#I like to do that so I can have a bit of my own twist on 'em

[cherrynflowergarden]

જ⁀➴ bitter truths|| dealer!matt x doll!reader

sturniolo masterlist add yourself to the taglist

she was laughing, leaning against her desk as she chatted with noah, a guy from her college. her eyes sparkled as she giggled at something he said, her entire posture relaxed and comfortable in his presence. but matt, standing by the door, could feel something dark twisting in his chest as he watched them. he didn’t get jealous—but he’d seen noah around. he knew the guy. he wasn’t some harmless friend and he surely didn’t have the best intentions. and watching her so openly enjoying his company made matt’s jaw clench.

he cleared his throat loudly, catching her attention. she glanced over, her big smile faltering as she noticed the coldness in his eyes.

“oh! matt,” she said, pulling herself away from noah. “this is noah, from my psych class. he’s been helping me with some notes.”

noah nodded politely, but matt didn’t return the gesture, his arms crossed tightly, eyes narrowing. “right. helping,” he repeated, voice dripping with sarcasm. her expression softened, her brow creasing slightly as she sensed his tension.

“can we talk?” he said, his tone stiff. “alone.” he added, bitterly eyeing noah.

she looked at noah apologetically. she barely had a chance to say goodbye before matt grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the room. she could feel the anger radiating off him, heavy, simmering, the kind that made her stomach twist.

she shifted under his gaze, trying to hold her ground, but his intensity made her stomach twist.

“what the hell are you doing, doll?” his voice was cold, almost a snarl. “hanging around with a guy like him?”

she frowned, taken aback by his tone. “he’s just a friend, matt. he’s helping me with some notes—”

“a friend? you don’t get it, do you?” his voice was mocking, filled with a bitterness she hadn’t heard from him before. “people like him don’t want to be friends with someone like you. you’re just easy prey.”

her eyes widened, a hurt expression flashing across her face. “matt, why are you being so—”

“realistic?” he interrupted, eyes narrowing. “because someone has to be. you think everyone’s got some good in them, that everyone’s gonna treat you the way you treat them. but that’s not how the world works, doll. you’re too blind to see it.”

her lip trembled, but she took a shaky breath, trying to stay calm. “you’re wrong, matt. i know what he’s like with me. just because he doesn’t fit into your world doesn’t mean—”

“oh, please,” he cut in, rolling his eyes. “you really think you know what you’re doing? you don’t have a clue. you’re just letting him string you along because he’s nice to you. that’s all it takes, isn’t it?” his words were sharp, condescending. “anyone gives you a bit of attention, and you’re ready to trust them with anything.”

her face flushed, her chest tightening at his words. “i thought… i thought you trusted me, matt. trusted that i could figure things out.”

“trusted you?” he scoffed, shaking his head in frustration. “y/n, i’m just trying to keep you from getting hurt. but you’re too stubborn, too naive to see that half these people only see you as an easy target.”

the word naive cut through her like a knife, each syllable laced with disdain. “so that’s what you think of me?” her voice was barely above a whisper. “some… some helpless girl who can’t take care of herself?”

“isn’t that exactly what you’re proving right now?” he snapped, his patience finally snapping with it. “you’re so desperate for everyone to like you, so willing to see the good in people, that you don’t even realize they’re laughing behind your back. they see you as this silly soft girl they can use and toss aside.” his voice was harsh, each word landing like a blow.

tears pricked at her eyes, but she held them back, swallowing hard. “i… i thought you saw me differently.”

he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “doll, you’re… you’re sweet, alright? you’re too sweet for your own good. ‘t’s gonna ruin you if you don’t learn to see through people like him. and right now, you’re just proving me right. you’re proving you don’t get how people are.”

she flinched, his words making her chest ache. “maybe… maybe i don’t want to see people the way you do, matt. maybe i want to believe in people. i thought you’d get that.”

“get that?” he scoffed, crossing his arms. “’m done trying to understand why you’re so determined to get hurt. you don’t get it, do you? you’re weak and you refuse to see it. you refuse to admit that you need someone to watch out for you.”

the words echoed in her mind, his voice searing into her heart. weak. naive. silly. and what hurt her the most was how he addressed her by her name and not as doll. she felt a tear slip down her cheek and quickly wiped it away, but matt didn’t soften, didn’t reach out to her.

for a moment, she couldn’t even speak, her throat tight with unshed tears. “if that’s really how you see me, then… maybe you don’t know me at all.” her voice was shaky, laced with hurt she couldn’t hide.

he watched her, his expression unreadable, but he didn’t move. he didn’t apologize or reach out to stop her as she turned and walked away, each step heavier than the last. she kept her gaze down, trying to block out his words, but they echoed in her mind, relentless.

days passed. she avoided his texts, his calls, even ignored the harsh banging on her door and every attempt he made to reach her. every time she saw his name flash on her phone, her chest tightened and the hurt bubbled up again. she knew matt was protective, that he cared, but his words had felt like a betrayal, like he didn’t trust her to know what was best for herself.

an; angst bc i'm sad(⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠) also tell me do we like this small title font more or the quote font one?

taglist; @mattsdolll @izzylovesmatt

[mad-hunts]

in response to the other's answer in regards to what jervis would prefer on his toast, jack simply nodded. he'd found himself at a loss for what else to say even though that was actually quite rare for him. maybe it was the idea that barton could be outside at that very moment, listening in, that made jack suddenly feel like a fog had rolled into his mind; making it so that he could protect himself without even knowing for sure that there was a threat in the first place.

barton didn't like talking about julien - he'd pretty much stowed away every single picture but one the family had with him in it, in fact. for it still hurt him too much to look at them. therefore, especially considering his father's history of not being able to regulate his moods well, jack might have to perform 'damage control' if that were the case. but crossing the bridge if he were to get there seemed to apply quite well here. so, the farceur chose to move on and it turned out to be wisely, too.

jervis did look very tense lying there with jack visibly appearing to want to curl up into himself and never come out. after going to the nearby trunk in the room, he opened it. this was done as a means to distract the both of them from succumbing to the weight of their own differing circumstances. though there was certainly a good cover reason for jack to, ❝ oh, wow. ahh... i almost forgot that its supposed to get down into the forties tonight so you might need this. its going to be cold, after all, ❞ it was also hitting sundown at that moment as well.

jack could tell by just looking through the crack in the curtains of the one window in the room. while gnawing on his bottom lip, he pulled out the plush blanket inside of the chest only to shake it out a bit. now, as jack tossed the blanket up just enough to cover jervis's body without touching him? something matilda told him a few years ago echoed in his mind during a conversation they had late at night: 'you know, i know you'd like nothing more than to get rid of all your feelings sometimes - but i hope you never change.'

jack just remembered looking up at the tent he was in that day of camping afterward, as he decided he should probably get to sleep. but it felt validating in a way he couldn't explain as well even now. because jack's first instinct upon seeing jervis was that he was struggling, so he should help him; though one could definitely say that sense of responsibility had made him suffer in the past. thank goodness sucking in a deep breath through his nostrils and exhaling could allow jack to quiet his mind then.

he tilted his head at the other's words and squinting his eyes, deep in thought. of course if jervis didn't believe in one, that was fine, but it appeared like he might. these sorts of concepts could trigger whole debates for a reason, however, as spirituality was something that jack affiliated himself with. but religion? he wasn't so sure, so he more than understood when jervis settled for saying his loved ones being at peace was simply something he wanted to believe in. with jack's sudden exit came the arrival of a much less benevolent figure, to say the least, and barton couldn't say he blamed jervis for seemingly somewhat disappointed that his son left.

jack was easy to get along with, and with just a little bit of time spent with him, he might just win someone over with his compassionate nature. barton knew this well along with the reality he had to learn other people's behaviors throughout the years to appear at least 'semi-normal.' how that was going for the doctor would often depend on who you asked, though. barton could only snort derisively at that, ❝ funny. just remember, you'd be in arkham right now if it weren't for me and my daughter. ❞ he pointed a sharpened nail in the direction of jervis as he proceeded into the room.

the same crack in the curtains jack had once looked through was soon closed with a quick 'swishing' motion. barton was personally raised with a very limited exposure to faith, as neither wesley nor winslow were particularly religious father figures. but barton could admire those who participate in it regardless of their level of involvement in it. though it could be used as a force of evil as much as it could be used for good, a lot of humanity existed in shades of gray.

so even if they were under the threat of suffering through something like eternal damnation after death... in barton's mind, it was only a matter of time before someone used a widespread thing like faith to their own advantage. and maybe this was bad of him but thinking about wesley being in such a place somewhat brought him a sense of twisted satisfaction; because at least barton would be getting a form of justice for every fearful moment wesley put him through that way. barton only blinked as his eyes trailed from jervis's face to the teacup that jack had presumably brought him.

shockingly enough, all he felt when he discovered that marty's father was a powerful figure was an incredible amount of disbelief for a moment before it fizzled away. barton was used to things getting worse even if he couldn't have seen this coming. plus, he'd gotten frighteningly good at treating human lives like this police captain's more as obstacles than actual beings. it remained to be seen which one jervis was to barton. he squinted his eyes before standing up and ultimately finding out that, yeah, he had done that too quickly.

barton felt like he was green around the gills all over again, ❝ that is one way to put it, jervis. but don't worry. you just reminded me that, although we're going to have to get creative, there are ways of getting away with it. i'd say pinning his murder on someone else might be the best. ❞ he uttered after swallowing thickly, making a 'turn around' gesture with his finger towards the other. barton talking about murder as if it was light dinner conversation said everything that needed to be said about how he felt about their current predicament.

maybe it was because he was still feeling a lot of malaise, but no part of it bothered him in particular. the doctor was more worried about jervis becoming queasy because he accidentally saw the scars where he'd stitched on yves's arm to his own body, ❝ uhh, just in case you didn't get that, turn around. i'm going to change my shirt. ❞ once that was done, barton slipped his current bloodied one over his head only to replace it with the other. he slumped down in the chair to the table opposite of jervis and looked over the tarot cards laid out before him.

barton, too, knew how to interpret them. ❝ what were you two planning on doing with these? a 'past, present, and future' reading? because i can do it while my son's gone for you. ❞

Jervis gave the barest of shrugs as he glanced at Jack through his bangs, the quiet rhythm of their breathing, the slow drip of the IV, and the faint shifting of the cards against the tabletop the only sounds piercing the air. "Either one sounds perfectly agreeable. I defer to your good judgment." A ghost of a smile, pale and wan, tugged at his mouth for an infinitesimal moment.

Call it the lingering pangs of paternal instinct or projection, whatever you felt was most appropriate, but some flicker of warmth—worry mingling with concern—stirred within Jervis' breast; softening the veneer of exhaustion and discomfort that clothed him like a second skin. Like an invisible cancer that had latched onto him, draining his vitality—a slow-acting poison decades in the making; only this time, the source was external, a reflection of Jack's own unease radiating across the space between them.

Jervis drew in a shallow breath, feeling the tightness in his chest not as his own, but as if their nerves had blurred and grown entangled. He tried to focus, willing his own breath to steady, his hands to unclench. A low chuckle escaped Jervis' chapped lips at Jack's query. The medications in his IV coursed through him, cold and prickling, sending a frisson over his skin as goosebumps rose in response. And yet, somehow, it eased the deep ache within him, dulling the edges of both pain and nausea. He could feel the weight of his discomfort receding, just slightly, as though the medicine were smoothing his raw nerves; coaxing him toward a delicate, unfamiliar calm.

Not quite like ketamine.... not like the cozy, blithesome feeling that coursed through his veins with each dose. Even when most of his prior consumption of the drug hadn't been consensual—thick enough to cut his teeth on, it ensured small pockets of blissful ignorance hardening into a dissociative shell, like callus. (God bless those poor, ministering angels at Arkham... only a trace of spite and animosity there, rage bleeding with sorrow at how his autonomy and consent was completely ignored, snatched... one wrong move, and he was left cowering in a crumpled heap, or otherwise dead to the world... but now? Would the scales be tipped, if they managed to drag him back there? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know that answer.) If Odysseus and his crew had been desperate to escape the Lotus Eaters only to stumble unwittingly into the clutches of Polyphemus, Jervis felt quite the opposite.

For better or worse, the ketamine had left him numb to everything.

The pain, the grief, the anguish that tore gouges in his heart and mind; lacerated his psyche to shreds, in conjunction with the ECT. Somehow, he compartmentalized it... gravitated to the cannabis as an alternative upon his discharge, once he'd regained his center of gravity and emerged from his self-immurement; the fractures left by his losses and lessons grinding him to the bone. Everything it cost him and what he'd earned in exchange. Simon. Arabella. His time in Ireland. Sylvie. The flood. Alice.

The lengths he had gone...

And so Jervis chuckled; the sound dry and hollow, barely touching his eyes. He met Jack’s gaze, his expression tightening as he mulled over the question, tasting the irony in it.

“An afterlife…” he murmured, his eyes drifting. Thoughts and memories broke the surface like apples bobbing in a bucket: Simon and Stephen putting aside their differences over the blessing at Passover; his and Arabella's quiet, but spirited discussions of Heaven and the saints and catechism, the differences between the Old and New Testaments as they strolled along the shoreline. Stories of the witch trials in Ireland, of John Calvin and his legacy in Scotland.

All the old beliefs he’d grown up with circled back and hit like a tidal wave, tied as much to memories of family as to the concept of religious faith itself, all its beauty and diverse forms, yet it left him feeling frigid now. For a little over three decades, he'd told himself that he could appreciate the mythology of it all, even found it strangely comforting at times, but belief? That had always been a different thing entirely.

Jervis' mind tugged him back to reality. He could sense Jack’s curiosity pressing at the edge of his own awareness, a secondary presence so strong it was almost rendered a physical form. "That's.... a complicated notion, from where I'm standing.” He let out a slow, careful breath; curled his fingers back around his necklace as he dissected the question. “But... yes. I'd like to think our loved ones are at peace."

He could map it all in a dozen lines, right down to his own lived experiences, the rules he tried so hard to follow, the ideals that always seemed to warp and fray. There was karma, consequence, perhaps even the lingering shadows of what people might call a curse. But the idea of any higher being calling the shots? It gnawed at him like an old wound. And so Jervis looked back at Jack, almost apologetic, the faint sting of an old ache flickering beneath his words.

He was spared from elaborating with Barton's sudden appearance; lurking on the threshold like a wraith. Poor Jack's confidence and ease withered like a hapless petunia caught in the dead of winter. A few quiet words of dismissal and a pat to the shoulder were all that heralded the reluctant, leery departure of his one potential ally in the wolf's den.

'As phantoms frighten beasts when shadows fall.' Jervis sighed, slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, looked Barton in the eye; as well as he could, anyway, with the lingering gray spots and his missing glasses still impeding his line of sight. “Maybe we each make our own heaven—or our own hell.”

Perhaps that was petty or harsh of him to say out loud... though that was the truth of the matter. Jervis didn’t need religious belief to drive him, after all; he needed only his own peculiar code, that precarious balance between curiosity and cynicism, and the sense of duty he still felt for a daughter who had deserved something far more stable, more secure; safer than the patchwork life he had known. Whatever his flaws, his faults, some small part of him still respected the right to believe—what faith meant to others; its power to inspire, to build, to destroy. The cause and effect of human history, the double-edged promises of faith. And maybe that was the root of it: faith could be a tool, a guide, a balm.

But then the stark, often bitter truths he’d learned through survival would come rushing back. Besides, he reckoned, Barton likely wouldn't give a damn about any of his prior train of thought. In any case, on the topic of hell, Jervis never pictured the vast, cavernous expanse of fire and brimstone that Jonathan Edwards had once preached about in the summer of 1741. No. Hell always conjured up fevered images of a frozen lake in the deepest, darkest part of the center of the earth, untouched by light and warmth and life—the last of Dante Alighieri's nine circles.

'I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall wake to sanity in strait-waistcoats.'

He was torn from the thick mire of his thoughts, yanked back outside his mind as if caught in a sudden hurricane at Barton’s next revelation. Jervis shut his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, then reached for the cup of tea Jack had brought him. The liquid within was a warm, golden amber—like sea glass he’d once collected as a child in Bermuda, or the bits Alice would gather along Gotham’s coastline on their rare visits when she was little.

How simple those days were...

"Well." Jervis' voice was completely flat, his brow creasing with incredulity and disgust. Barton’s outline weaved and blurred before his eyes like a will-o’-the-wisp. No more, no more… no room, no room. He felt completely hollow. "Trading one problem for another, are we?" His scarred knuckles bulged as his fingers curled around the delicate porcelain; his grip hard enough to produce a faint, foreboding crack.

He would weep, if he had anymore tears left to shed over their predicament. For Marty and his partner, for the trouble Jack and Matilda had been brought into by association… but none for himself or Barton. He wasn’t certain he was worthy of it; and Barton had no qualms over their actions, he’d freely admitted it at that bistro earlier. Jervis’ hands tingled, as if they were still covered by the bloodied gloves he wore when he dispatched the driver in order to retrieve Alice’s rabbit, wielding his hatpins on pure impulse; there was no premeditation involved, but there was no discounting how surgical his actions had been in their efficacy with each targeted nerve cluster and artery. He wasn’t indulging in self-pity, oh no… nothing so shallow or solipsistic. Not like that at all. Just a pure ant mill of growing dread and horror and regret, one that couldn’t be encompassed by words alone.

His teeth sought the gouges in the corner of his mouth from where he’d previously bit himself in the throes of his nightmares, worrying at the cuts till they began to sting anew.

‘Despair has its own calms.’

[dontopenfairies]

The doorbell rings and I go to answer it. My boyfriend’s friend is standing on the porch, holding his notebook and a pencil. “Oh, hi,” I say, “Are you here to work on your science project?”

“Yep,” he says, and I step aside to let him in.

“I’ll go and find your partner,” I tell him. “Honey!” I call out into the house. “Your friend is here!”

My boyfriend hurries out of the bedroom. They’re supposed to work on a university project together, doing a local nature study, and they’ve chosen to study the trees in our neighborhood. I step aside and let them chat and figure out their plans.

“We’re going to start here in the backyard,” my boyfriend tells me as they leave out the back screen door.

I watch them through the window for a little while, measuring the tree and writing down their observations. I’m not really sure what they’re doing but it’s cute to watch.

I work on some of my own work and wash a few dishes before I decide to go out and check on the boys.

When I step outside onto the back porch, my boyfriend has his back turned to me and his head down.

“Is everything okay out here?”

“I’m okay,” says his friend. “But he had an accident.”

“Ohh, honey…” I say, turning my boyfriend around by the shoulder when I get to him. “Ohh, you wet yourself pretty bad, huh, baby?” I turn to his friend. “He’s really been having trouble with this lately.” I take my boyfriend’s arm. “If you can’t stay dry today, let’s go ahead and get a pull-up on you, okay?”

His friend trails behind us as I lead him back into the house.

“I can help,” he says when we get to the bathroom. “I know how to do diaper changes really well.”

“That’s okay. We’ll be fine,” I say. “Why don’t you sit in the dining room and work on your lab write-up?”

“Okay,” he says, sitting down and opening his notebook. He starts to pretend to write, but I can tell he’s going to try to listen to us in the bathroom.

“Here, I’m goin to help you with your belt, okay?” I bend down and unclasp the buckle. I say “help” but I’m really doing it all for him while he holds his arms behind his back. When I look up at his face his lips and forehead are screwed up in a tiny frown.

“Ohh no, are you upset?” I ask, rising and reaching my hands around his back to uncross his arms and hold his hands. “I bet that was super embarrassing, huh, to have an accident in front of your friend?”

He hesitates, mouth open. Then he looks at the floor. “A little…”

“It’s okay.” I run my fingers through his hair. “It’s okay. He knows that you can’t help it.”

He still looks a little bit sad as I help him out of his pants. I clean him up and help him into his pull-up.

“Oh no, I forgot your pants.” I open the door a crack and lean my head outside. “Would you mind getting him new pants?” I ask his friend. “There should be some in the basket in the laundry room.” His friend drops his pencil and hurries to his feet.

When I turn around he’s all red, twisting his shirt between his hands. We can hear his friend’s footsteps thumping down the hallway outside the door.

“What’s wrong, honey? You’re still all pouty.”

“I don’t want to leak my pull-up,” he says quietly.

“Ohh, baby, that’s not going to happen, don’t worry. If you feel like you need to pee again, you’ll come get Mommy, won’t you?”

“I will,” he says, looking down.

“He calls you Mommy?” We both turn around. His friend is in the doorway, holding a clean pair of pants for him. He’s grinning mischievously. “That’s so funny.”

“It’s also kind of private!!”

“Shh, shh. Don’t start fighting, now.” His friend passes me his pants and I shoo him back out of the bathroom. My boyfriend kind of grumbles as I pull his pants back on him but pretty soon they’re out in the backyard again.

I start to put together a snack for them and they must have seen me through the window because I hear them coming up the stairs to the porch.

“I bet your Mommyyyy is making us something,” his friend taunts in a sing-song voice as the door opens.

“He’s teasing me!” says my boyfriend, hurrying over and grabbing my arm.

“Okay, be nice. Why don’t both of you go and sit down at the table?”

As they leave, I hear my boyfriend say, “See, you’re teasing me, but you’ll also do whatever she says.”

[neverpathia]

fuck this shit

have my voice of the broken

and please ignore how elementary my art looks

it's not the full design unfortunately, but a little guy is a little guy, I hope. + the original pencil-and-paper lineart.

now I was gonna go by a specific order, like starting from voice of the hero and all, but broken just resonated with me too much and I thought we could make a pretty neat design out of him so there we have it.

okay I have quite a bit to say about him

come on, the fact that he's the most like me out of all the stp voices surely says something. tower route isn't exactly how my very first playthrough went, true, but once she beat the ever loving crud out of me and the rest of the route unfolded

I had to do a double take he's so real wtf

everything Broken says is something that has definitely passed through my mind at some point or another, especially when it came to a few relationships of mine. the way he just defaults to surrendering. taking the easy way out, the ONLY way out, which is in fact only digging yourself deeper into the problem. somewhere in your subconscious, maybe you know this. but what other choice do you have? she's above you in every way possible. don't you want to please her? isn't this how it's all supposed to go? and, besides, you don't want to taste the alternative.

defiance can't be an option anymore. it's a path fraught with danger and fear and the Broken is blindly submissive because it's the only thing he can be. he can't let himself think like a person or feel like a person or even be a person anymore if it's all just going to get taken away from him.

maybe he's bitter. maybe he hates the world. maybe he wants to let himself feel something that's not simply her, and her, and her.

but it's too risky, too dangerous. and it's so much 'easier' to just...not. just do what she asks, because there's a course of action put before you, and you won't be hurt if you do what she says. and you don't want to be hurt. and everything she's already doing to hurt you is so much better than everything she CAN do if you defy her.

and she loves you. in this twisted, unbalanced, unfair way of hers, she loves you. call it love because you don't want to know what else it can be.

you hate this love. it suffocates you. it drowns you. it seeks out the cracks in your soul. it enters them. it expands them. but it's the only thing left in there anymore.

it may look like a choice when you reciprocate it in the same unjust way. it's turned against you and you're just blocking off your escape, that's what they see. but what does the Broken see? safety. protection. an escape from whatever she can and has thrown upon you if you don't.

you can have "whatever you want" at the cost of a "you."

I feel so bad for him, but I can't help but feel that I...am him. Just 'choosing' to submit and keel over and accept your comfortable little prison is kind of real. It's 'choosing' safety and sloth at the cost of my autonomy, but since when had it even been a choice? external circumstances nudge you towards a corner. your own willpower, or rather lack thereof, backs you further into that corner. the Broken is too familiar.

and yet the way he always makes it a point to hear others out. he empathizes. he soothes. because he doesn't want them to be Broken like he is, or rather, he's the only other one who's just as Broken and he knows how much it sucks. to be at war with yourself all the time yet you yourself are stuck and stagnant and unmoving in everything you know you hate as much as you try to pretend you love. everything you do, every second you live, as wrong as it always feels. he wishes for a choice where he has never had one himself and he can, in a way, live that choice through others.

maybe I'm just projecting idk

fyi there's a reason I gave him that particular hairstyle. it's tied together and weighed down with two teardrop-shaped ornaments. like how he's so restricted and it's heavy, it's so heavy, being sad all the time is a bitch and you can only be tired. yet the braids are still ornate. still straight and silky smooth, still beautiful. but what then? and what if a few strands threaten to escape? it means nothing, it's still what it is. helplessly fixed in place, but who would think about it.

[mishapocalyse]

When We Were Young || Part Two

->Anon asked: Reader was in love with Ben before he became soldier boy like as kids and then grew old watching him become and asshole and then “die” and imagines what their life could have been (would be heartbreaking to read but hey let’s get emotional)

Description: The fond memories of growing up with Benjamin Gilman, the man who eventually became America's Greatest Superhero, become a thing of the past. Yet when the reader meets him again...what will happen?

Pairings: Soldier Boy x (Eventual Supe) Reader.

Warnings: Soldier Boy is his own warning, language, sexual content.

Note: I twisted the request a bit and made the reader a supe. This is still the most devastating piece I think I have ever written. This is part two. ITS BEEN 2 YEARS GUYS AND I FINALLY WROTE THE PART 2!!!! Please read at your own risk.

It could have been anyone…

Anyone but him.

“Y/N…” Your breath hitched in your throat as you stared up at none other then the man who you thought was dead. It had been twenty-nine years since Ben’s death, and here he was, standing in front of you.

“Y/N….you…you haven’t aged a bit—”

SLAP.

A harsh slap against his cheek knocked both of you to your senses.

“I thought you were dead!" You hollered, voice cracking through heavy tears, standing in front of the soldier, who only seemed to smile. "Well...I'm here, aren't I?" He laughed, outstretching his arms for you to come in to. Yet, you pointed your finger, stepping back, your feet hitting the edge of another tombstone.

You clenched your fists, your whole body trembling as you pointed your finger and refused to let him embrace you.

"Why are you here now?" Tears welled up in your eyes as you glared at him.

The smile on his face slowly disappeared, and he looked at you with uncertainty and regret.

"I know I'm late, but I wanted to see you again," he said apologetically.

You shook your head, the tears now streaming down your face.

"You should have come back alive! Why are you only here now?"

Ben looked down, his shoulders sunk, guilt creeping onto his features.

"I didn't want to leave you like that…but I had no choice…I didn't think I'd come back like this…I'm sorry."

You looked at him, the tears still overflowing from your eyes.

"Sorry isn't enough…it's been twenty years…why are you just here now? You didn't come to me for all these years!"

Ben looked at you, regret etched on his features.

"I wanted to, I really did…but I couldn't…I'm sorry…I'm here now, though…"

He stretched his arms out again, hoping to embrace you, but you only shook your head and took another step back.

He looked at you helplessly, his arms still outstretched.

"How can I make it up to you?" He asked, desperation in his voice.

"I can't just forgive you because you just came back now," you snapped, your voice shaking with emotion.

"You left me…alone!" You sobbed, the anger; the sadness etching your still youthful features. "I watched the world change without you…"

Ben remained silent, his expression growing more somber as you scolded him.

"You died, Ben. You were supposed to stay dead. You remembered what I told you on the balcony that night…Herogasm…Do you remember?"

You wiped your teary face, feeling frustrated and devastated as you looked at him.

Ben looked at you, his expression full of guilt.

"I remember…I remember everything you said that night…I can't forget…"

"Our fairytale, what we had was over…you left a whole world behind because you were too full of yourself to see who was always there for you…" You began, your sobs and tears still evident on your face. "Twenty-nine years," You repeated. "It's been twenty-nine years…"

Ben stood there, his expression full of guilt as you spoke.

"I know…I'm sorry…I shouldn't have let my ego get in the way," Ben's voice was heavy with regret, his shoulders sinking lower.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, but you couldn't stop the tears from trickling down your face.

"How can I make you forgive me?" He sounded genuinely unsure, feeling helpless as he looked at you crying while his arms were still outstretched, eager to embrace you.

"I-I'll do anything…I just…I just want you to forgive me…"

Seeing him so earnest and apologetic made your heart ache more. You could see the regret and guilt on his face, but something still made you hesitate to embrace him.

"Anything? You'll do anything?"

"Yes." He quickly nodded, desperate for a chance to make up for his mistakes.

"No matter what you ask, I'll do it," he said firmly, his expression sincere.

"I want…you…to leave." You said without thinking. "Leave, act like you never saw me."

Ben's eyes widened, his expression suddenly filled with shock and heartbreak.

"What? Y-you want me to just leave?"

He looked at you, disbelief and sadness evident in his eyes.

"You want me to just pretend like I never saw you?"

The words hit his chest hard and left him speechless.

"Soldier Boy…Ben…there were people looking for you…I had hopes that you'd come back for me, realize what we had was real. However…you never did. And the first thing you thought to do was show up two decades later thinking I would welcome you back with open arms?" You took a breath, trying to regain your composure. "Do us both a favor, and leave. I think I've had enough heartbreak for the rest of my lifetime."

Ben stared at you, his eyes full of sadness and regret.

"…So, that's it then?" He asked, his voice quiet and solemn.

He looked at you, hoping for even a glimmer of hope…but you remained resolute, staring back at him firmly.

"…You want me to leave. Act like I never existed…right?"

"That's what you've apparently done the last two decades…" You spat.

Ben's expression darkened, realizing he had no room to retort.

He looked down, his shoulders sunken as he stood there, deep in thought for a moment.

"Just tell me one thing," he started, his tone heavy with emotions.

"Did you move on? From me?" He looked away from you, not daring to look you in the eyes, fiddling with his fingers and the fur on his jean jacket. You were silent, whether or not you did move on, the question hung loosely in the air.

"I never did." You whispered, through lidded eyes. "No matter who caught my eye, or approached me over the years. I never slept with anyone, never married, nothing." You turned away from him. It was just like the night he left you...all those years ago.

"I ran after that truck, wanting so badly to tell you I loved you, I wrote letters everyday with no response. I kept your picture on my bedside table, hoping you'd knock on my door. Hoping you would come home. Instead I get a folded up flag, and years of waiting. Life wasted on the one thing I thought would be my eternity." You poked his chest hard with your finger.

Ben grabbed your hand, squeezing it tightly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to at least grab your attention.

"I'm real. I'm here."

You shook your head, feeling your chest tighten, the heartache still too raw to forgive him so easily.

He continued holding your hand firmly in his, his expression pleading as he looked at you.

"I'm here now. What we had doesn't have to be wasted. We can start anew," he tried to reason.

The way he held your hand and pleaded with you, his eyes desperately seeking forgiveness, made your heart waver.

He looked so sincere and apologetic, but you were still unsure.

"How do I know you won't disappear again?" You asked, your voice shaking with lingering emotions.

"I won't, I promise. I won't disappear again," he replied, his voice sincere and urgent.

He held your hand tighter, almost as if he was willing to do anything just to please you.

He looked at you pleadingly, with full regret in his eyes.

"Please give me another chance. Please…I'll prove to you I won't disappear, just please give me another chance," You looked down at the thick snow underneath your feet. The cold was something that made you feel alive, you weren't sure of yourself. But something in your chest forgave him, just this once.

Ben waited in anticipation as you looked down, hoping, waiting, pleading mentally.

When your eyes returned to his, he looked at you expectantly, hoping to see any hint of forgiveness.

His heart raced, hoping you had spared him this chance.

He looked sincere, but you still felt uncertain. Will he really not disappear, or was it another lie?

"I love you, Ben." You choked.

Ben's eyes widened, his whole body relaxed as he heard your words.

He had feared the worst, but never knew how much meaning your words held.

"You do? You forgive me?" He felt his emotions overwhelm him, and his eyes began to shimmer.

"You still love me?" His voice trembled with emotion.

"I've always…love you Ben Gilman."

Ben's chest swelled, his heart full of emotions.

Upon hearing you say those words, his heart felt lighter, but still, tears welled up in his eyes and threatened to spill.

He stepped forward and hesitantly wrapped his arms around you, wanting to pull you into a tight embrace. You pressed your lips against his, a feeling like no other. He tasted like iron, smelled like soot and blood, and felt like heaven.

Ben wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you against himself, feeling your body against his.

He held you close, feeling your lips press against his.

For a moment the cold seemed to melt away, and the past 29 years seemed to fade into nothing.

The only thing that mattered was Ben having you in his arms again. It felt like the old days.

Of when you were both young.

[cottoncalicoes]

⸻ USED TO HAVE A SWEET TOOTH, BUT YOU ROTTED ME

- Endo Yamato x Fem!Reader • Word Count: 1.1k -

Content warnings: vouyerism, mutual masturbation, teeny tiny bit of degradation, reader is kinda pervy, roommate au, porn w/o plot, italics is flashbacks

Kinktober Day 22: Endo Yamato + Masturbation in collaboration with @ficsforgaza | Full masterlist with other creators works here -> xxx

It’s wrong, the ritual you’d assumed ever since rooming with Endo. When he’d first offered up his spare room, it’d been you who was nervous of the prospect. The idea of a man like Endo having access to personal belongings made your stomach twist. But, after much convincing (and lack of other options), you’d moved in within a week.

—

“Come on,” your friend says, “living with him couldn’t be that bad. Plus he’s easy on the eyes, and you know he’s loyal. You won’t have to pull his weight.”

You groan, letting your head fall to the table with a thump, “I hate when you’re right.”

“Look,” she sighs, taking a sip of her coffee, “just give it a week or two. If you’re really that miserable then you can crash on my couch until you find a better place, okay?”

You huff at her words, curse her and her logical thinking. You allow yourself to sulk a few minutes longer before you finally concede.

“Fine,” you say with a roll of your eyes, “i hate you.”

She laughs out loud, flicking your forehead lightly, “I love you too. Now stop being such a pussy and call him.”

—

You’d expected him to creep on you, him to steal dirty laundry and bring girls home every other night. You’re not sure when it started, your infatuation with him— with his routine.

—

Loud moans echo through the thin walls between your rooms, cries of your roommates name falling freely from the lips of his latest conquest. That had been when it started, your yearning.

“Come on,” he groans, “touch yourself for me.”

Your eyes had widened at his words, breath stuttering as he continues to spit lewd words at the girl.

“Rub your clit, baby,” he snarls, “cum on my cock.”

It’s embarrassing really, how wet you find yourself. Maybe it was because you hadn’t been laid in a while, maybe you’re ovulating, maybe you’re done denying just how much you’re attracted to the man who lives with you.

—

The front door slams shut, interrupting your thoughts. Muttered curses can be heard through thin walls, and your thighs clench in anticipation of what comes next. You can hear him shuffle around his room, angrily tossing things around before he settles on his bed. You do the same, the thin wall being the only thing that separates your backs from being pressed together.

There’s a jingling of his belt, and you nearly whimper in anticipation for what comes next.

You can hear everything this way, pressed against the wall. The lewd sound of him spitting on his cock, the low moan he lets out when he strokes his over himself.

You do your best to muffle your own noise, a shirt you’d stolen from him stuffed into your mouth to hide your own sounds.

“Fuck,” he groans, the schlick schlick shclick sound of him stroking his cock growing faster.

You quickly push past the hem of your shorts, fingers moving to fuck yourself in time with him.

“Sweet thing,” he groans.

You pause, heart hammering rapidly in your chest at the familiar pet name.

“C’mon sweet thing,” he moans, “won’t you let me hear you too?”

You pull your hand rapidly from your shorts, crawling back from where you’d previously been pressed against the wall. Surely he wasn’t talking to you, you’d been so careful, so quiet.

“Such a little freak,” you hear him laugh, “you like listening to me get off? You’re not as quiet as you think, you know?”

Your stomach turns and you clench your fists, anxiety clawing up your chest.

“It’s okay,” he moans, “touch yourself for me. Need to hear how worked up you are for me.”

You stay still, fear still settled deep in your belly as you ponder your next move.

“Touch yourself or I’ll come to your room and make you.”

You whimper at his words, the imagery of him stalking to your room and watching you touch yourself has heat simmering deep.

“There you are,” he says with a laugh, “c’mon sweetheart. Make yourself cum for me.”

You find yourself pressed back against the wall, hands making quick work of your pants before you relieve yourself of the building pressure.

“Fuck,” he groans, “can hear how wet you are. Is it all for me?”

You moan out loud, fingers stuffing themselves inside of you as deep as you can.

“Answer me.”

“Yes,” you whine, free hand moving to grasp at your chest, “it’s all for you.”

Endo groans, head thumping against the wall as he strokes himself faster. You match your fingers with his strokes, clawing around the bed desperately before you find his shirt and press it against your face. His lingering scent has your eyes rolling back, your moans freely falling from your lips as your high approaches.

“Cum for me,” he gasps, “cum for me and I’ll come fuck you like you need.”

You picture the way he throws his head back, the furrow in his brow as his high approaches. His name falls from your lips again, and again, and again, your own high close to washing over you.

“Please,” you whine, “make me cum.”

Endo groans loudly, hips frantically bucking to meet his strokes.

“Yeah?” he goads, “Want me to come over there and stuff that pretty pussy full? Think you’ll be able to take it?”

“Yes,” you whine.

“Don’t stop,” he growls, voice growing quieter, “don’t fucking stop.”

The sound of his door opening is muffled by your whines, and you nearly screech when your own goes flowing open.

Endo marches over to your bed, pulling you to the end of it as he stands over you.

“I said don’t stop,” he says, hand holding you spread open for him. His own hand pulls his boxers down, stroking his cock as he looks down at you.

“Need to see you when you cum for me.”

Your hand swiftly returns to your clit, fingers circling before you press your fingers into yourself. Endo moans at the sight, weeping cock twitching at the sound of your pussy.

“God you’re so fucking wet,” he moans, “you usually get like this? Or is it all for me, sweet thing.”

“You! Just for you,” you cry, your high quickly returning at the sight of him, “gonna cum. Please.”

Endo’s eyes roll back, hand squeezing tightly at the head of his cock, “Cum for me.”

You callout his name as you cum, hips bucking up as your high washes over you. You whimper as you watch him fall apart with you, the heat of his cum landing on your stomach aiding you through the after shocks.

It’s quiet besides the sound of both of your heavy breathing, the both of you easing down from your high.

A kiss is pressed to your thigh, and you attempt to snap your legs closed at the feeling.

“W-what… what are you doing?”

Endo smirks up at you, his tongue lapping at his own release, “Cleaning my mess of course.”

[james-elroy]

"I panicked, PJ. I didn't..in that moment I didn't know what else to do. I felt like it was my only choice." His voice pleading with her, hoping she would understand that when he enlisted, it felt like the only choice he had. That it would give him what he needed to support himself, to get out of town for a few years. Had he known that it would wreck things between him and his sister, that he would have been injured so badly- there's no way James would have went through with it. Merely giving a nod of his head as she said what was done was done. They couldn't change what had happened, he couldn't change the fact that he had joined the army.

Seeing her upset made his stomach twist once more. All he wanted to do was pull her in for a hug but part of him was afraid she would shove him away and well, James wasn't for sure if he could handle that if she did. At the mention of their mom again, James gave a shake of his head. "She tried to get me to move back in with her. Said there was no way I could live on my own with all of this-" Waving a hand towards his head. "I refused. I couldn't go back there." James muttered, running a nervous hand through his curls. "I've been trying to live on my own for the last three months-" It hadn't been the easiest thing, especially when there was so much he forgot. But with the help of his friends, he was managing the smallest bit. "I haven't talk to her since I left the hospital." James added a moment later. And with PJ not talking to him, well, that left James with no family. Maybe part of the reason why he had shown up at her place today.

For a second longer, James just simply stood there. Arms hanging back at his sides, eyes still on PJ. And before he could back out of it, he closed the small space between them, giving her the quickest of hugs even though he wanted nothing more than for the hug to last. But he knew he was pushing luck, that PJ didn't want him in her life. "I'm sorry- I know, I know I can never make up for it. And I don't..." He paused, face scrunching as he searched for the words he was looking for. "Don't expect you to forgive me. I get it, I do. I just.. I just needed to see you a least once PJ. But I can, I can go now if you want me to."

PJ was shaking her head at his words, making her feel powerless and frustrated. "You wouldn't have disappointed me. I would have supported you no matter what. Except you did the one thing... I couldn't bare." She wasn't facing him as tears streamed down her face, wrapping her arms around her own body, bottom lip wobbling. "But that's all water under the bridge now and it doesn't matter anyway. What's done is done."

Turning to face him once again, she scoffed when she heard what their mom told him, arms on her waist as she looked up at the ceiling. "Of course she did, she probably played the victim too. And the hero at the same time. Did she take you back now that you weren't flunking out of school? Bet she's all over you, playing the good mom." Her relationship with her mom was never good but it got progressively worst as she grew up. James accident and their fight at the hospital was the last straw between them. As far as she was concerned, she didn't have a mother anymore.

James telling her that he loved her didn't make anything any easier for PJ, it hurt even more. Because if he didn't care about her then well at least she could not care about him right back but she raised him and she knew that what he was saying was true which simply broke her heart even more.

[hungrykuroneko]

Crawling out of my hole to bring... OFF fanarts?? In 2024?? The fuck

[triglycercule]

HELP I DONT KNOW WHAT IM DOING HELP!!! HELP!!!!! its not don yet,,,,,, eoaugh. shoutout to like the 20 coloring/rendering tips and tutorial videos i watched you all did NOTHING to help. GOD. how hard is is to get a tutorial and help for something that actually ISNT naturally intuitive to me???

waaa waaa lineart hard 🥺🥺 waaa waaa sketching hard!!! ok man how about you struggle with figuring out basic color palettes (color is my absolute worst element of art ive yet to even improve on. this backfired on me i shouldve done more coloring pages when i was younger)

[front-facing-pokemon]

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

have you ever thought about yandere geto more specifically yandere CULT geto. cus i do. quite often.

HI ANON hmmm hm hm………… okay so honestly. i’m not super into yanderes at all so i don’t know if i’ll have much to contribute with when it comes to this kinda thing :’3 bUT i do love cult leader!geto to the moon and back + i’ve been thinking of him incessantly lately + i think he’s only a couple steps away from being a yan lol.

geto’s whole Thing is his contrast; he can kill a man swiftly, cruelly, only to go meet his beloved family right after with a genuine smile on his face. (we see that almost instantly in jjk 0!!) he really does have that cruel / soft contrast that i assume a bunch of yan content is built on…. he would treasure his beloved soooo dearly and i absolutely don’t think he’d shy away from killing any non-sorcerers that were giving them trouble… but again!! this isn’t even yan!geto, this is literally just Geto. that’s just how he is in canon 😭😭 he’s willing to go to any lenghts to protect his loved ones, and his own morals are aligned towards his view of non-sorcerers as non-human. he doesn’t see them as human, so why would he feel guilty for killing them?

but ok so to kinda go back to the idea of yan!geto… i think the biggest difference between him and yan!gojo (imo!!) is that gojo is willing to look past his morals to keep you safe, knowing that it’s Wrong but choosing not to care, while geto doesn’t let go of his morals — instead, he twists them until they align with what he’s doing. if that makes sense. to him, doing what he does for you is morally just. so he doesn’t feel shame or guilt for it.

aaaaand this is also why i don’t really feel Equipped to talk abt him….. because yan!geto would probably be a lot Worse than yan!gojo …….. and i’m embarrassingly sensitive to dark content :’3 i can see the appeal and the yan undertones are absolutely There but i think i see cult leader!geto in a very moe light PHJEHSJD he’s… my meowmeow. he can do no wrong. he hasn’t had a single evil thought in his Life <33

SOO to change the subject rq!!!!! kind of!!!! (i’m sorry anon i’ve just been thinking abt more fluffy scenarios w him lately and i need an outlet </3) i genuinely think cult leader geto!would be such a great lover :(( it’s easy to see him as a yan (AND THERE’S ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WRONG W THAT TO BE CLEAR) but i just . genuinely think he would be sooo gentle and loving and silly? protective and possessive and imposing, sure, but he would honestly rather die than hurt you in any way. i don’t think his soul could take it.

like. it’s just so telling that geto canonically lets his family believe what they want, and do what they want; he doesn’t force them to see non-sorcerers the same way he does, he doesn’t keep nanako & mimiko from exploring the world and interacting w non-sorcerers, and so on!! his own beliefs are steadfast, but he doesn’t use them as an excuse to confine the people he cares for. he trusts them and loves them and even though i’m sure he’s paranoid he lets them run free.

so!! i think he would be very patient and accepting no matter what his s/o believed or did. i can see him being a bit a Lot of a helicopter parent but it’s never malicious, it’s just for safety purposes!! he just couldn’t bear to have anything happen to you </3 cult leader!geto is cynical and cautious and he isn’t taking any chances when it comes to your safety. but!! he’s still so silly and doting and i think he’s just so sweet…. 🥺🥺 i’m writing the outline for a fic rn where his s/o works at a regular preschool and he hates interacting with your coworkers in any capacity but he still does it to make u happy … yk??? like how he went with his girls to eat crepes in jjk 0. he just wants to give and give. our acts of service king <333

overall i see cult leader!geto as someone who hides his inherent softness behind a dark exterior, and while he’s far more willing to be cruel than hs suguru was, he never really changed at his core!! he’s just overflowing with softness and care. we see this so clearly in the scene where he’s alone with nanamimi, his girls, and everything is soft and quiet and geto is completely unguarded. and he’s so, so soft. his softness doesn’t even have a twisted hint to it, he just loves you. and he wants the best for you. i think the horror would only come from seeing how quickly he goes from cooing into your ear to disposing of a non-sorcerer with a freezing look in his eyes; the whiplash is scary. but if it scared his s/o i think he’d be hell-bent on not letting you see him like that unless absolutely necessary.

it’s difficult because so much of his character in this stage of his life has to do with cruelty, but all he truly wants at his core is to create a world where his loved ones will be happy :(( where he can protect them properly. idk i just can’t really see cult leader!geto as toxic at the end of the day….. he’s a puppydog to me. a foxcoded, silly little guy. despite his cult leader / genocide loving tendencies i think he would be a very soft, selfless lover <333 overwhelmingly devoted. the weight of his devotion could honestly be frightening and i feel like he could be sweet in a kind of twisted way (something like this) but at the end of the day he’s very particular about only showing you his soft side.

THOSE ARE MY SPONTANEOUS THOUGHTS i’m sorry they weren’t too focused on yan!geto anon :’3 but i hope u got some enjoyment out of them anyway!!! if u have any thoughts of ur own then i’d absolutely love to hear em <33

[nostalgia-tblr]

loki/william rufus fic, where bill explains that as the second son he has inherited england while big brother bob only got the duchy of normandy, ha ha ha.

[spamtoon]

(Out of nowhere, you are approached by a familiar lightbulb-headed Cog.)

Ah, it's you, cat. Thinking you're oh-so-slick. Muttering and whispering under those raggedy whiskers of yours... Thinking I am unable to hear it all...

Well, you've simply underestimated my fantastic hearing. You probably want to know the reason why I'm here, taking a 'break' from my incredibly important scientific breakthroughs? It's quite simple, really!

(She gets close, and squints her eyes.)

I know what you are.

Farewell, now!

(She then leaves the way she came from.)

(Spam giggles immensely, covering her face... it always seems like she's giggling, isn't she? This lasts... at least thirty seconds. Longer than usual.)

And I know what I am too, Sparky! You broke through something, that's for sure. Really, broke through...

(She looks down, continuing to laugh nervously.)

You know, I find it odd you Havent tried to bulb blast me into the stratosphere by now. I mean knowing how you acted with Frostbite. Is there something peculiar about me that you perhaps can't quite track? Something about me that you... don't know what I am?

I know, I know, I'm talking to nobody again. But you were there when I had a moment today with the one the only Frostbite The Bravecog. You may be remaining. Lurking in the shadows. Knowing about these thoughts that I'm thinking.

(The giggling resumes, lasting far shorter this time.)

Your brother's a piece of fucking barp, by the way

(She braces for impact for a few seconds, wincing while smiling, before comically looking around to realize nobody's there. She sighs.)

Wow, okay maybe toony superhero show logic doesn't apply in this situation. Cool.

WAIT I JUST FUCKING REALIZED WHAT SHE MEANT but like. Dude if she meant that then what's the point I mean the whole ahh sellbot department barping knows unless you're Really low on the ladder. Heheh... maybe she did mean what I thought she meant.

Oh i'm so fucking screwed. What kind of bitch gets filament fever

[nexus-nebulae]

fell off my bed while trying to crack my back BUT i think i cracked it while i was falling so i win

[duckduckngoose]

Hhhhhhh brainrot hitting so hard. I low-key wanna revive all my Taz grad wipes again from the dead

[kendev]

first post..