ve been harboring feelings for me for a long time,” Itachi smiles something soft and wistful that makes Deidara’s heart skip a beat. Finally, the ravenette looks at him, too, something reminiscent of affection in his eyes. Deidara thinks that’s what it is, anyway. Most people are annoyed by him at best and don’t care about him at worst. He actually isn’t quite sure of what love or adoration or any of those sappy feelings look like on anyone’s face aside from his own, but he suspects that this must be it. Itachi must at least like him for them to be doing this, right? For Itachi to be reaching out for his hand, to hold it so gently and intertwine their fingers like they’re meant to fit together in the way that two puzzle pieces would? “You’ve never been one for following orders, and yet you stayed in my room and cared for me like a good little Akatsuki member despite having claimed that you hate my guts since you joined.”

“And?” Deidara whispers. “So what if I do? Harbor feelings for you, I mean… Care for you. I think that’s the term, hm.”

“Then… I’d say I care for you as well, Deidara.”

“You care for me…?”

“I do.”

It’s quiet again. Neither of them say anything else, but Deidara does dare to join Itachi on his bed. He didn’t lock the door, they’re both still getting over their respiratory bug, and Itachi is dying, but Deidara chooses to throw caution to the wind like he always does, ignoring whatever complications are sure to come so he can enjoy this. 

He deserves to enjoy something other than art, right? To enjoy someone loving him for once? Caring for him in a way that a lifeless clay statue never could? Or maybe that’s what Itachi is to him; another art form. Yes, that sounds nice…

“Itachi.”

“Yes?”

“You’re like art, you know that? Fleeting-”

“Shut up, Deidara,” Itachi blankly states and reassuringly squeezes Deidara’s hand. “You don’t have to fill the silence. Let it be.”

“Hm… Fine.”

[secretgaygenttomura]

A Life Worth Living - Chapter 4

(TW: Physical and Verbal abuse, attempted murder)

When Tomura got home, driven by his Mom, he was due for an application of some of his medicinal skin cream, though it never did much to help. He was sitting in her lap, watching his toy train drive around it's track idly. The sight was eerily familiar. He could never just... stop itching, scratching at his skin. And his memories retained clearly why. 

His mother warned as she gently applied the cream to the scarring around his eyes, "Tenko, what did I tell you? Stop scratching, it's only going to get worse."

"Mom-" He shook his head slightly, uncomfortable, "I told you, it's the house! I'm only itchy in here...!"

Nao sighed, shaking her head. She gazed into the backyard wistfully, as if something else was occupying her thoughts. After a moment, her gaze returned to Tenko, "Tenko... do you... still want to be a hero?"

He could remember his past answer clearly, the naivety echoing in the back of his mind: 

A past Tenko explained half-heartedly in response, "Yeah, because no one wanted to play with Mikkun and Tomo-chan. So I said, let's play together! We played heroes and it was super fun! Mikkun said 'You should be All Might, Ten!' And it was really nice, even though they don't have any other friends." It was past that point where his thoughts delved darker, thinking about his father's violent disapproval of heroes, and how upset it made him. A lot more went through Tenko's mind than the adults around him ever though. Though now he could probably be able to tell the difference between his father judging him for wanting to be a hero and judging his overall character, as a child, you can't tell at all.

Tenko surged forward, hugging his mother tightly, tears threatening to spill from his sore eyes, "Mommy, why does Father say No all the time? Does he hate me? Will he like me once I get my quirk?!"

Tomura already knew all he needed to about him, he had no need to ask all those pointless questions anymore.

Coldly, he answered, just as his prolonged silence was starting to worry his Mom, "I dunno, Mom."

Nao's brows furrowed in confusion, "Really? That's unlike you, Tenko... Are you alright?"

Tomura briefly considered hugging his mother again. Very briefly. He shut his eyes and looked away from his mother, pained, "I mean... I could get a bad quirk, or even... no quirk at all. That wouldn't make a very good hero."

"A bad quirk, where'd you get that idea, Tenko?"

Tomura continued rambling, "Or, my quirk wouldn't be strong enough. Isn't that why Father hates it? Why he hates me being a hero? Me being too weak to fight?"

"Tenko...? How do you..." Nao's expression hardened, before she whispered, bringing her child in to caress his head comfortingly, "Tenko, I don't know where you're getting these ideas from, but I know your father doesn't hate you at all. He just doesn't want you to get hurt."

"He thinks I'm weak."

Nao sighed, shaking her head, "Now's not the time to talk about this, okay? Let's just finish this up, and then I'll make dinner, okay?"

Tomura stayed silent, what he always figured the best thing to do was when he was sour.

---

Dinner was fine, but this whole situation was starting to grow old on Tomura. How badly he wanted to get out of this loop of live, avoid trouble, eat, sleep. It bored him to no end. For once, he was actually craving a return to his life in crime.

It occurred to him, that his father might let him be a hero this time, if they were even somewhat aware of his thoughts at this moment. At least, if they even would believe him. But it wasn't exactly believable that their supposedly quirkless toddler was actually the reincarnation of an infamous serial killer with the power to destroy everything, from a person, to the core of the earth thousands of miles below their feet. It sounded like the typical crazy story any old kid could come up with. The only indication of truth would really be how verbose he was now.

He let his mind stop thinking about it, tuning back into reality to hear his grandparents justify his father's cruel actions to his face. Maybe he should've kept thinking about being a villain after all. At least, that was until he heard Hana from behind him:

"Ten! Hey Ten!"

She had been poking around their father's study, and just appeared to have found what she wanted to show Tenko.

The feeling Tomura felt at that moment looking at Hana wasn't something he could describe. It was similar to Deja Vu, but oh so different. Dread caused his heart to sink into his stomach and his heartbeat to pang inside his head, and nausea to start making him feel lightheaded. It was pure horror. He had to get away. 

Desperately, he scrambled off, outside and away from the house, the itch all over him growing persistent. And that's where he found Mon. Thank god... The sun was just starting to set, and a neon yellow ball neatly sat atop a clump of grass. Tomura needed to relax, being here... It was somehow more stressful than his life of crime... He called Mon over, picking up the ball and waving it around. "Hey Mon! C'mere!"

The corgi, from across the lawn, perked up, and bounded towards Tomura. The boy hadn't known how much he missed this simple pastime.

"Go... Get it!"

As he tossed the ball, a sudden itching pain covered his skin, making Tomura yelp, "O-Ow-! Huh?"

Half of the ball had crumbled by the moment it hit the ground. And Tomura heard a faint crying in the distance under the sudden ringing in his ears, and following it, a looming presence behind him created a shadow. Reluctantly, Tenko looked behind him.

"Tenko, did you get into my study?" Kotaro did not ask, but accused. His hand was already raised.

No...! I didn't, I swear! I was innocent this time, I-... But his intents could not be heard as terror constricted it's grip on his throat.

By the door, Hana was clinging onto their mother's skirt, tears rolling down her cheeks in rivers as she pleaded, "No! I just wanted to show him something, I'm sorry! I didn't know!"

Tomura had forgotten how much more those few words made the following slap hurt. A sharp impact, stinging on his cheek, as he was knocked onto the ground. A new, burning feeling resonated in his chest. But the child inside him didn't let it surface for more than a second. A second that was used to shoot an unnoticed crimson glare up at his father.

"As punishment, you'll be spending the evening out here again." His father made his final remarks before returning inside.

---

By the time the sun had set, Tomura was huddled against the fence. Anger and turmoil boiling under his skin in the uncomfortably hot, humid air of summer. His whole body was covered in a crawling itch that the pollen and bugs and dirt outside never consoled, only exemplified with the resentment he was still holding towards his father. That resentment he was always taught to hold in his heart and fester. He never knew what else to do with it, so fester it did.

And again, he was in the same terrifying predicament. This time it had to go different, it had to. Mon-chan was whimpering next to him, snuggling up against him to try and get pets. "-Sorry Mon-chan...", his voice was barely present in his throat, full of agony as he tried to console the puppy, the only member of his household he still held care for at this particular moment, "I can't pet you..."

Mon gave a defeated whimper before laying up against Tomura. If the night could just keep being like this... Maybe things would be better. Maybe if he was just quiet enough, his goddamned father would never come out here, and-

It was then that the door to outside opened, the silhouette of his sister bounding towards him, "Tenko! I... I wanted to say sorry! I didn't want to get you in trouble, I just-" She stepped a little too close for comfort.

Tomura flinched at the quick approach, his hands sweeping across the concrete and landing on the fence behind him, "Stop! Don't get any closer!" He had a little more spirit in his voice this time.

Mon-chan yelped and jumped away as he felt the ground shift under his paws, Hana and Tomura reacting in tandem. The fence behind him crumbled from the bottom up, causing the top to almost fall on top of the boy, whose appearance was slowly changing, the hairs atop his head growing greyer the more he destroyed. The ground underneath Hana's feet collapsed, and she screamed in shock, falling over and scraping her arm.

The ground had become lumpy and uneven, and a certain silence had taken over the Shimura household. Tomura just almost killed his sister and Mon, again! His skin grew more and more itchy, and his heartbeat grew faster, and the dust on his skin made it feel unsufferably dry like it always did after a fight. Adrenaline, hate, and panic building, growing. Then his father and his mother opened the door.

"What is going on out here, do I need to punish you more, Tenko?! Did you not already learn your lesson?!"

That was it. He wasn't taking any more of this. He had the power to stop it! He knew he did.

Everything but Kotaro in his vision blurred, his skin already rubbed raw and inflamed like his patience. And he found himself getting up and stalking towards his father, his toes activating Decay on the ground around him, creating sharp, rigid land formations in their oh-so "perfect" lawn that had Hana and Mon running off to the more isolated corners.

"Tenko...!" Kotaro warned.

Get rid of him, get rid of the incessant itch. You've done it once before. You can do it again.

Tomura's internal voice was starting to distort.

With every step, Kotaro grew more apprehensive, and Tomura lost more and more pigment in his body, the black vanishing from his irises and hair. The more and more he felt like himself again.

But just as he was getting close, his tunnel vision hadn't let him see the garden shears his father had grabbed. Suddenly, Tomura felt an impact, a pulsing sting in his lip, and tasted the oh-so familiar taste of blood.

His father cried, "GET BACK, TENKO!"

That does it.

Tomura leaped forward, the only voices in his brain begging for father to be gone and dead, for that tortuous itch to be gone and dead!

Then his mother tackled them and grabbed his wrist.

"Tenko, please stop!" She wept, horror in her eyes. And suddenly all that adrenaline pumping through Tomura was gone, down the drain. He clenched his fist and tore his hand away, stumbling back and falling over.

Hyperventilating, his eyes welled up with tears, his heart once again sunken and leaving him nauseous. Not even the crickets or cicadas sang to console the moment. Only the grotesque sounds of anguished sobbing and scratching wounds into his skin from Tomura echoed through the night.

All his family could do was stand and watch in shock as Tomura realized he almost did it again, he almost killed his mom. And more importantly to the rest of his family, who he could see circling him, and staring at him like hungry buzzards, he tried to kill his father...

[whatididtday]

Sept 16/Saturday

I woke up at 7:30

Had amazing dosas as breakfast and studied

I purchased Scrimba pro subscription so I can study more, I'm giving myself 6 months to get ahead and get a job by the end of six month

Studied for two hours and added it in my calendar

I feel very interested in Front end and I really hope I keep loving it and make a career out of it

Wasn't able to sleep in the afternoon, skin feels itchy - probably because of the swimming and not showering propley after the day before lmao

Didn't feel like going to swimming but cause I pinky promised the kids at the pool I'll go, I went.

I reached the pool at 5:55 ish and got in the pool by 6:00

In fifiten minutes the fourth grader - Di came in the pool and said'' I didn't feel like coming today but as I promised you, I came''.

It was v sweet, she was saying stuff that kids say like counting the laps wrong lmao and clinging on to me. I still tried swimming propley and I did 13 rounds.

Stamina is p low but I swim fast

The second kid, Gi also came soon after and both were pushing me to play with them and not swim

Another kid joined in our smol circle , I didn't get get name propely but I am sure it started with S.

10 mins before 7, three of these kiddos asked me to play with them. Kids really do be playing the weirdest games, they said it's truth and dare but it was not really that xD

The rules were each player will ask five questions, and you'll have to give an answer that's not the truth (?) and do it fast, else you are disqualified.

They asked me the following questions : what's the color of your swimsuit, as it was blue and black, I had to say anything but those colors so I said red.

Then they asked me what's the color of the pool, what's the color of the shirt of the person on the right side out of the pool and when I turned to look they days no no you can't look and tell, you have to guess but if you guess right you are out xD kids be scary

Then they asked me my age xD anf I said 98 and they all gasped and said you are out, you can't tell your age!!! I died laughing, so kids think I'm 98 years old, like oof, I understand they are like 8-10 year old kids but still. Then I started joking that I'm so old like a Granma if I keep playing I might die if exhaustion as I'm 98 years old xD and they were like "no no you are not that old, you are very very young" in an attempt to not hurt my feelings and make me feel included

Kids are sweet, I've been terrified of them cuz they say some nasty stuff and yet are so fragile bit these kids were super sweet and it felt very nice. I never got to play much after I was 8 years old due to my dad getting transferred every three years due to his work, and thus I poured my life into books and school.

Now playing wuth these tiny kids feel like a part of smol me healing as she never got to play like this

I hope it also means that as the days go by I'll keep healing and experience all the happiness and love I've always wanted and needed.

After swimming they waited for me to get changed, I usually do not comb hair after swimming and drying my hair as anyways I'll go home directly and I don't care tbh, but cuz yday the tiny one was like Owo why you no comb hair, I got it and I combed and the tiny one was like wow sis you look very pretty after combing your hair, and looked at me with her wide eyes with so much awe, it made me feel very nice cuz the innocence of a child is unmatched.

Then the second kid Gi and I walked till she reached her home which is stones throw from the pool. On the way home, I saw many frogs and I couldn't help myself but try to catch one like a kid till I saw a group of ladies walking past me and I felt embarrassed and ran back home.

I was v excited to tell someone about this, the swimming pool thing, I knew I was going to video call with my partner at night anyways, but I couldn't wait so I told my mom about it and she laughed and said that kids are attracted towards nice soul, so you should be proud of yourself.

I made tea for myself after that anf I tried to get some study done but I couldn't

I was tired and I just didn't feel like doing anything so I played pogo and texted J (pardner) here and there

Then after dinner, we video called.

I told them the whole story about the swimming pool and they laughed, then they told they'll be staying at their holiday house with their fam tomorow and it made me a bit sad cuz if means tomorrow no videocalls and I feel very upset about being upset and it tbh. I didn't tell them that, I wished to talk longer but it wasn't possible as they were vvv sleepy.

I played Pogo the whole night till 3,then I discovered I got periods uwu.

I assure tons of chips in the sofa downstairs to cope lol.

[fastlikealambo]

link to chapter one.

link to chapter two.

Fall of 94′: Eddie Munson x Black Reader Chapter 3

summary:

it’s been nearly 8 years since the events of hawkins and out of the entire party, the only one to stay behind is the one and only eddie munson. with a five year old daughter in tow, his life is a simple one, still trying to escape the dark cloud over him that never went away.

but when all too familiar hellish events start happening again eddie must team up with his daughter’s favorite and mysterious new teacher to protect his little girl and the town he owes nothing to.

warnings: violence, gore,  religious trauma,  soft dom! eddie, discussions of mental health and ptsd,  praise kink,  smut to end all smut,  hawkins indiana is a warning to me.  minors dni

yall aint ready for this chapter

When you got to your classroom, you already had a visitor in the form of Vice Principal Carver, itchy ill fitting suit and all, sitting in your desk chair.

“Good morning Principal Carver, how can I help you?” You asked, trying not to cringe as the man put his feet on your desk, resting them on top of your kids’ art projects. 

“ Principal Tucker  is checking in with all our staff this morning about yesterday’s events. There will be an assembly for the students later on this afternoon but I told him I wanted to see you personally.” He said, finally standing to his feet and sauntering up to you.

“Oh, well that’s very nice of your Principal Carver but I’m fine. It was a difficult day but the kids and I got through it the best we could.” 

“We’ve heard such good things about your class so far, your teachers across the hall have nothing but nice things to say about you.”

“That’s good to hear.” You said with a small smile he did not return but instead moved closer to you than what was necessary.

“ It’s almost like you were dropped out of the sky, sent to help us in our time of need.  You know I don’t think Tucker ever told me what school you were at prior to Hawkins?  I haven’t had a chance to read over your file just yet.”

“I was at Abbott Elementary in Philadelphia, left for a change of pace. Is there something I can do for you Principal Carver?  My students will be in from breakfast in a few minutes and I need to get things started.”  You said, putting some bass in your voice. 

That made him smile and he pointed  at the name on the desk in the back.

“Rose Munson is also why I’m here. Should you have any issues with her, you will come to me directly.”

“I should?”

“ Her embarrassment of a father  went to school with my late brother, so I feel it is my responsibility to make sure his offspring is brought to heel as early as possible.  You are new to Hawkins and you are unaware of the good and bad this town has to offer so I trust you’ll keep an eye on things?”

“With all due respect Vice Principal Carver, should I have any issues with any of my students I will handle it myself and with their parents should it escalate to that.  I may be unaware of certain things in this town but I’m not unaware of how to protect my students, Rosie Munson included.  Now if you’ll excuse me-

You’re interrupted when the actual principal pops his head in, flanked by two police officers. Your heart is in your throat but they don’t even look in your direction.

“Carver, we’ve got a situation, let’s go. “ Tucker explains.

“Hawkins is a good town full of good people, it might be in your best interest to come to heel like everyone else.” Carver whispered in your ear before leaving.

The moment he steps through the threshold of the classroom, every single door in the hallway slams closed, including yours.

As if on cue, a few of your kids come racing in, putting away their stuff, no knowledge of what had just transpired.

You quickly wipe the blood from your nose and greet your students as the rest file in.

“Good morning class!”

“Good morning Miss!”  They recite back, taking their seats.

“ Now yesterday was pretty tough and it’s okay if you were scared. It’s okay if you’re still scared right now but you don’t have to be, as long as I am here, you should never be afraid of anything. What does Miss always say?”

“ Rain or shine, if we work together we’ll be just fine.”

“ Exactly. Now we’re gonna take it easy today so take your color pencils and we'll draw for a bit, how does that sound?”

“Yay!”

“ Great, let’s get started and then if anyone would like to, we can share something fun we're doing this weekend.”

The day ends quieter than it started and with a big hug from Rosie, you send them off to their buses in the pouring rain.

It’s dark  by the time you leave school but you’re not too worried.

Carver be damned, today was a good day.

A day for the longest time you’d never thought to be possible, a prepared daydream during your worst days, silly to others but so important  to you risked everything for it.

Everything was going to be fine.

Except for the brief moment you took your eyes off the road, glancing at the bandana in your passenger seat only to look up and see someone standing in the middle of the road.

The last thing you see before your car crashes into a tree is the figure in the road coming into full view.

A girl in a cheerleading uniform.

“Before we wrap up for today, how have you been sleeping Eddie? Any more nightmares?”

Eddie sighed, ceasing playing with his rings, careful in the way he answers his therapist. He called them for an emergency appointment after Rosie’s horror story yesterday and immediately regretted that decision seeing as “ I think the hell spawn from another dimension that nearly killed me is back and wants a rematch” was not an acceptable answer to “ what brings you in today?”

“The pills help but I don’t like them. I mean,what if Rosie needs something in the middle of the night and I’m so under I can’t hear her?”

“We can lower the dosage if that’s what you’d like but I think we need to build a better framework for combating your anxiety. There’s something at the root of all this that we haven’t explored yet and when you’re ready, we can do that.  Do you feel meeting me today helped?”

“As much as it could.” He responded, the first honest answer he had given since he walked in.

“You know, you won’t give me the exact details of what happened to you and that’s alright, maybe you’ll never be ready to disclose that.  Whatever happened to you, you came out the other side of it, Eddie. Something terrible happened to you but that doesn’t make you any less of a person or a father.”

“You sure about that, Doc?”

“ Mr. Munson, your life is not a series of atonements and at the heart of the matter, you only change what’s right in front of you.  I’ll see that we get you a new prescription and let’s get you scheduled for another session soon.”

 They exchanged goodbyes and feeling no better than when he came in, headed to the nearest payphone to check in with Wayne and his wife who were watching Rosie for the weekend.

Night munchkin, be good for Uncle Wayne, okay?”

“I’m always good Daddy!”

First night alone in months, he didn’t know if he was  looking forward to or afraid of the quiet that  awaited him back home. 

The idea of fixing his guitar with a few beers went out the window as he drove up on a car smashed into a tree, hood still smoking in the rain.

He could keep driving, report it from a payphone and keep moving. No doubt they’d find a way to pin this on him, the final push to drive him out of Hawkins.

But Rosie wouldn’t want him to just run away and after all these years, he made a promise to himself to never run away from the dark ever again.

So that’s what led him, armed with a flashlight and a pocket knife, to emerge from his car, hoping he wouldn’t be introduced to a charred body.

“ Hello, is anybody out here? Can you hear me? I can get some help, you just need to make some noise. “ He bellowed, shining his light into the car only to see smashed glass and a bandana.

His bandana.

“Shit, shit, shit!”  The apprehension he had vanished and caused him to break out into a run on the slick road, racing around the car to check the backseat and trunk but there was no sign of you.

A whimper coming from under the car had Eddie on his knees in an instant, the flashlight rolling away from him but that didn’t stop him from reaching out a hand.

“Hang on, I’m gonna get you out! You’re gonna be okay, just don’t go into the light!”  He shouted, fumbling for your hand in the dark with one hand while grabbing the flashlight with the other.

Eddie finally managed to get the flashlight on, aiming it under the car to better see you but what he found sent him scrambling.

Before he could even cry out, the cause of his nightmares had its tail around his neck, yanking him across the road, the demobat’s grip growing tighter around his windpipe no doubt ready to make up for lost time.

This was it, the upside down had finally come to finish what it started.

At least Rosie wasn’t there to see her father die.

He’d never see his daughter again.

His vision swam, rain and lack of oxygen turning everything to a blur as he tried to reach for the switchblade in his pocket but the bat was faster, teeth mere inches away from sinking into his throat.

But then that doesn’t happen.

A wild cry split the sky as the demobat was ripped from his body, exploding like confetti in mid air before falling in pieces on the road.

Choking and sputtering, Eddie shakily got to his feet, flashlight in hand and blade out aiming in the direction of the scream only for you to come out of the shadows, soaking wet with your arm outstretched in the direction of the bat, blood dripping trickling out of your nose.

Eddie had only seen one other person bleed like that in his life.

“ I can explain.” You muttered weakly before your eyes rolled back into your head, collapsing into the rocker’s arms.

“Jesus H. Christ.”

[katscki]

just watched a movie were this boy jumped into the end of the pool and he cant swim and made the life guard (whos a girl) jump in and save him and give him mouth to mouth. he has my respect and i now knw what to do when i go to the pool or at boxing <3

omg i was gonna do a fic like this a while back and then i forgot about it!!!! YOU SMART LITTLE THING YOU SMOOCH SMOOCH SMOOCH

High Tides

barely edited sorry and the name kinda doesn’t fit bc it isn’t at a beach but i liked it so i’m keeping it 😤‼️

lifeguard!bakugou x fem!reader

wc: 797

You had thought that coming to the new town pool would be a total drag this summer, but how can you not go back when he’s there.

masterlist

You had come here out of sheer boredom. Of course, this wasn’t your first place to spend your summer vacation from college, but all your friends were either still at school or on trips far away from home. Hanging out with your parents wasn’t an option even if you had wanted it to be because they worked day and night.

You hadn't intended on swimming only coming to tan so you lay out your towel on one of the lounging swim chairs rather than the itchy grass counterpart. But before you yourself could lay down with it, a blonde tuff of hair caught your eye. The strange hairdo piqued your interest enough to let your eyes wander further down to see the tall muscular body attached. You continued to ogle him whiles he was turned away only snapping him out of your gaze when he turned to you.

You were never one for showy bikinis, but you decided to wear one today to cover the most ground when you sunbathed, and you have never been so happy with a decision in your entire life.

Bakugou turns back around to Kirishima to resume their conversation, “Her? Yeah, she’s hot so what? Probably wasn’t looking at me anyways, shitty hair.” He said gruffly.

“Are you KIDDING ME?! She was practically undressing you with her eyes man, cut the nonchalant tough boy act, you know you think she's pretty. I mean commmee onnn if I were you, I would be all over that, not stop being a little pissboy and get her number!” Kirishimas enthusiastic tone didn’t do much to calm his nerves.

“Maybe later, my breaks almost over.” He mumbles before returning to his stand.

About twenty minutes ago you had decided to switch to lying on your back to tan your front but the sun beating down on you was becoming more and more noticeable by the second, practically sweating bullets.

Finally, the heat was too much for you to ignore, so maybe a dip in the pool wouldn’t be so bad. Making your way over to the edge of the pool you sat first then slowly slipped in. Trying to look good just in case there were lingering eyes from a certain someone. You swam out a bit just enjoying the coolness of the water until some stupid kid jumped in without even looking in front of him kicking you clear in the stomach when he came in.

You would feel embarrassed if it weren't for the growing feeling of being winded taking over. The lack of air making it to your lungs as you struggled to breathe, making it increasingly difficult to keep yourself up, ultimately letting you pass out in the water.

Bakugou saw the entire thing making a move to go scream at lecture the kid for what he did before he noticed you laying limp in the water. He blew his whistle yelling for everyone to get out of the water when he dove in and carried your smaller than his, seemingly lifeless form out of the water.

When you had woken up from lack of consciousness, you saw him kneeling above you, his face so close to yours, like he was going to perform mouth to mouth one more time. Everyone was quiet except one person. You look over to your side to see the red-haired lifeguard lecturing the child about looking before they jump. You would have kept your gaze there due to tiredness if it weren't for bakugou gently moving your head back to face him.

“You alright? Shit... I mean of course you're not, you almost just drowned-” He silently scolds himself for his awkwardness. But you paid no mind to his stumbling words, only the low baritone of his raspy voice, and the feel of his hand on your face.

He continued to look down with furrowed brows, confliction visible in his features, it’s only when you speak with the prettiest voice he’s ever heard does he forget about it. “Yea I'm okay. Thanks to you at least.” You smile at him and in the background hear everyone resuming their aquatic activities now that you're awake. You sit up to make your throbbing head feel better when he speaks again, “s my job. Any of us woulda done it, plus I probably would have gotten sued if I didn’t.” He joked

“Well don’t I feel special,” You giggle. “My um my name’s Y/N by the way.”

“You can call me Katsuki,” He leans down to whisper in your ear so no wandering ears can listen, “And I'm sorry, maybe I can take you out for dinner, somewhere real nice, make you feel special then.”

You turn your head to lock eyes with him again, “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

TAGS 🏷:

@trafalgar-lau @mybabekatsuki @loving-katsuki @ariavaana

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 8

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: You get a preview of what it’s like to be working with Mackenzie.

Warnings: I apologize as there is no smut in here lmfao but there is a stubborn Bucky lols

A/N: The jitters just never go away whenever I post a new part for this ajkcnjasncakjcnakj I find this part boring tbh but uhh things will start picking up again in the next part I promise

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky decided to push through with his partnership with Wilson Enterprises. It was a big one, so it definitely required the entire team's effort and perseverance. Apparently, this is the company's biggest, most major project yet so this was going to look really good in your resume. It would also provide you with more credibility to further excel in your career.

Except that Bucky actually hired a marketing consultant to take over the entire project as his revenge.

"Any questions? About the project or about Kenzie?" Bucky asked, standing in front of the conference room, next to Mackenzie.

You confidently raised your hand when no one else did. Bucky tilted his head, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He knew you were affected, of fucking course you were!

"Yes?" he called out.

You stood up and sighed softly, "I mean this in the most respectful way, Mister Barnes." you said, emphasizing his name. "But as the head of marketing, what exactly is my role here? Given that Mackenzie was hired to spearhead the marketing aspect of this project." you said, giving Mackenzie a passive aggressive smile.

"I don't want to overstep on some boundaries here, that's why I'm asking. I just want clarity, that's all." you said.

Bucky was about to respond when Mackenzie stopped him, grabbing his arm and squeezing it before taking over the floor. You narrowed your eyes at how her slender fingers were wrapped around Bucky's arm.

"Honey..." Mackenzie started. "There's nothing to worry about, this is a collaborative work between you and I. So think of yourself as my assistant, someone to help me out with the project." she responded.

Bitch.

"I'm not an assistant, Mackenzie." you said, smiling at her.

Mackenzie laughed, "I'm sorry, my bad. I shouldn't have used that term. Oops." she said. "Although, I believe I have more experience in this area so maybe consider me a mentor?" she suggested.

Bitch!

Bucky cleared his throat, "If you have certain ideas, you can discuss it with her. She is a consultant after all. Given her impressive experience in the field, I'm sure you'll learn a thing or two from her."

The meeting was wrapped up by noon and you simply couldn't wait to get yourself out of the conference room. You didn't feel like talking to Bucky anymore in all honesty, not after what he was doing. You knew this was just to spite you, get you to cave in first and give in to him.

All the more that you wouldn't, especially not when he actually used your job against you.

Everyone started rushing out of the conference room, ready to head out for lunch. As soon as you reached the doorway, you overheard the short conversation between Bucky and Mackenzie.

"Hey Bucky, we still up for lunch?"

-

The bathroom was empty when you stepped inside and thank god for that because you couldn't hold back your emotions any further. Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes, not because you were hurt. Fuck no, you were angry and frustrated. So fucking angry at yourself for getting into this mess, at Bucky for being such an entitled prick, at the entire world for plotting against you.

You groaned in irritation as you wiped away your tears, sniffing as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

You worked your ass off for this job, for your position. You risked your dignity when you let Bucky fuck you. You weren't going to let someone take that away from you.

You quickly fixed yourself when the door opened, followed by the loud clacking of someone's heels.

"Omg, are you crying?" Beverly gasped, rushing over to you.

You snickered, "No." you lied, "My eyes are itchy." you huffed out before noticing that Beverly was holding a sandwich in her hand.

"Why did you bring your sandwich here?" you curiously asked.

Beverly shrugged, "The pantry's full and the other girls don't exactly seem to like me...so..."

You shook your head and sighed, "Come with me, let's have lunch out. I need to get out of this fucking place anyway."

"Yay, omg! I knew you were nice! You're like, the only girl who actually talked to me nicely." Beverly said, tagging behind you as you exited the bathroom.

"Oh, there you are!" Mark called out. "I was looking for you. Wanna grab lunch? Oh...who's this?" he asked, noticing the blonde girl trailing behind you.

"I'm Beverly! I'm Sir James' new secretary." she introduced excitedly.

You sighed, "Don't ask me why." you said when Mark turned to you with a confused look, still not sure what happened to Bucky's previous secretary.

"So, lunch out? With Bev?" you asked.

-

You were completely zoning out during lunch despite the ongoing conversation between Mark and Bev, something about yoga? You honestly couldn't care less, not when you were feeling so conflicted about your current situation.

Would Bucky actually go that far just to get you back? Or does he actually hate you for saying no to him and is basically using his authority to make your life a living hell?

"So I heard about the new girl." Mark said, that snapped you out of your trance.

"Huh?" you asked.

"I find it weird for Mister Barnes to hire someone when you're here." Mark pointed out. "I mean, are you okay with that or..."

You snorted, "Fuck no. Look, I'm not gonna be the bigger person here. I was offended as fuck." you admitted.

"Yeah, it's super weird because she was hired through Tinder or something. Is that even legal?" Beverly pointed out as she scrolled through her phone.

You and Mark turned to her abruptly, "Tinder? Wait, what?" you asked.

Beverly chuckled, "I heard them talking this morning and Kenzie was like, 'It's so funny that we matched on Tinder and ended up doing business there you know' and I'm like omg Sir James has Tinder and I have one too but I never saw him there, bummer."

"Motherfucker." you hissed out.

Mark made a face, "Are you okay?" he carefully asked. "You've been really tensed since last week."

Apparently, Bucky never deleted his Tinder and have been swiping right on women. And that's how he met Mackenzie who just happened to be a marketing consultant. Now you were just furious, was he fucking her too? Has he been fucking other women this entire time?

"Hey, Bev..." you said, a plan hatching inside your mind. "Can I ask you a favor?" you asked nicely.

Beverly nodded, "Um duh, you're basically my office BFF now."

"If you ever hear Mister Barnes and Mackenzie talk about hmm, I don't know...something interesting. Maybe about the project...me 'cause you know, I'm the head of marketing and Mackenzie’s in the same field...let me know, will ya?" you asked.

Mark chuckled nervously, "I don't know what's going on but isn't that an invasion of privacy?"

"She's not going to eavesdrop, Mark. She'll just...listen closely." you explained.

"Bev might get in trouble if Mister Barnes finds out." Mark warned.

You waved a hand, "She'll be fine, Mark. She's his secretary, she has to know everything. Besides, I'm not going to let her get in trouble, if she does then I'll take care of it."

Beverly squealed in delight, "Omg, you are not my office BFF. You're like my office mom! You and Mark are literally my office parents." she said, lifting her phone up in the air.

"Selfie! This one goes to the 'gram." she said, taking a quick photo of the three of you.

She then proceeded to edit the photo while you and Mark continued eating lunch.

"Bev, you should really put your phone away and eat first. We have less than half an hour left for lunch break." Mark called out.

Beverly groaned and rolled her eyes, "Way to get into the role, Mark. You're such a dad."

You snorted, "Yeah. Loosen up, daddy." you teased.

"Playing family after just one date, huh."

Bucky's presence in the same restaurant should've really intimidated you, most especially that he just witnessed you tease Mark like that. But you were too mad at him to even care, what was the point even? He didn't believe you even when you told him the truth that Mark was just a friend.

Why even try now?

"Hi Sir James." Beverly greeted happily.

"Mister Barnes." Mark acknowledged.

Bucky ignored them and kept his eyes on you. You didn't falter under his gaze and simply stared back at him with blank eyes. It's as if a staring competition took place when the both of you merely looked at each other, neither of you looking away nor attempting to do so.

"How was that date last Friday, Jim?" Bucky asked, his eyes still trained on yours.

Mark made a funny face at the name that Bucky called him but shrugged anyway. Before he could even respond, you decided to answer on his behalf. If Bucky wanted to spite you, you'd give him a taste of his own medicine.

"It was actually great. We might go on another one this Friday." you said.

"We are?" Mark asked in a whisper.

Bucky's hand landed on Mark's shoulder, "Don't count on it, Andrew. She's going to be doing a lot of work on Friday due to the project." he said through gritted teeth.

You shrugged, "Oh, but I thought Mackenzie's doing all my work?"

"I'm ready to head back, Buck."

Speak of the devil herself. Mackenzie weaved through the tables and approached Bucky, her face brightening up when she saw you, Mark and Beverly.

"Oh, hey you." she greeted you. "Look, I think we may have started off on the wrong foot earlier. I'm not here to take your job, just here to spice things up a bit. Improve your ideas, give Bucky some assistance." she chuckled, holding onto Bucky's arm yet again.

You fought back the urge to grab your glass of water and throw it at her face. As the saying goes, kill them with kindness. So you merely shrugged and extended an arm for a handshake.

"Of course. I would love to improve your ideas as well, you know. Just a healthy discourse between two marketing professionals. We good?" you said.

Mackenzie forced out a chuckle and reached for your hand, "We’re good. I look forward to working with you." she said before turning back to Bucky who was still gazing at you.

"Let's go?" she asked sweetly.

Bucky smirked at you before wrapping an arm around Mackenzie's waist, guiding her out of the restaurant the same way he did to you. You were too focused on Bucky's body language around Mackenzie that you failed to notice that Mark was watching you closely, your expressions and how you reacted towards Bucky.

"I think I know what's happening."

-

"You what?!"

"Shhh!" you hushed Mark and peeked out of the empty pantry to make sure the coast was clear.

Mark noticed the tension between you and Bucky and he came to a conclusion that the both of you dated at one point. He wasn't really wrong but he wasn't right either. So you decided to tell him everything, from the moment you matched with Bucky on Tinder until your last conversation with him last Saturday.

"I honestly thought you were dating, I didn't know there was sex involved. No wonder he had been calling me weird names." he said incredulously. "Was that you and Mister Barnes that Janet reported to the HR?" he asked, stifling his laughter.

You groaned, "Yes. Ugh, gave me a panic attack when I found out about that incident report." you said.

"Hey..." Mark called out. "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me this. Your secret is safe with me." he reassured.

You nodded, "I think it was about time that I told someone about us anyway. This whole situation is driving me crazy and I don't know what to do next. And I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess, I shouldn't have said that we were going out again. I don't want you or your job getting compromised because of our petty fight." you exhaled.

You had to admit, you felt so much better now after confiding with Mark. It somewhat alleviated the weight on your shoulders, knowing that there was someone aware of what you were going through. Who would've thought that this person would end up being Mark? You did have friends outside of work of course, but you felt like they all wouldn't really understand the situation.

Half would hate you for rejecting Bucky and the other half would hate you for even swiping right on him.

"Do you mind an unsolicited advice?" Mark asked.

"Not at all." you said.

"Ignore him. Don't let him or Mackenzie get to you. Do what you do best, you're great at your job and you'll be fine. That might get him to realize that you're not a prize to be won. And if he still doesn't see that, then that's his loss. You're more than just that hot marketing girl at work." Mark said.

You laughed at his last statement, "Hot marketing girl at work?" you asked, shaking your head.

"It's true. So if in any case you decide to ditch the CEO and move on, you know where to find me." he joked, throwing a wink your way.

-

You wanted to finish all your reports so you could focus on the huge project so you decided to work until around nine in the evening. The floor was already empty by the time you were done. Bucky seemed to be working too, given that he was still replying to e-mails at this hour. Wanting to get all the reports over with, you decided to submit it to him before going home.

During the elevator ride to Bucky’s floor, you couldn’t help but wonder whether he was alone in the office. Would Mackenzie be there with him? Even at this hour? Your grip on the folder tightened at the thought of catching them in the act.

But did you have any right to feel this way though?

Brushing off the thoughts, you exhaled loudly and prepared yourself for whatever it was you were to witness. Upon reaching the door to Bucky’s office, you slightly turned your head to listen to anything. It was quiet. No hushed whispers nor strained grunts-- they weren’t fucking, thank goodness for that.

You decided not to knock and just walk inside like you used to, reminding yourself of Mark’s advice.

Don’t let Bucky get to you.

When you saw Bucky hunched over his desk, typing away on his e-mails instead of bending a certain brunette somewhere in his office, you had to admit that you were relieved. He looked up and his eyes looked dead tired, you almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

“You should really learn how to knock.” Bucky called out, slamming his laptop shut.

“Look, Bucky. I was just rushing to submit these reports so I can go home.” you explained and placed the folder on top of his desk.

Bucky frowned, “I said to call me Mister Barnes.”

You huffed out, “I honestly don’t care, Bucky. I’m not playing your damn games anymore.” you said and turned around.

A hand on your arm pulled you back, harshly turning you around to face Bucky. He was fuming, as usual. At this point, you were no longer fazed.

“You think I don’t know what you’re trying to do?” he asked.

You clenched your jaw and pulled your arm back, “I’m not doing anything. You bring in Beverly or Mackenzie or whoever it is that you have up your sleeve. I don’t fucking care. I just want to focus on work.” you said and stepped away.

“And you should too, Bucky.” you added.

“I don’t believe you.” he said.

You sighed, your shoulders dropping from exhaustion at this whole shenanigan. “I’m done, Bucky.”

And with that you turned around to exit his office, leaving Bucky unsure whether you truly meant what you said. A victorious smirk graced your lips as you walked back to the elevator.

You were far from done.

-

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