#I’m so much better at analyzing and figuring out what my family is feeling and why than I am myself

[irb-pascalito-99]

Worship You

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 5.7 k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Summary: After she experiences a death in the family, Joel tries to give his girl some space to grieve. When she tells him all she wants is him, he makes sure to show her how much he cares about her.

Warnings: grief, mentions of death, mentions of driving under the influence, smut, unprotected p in v, creampie

A/N: This is an excerpt from chapter fourteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing please visit a03.

By the time we finally get to Joel’s house, the sun is beginning to rise. The girls are asleep upstairs when we get in, but Tommy and Maria wait in the living room for us.

When I enter the room Tommy stands up, walks across the room, and gives me a hug. I stand with my arms at my side as he holds me for a minute.

“I’m so sorry,” Tommy says as he squeezes me. I blink a couple times, my tired eyes hurting from fighting the sleep that I need.

When Tommy pulls away he holds my shoulders and analyzes me for a moment. I can feel all the eyes in the room on me, waiting for some sort of reaction. I take a step away from Tommy so he will let go of me.

“Anyone hungry?” I ask. I walk past Maria and Tommy into the kitchen, looking at the contents of Joel’s fridge for something to cook. “I could really use some dinner, but I guess at this point maybe breakfast is the better call…”

The others follow after me as I pull the eggs out of the fridge and grab some bread, cinnamon, and sugar out of the pantry. Joel says my name softly to get my attention while I search the cabinets for some bowls.

“French toast sounds good to me, anyone else want some?” I glance over at the others. Tommy looks confused while Maria and Joel share a similar look of concern. “No?”

Joel says my name again. I pull my attention away from him, grabbing an egg and cracking it into one of the bowls I pulled out. I feel Joel walk up behind me. He grabs the second egg out of my hand before I can add it to the bowl with the other. He holds my hand still as he says my name again.

“You need to sleep,” he says softly.

“But I’m making french toast,” I say. I keep my eyes on the counter.

“I’ll make you french toast when you wake up,” Joel responds.

“It’s already tomorrow though,” I retort. “I have work, Ellie has school. There’s no time to sleep.”

“Work and school can wait for another day. They’ll understand.” I let Joel pull me away from the kitchen, but he doesn’t get farther than the living room. Maria and Tommy stand back and watch our conversation.

“I don’t have anywhere to sleep,” I say, continuing to argue.

I can feel how heavy my eyes are, but I’m not ready to sleep. Sleep cements everything that just happened into reality. I have too much to do, and I don’t want to think of what dreams may bring me.

“You can sleep in my room, I’ll stay on the couch until you guys are ready to go home.” I shake my head. I can’t take Joel’s room from him, even though I know he won’t let me refuse.

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I’ll give you some of my clothes to sleep in, and we can stop by your house when you wake up for new clothes.” I try to wrack my brain for other excuses.

“There’s too much else to do. I have to get my car from the school. I have to tell Bill and Frank. I have to call Ellie’s school. I have to call the funeral home. I have to write the obituary.” I count each item on my fingers, staring at the floor as I think of more items to add. Joel places a finger under my chin and tilts my head up to look at him.

“Sleep first, we’ll figure out the rest later.” He says with a look in his eyes telling me there’s no room for argument. I sigh and let him direct me toward the stairs. He keeps his hand pressed lightly between my shoulder blades as he walks behind me up the stairs.

I can barely hear the muttered voices of Maria and Tommy downstairs as Joel drags me away. When we get to his room he walks me inside and lets go of me as he closes the door. He turns away to start rifling through his drawers for something I can wear to sleep in.

I hadn’t thought about the fact that I didn’t have clothes at his house before. We may be together in some sense, but every time I’ve spent the night before we slept with our naked bodies tangled in the sheets. It feels more intimate to be wearing his clothes to bed.

I start to take my clothes off while his back is still turned to me, figuring it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. He immediately averts his eyes when he turns around to see me standing in only my underwear. I feel a rush of rejection at the movement. He’s never looked away before. Joel clears his throat and holds the shirt and sweatpants out to me.

“Here you go, might be a little bit but it should do.” He keeps his eyes on the floor, even when I take the clothes from his hand.

He doesn’t look in my direction until I’ve pulled both the shirt and sweatpants over my body. It feels absurd that only 24 hours ago I had my mouth wrapped around his cock while he slept and now he can’t even look at me while I change. I can’t tell if it hurts more or if I’m angry that he's treating me like I'm delicate.

“I’ll be downstairs,” Joel says motioning his head to the door. “You get some sleep.”

He walks to the doorway while I stand in the middle of the room watching him. What just happened?

“Joel,” I call after him when he opens the door to leave. He turns his head in my direction. “Thanks for the clothes.”

“You’re welcome,” he says and leaves the room.

—

We spent the first full day after my father’s death at Joel’s house. Despite my attempts to keep things normal, my friends are constantly watching me as though I’m seconds away from falling apart. I know it stems from a place of concern, but it only sets me more on edge. My every move is being observed and analyzed. Everyone is walking around me like they’re walking on eggshells. I don’t know how to convince them I’m fine without them thinking I’m in denial.

Ellie still doesn’t want to go home yet, so Joel offered to let us stay at his house at least until after the funeral. Maria comes by in the mornings and doesn’t leave until after we all go to bed. Joel sleeps on the couch. I haven’t been alone with him since he handed me his clothes to sleep in the morning we came back from the hospital.

When Joel offered to let me sleep in his room, I thought he would make his way into the bed after the others had fallen asleep. After the awkwardness of when he handed me his clothes, I thought maybe he just wanted to give me some space to actually sleep for a bit, or maybe he was concerned about others perceiving the relationship we’ve attempted to keep quiet. I held out hope that maybe come night time when everyone left I’d feel the warmth of his body next to mine again. I stayed awake for hours that night, just in case, but he never came. It’s been a couple days since then, and still nothing.

Today I have to do a couple of errands to ensure things are ready for the funeral tomorrow, the first of which is picking up clothes from the house. Maria stopped by the house a couple of days ago to pick up clothes for Ellie and I to where while we stay at Joel’s, but I haven’t been back since I left with Joel to pick up Ellie and Sarah from their trip.

Maria parks the car in the driveway alongside mine and, upon my insistence, waits outside for me while I go in. On top of the lingering stares, and the constant pressure of being surrounded by people, between Maria and Joel I have not been allowed to drive at all in the last several days. They went so far as to pick up my car from the school parking lot while I was asleep that first morning. They brought it back here after and hid the keys.

When I go inside the house it seems exactly the same as it always does. Mine and Ellie’s things are strewn about the various rooms. I’ll have to make sure to come back and clean before we have the wake here tomorrow. Sunlight streams through the open blinds, sending beams of light across the hardwood floors. I feel like I’m disturbing things in a way, like our home has been preserved in a world before the news and my presence forces the grief upon the space.

I move slowly up the stairs, taking in the tranquility of my surroundings. I don’t have to watch myself here, I can just be. I go to Ellie’s room first, delicately opening the drawers to her dresser. I thumb through various shirts until I find the black sweater she wore to our mother’s funeral.

I run my fingers over the soft cotton of the yarn. I remember her tears that day, the way she refused to look at me for weeks after the accident. I remember asap the fights we had in the months I first moved back. She used to scream at me and remind me that I’m not her mother.

We’ve made so much progress since then. It’s been hard to get the relationship to where it is now, but I can’t help but wonder if we’re headed back to that kind of relationship with the passing of our dad. She’s been so quiet since his passing, it’s hard to read where she’s at. I do my best to push the thought out of my head as I grab the black slacks that finish her outfit and move on to grab mine.

I keep my funeral dress in the back of my closet. A simple black piece with short sleeves, it used to be a dress I would wear regularly. I can’t stand to look at it now, the memory of my mother’s loss dripping off of its fabric. I made sure to save it for the next one though. I grab a small bag from my closet and throw Ellie’s clothes, along with my dress and a pair of opaque tights and black heels, inside.

I glance at my bed from the doorway before I leave. Joel took the time to make it before we went to pick up the girls that afternoon. I stood back and watched him after he declared I wasn’t doing it right. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration as he tucked the corners in neatly. I close my eyes and sigh as I move on.

The last of my father’s things are hidden in the far corner of the closet in the art studio. We kept his nicest suit in a garment bag there, anticipating the need for exactly this, the outfit he will wear to his own funeral. Because the room was originally the master bedroom, the closet is large and I’ve put a lot of things inside to store. Which means I have to walk past stacks of art, both mine and my mother’s, to get to the bag I’m looking for.

The large canvas Joel and I painted last weekend rests by the door among my stack of Joel paintings. My eyes linger on its bright colors as I pass. It feels silly to be so insecure after only days of little romantic interaction with him. It’s not like he’s gone, or even like he’s ignoring me. I see him everyday. I talk to him every day. He shows me he cares every day. However, I can’t help but play the moment with the clothes over in my mind again. I remind myself of his absence in the bed each night. I know there’s a possibility he’s just trying to maintain our secret, but I can’t help wondering if he sees me as weak now. What if that spark is gone?

I tear my eyes away from the painting and grab what I need. Then I turn out the lights and head back down the stairs. When I walk outside with the two bags in my hands. Maria rushes to my side to grab one of the bags when I pause to lock the door again. I ignore the way my stomach clenches in frustration. She just wants to help, but I can’t help feeling like everyone is treating me as though I’m fragile.

We put the bags in the back seat of her car. I don’t look at her as I get in the passenger seat, eyes peering at my car in the driveway next to hers. A lump forms in my throat as I continue to fight against my anger. They won’t even let me drive my own car.

“You good?” Maria asks as she gets in beside me. Her eyes scan my face while I adjust my seat belt.

“Yeah, let’s go.” I reply, keeping my eyes on the front windshield. Maria looks over me once more before putting on her own seatbelt and pulling out of the driveway.

Despite my arguments against it, Maria does go into the funeral home with me. She follows me awkwardly through the building, observing my every movement. She stays quiet, but always just a step behind, while the funeral director asks me questions and we pick out options for the service.

I wasn’t very present with the planning for my mother’s funeral. Bill and Frank took over most of that for me, claiming I needed to focus my energy on Ellie. It was a reprieve I gladly accepted then, but one I refuse now. It’s nice to have something to do, to have a distraction amidst it all.

A good number of things had already been decided beforehand since his health had been declining for so long. The last steps are really just finalizing the details. Who will be performing the service? Where? Which coffin did we want to use? What will he wear for the viewing? Working out the details has given me a chance for some normalcy in my life while everyone attempts to get me to step back. Even now, when we drop off the clothes my father is to wear at the viewing tomorrow. I’m acutely aware of Maria’s wandering stare beside me.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks, her hands toying with the edges of the garment bag I’ve placed on the counter. I drum my fingers across the counter while we wait for the funeral director to come get the clothes so we can be on our way.

It’s just the two of us in the empty showroom up front. The funeral director went to the backroom for a moment to put the file of our selections away. She offered to bring me back there as well, to give me a chance to view the body before tomorrow. I declined. I don’t want to see him, not now and not at the viewing tomorrow. I just want this to be over. My refusal just seemed to set Maria more on edge.

“I’m fine,” I respond. I keep my attention on the door to the back room.

“It’s okay if you’re not…” Maria pushes. My fingers tighten on the edge of the counter. I take a deep breath and try to keep the bitterness out of my voice when I speak again.

“I said I’m fine okay?” There’s some movement through the window in the door to the bathroom as the funeral director makes her way back to us. “I know he died, but he’s been gone for a while. This doesn’t change anything. If anything, it’s for the best actually.”

Maria and I both go silent when the director comes back out to collect the rest of our items. Maria’s eyes don’t leave the back of my head as the director and I discuss the last few details before the funeral tomorrow. I try to ignore the way her eyes burn into me as I talk.

I walk quickly when we leave, Maria trailing behind me with the car keys in her hand. I wait at the passenger door of her locked car in the parking lot while she catches up with me.

“What do you mean it’s for the best?” Maria asks when she gets to the car. She doesn’t unlock the doors. I sigh and stare up at the sky.

“Maria…” I huff, but she isn’t letting go.

“What do you mean it’s for the best?” She asks again.

I debate on taking off and walking instead. Despite the fact it’s still early February, the weather is extremely nice. There’s a slight chill to the air but with the sun it should be warm enough to walk. That is, if I knew Maria wouldn’t follow me down the road in her car.

“I mean, even if he had by some miracle lived, he would have gone to prison,” I say. Maria and I stare at each other over the hood of the car. She looks concerned, but doesn't judge as I continue. “He decided to drive drunk and he killed two people, now he’s dead. It really is the best possible outcome for him. His little angel will clean up all the pieces for him. The rest of us just go on living and he never has to face the consequences of his actions.”

The weight of what I’ve said lingers in the air. It sounds callous, said out loud. I’m not even sure if that’s the full extent of what I’m feeling right now, but it’s the simplest version to explain. Mourning him doesn’t feel right, so I won’t. I settle on the anger instead, partially because it’s so overwhelming in the face of everything else, and partially because I don’t want to deal with the rest of my grief.

“He’s still your dad,” Maria says quietly. I bite my lip and look away. I know she’s right, but I can’t think of it that way.

“Maria, just drop it.” I plead quietly. She exhales and unlocks the door. I immediately open it and get inside.

—

Joel already has dinner prepared when we get home from our errands. Everyone sits down to eat together, but we maintain an awkward silence through the whole meal. Maria’s eyes keep glancing over at me as I shovel potatoes in my mouth and keep my eyes on the table. Tommy watches the friction between us from his seat beside Maria. He looks as though he wants to say something, but has no idea how to bring it up.

Ellie sits next to Sarah, quietly playing with her food. She hasn’t eaten much lately, but she takes bites from time to time so there’s something fueling her. Joel and I sit on opposite ends of the table. He watches everyone closely, noting the tension in the air as he cuts a piece of his pork chop.

“Is there anything you need help with for tomorrow?” Joel asks, his eyes on me. I look up at him, his expression soft as he offers his help.

“No,” I reply, trying to keep any emotion out of my voice.

“How was-“ Joel tries to ask but I cut him off.

“It was fine. I’m fine.” It comes out harsher than I meant it to.

I can see Joel and Maria exchange a glance in my periphery, which makes the anger turn in my stomach again. I take another bite of my food and get up to clear my plate. I rinse the dish and leave it in the sink before heading upstairs without speaking to the others.

A couple of hours after we all go our separate ways I hear the quiet sound of the doorknob turning and then a gentle click as it latches behind whoever entered the room. I don’t turn to see who it is. Moments later, the mattress sinks under the weight of another body as someone lays down next to me.

“You asleep?” Joel whispers. His breath fans against my shoulder. I nearly sob at the sound of his voice.

“No,” I whisper back. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest.

I close my eyes as I feel his face bury into my hair. He presses soft kisses to the back of my head. His hands rub gently up and down my arms. I inhale the scent of vanilla and wood I’ve come to associate with Joel’s presence.

“I really am fine you know,” I murmur. He kisses my hair again.

“I know,” he whispers back. I have a feeling he doesn’t fully believe me, or maybe he does but doesn’t expect it to last. Either way I don’t attempt to convince him any further.

I retreat into him, allowing his gentle caresses to pull out the most vulnerable sides of me. It’s exhausting trying to keep up the balancing act, being sad enough that my friends don’t think I’m psychotic while not being so sad that they think I’m drowning in grief. It has felt like I’m putting on a show instead of simply existing ever since my father passed. I’m too tired now, and Joel’s warmth is too comforting to keep up the facade.

“I’ve missed you,” I say into the dark room. Joel’s fingers brush against my arm again.

“I’ve been here,” he says. I shake my head.

“Not like this.” I murmur. Joel’s hand moves up my arm to pull the hair out of my face. He kisses the skin under my ear.

I turn my body around in the bed to face him. His hair falls in messy curls around his face. He’s wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. He maintains a soft expression on his face, but I notice a hesitancy in him. I softly press my lips against the patch in his beard.

“I don’t want to push you.” Joel murmurs as I move my lips to his. I kiss him softly, our noses brushing against each other. “I don’t want it to be like how it was when Ellie was in the hospital. That wasn’t fair to you.”

I don’t understand what he means by ‘it wasn’t fair to me’. I wanted to be with him at that time just as much as he wanted to be with me. I didn’t feel like he pushed me to do anything, why would he?

“I know you have a lot on your mind right now,” Joel continues. “I don’t want you to think I expect anything. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to. That’s not what this is for me.”

“I want you,” I mumble against his lips. I kiss him again. My lips are firmer against his this time as I swipe my tongue against his bottom lip. “Please, I want you. I’m not weak or broken. I can drive my own car and make my own decisions. I want you.”

I try to be patient, to let him lead, but I wrap my hand around the thick muscles of his arm anyway. Going from an entire weekend of constant intimacy with Joel to nearly a week without touching him has made me hungry for his attention. His hands spread across my back, holding me delicately as he allows me to take what I need.

“You have me,” He responds while resting his forehead against mine.

“I want more of you. I need more.” I’m feeling desperate now. It’s not enough to be beside Joel, to feel his body wrapped around mine. One of his hands leaves my back and travels down to my bare thigh.

I’m only wearing panties and the oversized t-shirt he let me borrow to sleep in on the first night here. When he looks down at my clothing it’s as though he just now realized I’m wearing it. He grips my thigh harder, eyes darkening with lust when he pulls me in for another kiss.

His tongue slides into my mouth as I pull at the fabric of the shirt he is wearing, fighting to get him closer despite his entire body being pressed tightly against mine. He breaks the kiss only to allow me the space to pull the shirt over his head and then begin to kiss my neck softly.

Joel takes his time with all of it, his fingers delicately sliding under my shirt to glide against my bare skin. I twitch when his thumbs brush my nipples.

“Joel,” I whine. I push my hips against him, his hardening length making contact with my core.

He growls at the feeling, his hands squeezing me harder. He climbs on top of me, finally pulling my panties down my legs. I whine and attempt to grind against him but Joel presses my hips back down to the bed.

“Patience baby, let me do this for you.” I lose myself in his eyes, his hand slowly snaking between my thighs.

There’s something different about the way he touches me tonight. Each brush of his hand is deliberate. Just the slightest movement sends sparks across my skin. He doesn’t break eye contact with me as he runs his finger through my folds. I push my head back a little, my lips parting though I’m careful to keep my eyes on his.

There’s a deeper connection between us this time around. His eyes communicate with mine wordlessly as he begins to rub circles against my bundle of nerves. He puts all his energy into showing me the words that fail him. It makes me squirm, not just from the pleasure he’s providing me but from the emotions involved in all of it. It’s too much to handle, too much to feel right now.

I move my hand down and pull him out of his underwear, hoping to pull some of his attention off of me. He hisses through his teeth when I grip his cock. I twist my wrist as I move my hand slowly up and down his shaft. His hips chase my hand despite the way his hand grips my wrist to get me to stop.

“Enough,” he growls, squeezing my wrist as I pump him again.

“Then fuck me already,” I whisper back. He pulls my hand off of him and pushes his boxers the rest of the way down.

I spread my legs further apart so he can nestle in between them. He rests against me, rubbing his swollen head through my folds as it leaks pre-come. I whine as he runs his length over where I need him most, but doesn’t push inside.

“Joel,” I plead. I push my hips up, the tip of him breaching my hole. He shivers as I pull him in, not moving from where he rests against me.

“Okay, okay sweetheart.” He keeps one hand on his cock as the other grabs my leg and hitches it around his waist. I have to bite my lip to keep from calling out as he pushes inside. My eyes flutter shut, but his fingers squeeze my leg and he pauses his movement. “Oh no you don’t. Keep your eyes on me darlin’.”

I force my eyes open again to make contact with his. He continues in one long, slow, motion until his hips are flush with mine. I expect him to immediately drive into me with the intense passion he normally does, but when I’m completely full of him he freezes again.

He drops his head to my shoulder and I huff in frustration as I wait for him to move. I can feel every ridge and vein of him as I pulse around his length, my wetness dripping around him. The house is silent aside from our hushed breaths. I’m desperate for some sort of motion, but he does not grant it to me.

I start to move instead, pressing my hips up and down the best I can while stuck between his body and the mattress. I go fast, settling for short bursts as I desperately try to get enough friction to build the pressure in my core again.

Joel pulls back slightly to give me more room, but it’s not enough. None of it is enough. He watches me through hooded eyes while I desperately attempt to set a good pace.

“Baby,” Joel murmurs. I feel something vaguely simmering inside me, but it’s nothing like what Joel normally provides. He mutters my name and grabs my hips, pressing them back to the mattress. I throw my head back on the pillow as he stills my movements. “Not like this, not tonight.”

He pulls out of me and kneels back on the bed, looking over my form carefully. I adjust my body on the bed, self conscious from his observing eyes.

“As much as I love this on you,” Joel says, tugging at the shirt that covers me. “I need to see all of you.”

He pulls his shirt over my head and throws it on the floor. I am bare to him now, his eyes roving over me not in lust but in worship. He looks over my body but stares into my soul. His hands skim my form delicately before he positions himself over me again and presses a delicate kiss to my lips.

I watch closely as his lips trail down my entire body. He kisses softly at my skin as though he’s trying to memorize how my skin feels pressed against his lips. He kisses down my neck, over my shoulders, across my chest. My stomach tenses as he kisses further down my body. I jolt when he lightly presses against my core, not in a sexual way like he has before but gentle and loving. He moves to my thighs next and down my legs, then back up again until he reaches my hips once more.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers to me and lines himself back up with my center. I pull my arms around his neck, my eyes staring into his as I await his next move.

He cages me in with his body, wrapping my legs around his waist while his arms rest on either side of my head, holding his upper body above me. He pushes back inside me with a languid thrust and sets his pace.

I moan against him, finally getting the reprieve I need. His hands grip the sheets by my head while he watches my face contort in pleasure. I pull lightly at the ends of his hair, my toes curling as I gasp. I start to lose myself in the feeling of him, allowing the warmth of his body to float me away to some other place.

His body melts into mine. I’m no longer aware of where he ends and I begin. He doesn’t retreat fully, not wanting to leave my body long enough to do so. He thrusts slow and deep, each one knocking the breath out of me. We share the air between us, our breaths mingling in soft pants as he cages me in. The world fades away until all I feel is him. All I see is him. All I know is him.

Sex with Joel has always been great, but this is on another level. The word sex can’t even encapsulate what is happening right now between us. This time it’s not about finding release, or the pleasure that builds in my stomach. This time it’s about the way I can feel the sweat on his skin and each pulse of his member inside me. It doesn’t take long for him to bring me back to the precipice of my orgasm.

I feel tears well in my eyes as I clench around him. It’s everything I needed and too much at the same time. I thought this would provide me a distraction from my grief. Instead Joel holds me like he’s trying to prove how much he truly sees me, trying to prove he’s here to help me hold the burden.

I’ve never felt this vulnerable. It scares me that he doesn’t look away. If anything he seems to hold me closer. The hand that rests by my head moves closer to my face, his thumb brushing the tear on my cheek away. He moves his thumb out of the way to press a kiss to my tear stained cheek.

“I’m gonna-“ he says hoarsely, his lips ghosting my cheek.

“Me too,” I reply. It feels like my entire being is about to explode, and despite how overwhelming the experience already is I need to know what it feels like to be one with him. I desperately want to feel every last moment of this. I don’t want it to end. “Do it inside, please.”

He looks at me with wide eyes, a silent question of ‘Are you sure?’ passing between us. He knows I’m on the pill, but we’ve always been extra careful. We have enough going on with Ellie and Sarah that we don't need to risk any other surprises. Right now, nothing else matters but having all of him.

I nod my head, giving him a final approval. We keep our eyes on each other as he groans and I feel his warmth begin to release inside me. I let go as well. His body wraps tighter around me as I pulse around him. He pushes deeper while ribbons of his seed spread inside me. We kiss passionately, our lips pressed hard against each other as both of us struggle to stay quiet with the pleasure coursing through our bodies.

Once the shockwaves begin to subside, and Joel’s twitching frame subsides into one of heavy pants, he drops his forehead to mine. He holds me close while he rolls us onto our sides, keeping one of my legs hooked around his waist so he doesn’t slip out. I fall asleep with him still inside me, his body intertwined with mine in every way.

To read more visit a03

[altades]

Vashwood rant

I can't sleep so why not analyze vashwood in the middle of the night

Now, this analysis is mostly of the manga, with maybe small takes from 98 and tristamp

To start let's look at the boys from their respective beginnings

Vash is so cruelly mischaracterized as a child, and it might be a little bit of trismaps fault, even though i do love it, or maybe people are just putting characters into boxes without really thinking about it but Vash is so not soft-shy-nice little baby brother. The whole thing with him being younger is so insane to me, i get why if Nai was born like 10 minutes earlier he would make it his whole personality (very sibling thing to do) but it's just so stupid. No, they have 0 age difference and it doesn't affect their dynamic cuz the are literally twins for the love of god. And, really, when you look at the manga as kids Nai was the emotional one! And he still is!

Nai is plagued by fear and anger and resentment and those emotions are what drive his every decision. Vash, on the other hand, is much more in control of his feelings and doesn't show them as much. That is to say that pre-tesla nai is the one worried about their relationship with humans, about their future, he's the one crying after talking to Conrad (what a sweet child he was) while Vash seemes much less scared.

And when they find out about Tesla Nai is the one who faints - he’s the more reactive one, the emotional one. And that small difference is what sets their paths so differently. Because Vash actually gets a chance to talk to Rem and figure things out.And that talk is so very important because it makes Rem, who already was everything to Vash, even more important. 

Now, I want us all to think about how terrified Vash was after seeing Tesla cuz he probably thought his own mother was going to dissect him and his brother. But then she saves him when he tries to end his own life, proving that no she’s not gonna kill him, because she, as every human, has the capability to learn from her mistakes and make better choices. (too bad Nai didn’t get that lesson lol)

And then we get to the big bad things. (it’s genocide) But the important part from that whole ordeal is Rem’s sacrifice. Because, listen, I love stories where humanity is shown to be capable of change and forgiveness is a virtue and love and pussy and all that but oh man can it be so so unrealistic and a little bit insane to watch (su im looking at u (i love su but oh boy that is not how the world works unfortunately)) but Trimax manages to make it work so well. I believe that’s cuz Vash is a very kind and loving man but is also completely out of his mind and has horrendous mommy issues. At least half the reason he doesn’t kill people is because Rem has died to save them, and killing them would make it all be for nothing. If he kills these people or if he lets them die would that mean that Rem died for nothing? Did she sacrifice her life to save these people only for her own son to end their lives? AND you know I’m right cuz he literally says it in the manga but also BECAUSE HE DOES THE SAME FOR WOLFWOOD (also he did kill Nai when he had the chance but we don’t have time to unpack that)

All of that is A LOT and very complicated (i love Vash he’s so well written he’s my perfect little meow meow) now let's talk about Wolfwoooooooooood /twirls hair/

WW is much easier to understand and analyze cuz he is, just a guy,, WW is just a normal person who gets insanely unlucky and gets in THE WORST possible situations (If he ever played DND he would roll straight 1s). That is to say that his story is sort of a way to show how much life in the badlands sucks, but also that there are good things even in the worst places (the orphanage) And WW reacts to situations in the most rational way possible way - he kills to survive. he doesn’t want to but he doesn’t get a say in it. If he could chose he would just live with his family and friend and do whatever. And that, him being so normal in such a violent and bloody world is what makes him suffer all the time. His inner moral compass is screaming at him what a terrible person he is and he promptly ignores it.

That is until that moral compass manifests itself in the form of a tall, blond and handsome stranger that he’s supposed to lead to his death. The stranger who turns out to be the most compassionate and kind man WW’s has ever seen. Who he’s supposed to kill. It’s like finding an oasis in the desert and being forced to burn it to the ground. And WW doesn’t want to do that, and he refuses to believe that the oasis is not a mirage so he tries to get Vash to kill someone, even if it’s WW himself. (It doesn’t work.)

As we all know WW changes his mind because of Vash’s influence. And he dies for it. Because even though Vash’s beliefs are born of human virtues, no man is made to walk his path, for he is not human and any mortal who tries to follow an angel to the skies is doomed to crash. WHAT YOU DON’T EXPECT IS THAT THAT MAN WILL BRING THE ANGEL DOWN WITH HIM

There is this line I wrote for an art i’m planning to make and if you’ve read this far you deserve a lil spoiler - “have you found absolution in bringing an angel to his knees?” and it captures perfectly what i'm thinking. And also Vash spends so much time trying to be closer to people but I think him killing Legato might’ve been the most human thing he’s ever done. Cuz it’s is so beautiful in the way he does it for the memory of the person he loved and yet so ugly in it’s cruelty.

I’ve said this before but most of the time when there is a human/ some immortal powerful creature relationship I don’t think the human is that special but WW HE SO IS. Maybe it’s the way that he’s just as deep in the nuclear bombs with personality business as Vash is, being one of said nuclear bombs, but still remains a normal person with relatively good morals that he can anchor Vash to a sort of normality that he doesn’t get often. Like what other guy would get hunted by all sorts of freaks with you, get in trouble all the time, get shot and etc and etc and then go for a drink with you like it’s a normal wednesday? Wolfwood. Or maybe it's that WW learns of every worst part of Vash, he sees him be on the brink of losing himself, he knows Vash has actually caused the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people and ALMOST did it again after Julai, and still stays with him? He sees Vash become something that is not human at all and still stay? Idk MAYBE IT’S ALL OF THAT but WW is just so important and so down bad but we all know that already so i’m not gonna add to that

Anyways, I got this all out of my system gn

[kyoteugly]

911 8x07 Hotshots

This episode didn’t give me much to work with, so it’s not really a meta post but something in between with my personal opinion. Mostly about Buck.

First of all I want to say that Tim commenting fandom through FlashRob and Hotshots - nice move. Also Bobby storyline - awesome! Love it! So much fun!

BUCK: Too many baking scenes for my taste. 3 time reminder can be a little annoying, but… I thought about it in context to the lightning strike and Brad saying his character is in a coma. Buck knows calling Tommy is wrong, because deep down it’s not Tommy he misses but how comfortable in his own skin he felt and of course the rush of new relationship which allowed him to explore his sexuality. So yes, baking is about Buck not understanding what his next move should be in terms of being bi. The line about which pond to jump into is the quintessence of his dilemma, the core of falling into baking string.  Tommy didn’t teach him anything, didn’t show him queer spaces, didn’t introduce him to people who would make Buck feel more sure/comfortable about his sexuality. Buck didn’t seem to need it, because he felt comfortable with Tommy, and this is what is drawing him back. It can be scary to take that step alone, and while I have no doubt Buck wouldn’t have a problem flirting with guys, I believe he is stuck at the start line, meaning he doesn’t know which guys he can flirt with. It’s not rocket science, but when you’re sitting alone at home, thinking you want some intimacy with a male friend, you suddenly realize you have no idea what to do, where to look, so it’s natural you miss and seek familiarity.  Let’s circle back for a moment. Buck said he doesn’t know which pond to jump into… he didn’t say he doesn’t want to jump at all, or that he’s not ready. And this is why I think his obsessive baking has nothing to do with Tommy and everything to do with his sexuality and understanding himself. He followed an easy path - a guy kissed him (confusing him about his feelings by the way), they got into a relationship and he never analyzed it too deeply what it meant to him. Now he’s left to figure it out by himself. And here is where coma comes into play. Buck is stuck right now, unsure, a little lost. If you want to go further you can say his world has changed and he has to learn the rules anew (like in his dream). The key to waking up from a coma was to realize that being Buck is enough. Well, it’s still true in terms of his sexuality, and I think that calling himself ‘bisexual’ on screen would be a nice end to his struggle and a nice step forward. 

It would be really funny if Buck would figure himself out in the same episode that Brad’s character would wake up from coma. 

Another thing about Buck I want to mention is more sweet and Buddie related.  The scene in the firehouse, how Eddie steals Buck’s phone, playing hot potato with it. Come on, it’s basically a school puppy courting. If Buck had braids Eddie would be pulling them. And Buck even asked the teacher for help, and Bobby actually had to admonish/tap Eddie to give Buck his phone back. It’s a nice way to show that Buck is not alone, and his family, however savage sometimes, are there for him. It’s also a nice way to show goofy Eddie, the one who tries to be joyful (that little hop over the couch, awww), and it’s easy and natural with Buck. This scene also made me think about what Maddie said: “So does this boy-crush on Eddie mean you’re finally ready to move on from Abby?” I’m probably seeing too much into this, but it makes me happy so… who cares!

Now, I see a lot of people upset about Buck and Eddie being stuck, like there is no progress compared to the last episode. But I think it’s not that bad. These things, figuring yourself out, takes time, and I believe Tim is taking every opportunity to tell their individual stories right. It’s better to drop a few short scenes telling the audience “Buck is struggling, Eddie is choosing joy” than put something more significant into the episode with 2 other big plotlines. I know it feels like Buck and Eddie are on two different paths, parallel to each other, but those paths will meet eventually and we won’t be prepared for that. 

We should watch our backs, because something is coming right at us. This is actually the theme of this episode…

Starting with Athena - at that sting operation, when she was told she’ll have a rookie and later when she shares her opinion about him. Gerrard and Bobby have Brad creeping behind them. Eddie get scared by the Chief, and of course his scene with Buck when he gives the phone back (and this one is the closest of them all).

Now… I would ignore it, call it a comic relief if that would happen once or twice (Athena with the rookie, and Bobby with Brad), but seven times? Something’s up… And I have a feeling it's about next episode. Maybe someone's past will catch up to them, or someone will hear something they shouldn't, or not being aware of their surroundings will put them in danger... I don't know, there is something ominous about it. Or you know, I missed something deeper in this episode or this is a message for us, fans, like I said, to watch ourselves because we have no idea what’s coming. Or maybe... someone is watching us...

[yukirayu]

hii! i am absolutely blown by your analysis of Taku and Madarame: To Heal and To Hurt, and it gave me alot more insight into how Taku is a great foil for other characters. i kept thinking about the CG artwork of Taku's painting. it seems like the vacancy of the center square might represent the removal of a webtag or even the eventual disappearance of Towa's past trauma which Taku tried so hard to suppress. do you have any thoughts on the painting as a whole?

Hi, I apologize for replying to this several months later. Sorting through my drafts/WIPs or the things I need to do in general got me rather distracted, to say the least, but I am committed to seeing this through.

Thanks so much of course for reading and liking the metas. I'm always glad to hear that others like it and that I've managed to get the message through.

Now as for my opinion, I will give the disclaimer that said opinion is greatly inspired by what this person said in their breakdown of the paintings, as well as an art I saw that did their own breakdown about what the red square represented.

If anything, I may as well be parroting what they said in the site, albeit with different wording; since as someone who has no experience in art, analyzing paintings isn't exactly what I'd call my strongest suit let alone something I have confidence in.

But true enough, the image does really give off the image of a medical patch that Taku is trying as hard as he can to keep intact by either reapplying or patching over with a new one... even if he can't keep truly contain the "blood" that is the pain and trauma left by Towa's past, or even Taku's own hurts that are both connected to Towa's ordeal and the tragedy that he had contended with alone (his mother and the debt he had accrued as a result of his family situation) even before Towa came along.

It might even represent how Taku has a hard time keeping his own troubles in check and is better (or at least more proactive and willing) at doing the same for others. Because try as he might, the cracks start to show (or bleed, in this case), partly because he's not good at lying or hiding things, and partly because there's only so much he can handle until he finally snaps from it all; hence why he has a darker side that manifests in his route, where the way the plot progresses makes things reach a breaking point for him.

That aside, from purely aesthetic point of view, it is relatively simple looking, especially when you compare it to the other paintings. Like I've said, I'm no artist myself, so I can't really give a good description of what I think of this and that painting without risking coming across as pretentious and such. But at the very least, I find it pleasing to look at because of its simplicity.

One other thing about it that I think is rather understated (as well as incredibly touching) is how it's the only painting that gets featured in the cover for the AfterStory drama CDs. I think that this is becase while it's a very apt visual reflection of Taku's guilt and burdens, which Towa knows very well with how perceptive he is (and it's even the focus of his Interrogations with Taku), it is also a representation of Towa's own longing for Taku the entire time the latter was in prison.

Heck, it even becomes a topic of conversation in the first track, which leads to one of my favorite moments between them:

Towa: You’re not going to ask me who’s the inspiration of those paintings? Taku: …No…  Towa: You’re not interested in knowing?  Taku: That’s not it…! But… Towa: But?  Taku: (slightly insecure) Of course I’m curious. I mean… who were you painting?   (Towa says nothing and simply chuckles at Taku’s cluelessness.) Taku: (flustered and annoyed) Hey…! Towa: (still a hint of laughter in his voice) Oh, sorry. I had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to figure it out, so I just…  Taku: …What do you mean by that? Towa: (moves closer to Taku) All those paintings, who do you think they are of? (leans even closer and answers in an affectionate whisper) Murase… Takuma.

It's really telling that after Towa paints something, he no longer really cares for it and doesn't mind whatever anyone else does to it. But this painting, he treasures it enough to keep it in Taku's apartment (or rather, their home, together).

That, and one other significant detail: when it comes to Towa's modus operandi regarding his painting, he only ever paints each model once, no exceptions. Why? Because he wants to capture the very first time his model's innermost desire is fulfilled; in other words, when their euphoria is at its apex. It's why he won't agree to a second time, since the impact is no longer the same.

However, the narration for Taku's Euphoria ending as well as some other lines from Towa in the drama CD made it apparent that while that painting with the white splotches and the red square is his magnum opus of Taku, there were countless other paintings and sketches that he made of the man.

His way of coping, of waiting for Taku to serve his time, to reflect and come back a changed man, was to reflect his memory and feelings for him on paper and canvas, over and over and over, each one definitely distinct from one another (even if we never get to see those other artworks).

So... there. I hope that I still made sense at the end of this post, and I really hope it was a satisfactory answer for you. Again, I am so sorry for the delayed response, but I really appreciate getting this ask. 🥺

[sapphosscribe]

Writing Advice For Fanfics or Novels

Hello, my dears! As requested by @ilay-snt I thought I’d share my writing process with you all! I’m going to split this post into two sections of general advice and then how I personally construct a story.

Disclaimer: I’m no professional by any means. I’m basing this solely off two creative writing classes I took in college and what I find to be personally helpful so if it doesn’t work for you, that’s totally fine! Everyone writes differently!

General Advice:

1. First and most importantly: You Have to Write for Yourself.

Write the story that you want to read. Not only will it keep you motivated to keep going but it frees you to try whatever you want without being worried how it will be received by others. As long as you’re happy with your work, that’s all that matters. Your audience will find you.

(Hello audience! *waves excitedly*)

2. Write Everday

This one might sound a little daunting, but it doesn’t need to be a lot or necessarily “everyday”. It’s just a way to consistently practice, to help you find your author voice, and create a habit.

Writing everyday could be a poem or a paragraph or a whole chapter! It’s whatever you choose to make it just as long as you get something down. It doesn’t necessarily even need to be good. You can always go back and edit, but if you only write when inspiration strikes, you might never sit down to do it in the first place. Practice finding your way through the words to get at what you want, rather than waiting for the words to come to you.

If you’re REALLY really stuck. Then might I suggest you-.

3. Get Feedback

As a chronic second-guesser, I can’t tell you how helpful it is to have someone read your story and help structure the plot. I’ve had a lot of instances where something I’d been struggling with for days was resolved by getting coffee with a friend and having them look at it with new eyes.

Get yourself a beta reader or just someone who has good taste whose opinion you trust to help you work out problems. Two heads are often better than one!

4. Analyze media you admire

A lot of people like to limit it to reading authors you love and looking at the way they create stories, which is very helpful, but don’t neglect other forms of storytelling like movies and TV shows or even videogames! Think about what you like from your favorite things and why you like them.

As an example, one of my favorite pieces of media is the Mass Effect Trilogy. Mostly because it subverts the narrative of the Lone Hero archetype present in other franchises like Halo and Assassins Creed. The protagonist Shepard relies on their teammates abilities and support throughout the game to complete missions and eventually save the universe. Similarly, I like stories where there’s a cast of interesting and diverse characters surrounding the main protagonist who are essential to the plot.

Go dig through your own favorites and figure out what kind of characters you like, tropes you enjoy, and overarching themes that speak to you. From these, you can draw inspiration for your own stories and figure out what you want to write.

4. Take Breaks and Be Present

Writing doesn’t happen in a vacuum! If you feel like your inspiration is running dry or you’re in the middle of a block, go out and do things you enjoy or, better yet, try new things!

Be fully present in the moment and look at the world around you as if for the first time, talk to people you run into, or draw from your friends/family for inspiration. There’s a whole world of possibility out there just waiting to be written down or reinterpreted. Don’t be afraid to take breaks and have fun! Writing should never become a chore!

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s dig into my own personal process:

My Writing Process

1. Everything Begins with the Outline

When I have an idea for a story, I try to do a rough outline first of the big plot points: the beginning, the middle, and the end, then fill in as much as I can in between.

My chapter outlines are never very well defined up until I reach the point where I sit down to write. It’s only then I begin to flesh out what I want to do. I take everything from the previous chapter and what I know is coming up to shape what needs to happen in the moment. I work better with flexibility so I can wander off the path a little rather than rushing from point A to point B.

2. After the Outline, The Character Sheets

Character sheets are probably the most important part of my writing. I like to give my characters as much agency as possible and allow them to steer the story rather than the story steering them. Unfortunately, the only way to accomplish this is to know them inside and out.

Most of my character sheets start with the basics: what does this character want more than anything, what do they actually need, and what do they fear. From there, I can identify their goals for the story and for each chapter, their personality traits, their likes and dislikes, how they respond to conflict, etc.

When I’m writing, the character sheets are my own personal holy book. If I can’t make them move around the scene anymore, a quick look at that will normally get me back on track.

3. Structuring Each Chapter

Normally, I have a goal in mind (or several) I want to reach. Whether it’s progressing the plot or just one character’s arc, I allow those goals to drive the action, then set the characters loose like rats in a maze.

Often, I try to think “what can go wrong here?” and then how that character would react to the set backs or interact with each other based on that.

In a few cases, the characters just do what they want and then entirely new scenes develop I didn’t plot out beforehand from following after that instinct.

On the whole, I allow the characters A LOT of free will to shape the story while holding up the basic structure for them to work within and I’ve found it really makes the story come to life.

4. The Point of It All

Generally, everyone I’ve met who’s a writer has something to say and the story is the medium for that. The most important thing when I’m writing and I’m buried neck deep in the twists and turns of the plot is to not forget why exactly I’m writing it in the first place. So I have a little manifesto of sorts at the top of my outline, only a couple sentences at most, that strips the entire story down to the one central idea I’m trying to convey or an overarching theme.

For example, if I had to sum up the central idea of House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune (Great book by the way, can’t recommend it enough) it’s that true family accepts you for who you are and can come from unexpected places. Also, it’s essential to stand up to unjust systems in defense of others.

I try to find my own my own theme like this to keep in sight for my story. So I don’t veer too far from the purpose of it.

Anyway, that’s my advice for any other writers who are starting out, hope this was helpful in some way! All of you have a good day! 💖💖

[owmylasagna-blog]

Headcanon: I guess post-BPS, Eddy would be really depressed and in a indetity crisis for at very least two weeks (it's too much of a drastic change to him), Edd would do his best to be a sensitive, empathetic friend and help him out while struggling with his own flaws and his bitchy side (I figure they would stop bickering SO THAT MUCH after BPS, at least for a while). tbh I guess Ed would be too happy making friends with the kids or rebulting a sibling relationship with Sarah to notice for some while (He always had been somewhat oblivious to the others' problems, and I figure him being the most popular, beloved, accepted one post-BPS).

What do you think?

Oh yes let’s talk about it! I could see quite a lot of what you’ve mentioned happening for sure. I’m just gonna go into more detail because I can’t help myself and you asked so…

BPS obviously is meant to be THE groundbreaking moment for Eddy’s character. So let’s get into it.

Eddy is a survivor of abuse. And a fighter. He’s got a little of that Childhood Trauma™️ and it does in fact “build [his] character”. See what I did there? Anyway, the point is that just because Eddy has this major turning point, his trauma isn’t going anywhere overnight.

Rachel Connor, one of the writers of the movie who worked specifically on the scenes with Bro, wrote a post where she described Eddy as the Great Pretender which… BIG OOF! As the show progresses Eddy loses sight of who he is more and more as he digs himself deeper into the Bro hole: emulating him more, wanting to impress him more, lying about him more (or perpetuating lies. Who knows!). The whole Great Pretender act isn’t exactly fulfilling. It’s putting more stress on his actual friendships with his pals. His depression in the 5th season (@book-o-scams has written about this) feels like a result of all this.

So when Eddy’s scam goes so horribly wrong that he and his friends are run out of PC, he almost loses Edd’s friendship, only to get publicly abused by his big bro, Eddy is faced with the reality of the person he could become. And that’s when he knows it has to end. This epiphany should be liberating for him in some ways but also sets off a whole self discovery journey. Of course he’d feel a little lost at the start, trying out lots of different versions of himself, before ultimately embracing his multifaceted self into adulthood. Aren’t we all a little lost in our teen years?

After all he’s been through with his brother, the guy has major trust issues. It's clear that Eddy is anxious to belong and be popular, but attempting to fleece the other kids for quarters at every turn isn’t exactly the best way of making friends (except that it’s a bonding activity with the other Eds). And that feels intentional whether he’s conscious of it or not, that what he’s really after is status instead of acceptance. Because if he doesn’t get too close with others he can’t get hurt. Trust issues are really hard to shake. That’s always going to impact his relationships and specifically his interactions with the other kids immediately following the events of BPS. It’s going to take him years to work through that. And I think he will, with time, get better at trusting and getting close to others.

My interpretation is that Eddy would be pretty bummed and depressed for a while despite all the new acceptance from his other peers, just because he’s having to analyze his own behavior more, question his relationship with his bro, with his family at large, with his best friends, with everyone else around him. I often add a layer of him struggling with the realization he might be gay during the year or two following the events of BPS, and that's not the easiest pill for him to swallow either. I think he’d still put up walls to protect himself and try to find ways to be liked and accepted, to be entertaining or prove himself. I don’t see him immediately being as outgoing with the other cul-se-sac kids as he is within the Eds, but I think at his core he is actually a cool and interesting guy and that comes through. On the flip side, I think he’d mostly work on being more honest and vulnerable with Edd and Ed in the months and years following which just strengthens their bonds more and together they learn to be better people to each other! Woohoo!

We’re moving on: Edd. BPS is a trial of his friendship with Eddy and they came out the other side much more sympathetic to one another. The tension that grows between them during the series run is as much a result of Eddy’s desperation as it is a result of Edd’s anxiety getting way worse. So yes, where I do see Edd helping Eddy through some of his depression following BPS, I also see Eddy helping ground Edd with some of his own issues that are percolating to the surface more. Just two little emo outcasts being there for eachother. Couldn’t be a recipe for a little gay awakening. No chance. (I’m being sarcastic, y’all. You know my schtick). I still think they’d bicker, though. Like a lot. It’s just core to their personalities. Fights just wouldn’t come to blows in the same way. It’s a lot harder to stay mad when you can see the clearly labeled buttons you’re pushing, you know?

Outside of his relationship to Eddy, Edd also seems to be shifting away from being blindly obedient towards authority like in the series. Nothing like seeing a man-child beat on an actual child to really wreck your world view. Up until that point, Edd is a textbook rule follower. I think there is an interesting perspective shift, seeing the world as Eddy has, that will shake his idealism and optimism ever so slightly. Thus starting a tiny little rebellious streak. Again, can’t reiterate enough that turning 13 is such a bitch. The mental toil.

Ed. Oh, Ed. Ed kinda has his whole thing figured out already. I sometimes describe Ed’s heroic act in BPS as him getting his brain back a bit after the school season episodes. I think the kid just dissociates especially hard when he is at school which makes him seem extra random in these episodes. We all gotta cope somehow. Anyway, I do also weirdly think Ed would get on with the other cul-de-sac kids pretty well on his own: he already has decent rapport with the likes of Jonny and Rolf so it would be interesting to see these relationships explored more. In the show he already seems the floater type. Maybe Ed becomes Jonny’s only friend when he becomes the new “outcast” of the cul-de-sac.

I think his consistency is really going to help Edd and Eddy through whatever ups and downs they go through. He’s the type to lighten the mood or give a sympathetic ear or listen to a rant without judgment. He has and always will accept them just as they are, and himself just as he is, and that does wonders for the group’s morale. Also, with Eddy dialing back on the Bro act I can see Ed also being kinder (he’s often feeding off the bad examples) and really embracing the surrogate big brother role for Eddy. I’d love for that relationship to be strengthened more too, and Ed to come to his defense and protection more readily in the way he does with Sarah. At first it would probably annoy Eddy to no end but he’d reluctantly get over it because deep down it feels good to be cared for. Soft like mashed potatoes indeed.

More than Ed rebuilding the relationship with Sarah is Sarah sticking up for her brother to her parents. I think she’d definitely come around to recognizing she’s abused her privileges as the favorite child and also grateful that her brother didn’t turn out That Bad considering. While she’s mending things with Ed I think she’d still take out her younger sibling rage on Eddy (I like to think she sees him as a bonus brother she never asked for). I don’t think they necessarily hate each other or anything, they just have that energy of two scrappy alley cats who have to hiss and swat before parting ways.

[stewardofningishzida]

Stephen Strange Meta-Fic Sequel - Chapter 13: We’ve Come to Bargain!

*Cheesy announcer voice* Stephen’s having yet another showdown with the Dread Dormammu! How will he outwit the warlord this time? Stay tuned!

TRIGGER WARNING: Language, scary situations, anxiety

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 13: We’ve Come to Bargain

*We retreat to our quarters.  However, the anxiety is beginning to mount again.  I’m trying to keep my cool, but it’s bubbling back up to the surface.  I take a few slow, deep breaths in an attempt to stay calm.*

Me (to Trix and Prettywitch, nervous):  I know we’re supposed to have faith in Stephen, but this fight is gonna be gnarly.  Like, probably one of the worst ones he’s ever been in since he barely has any backup.  Plus, no do-overs…I…I just don’t know, guys.  I’m trying to stay cool, but this is bad.  I’m not really worried about us, per say.  I’m worried about him and our friends and families.

Trix (trying to be confident): If anyone can do it, it’s Stephen. We’ve done everything we can to help him out including going to Dark Dimension and stealing Dormammu’s shit. Stephen defeated him with the time stone before, but he didn’t have us and he didn’t have all this help. 

Prettywitch: Exactly! The only other thing we could do is maybe siphon our magic power and give it to Stephen temporarily, but I don’t know how much of a boost that’d be to an adept magic user like himself.

*I think this over, still shuffling anxiously.*

Me (nodding quietly):  Anything is better than nothing.  I’m willing to give him as much as I can.  Even if I end up passing out for a while.  Anything that could possibly give him more of an advantage.  I’ll set an alarm for 15 minutes before he’s about to leave so we regain a bit of energy from some food and sleep before giving.  Does this sound reasonable, guys?  *I’m serious.*

Trix: Makes sense to me. If the fight is happening in our home, might as well give him our universe’s magic!

Prettywitch: Wait, really!? Holy shit! I didn’t think you guys would go for it- (She stops herself.) You know what? I’m rambling. I’m in.

*I set my phone alarm and turn it on max volume to make sure we can give energy in time.*

Me:  Then let’s do this.  We’ll have a quick meal and get some rest.  When the alarm rings, we give Stephen everything we can muster.

Trix: Gotcha. *She kinda hesitates* But can we sleep in the same room? I honestly don’t think I’ll go down easily otherwise. 

Me:  That’s fine.  I’m kinda too nervous to decently fall asleep anyway.  Maybe some company will help.  

*We head to the mess hall for a quick bite to eat and then settle into one of our dorm rooms to rest.*

*Meanwhile, Stephen pores over the stolen tomes and analyzes the relics intensely.  He concentrates as hard as he can and occasionally gets help from Wong.  Some of the language is so obscure or arcane that he struggles.  He’s beginning to get frustrated since he has such limited time.  The sorcerer can feel the time crunch getting more and more intense.*

*Clea is also pouring over spellwork, knowing the differences between magic in different dimensions. Still, she can’t help looking over at Stephen from time to time, smiling at how intensely he’s studying. Until she snaps out of it, anyway. Then she goes off to find a relic that may suit her. ANY relic. This is war, afterall.*

Stephen (hissing under his breath):  Even the diagrams in some of these pages make no damn sense…*He’s trying to figure it out, stressing about getting everything ready in time.*

Clea: *She hears Stephen’s frustration and slowly walks over to him.* Stephen? Are you alright?

Stephen (quietly, slowly mounting):  I need to figure this out.  Now.  Otherwise, this is a massive waste of time.  This might be the key to defeating Dormammu and I can’t even decipher a simple diagram!  *He isn’t actually shouting, but the frustration is highly evident in his tone.*  Can you make any sense of this?  *He shows Clea the book, hoping that she might know something.*

Clea: *She skims the book.* Some of this I can make out. *She comes over to his side.* It’s written in very old code used by the Faltines. Some of this was taught to me when I was young, so I should have some idea of how to translate this.

*They begin to make some progress in that particular book, giving them both hope.  Though the next one is written in some extradimensional language that neither of them have any clue about.  Is it even language?  Diagrams?  It’s a confused mish-mash of what is barely even recognizable as script.  Stephen goggles at the new material and cradles his head in his hands.  His head is beginning to hurt.*

Wong (having re-emerged from the sickbay):  Move over, Strange.  Let me see.  *He steps in to help.  Wong manages to get them through more of the seemingly ageless spellbooks.  Though there are still some significant gaps remaining.  They did, at least, get through around 90% of the material.  However, now, they’re all stumped.*

Stephen (grim):  We’re running out of time.  Most of it is useful now, but the most critical parts…*He gives a venomous glare at the baffling whatever-passes-as-texts.  At this point, he’s approaching the end of his rope.  They’re so close to the right material, which makes this even more maddening.  A vein throbs in his temple.*

Wong:  Compose yourself.  We will not get any further if you lose patience.

*Stephen looks at Wong.*

Stephen:  We only have one chance at this and I have to be on the girls’ Earth within 3 hours before Dormammu consumes and destroys everything there.  How can I possibly be calm?!

Clea: *She gets up.* You can be calm. Because you must. You are Doctor Strange, the man who sees all possibilities and outcomes.

*He looks at Clea wearily.*

Stephen (grim):  Not anymore.  I don’t have the Time Stone anymore.  It has been destroyed.  I have limited foresight.  Far more limited without the Stone.  I…am merely along for the ride now, so to speak.  *She can hear the hopelessness starting to seep back in.*

Clea: I wasn’t talking about the stone, Stephen. *She walks towards him slowly.* I thought what you did was brilliant, but it wasn’t the stone that impressed me, it was you. Your bravery, your cleverness, your resolve in the face of an impossible outcome and see it through to the end knowing it might not work. Even knowing the pain it might bring you. That’s the Doctor Strange you are, the Doctor Strange I know exists in you.

*He sighs.*

Stephen (resigned):  Clea, that’s very sweet of you, but your uncle knows all of my tricks from last time.  This was supposed to help me find something new to outwit him…

Clea: And it will! My uncle may be powerful but he is not invincible; there has to be a way we can defeat him.

*He glares back at the stack of books again, as though it had gravely insulted the three of them.*

Clea: *She takes his hands in hers.* Stephen, why don’t we divide the books among ourselves? I’ve seen how fast of a study you are, I have no doubt you will understand the dialect in those books.

Stephen (flatly):  Very well.  We shall divide the books and I will also attempt to apply whatever compatible spells I can to the new relics.  

*They split up the books and get back to work.  It’s an hour-long slog, but Wong, Clea, and Stephen manage to get another 5% of the tomes translated.  There are a dozen or so pages left, but they leave everyone stumped.  The final spells are incomplete despite the group’s best efforts.*

Ancient One (appearing out of nowhere): You’ll find that these last portions were specifically inverted and mirrored then translated as to confuse anyone who wished to do harm to Dormammu finding these works. It is a convoluted system but Dormammu was always a bit of a diva. *she floats closer to the group, frowning at the diagrams* 

Clea: He DID!? *She pouts.* THAT JERK!!!

*Stephen is startled.  Wong seems to have expected her to pull something like this.  Then again, he did know The Ancient One far longer than Stephen.*

Stephen:  So, you can help us translate this?  *He looks at her hopefully.*

Ancient One (smiling at him): Of course. I’m sure between the four of us we can figure this out. Three sorcerer supremes and probably one of the most competent and powerful of the Faltines I have ever heard of.

*He seems to be reassured and the group gets back to work, finally finishing their translation of the books.  They immediately get to enchanting the remaining relics.  It’s arduous work, but it does get done with about half an hour to spare.*

Stephen (grateful to the group of sorcerers):  Thank you.

*Wong nods in acknowledgement and gives a small, approving grunt.*

Clea: It was no problem at all, Stephen. I’m just glad you’re feeling better, now.

Ancient One: Of course. 

*Stephen and Wong get ready for battle.  They hear a distant alarm go off and they soon see the girls jogging over to them.*

Me (panting slightly):  Before you guys leave, here.  Please.  Take our energy since it’s compatible with our universe’s magic.  Any advantage you guys can possibly get.

Stephen (taken aback):  You three planned this again?  This is the second time in a day.  You’ll all lose consciousness.

Me:  We’re willing to do it.  Fainting’s the only real penalty for us here.  So…Are you okay with us donating more of our energy?

Trix: Plus if we’re unconscious here from safely giving you a power boost, we won’t be over there fighting and distracting you because you’re worried. *She smiles sadly at him*

Prettywitch: Yeah. We don’t mind, honestly. Besides, sometimes there’s no other way. You know?

*He looks at us for a while with a mix of concern and gratitude.  There’s also a lot of worry in his face, but he shakes his head slightly, as though banishing it for now.  At least in an attempt to comfort us.*

Stephen:  Very well, but let’s go to the mats over there so you won’t be hurt.

*We make our way to some of the mats still laid out for combat training.  Then, the girls proceed with the ritual and give Stephen as much energy as we can muster before we all pass out.  I’ve pushed so hard that I can’t even astral-project.*

Ancient One: I will guard them while you face Dormammu. There is no safer place for them to be right now, Stephen. Take their willing sacrifices and gifts of concern and save their world.

*Stephen can feel our energy surging into him.  He’s energized and takes The Ancient One’s word to heart.*

Stephen:  Okay.  I will.  *He’s more determined than ever.*

Wong:  Then let us go.  I will open the portal.  Clea, ready?

Clea: *She cracks her knuckles.* I was ready an hour ago. Let’s do this.

*Wong nods and proceeds to open the portal to our world.  The three sorcerers are armed to the teeth and bristling with magical energy.*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Our universe’s energy has begun to practically vibrate with the influx of Dark Dimension energy flowing through the rift that Dormammu created.  A rippling fog of reddish-purple magic spills forth and ebbs through the countless ranks of Mindless Ones all standing at attention, awaiting their master’s orders.  In the meantime, there are also numerous platoons of our military forces, complete with tanks, soldiers, and various weaponry; not that they would do any good against such powerful magical enemies.  The tension throughout the scene is palpable, with such a depth of eerie silence that one could hear a fly buzzing from a block away.  Stephen steps forward to confront his old nemesis.*

Stephen (with hardened resolve):  Dormammu, we’ve come to bargain.

*The fog grows, almost appearing like a tornado as it spins and erupts into the sky. Lightning strikes haphazardly and thunder roars as Dormammu appears, nearly as large as Stephen once encountered him. The sky turns green as the weather shifts. The ruler of the Dark Dimension growls, furious at his enemy reappearing when he expected him least.*

Dormammu: We already have a bargain, sorcerer. *The being snarls, reminded of his past failure* I have stuck to the terms of your agreement. 

Stephen (firm):  I’ve come to make an additional bargain.  This world is also protected.

Dormammu: I was merciful once, Strange. I will not be a second time. Tell me, what world might I be allowed to conquer next if you believe yourself powerful enough to command me? *The large face made out of Faltine flames sneers, his entire focus on the Sorcerer Supreme* This universe is but a speck, only just flickering into being. Surely there are more important places you would be more invested in?

Stephen (stone-faced):  I could say the same to you.  Stand down and retreat with your forces back to the Dark Dimension.  Now.

Dormammu (furious): You will not command me, sorcerer. We both know that I can kill you instantly if I so choose. I have granted you mercy once before and I will do so now if you leave and this universe falls under my rule.

Stephen (glaring):  No.

Dormammu (grinning menacingly): So be it then, sorcerer. 

*With a guttural yell, Dormammu commands the mindless ones to advance upon Earth. And shoots a barrage of fireballs at Stephen*

*Wong and Clea immediately spring into action.*

*Wong casts a massive shield, forcing the tide of Mindless Ones back as Clea uses an opposite spell to turn the fireballs into ice sculptures that crash onto the paved road.  The US military forces proceed to open fire on the interdimensional beings, though to no avail.  Instead, Wong works on boxing the entities in while Clea forms several shields around the US military and their vehicles.*

*Stephen quickly casts Shield of the Seraphim, defending himself from the onslaught of fire.*

*Immediately following the fire, familiar crystalline shards begin to shower down on Stephen and everything around him*

*Several stray soldiers fall victim to the shards.  Meanwhile, the Cloak lifts Stephen into the air, both sorcerer and relic remembering the last time where Dormammu used the shards as a distraction before impaling the sorcerer from below.  He then telekinetically stops the crystal shower momentarily before firing them right back at the Dread Dormammu in a volley of chaotic spikes.*

*Dormammu snarls and the shards explode into a conjured shield of flames. While they fight above, more and more mindless ones pour onto earth along with a strange fog similar to Dormammu’s. As it begins to roll over the bodies of the fallen soldiers from Earth, they slowly transform into new Mindless Ones, crawling up and staggering towards their former allies.*

*There are several cries of alarm from the ranks and sounds of gunfire as they attempt to counter what just happened.  Meanwhile, Stephen’s eyes glow green with magic as he builds up a new spell and casts it, with a massive blast radius erupting around him.  The still-forming new Mindless Ones drop down limply as the others begin to slow their advancement, almost freezing in place.  They seem to be almost crippled by whatever previously-unseen spell that Stephen just released.  It creates a veritable traffic jam at the portal, preventing more Mindless Ones from emerging.*

*Dormammu frowns down at the Sorcerer Supreme.*

Dormammu: You…are not supposed to know that spell. *He grows angrier* No matter, even if there was a traitor in my kingdom, they will die knowing that you failed in your latest bargain. You are lacking your infinity stone, sorcerer. Time is not your ally.

*Dormammu launches another attack, the storm growing around him is suddenly absorbed into the mass that is Dormammu. In taking more energy from this universe, he begins to understand the power that this new type of magic brings. He immediately uses the storm to summon tornadoes and harsh thunderstorms, not caring if it takes out his own army as long as it kills Stephen Strange.*

*Several bolts proceed to “go rogue” and begin to strike Dormammu repeatedly.  Then, a booming voice resonates throughout the atmosphere, echoing through to the very souls of the mortals inhabiting this land.*

Voice (enraged):  WHO DARES TO INTRUDE UPON MIDGARD?!

*Our universe’s Thor appears in a massive flash of lightning in front of the various armies.  He looks beyond normal levels of fury.*

Dormammu (confused): You are not a sorcerer, and yet you possess this new magic. Similar to the sorcerer… *Dormammu’s face changes as he comes to a realization and stares down at Stephen* You want this world for yourself and have already taken magic from this place and dare tell me I cannot do so? *Two giant hands made out of fire appear as Dormammu becomes angry enough to start becoming more…hands on. The Dread Dormammu casually smacks Thor out of the air before focusing on Stephen*

*Stephen uses the unexpected distraction to launch a counterattack of his own and uses the Icy Tendrils of Ikthalon to bind Dormammu’s fiery hands together.  He hears Dormammu’s retort, but refuses to give the warlord any potential “fuel” with a response.*

*Meanwhile, Thor goes flying and slams into the ground.  He’s still.  At least for now.*

*Dormammu uses his bound hands to smash into Stephen like a wrecking ball. Meanwhile, the Mindless Ones have finally recovered enough to continue their assault*

*Before the massive hands can hit him, Stephen conjures a protective ball of enormous spikes made of dark energy.  Another “new trick” with a potentially painful result.*

*Dormammu surprisingly reacts with a yell of surprise as the spikes actually harm him. With a glare, the warlord uses the surprise to draw in more ambient energy and dispels the bindings*

Dormammu (enraged): How did you enter my Keep? Who betrayed the Dread Dormammu? I will kill them using the singed and broken remains of your corpse for even considering to defy me.

*Stephen stubbornly remains silent as he works on his next counterspell.*

Clea: I dare, Uncle!

Dormammu (whipping around to face her): Of course. My defiant niece, determined till the end. I have been merciful to your insolence for too long. *He draws back to attack her*

Clea: *She throws up a shield.* Do your worst!

Dormammu (smirking): With pleasure, niece. *He unleashes a large wave of pure energy at Clea as well as her allies to try and drown them out in power*

*Clea holds the wave back, even struggling a bit before throwing it back at her uncle. She takes on her Faltine form and flies towards him, ready to fight.*

*Wong looks at Clea for a second, as though subtly approving of her actions, before resuming his work on corralling the army of Mindless Ones while Dormammu is distracted.*  

*Dormammu decides to cheat and instead absorbs her Faltine energy, using it to throw her crashing into the roof of a nearby house. Luckily she isn’t harmed.*

Clea: You cheat!

Dormammu: It’s not cheating in a real fight, not that you would know, niece. *He begins to absorb more and more ambient energy from this new universe and he begins to shift in color with his flames turning from red, to blue, to white*

*Stephen notices Dormammu drawing in more energy from this world and decides to throw yet another twist.  Remembering the runes from the girls’ time fighting Agatha, he suddenly launches himself in a flight pattern around Dormammu, dredging up massive boulders around the warlord in a seemingly random pattern.  Then, he concentrates and casts the Images of Ikonn.  Each duplicate of Stephen proceeds to carve runes on the boulders, staying on specific sides of them, before a purple aura begins to form a barrier around Dormammu.*

*Meanwhile, on the ground, our Thor is unconscious from Dormammu’s swat. In a burst of green magic, a dark haired figure appears next to the unconscious god. They roll their eyes at Thor before snapping their fingers and the two disappear in another burst of green magic. Dormammu is too focused on Stephen to notice the gods or the forming barrier and continues to try and swipe at him*

*The runes’ barrier fully activates once the inscriptions are complete.  A wall of purple magic encloses the warlord.  Stephen stays slightly out of reach just in case and watches his handiwork and Dormammu intently.*

*The Warlord goes to attack using more fire only to be caught off guard as nothing happens. He tries again and has the same results. After exhausting a number of spells and all of them fail, he snarls and turns to the sorcerer*

Dormammu (angry but almost concerned): WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME, SORCERER?

Stephen:  *He shrugs, but with a cunning expression on his face.*  Surely, nothing so strong as to cause an immensely powerful being such as yourself any pause.  *He sneers.*

*Dormammu roars in rage and the image of Dormammu ripples before turning into smoke that condenses down to a more…human size. This smaller version of Dormammu is still a force to be reckoned with, but around the same height as Stephen. His head and hands are still engulfed in flames but his eyes and mouth are still visible on his face as he glares at the sorcerer*

Dormammu (still angry but trying to be civil): Even without my magic I can defeat you easily, but I will…show restraint and offer you a challenge. No magic, and the winner gets this universe. First to yield loses.

Stephen:  Very well.  I accept your challenge.  The loser will not harm and/or influence anyone and/or anything in this universe by any means, nor will they or any of their allies set foot here again.  Do you accept these terms?

*The warlord studies Stephen for a moment before nodding*

Dormammu: I accept. *He begins to walk, circling around Stephen* Three rounds. You are able to call the end of a round at any time however yielding means the battle is over. Whoever is unable to continue at the end of the third, loses. Summon your weapon.

*Despite his inability to use spells, Dormammu summons a large broadsword made out of Space Shards. He walks a few paces away before turning back to Stephen suddenly with a wide grin on his face*

*Stephen summons and wields the Pincers of Power, a familiar and formidable weapon to Dormammu.  He watches the warlord intently, coolly assessing each move.*

*Dormammu begins to circle the sorcerer, gauging what he thinks Stephen might be able to do. This is truly the first one on one between them on equal footing as it were. Finally, he lunges at Stephen’s back with incredible speed*

*Stephen feels the breeze as Dormammu makes his move and quickly dodges out of the way, giving Dormammu a shove to add to the being’s momentum so he will be thrown off-balance.*

*Dormammu trips ever so slightly but quickly regains balance to launch another jab at him.*

*Stephen dodges and uses Dormammu’s close proximity to trap the warlord’s sword-wielding hand in one of the Pincers.  He starts to twist in an attempt to force Dormammu to drop his weapon.*

*Dormammu uses the momentum to trade the sword to his other free hand and manages to get a swipe in at Stephen as he almost dances out of the hold but is still stuck by the pincer.*

*Stephen grunts in pain, but tries to yank Dormammu with the Pincer.  Failing that, he detaches it and jumps out of reach.  It seems he isn’t as adept at hand-to-hand combat.*

*Dormammu smirks as he gets the first blow. He immediately dives right back into the battle, watching closely for any weaknesses as he begins a flurry of swipes at the sorcerer.*

*Stephen continues to dodge and does his best to stay out of reach.  When he sees a pause in Dormammu’s volley, he bluffs a charge before jumping back again.*

*The warlord grins as he continues to push forward, growing more confident as his opponent keeps retreating. His attacks become quicker as he pushes harder to finish Stephen off quickly.*

*Stephen retreats a bit more before suddenly ducking under Dormammu’s attacking arms and locking a pincer around his opponent’s ankle.  He yanks.  Hard.  All the while, his other hand locks Dormammu’s knee so he cannot steady himself.*

*Dormammu’s eyes widen as he suddenly careens face first into the floor, his momentum getting the best of him after Stephen redirected it. He growls as he attempts to push himself up.*

*Clea sees an entrance and streaks towards her Uncle ready for Round Two.*

Stephen (urgent):  Clea!  The duel!  Go back and help Wong or our agreement will be rendered unusable!

Clea: *She understands and nods.* Right! *She flies back down towards Wong.*

*Wong is currently starting to struggle with holding back the horde of Mindless Ones by himself.  The older sorcerer has used far too much energy for one day and it’s starting to show.*

*While Stephen is distracted by Clea, Dormammu begins to try and shove Stephen off of him to stand*

*Stephen moves his free Pincer up to lock around Dormammu’s wrist as he tries to get up.  While doing this, the sorcerer strategically places his knee right on the base of Dormammu’s neck and applies enough pressure from his bodyweight to prevent the warlord from getting up, but not enough to choke him.  Stephen then detaches the other Pincer from Dormammu’s ankle in the meantime and starts to drag the trapped wrist towards the other.  He’s making a capture move while attempting to hold Dormammu down.*

Dormammu (grunting): You cannot defeat me, sorcerer. I am superior. 

*Stephen is focused on keeping Dormammu down and restraining him to end the fight.  Then, he notices a shift in the ambient energy and looks up at the runes.*

*Hairline fractures are beginning to form along the walls that are engraved with the runes. Dormammu is still struggling against Stephen’s hold, but something is clearly diverting his attention*

Stephen (sneering):  I take it that this duel is no longer one of honor, Dormammu.  *He’s calling the warlord out for his attempt at cheating.*

Dormammu (distracted but smug): Your honor will mean nothing when you are dead and this universe is mine. *He grunts and shimmies, trying to get out of the hold and the cracks on the summoned walls grow larger*

*Stephen tightens his hold and puts more weight on the pressure point he’s using on the base of Dormammu’s neck, both to keep Dormammu down and to cause just enough pain to break his concentration.  Meanwhile, knowing that the runes are all that is keeping the warlord’s powers in check, Stephen has no choice but to focus on maintaining the walls.  It has come down to a battle of pure willpower.*

*Dormammu finally gives up physically struggling and suddenly goes limp before pouring all of his energy into trying to break down the walls. The sudden onslaught is fierce and even Dormammu’s Faltine form begins to flicker out*

*Stephen closes the Pincers of Power on Dormammu’s wrists, binding his hands together behind the warlord’s back.  Then, he fully focuses on the barrier himself.  Thanks to the girls’ energy, he’s still able to resist Dormammu’s attempts.  Though just barely.  He quickly begins to chant another counterspell, to fully activate the Pincers and seal away Dormammu’s ability to cast spells.*

*Finally, finally, with one last weak push at the barriers, Dormammu falls completely limp and his fully depowered*

Dormammu (exhausted but angry): I……yield.

Stephen (firm):  Very well.  Hold to your agreement.  Take back your forces and leave this universe and mine.  Never come back.  You and your allies will not harm and/or influence anyone and/or anything in this universe by any means, nor will you or any of your allies set foot here again.  Do that, and I will release you from the Pincers the moment you fully retreat to your dimension.

*Clea meanwhile, is staring at him starry-eyed. She can’t help thinking he’s wonderful.*

Dormammu (begrudgingly): I will hold to this agreement, sorcerer, so long as I never see you again. *He glares up at Clea* And you, niece, are banished. If you step into my domain, you will be executed for treason. Immediately.

Clea: *She shrugs.* Fine. 

*Stephen silently allows Dormammu to get up and watches him leave, ordering his army to retreat.  He follows the warlord through the portal only to release Dormammu from his restraints before going back to rejoin Wong and Clea, a look of fatigued relief on his face.*

Stephen (genuine, to both of them):  Thank you.

Wong:  It is simply part of our work.  *Though he looks even more drained than Stephen at this point.*

Clea: It was my pleasure. *She looks a bit sad now that her Uncle’s gone.*

*Stephen awkwardly places his hand gently on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her.*

Clea: *She looks up and smiles at him, sadly.* Thank you…

Stephen (offering condolences, feeling guilty that he dragged her into this):  …I’m sorry that you were banished.  If you need anything, then I’ll do my best to help you.

Clea: No! Don’t be. I am sad that I can no longer return to my home…But I’m also glad that I helped you, Stephen. 

*Wong nudges Stephen, who was digesting this information.  He silently remembers what it was like being homeless.  Wong’s nudge brings him back to the present.*

Stephen:  …Erm…You could always stay with us at Kamar-Taj.  Otherwise, I have a room in my Sanctum.  Whichever is more comfortable for you.

Wong:  Strange may not be blessed with proper social skills, but he is more than hospitable.  I can assure you that he will see to whatever you may need.  *He subtly gives Stephen a look that says to behave and treat her well.  Stephen meets his mentor’s eyes with a slightly withering expression.*

Clea: I’d like to stay with you if I may, Stephen!...I mean, I do believe I will have access to all types of magic I can learn here. Or even learn to call my friends in the Dark Dimension.

Stephen (awkward, but doing his best to be polite):  Very well.  I will show you around the Sanctum momentarily.  After checking on the girls.

Wong:  I doubt that they will be awake yet.  It seems that they gave all of their remaining energy to you.

*Stephen shifts his weight slightly, concerned.*

Wong (blunt, but reassuring):  We will check on them.  Come on.

*He opens a portal back to Kamar-Taj.*

***To be continued***

[my-asexual-timeline]

A dramatic retelling of my high school ace experience part 3

*names changed for privacy*

Allen and I were laying on the couch in my basement, upside down, watching an episode of Family Guy to pass the time. We had been hanging out for most of the afternoon watching the old Tim Curry IT miniseries on Crave. When that was finally over, we still had some time to kill before his mom came to pick him up, so we switched to this.

Lois and Peter had some kind of dispute earlier in the episode but now had just about made up. I knew it was coming, so I was already rolling my eyes. Lois finally forgave Peter and started to kiss him, then led him to the bedroom. I sighed and made a vomiting noise.

Allen laughs, “What’s that for? You don’t like their ‘true love’ and everlasting chemistry?” He says jokingly.

I scoff, “No, I’m just so sick of this trope.”

Allen flips back up, “What trope?”

I look at him from the floor as I slide off the couch, “You know, the trope of having sex and all that so much. They do it like once an episode. It’s super unrealistic.”

Allen stares at me with a confused look on his face.

“It’s in like so many movies too,” I continue, “Like, so many movies have some kind of sex scene. It’s such an overused trope. It's so annoying to see at this point.”

Allen was giving me more confused looks when his phone went off. He checked it.

“My mom's here. I have to go.”

He stood up to leave while I stood to walk him out. As we’re walking up the stairs, he turns his head back to look at me, “You know that’s not a trope though, right?”

“What do you mean?”

He gets up the stairs and chuckles at me while he slips on his shoes. “People actually have that much sex, it's not like a TV or movie trope. Anyways, see you Monday.”

As I watch him leave his words stick with me. People actually have that much sex. That can’t be right. I sat down on the top step and tried to do the math on Peter and Lois’s sex life. If they have sex once an episode, and each episode is set about a week apart, that means they were having sex once a week. That seems excessive.

-End of part 3

Yes, this is 100% serious, I figured out I was asexual by analyzing the sex lives of Lois and Peter Griffin. I actually truly believed that people having sex in movies and television was a tv trope. And I've told people that and they looked at me like it was my fault for not knowing better until I was 16. How could you not know that people actually have that much sex? Well, I'd never felt any inclination to do it, and my friendgroup in high school didn't share their sex lives with me, because it's not my business. When you feel one way and are never told not to feel that way, you just kind of assume everyone feels that way. Plus my parents would tell my sister and I the classic 'we only had sex twice, once to conceive you and once to conceive your sister' if we asked them sex-ed type questions.

[carry-on-my-wayward-boi]

The girl in the pool

There’s something haunting about water in open spaces.

I didn’t always think like this, I used to go to be beach rarely, and every time my family took me there, I cherished it immensely. I consider myself very lucky, I still love going to lakes or beaches (haven’t gone to a river yet, one swimmable, but I guess I would like it too), and the only sport I really imagine myself sticking with in the long term is swimming.

I go swimming every two days now, after a period of solitary confinement, I’m starting to make myself understand that I need to take care of the shape of my body, apart from the self-esteem issues, for the health problems it has been causing me for a year now.

And I’m only 19.

I don’t want to die yet, even if sometimes it seems the only sane option, I’m not that far in the line.

But I go to the pool 3 times a week now, in the last hours of the day, good thing it’s only 15 minutes from my house. And it is so expensive, how I hadn’t realized this when I was younger? I was so naïve, and honestly, I still am don’t let the occasional stream of fancy thoughts convince you otherwise,

I literally don’t know a single thing.

Sometimes it’s a relief the teacher knows me since I was 14, some days it’s tiring to pretend I’m the person I once was, when I didn’t feel like I’ve reached my peak and I’m just holding on before snapping once a week. I sound so selfish, and I know I am, and I don’t care, and isn’t that just so more selfish?

Figures, I am so better at being objective with my flaws now, that’s a good thing, right?

I hate taking a cold shower before entering the pool, it fucking punches me in the gut and takes my breath away, but once I do, I feel a little bit better. I’m too sleep-deprived to analyze that with a metaphor like I tend to do.

Not today though, today the menu is the raw special edition of self-hatred from my fucked-up mind.

Today I’m going again, and the thing that made me start writing this hasn’t crossed my mind since that day at the pool.

There’s much more pressing fears and regrets bubbling in the surface of my sea of thoughts. But I figured, it was better to put this on writing, at least to write one sad novel of my traumas, so pedantic I know. Still, it seemed so right to do it, while taking arm after arm of water without breathing. So here I am again, writing. It would be more fun if I had more time to dwell in metaphors, but I’m out of time, for everything, so this is the best I can come up with.

I almost drowned, that’s the thing.

My mom is certain I did. I don’t really know if some part of me died on that day, but I bet some did.

It was sunny, at least when we arrived at the beach. It was safe, inside a vacation complex that my friend’s family subscribed, and we were young and dumb.

I want to keep saying dumb, cause otherwise I would have to call them cold-hearted traitors, and well, they are the same friends I have now, even if not close, I can’t afford to lose them. Mom doesn’t know why I forgave them,

I guess I hadn’t, I just don’t think too hard about it.

Just four of us went farther in the water that day, the waves were sometimes strong but manageable at the height of our waists. Salty, we threw it around and I remember thinking at last the worries and sadness lurking in the lasts months of the school year shredded off me like cracking dirt. I was the only girl that went that far, most of them went back to the pool, and those knew nothing of what happened that day, so they are in the clear.

(You should know I love you; I don’t think I could if you knew I was dying and ignored it, so yeah, convenient for my brain you weren’t really there)

Because I was. Dying, that is.

Two were on the sand shores, carving in the sand with their hands, or just sitting, I really don’t know. Then, of the four of us, I didn’t realize when, but suddenly we were just one friend and me.

In his defense, he advised me not to go that far in the water, but well I did, I was completely in control, you know? You have to understand, at that age I was too cocky with everything, the way you only can be when everything has gone right for you without too much effort.

Then, I was carried away by the waves, but just some meters. When I realized it, I tried to swim back, getting a little worried when I just keep drifting away, but still in control, you know? That is until I heard yelling. It was my friend, a girl one, and currently the only one I consider a real friend from their lot.

She was in the shore, and the only one that realized I was in danger.

Figures, what good friends I have, but as I said, I fool myself into calling them careless instead, I don’t know if I can keep telling myself that.

She got into the water and went for me, calling my name. But when I asked her recently, she told me she first told the boys I was in danger, and even urged the friend I keep flirting with, to go for me.

You know what he did?

He shrugged and walked away, and then my friend went for me.

He is in Spain now, I even sent him a message telling him I missed him some days ago. He hadn’t replied to that, not to my last 5 messages in the last months, and I don’t know why I bother. He was never a friend I could rely on, I just fancied an idolized version of him he will never be, so it’s so easy for me to let him go. But knowing all that then would have crushed me, I guess time really puts things into perspective.

So, she came for me, and I remember turning around when I heard my name, and getting so worried, because she didn’t really know how to swim. Picture this, she loved me that much, she didn’t know how to swim but still tried, and ultimately, I thank her, I can’t blame her for what happened next.

I remember this so well; it’s engraved with permanent ink before my eyes and inside my lungs.

The waves were getting stronger and taller every time, I was getting scared and even began to expect them to stay below the surface when they crashed. I heard my name, turned around, saw my friend struggling and yelling, I lost focus and yelled at her to go back,

I turned to the open sea and there it was, the biggest wave yet, just some centimeters away from my face.

I couldn’t do anything, it swallowed me whole, with such a force I hope I’ll never feel again if I’m lucky.

Until then, I had been trapped and spited by some waves before, but just two or three turns, and I was free again to breathe.

But not this time

I lost count after more than 20 turns, and when I ran out of oxygen, I just keep turning, eventually inhaling water when I lost control of that.

And I kept turning, my head a mess of disconnected thoughts, but I remember what I was thinking:

My brother won’t be able to move on from my death, my family would crumble, and I wouldn’t be there to help them pick the pieces. The grief of this was mixed with denial, I denied until the very end that I would die there.

I can say I maintained my humor until the very end, cause the tone of my thoughts were on the line of “Seriously? We are going to die like this, turning like a yo-yo? God, I think the fuck not”, and honestly, I stan.

In those moments, which felt like hours or seconds at the same time, I felt like I was in space, without anything solid to bind me to the Earth and consciousness. But I had a wristband, a plastic one of a gay anime of 2016, and I squeezed it as my only tether to reality, even when I swallowed so much water, I believed I would really die.

That cheap faded blue-sky plastic gay thing really saved me, huh. 

I don’t know why god decide to let me live that day, I found myself suddenly freed of the death wave, and half unconscious, I emerged to the surface.

But the nightmare wasn’t over; when I looked around, all I could see was water in all directions.

Let me tell you, I got scared out of my mind, completely freaked out. Where was I, the middle of the sea? And the waves kept coming, bigger than before. I don’t know how my brain was still rational, I guess I’m really at least as smart as they tell me I am, because I really saved myself that day.

I decided to swim in the direction the waves went, obvious for you, but not for me in that moment, and almost was sucked into another wave, when I remembered to swim below the water to not be caught when they crashed.

Finally, I managed to see the coast.

Turns out, I wasn’t that far away, only the big waves kept me from seeing the shore.

From then, I really don’t remember much, I guess the adrenaline kept me from feeling how tired I was. I remember just vaguely touching the sea floor, walking slowly until I was in just sand. It felt so detached, like seeing a movie, I didn’t feel happy or sad,

it was like I didn’t feel anything.

There wasn’t one of the friends that were with me there, just those that were on the sand, one girl asked me if I was okay,

I don’t remember what I said.

My friend told me later, this girl saw me so pale, and that I didn’t reply, just laid there in the sand looking at the sky for a really long time.

I guess I coped like that.

I asked about my friend, the only one that tried to save, and I found her in the pool, safe with another friend and some people. She, and then they, asked me worriedly if I was okay, I only looked half-crazed at her eyes, nodded to myself that she was safe and got the hell out of there, I couldn’t stay one more minute with all those people that left me to die.

I went to the house and slept until the next day.

The following morning, I talked and told everyone that I almost drowned, and brushed their concern with a sarcastic smile, didn’t let them get too close, and even less, close enough to try to comfort me,

you weren’t there when I was dying,

not even cared enough to try to get someone who could save me, so no, you don’t get to see my vulnerable side again.

I remember fragments of the following days, I made myself got into the water the next day, so I didn’t get a trauma with the sea, I apologized to not giving her the respect she deserved, and thanked her for returning me my life, I was really grateful.

I never cried, just felt devoid of emotions.

When I returned home, my mom didn’t tell me then, but I looked half dead, and she got terrified.

You know the worst part?

Even before I was born or my mother had even met my father, my mom had gone to see a fortune teller, who told her she would have 2 sons and a daughter, but the girl would die very young, she should be careful of her.

And my mom never forgot that, not when I was born, or in every moment I was careless or didn’t reply to the phone.

I was 14, I was so young, and I should have died that day.

When I came back, and my mom realized I had survived, she cried the whole night with relief, she never told me this until some days ago I asked. It breaks my heart to know how much she carried on her mind without my knowledge. She made my whole family pray to the gods to return the part of my soul that had gotten scared and left my body, and the next day I was okay.

That was 5 years ago, and sometimes I remember that no one saved me when I was dying, not even one of the friends I would have died to save would do that for me.

Maybe they didn’t realize I was in danger, but again,

I would have.

I can’t forgive them, maybe I shouldn’t, it got me trust issues that run deep and that I don’t like to acknowledge,

I saved myself, I always do, and it will always be like that.

It makes me feel cold, I can’t rely on no one, I don’t want to even, to my family, not to be a burden, even barely coping with madness. I shut it all inside so mom won’t have to deal with all my jumbled thoughts. It’s toxic of me I know, but I have time to unpack all the trauma when I’m on my own, for now she is more important.

But I remembered this whole episode when I was swimming the other day, which have never happened before, and it shook me. I felt trapped, oppressed under the enormous mental weight of the water on me.

I guess the mental craziness was extra spicy that day that decided to serve a dish that was very buried inside.

I still feel like I’m pushing it all inside, I haven’t really allowed this wound to heal, and I’m too afraid I’m too weak to really look it in the eye without losing control of my sanity. I’m a makeshift of strength on the outside, inside everything is crumbling and I wonder how I manage to still be in one piece.

I got very good at pretending and crying without sound.

[nope-body]

.

[ggidolsmuts]

Special Treatment - Jang Yeeun

"Fucking health insurance..." you mutter under your breath. A physical is usually guaranteed to be covered, why is it so hard to find a doctor that's in-network?! The ones available are either too far away or completely booked. You scroll and scroll and scroll the portal, looking for available doctors in your area. The only one that fits your needs is an unrated one, seemingly fresh out of medical school. Well, you needed to get a physical done before your coverage rolls over, so you bite the bullet and book an appointment with Doctor Jang Yeeun.

3 months later you show up at her practice, which is thankfully very clean and in a nice part of town. The receptionist checks you in with a sweet smile, and a short while later you are waved in by the nurse. Nervously you confirm your name and date of birth while she takes your height and weight. You can't help but get a whiff of the nurse's perfume as she leans in to put the blood pressure cuff on you.

"Hmm, reading's a little high." The nurse frowns. “Let's try that again.” White coat syndrome is a real thing, but you had a higher pressure for other reasons—frankly, the nurse was hot, the perfect combination of pretty and cute. Another frown adorns her doll-like face when she takes the second reading.

"Any history of high blood pressure or heart disease in the family?"

"No."

"Do you smoke?"

"No."

"Drink?"

"Socially."

"Are you sexually active?"

"Sometimes."

She makes a note of your answers before turning to the computer.

"Okay, so you're just here for the physical?"

"Yes."

The nurse responds with a wordless note, guiding you to the examination chair. Her hand dances across your body.

"Do you feel this?" She presses a finger into your palm, and you nod.

"Close your eyes, how many fingers do I have on your back?"

"Three."

"Mmhmm, keep your knee relaxed." She taps it with a reflex hammer, and you body responds accordingly.

"Good, anything you want to bring up, anything feel off?"

"No. But umm, shouldn't the doctor be doing all of this?" you ask the nurse carefully.

"I am the doctor." You look at her previously flipped nametag, and indeed, it says Jang Yeeun on it. You looked her up on the clinic website, but wow, that photo does not do her justice.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I didn't see the coat, so I assumed—"

"Does this look better?" Yeeun laughs and throws the stereotypical doctor's coat over her petite frame.

"Yes, much like a doctor now, I'm so sorry."

"No problem, we're shorthanded, so I handle both the doctor and nurse duties here."

"I see, that's amazing. For such a pretty doctor to do all of this is really—" you blush and stop yourself, realizing what you said too late.

"A pretty doctor hmm?" Yeeun eyes you intently, a thousand mischievous thoughts running through her head. He's cute, should I...? The truth is, Yeeun has been running herself on fumes the past few months, managing and maintaining her own practice. It doesn't give her time for meeting people, and as a result she's been dry, for lack of a better word.

"Umm... Sorry, that slipped out."

"No, we should analyze, why did that slip out?"

"Sorry, I just thought you are really good looking, and—"

"Thank you. Now, just to clarify, you are sexually active yes? Are you seeing anyone at the moment?"

"No."

"Okay, I'm trying to figure out if you're sexually frustrated since you said that, which I might add, is highly inappropriate."

"I'm sorry, m-maybe, I'm trying to do no-nut November."

"Now why would you do that? It serves no purpose."

"Does it not?"

"Mmhmm, it's quite bad, you can't be going around spouting such comments at any pretty lady you see."

"Not just any, you're just really—" Yeeun interrupts you again.

"Ah ah ah, enough. You need special treatment, please come by my place as soon as possible."

"Um sure, yes of course. Will this be covered by my insurance?"

"Oh no need, we offer it free-of-charge, you will receive a message later today with the details."

Later that night Yeeun lounges in her recliner, debating on what message she should send you. If she didn't want to violate every professional rule about her job, the "place" she sends you to would just be her clinic again, and she'd do some simple placebo treatments for you. But the idle finger she traces between her legs does the thinking for her—she absolutely wanted you to violate her, and so she sends you a different location, the place she's in right now. She gathers her willpower and pulls her finger away from her body, typing out the message and sending it off to you. She breathes deeply and heavily as she tries to fall asleep—she is already looking forward to tomorrow.

Gulping, a few days later, you knock at the door, nervous about not being actually in a doctor's office for this "special treatment".

"Doctor Jang, I'm here."

"Welcome, please come in." Yeeun's dressed in her casual wear instead of looking like a medical professional, but your heart is beating rapidly anyways. Yeeun wears a simple but tightly fitted t-shirt and shorts, and the head below the belt thought that she looked simply delicious.

"Go through the door there, please strip to your underwear and put on the gown." You follow the doctor's instructions obediently.

"You can leave your clothes on the table, please, take a seat on the recliner and close your eyes, try to relax." Yeeun disappears from your view. "So, are you still doing no-nut November?"

"Umm yeah." You can't see Yeeun, but you can hear her step all around you.

"Have you failed? Did you masturbate since we last met?"

"What? No, it has only been a few days."

"Oh, that's no good, it is not good to be pent up." A finger traces your right forearm, and softly Yeeun mutters. "I can feel your muscles, makes me want to feel it working me over..."

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh, I mean, you should be exercising, to work off that testosterone. Have you been doing more exercise then? At least masturbation works this arm muscle here."

"Oh, umm, no, no extra exercise."

"That's no good at all! That can be very harmful to you!" Yeeun claims with a mock scandalized tone. Your gown is pulled open.

"Doctor?"

"Shh, I need to examine you, make sure there are no symptoms from lack of masturbation." Her finger traces your jawline dangerously, and going by her actions so far you were willing to let her dictate how far things were going to go tonight—Yeeun would be a wonderful reason to fail your "goal". But as she glides her nail down your neck, a tiny part of you wonders if she brought you here to kill you instead of fuck you. With your eyes closed, you focus and hear Yeeun's self-muttering all the more clearly, and it eliminates all doubt.

"What a nice strong jaw, makes me want to sit on it..."

"Doctor?"

"Shhh." Her hair tickles your chest—she's very near you. Brazenly her hands travel down your chest and stomach, and you reflexively suck your tummy in, and in response she pokes you with a laugh.

"No need to put on airs, I'm your doctor, remember?" Her whisper is a little higher pitched, teasing you. "It's quite firm regardless, not a six-pack, but something I wouldn't mind grinding on either. Now for something to ride on..."

You were hard before, and as Yeeun's fingers reaches your boxers you get extra sensitive, suddenly noticing the friction of the fabric against your shaft. But all she does is pull on them briefly before moving on. You gasp and buck your hip in response.

"Patience, my patient, the examination needs to be finished." Both your thighs are squeezed, and her hair tickles them, indicating where exactly her head is. Tension floods your body as her warm breath is on your thighs, seeming to move inwards. With a giggle she defuses you, her hands moving down to your calves and feet instead.

Unbeknownst to you Yeeun is soaking wet, her face already red at the scent between your legs—gods she wanted it so bad! But she denies both of you immediate gratification, knowing that the end result will be utterly explosive if she does it. Her hands massaging your calves and lightly touching your feet are just delaying the inevitable, working herself up to cross the next line.

You choke on your breath, gripping the recliner tightly as you feel her fingers on your boxers again.

"Lift your hips please." You almost rocket off the cushion to obey her. In an instant she has pulled them past your knees, and you hurriedly kick them off. Her hair tickles your cheeks once more, and you can't help but moan when you feel her lips pull on your earlobe.

"So hard, so thick, makes me want to fuck you over and over again."

"P-Please, please doctor!"

"It is time for your treatment, keep your eyes closed." Your cock jumps as she drifts her hand down your body, almost touching it. "You should not be denying yourself during an arbitrary month, you should orgasm often, orgasm freely as your needs dictate."

Suddenly you feel her hair tickle your thighs.

"You should cum for me."

You shout loudly into the room when her mouth envelopes your shaft, and a single lick of her tongue is enough to make you spew your pent up load down her throat. With one hand planted on the recliner, the other hand finds her head, and your hips buck off the cushion, trying to stuff your cock straight through Yeeun's face as you shoot rope after rope of cum into her. Yeeun's buried in your crotch, her nose inhaling your arousal, and she is dizzy with heat, either from her own burning need, or from the hot liquid you just put into her. Her hand massages your balls, and Yeeun shudders as you continue throbbing and feeding her rich semen—it makes its way through her body quickly, and every drop of cum you give her makes her produce her own slick, soaking through her panties.

You rest on the recliner, euphorically drained, too tired to even react when she release you with a pop, some cum leaking out the side of her lips. Absentmindedly she feels herself up in front of you while she waits, a hand drifting all over her midriff.

"Do you want me to help you?" you ask when you've finally gotten your wits about you.

"We should focus on your treatment, please go to the bedroom for step two." Yeeun heads in first, disappearing into the bathroom. She splashes herself with water, looking in the mirror at her blushing face. The line had been crossed, she had touched you, put you in her mouth and let you blow—and yet she can't wait to put you in her elsewhere. Yeeun touches herself—her nipples were hard and swollen, and she's sopping wet between her legs, she needed to get off now. She exits the bathroom and finds you sitting on the bed, almost obedient, waiting for her instructions.

"Now then, with your first orgasm out of the way, I need to make sure your arm muscles haven't atrophied."

Your eyes widen as Yeeun unbuttons her shorts, revealing to you black panties with a large and darker wet spot. She sits next to you, placing your hand on a delicious thigh.

"Please touch me, work your arm out as much as you can." Yeeun gasps as you move it swiftly, but not in towards her dripping core, but up to the hem of her underwear.

"Are you sure?" you ask, reveling in how fit Yeeun kept herself—her tummy's flat and very toned, and it twitched slightly in response to your touch. Yeeun nods hastily, her hand covering yours, trying to push you down further.

"Yes, ah, ahh!" Airily Yeeun whines as you immediately slip underneath her underwear, her heat almost overwhelming as you place your palm between her legs. You run two fingers along her labia, and they are instantly coated in slick. Daringly you cup and lift her just like that, pulling her petite frame into your lap, your other arm wrapped around her midriff. Now she's situated between your legs, and Yeeun forces your thighs open as she spreads her legs for you.

"Please show me how to workout, doctor?" Yeeun obliges and places a hand over yours, tensing as she pushes two of your fingers into her. Her back arches in response, and your free hand grabs at her clothed chest, pinning her back against your chest. Your palm grinds against her nipple roughly, and Yeeun bites her lower lip to stifle her moan. You are treated to the sight of her tummy twitching and undulating against you as you follow Yeeun's fingers into her.

"J-Just like that." Yeeun makes to lift her hand and leave you to it, but you are faster.

"No, let's workout together."

"Fuck!" Yeeun cries out as she is stuffed with four fingers for the first time. Her own fingers feel long and thin inside her, a sensation not too foreign to her. But stacked on top of those are your fingers, each seemingly way thicker, firmly pressing her own fingers into her snug walls. In her high arousal she bucks mindlessly against your hands, fucking it like a dildo, except it is one that could separate and push her open, then twist and seemingly screw inside her. Her own fingers are touching places she never thought to touch, places that she pulled away from normally due to how sensitive just getting close to them made her feel. Except now, your fingers are manipulating her, giving both of you an arm workout as you fingerfuck Yeeun with both sets of fingers.

Wait! Too much! Yeeun shouts in her mind, but all that comes out is a low groan. Her free hand scrabbles for your arm, urging you to stop moving, but imperiously you keep going, pumping your arm up and down as you sought to find her g-spot. Yeeun's world begins to go white, her body growing numb as it concentrates on the bubbling cauldron boiling between her legs. You push Yeeun on, both your fingers and hers ever so close to where you wanted to touch, where she needed to be touched. Her entire body tenses involuntarily when her fingerpad brushes against it, and you go in for the kill.

"Ohhhh! Oh nngh— God, oh fuck! Ohhhhh yessss..." Yeeun releases her first unreserved and satisfied moan of the night as you push your fingers against her g-spot repeatedly, fingerblasting her. A jet of juice sprays against her own palm, and you force it to splash back onto herself as you pump fingers viciously into her, the sound getting lewder and sloppier by the second.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" Yeeun stays rigid as her body continues to produce more slick, as if your fingers are poking holes in the dam of pleasure she has built up over her dry spell, and all of it is leaking out uncontrollably. Loud moans accompany every burst of squirt, and she can feel her own palm getting splashed with every orgasmic flash of white in her head. Over and over she goes over the edge until it is finally dulled by overstimulation, her body only able to twitch, unable to squirt anymore. You pull your fingers out, and when you flick your hand droplets of her girlcum are flung on to the bed.

"Good?" you ask her, holding your shining fingers to her face. Yeeun nods and takes your fingers in her mouth. Her tongue cleans them before she pulls you in for a fevered kiss, sticking her tongue down your throat, making sure you can taste her want. You grab her own slick hand and draw it across your jaw and neck, much like she did earlier.

"What did you say before doctor, this makes you want to sit on it?"

"Yes, give me a moment though—" she tries to get off you, but you hold her still.

"No, I want to taste this—" you take her fingers and suck them clean, "straight from the source. Either you sit on me, or I am pinning you to the bed and devouring you right now."

"Fine, fine, lie down, I need to evaluate your neck and jaw muscles."

"Good excuse doctor." You lie down obediently. Yeeun turns around and crawls on top of you, her legs shaky on the mattress. She pushes herself up and down your stomach, smearing it in her juices, and she fires you a smile—right, she wanted to grind on you.

"Breathe in please." You suck your stomach in, and Yeeun moves a little higher, dragging herself over your ribs, the bumps sending shivers up her spine. She grates herself on you, shredding the last of her inhibitions, turning them into a light glean on your torso.

"What happened to not putting on airs in front of you?" you joke as you have to exhale and catch your breath. "There's another way you can feel good doctor, without me having to suck my stomach in."

"Good, I need this so bad tonight." You hook her knees and pull her up your body. The heat on your chest grows, and Yeeun pants heavily on top of you. With your hands on her ass you push her towards you, and she grabs your hair, pulling your head off the bed. Soon you are forced to breathe through your nose, taking in oxygen and her scent as she rides your face, your tongue slurping her like the last bit of soup in a bowl. The bowl is self-filling though, and over and again you drink from Yeeun, each lick on her slit ending with a flick on her clit—it makes her leak even more, coating your chin.

"Hrghk!" Yeeun ignore your grunts and pulls you further in between her legs. If the presidential jet is Air Force One, your face is her Cloud Nine as she bounces up and down, back and forth over your mouth. Your hands are large and grabby on her ass, and part of her wonders if she should let you take over for part of the night, have you pin her down and devour her like you mentioned... her eyes disappear into her head when your tongue wraps around her pearl of a clit. Maybe later.

"Ah fuck, yes! I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum on your face!" Her fingers tug even more urgently on your hair, and her grinding becomes frantic and wild. The resulting act is half her fucking your face, and half you tonguefucking her. You grab her ass almost painfully to try and control Yeeun, but it only serves to drive her arousal higher, and there is no stopping the pleasure shooting up her spine. With a loud cry Yeeun climaxes on top of you, her pussy desperately trying to grab at your tongue, lewd squelching noises filling your ears.

Yeeun falls off you, and you take a moment to take everything in—you are drenched in slick, you're sweating, your face is red, you're gasping for breath, and yet you haven't done a damn thing to your bombshell of a doctor. Yeeun has no plans of letting up though, and she clambers on top of you before you could get the upper hand.

"How about you take a rest doctor?"

"No, I want to ride this cock, need to feel this in me." She has already lined herself up with you, and her guiding hand is already grasping you.

"So fucking needy—" you grunt in pleasure as you slip into Yeeun for the first time. You thought you were drenched in her slick already, but your cock feels like it's submerged in a pool of her juices, and somehow it is the tightest pool you've ever been in. The pool grows and deepens inch by inch, until Yeeun is sitting on your waist. She takes off her t-shirt and bra, and you get a peek at her breasts before she leans on top of you, kissing your neck.

"Damn doctor, you're a little nympho aren't you?"

"You would be too if you haven't gotten laid in so long, now shut up and let me ride, you can take over later." The prospect of finally fucking Yeeun shuts you up, and you focus your energies on holding your orgasm back. It is relatively easy at first, but as Yeeun picks up the pace the warmth of her body on yours becomes hot and slick, just like her pussy wrapped around you. You shut your eyes tightly, wishing you could plug your ears from her erotic moans.

Yeeun smiles at your closed eyes, knowing that she was getting to you just as much as you were getting to her. She throws her head back, closing her own eyes and focusing on the pleasure she's taking from you. God I can’t stop riding him! Her body's taut and her pussy's tight, clenching down on you whenever she falls on your lap. Yeeun wants nothing more than to have your cock permanently in her, and she grinds down on your groin demandingly, trying to make the two of you joined at the cock and pussy. The heat between two of you grows with the friction, and Yeeun's fallen on top of you.

"Fuck I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum all over you!" she screeches, and when Yeeun orgasms, she really does cum all over you, giving your cock and crotch a fresh coat of slick. She gasps and groans into your neck, each contraction of her pussy around you forcing both air and juice out of her. You bite your lip and curl your toes, desperately trying to hold on and not blow in or with Yeeun.

"That was so good... Oh, you're bleeding, let me put some pressure on it." Yeeun leans in for a firm kiss, the light sting of your lip bite overpowered by the softness of her lips and the sweet taste of her lip gloss. She breaks the kiss with a smirk. "Haven't cum yet? Good, I'll keep my word then, you can do what you want, just don't cum in me."

Without a further word you roll Yeeun off you, and she's a little disappointed when you get on top of her in the missionary position. She's less disappointed where you put her legs on your shoulders, cooing in delight as you slide back into her. With the help of gravity you get even deeper and feel even bigger inside her, and she's already quickening to her next peak. You examine Yeeun's depths thoroughly with your cock, an invasive search that leaves her breathless in joy. Her body is pliable, bending to your weight, and no problems with her reflexes are observed—when you pull out, she lifts her hips best she can, yearning for the next thrust of your cock; when you push in, Yeeun tightens around you immediately, her ankles hooked around your neck.

"Yes!" Yeeun moans shamelessly—she was so right to let you do this to her! The pressure you're exerting on her entire body is nothing like she would get if she's the one in command. The bed creaks under your pounding, and Yeeun bounces powerlessly on the bed, sprung up by the bedsprings when you pull back, only to be slapped down at the hips by your next downward slam.

This feels so wrong but so good! She's violated all professional conduct tonight, and now you're taking her to task, punishing her with overwhelming pleasure. Yeeun screams in climax right before your own orgasm hits you, and your load splatters all over her twitching body as she thrashes about underneath. She threatens to pull the sheets off the bed in the throes of pleasure, but you grab her attention by leaning forward, pushing down on her legs. She looks up at you, eyes unfocused, still lost in ecstasy—a whimper escapes her as you lean even further on her, almost snapping her in two at the hips, but she inches her head up, and you reward her by gently pushing her legs off your shoulders and kissing the pain away.

"Oh fuck, it feels so warm..." Yeeun sneaks a hand down her body, smearing and spreading your cum all over her skin. Her tummy's now shining with your seed, and a second wind takes you.

"You admit you're a nympho doctor?" You're already flipping her on her front, and Yeeun reacts accordingly, pushing herself to her knees.

Fuck yes! "Only if the sex is good," she mumbles into the pillow, still catching her breath.

"And is the sex good?" Is he hard aga- nngh! You're already feeding her pussy with cock, and she pushes her hips even higher.

"Yes, fuck yes!" Yeeun cries into the pillow, her arms already tired from pulling on the sheets so much. She's sore, sensitive, and delirious, mostly fucked out of her mind. But she wanted more, wanted you to fuck her again, wanted you to fuck another orgasm into her. You give her just that, and with a sound that is as unintelligible as a doctor's handwriting she clenches around you again. The jolts of pleasure you give her as you fuck her through her orgasm become hammers on her nerves—her body reacts for her, spreading her knees and dropping her hips low on the bed, away from you.

But like an ambulance chaser your hips follow her down, and you easily drill Yeeun's prone form into the bed. One hand presses down on her back, and the other goes round to her face, and you hook her by the mouth with two fingers, twisting her head around to face you. Her tongue flicks against your fingers, and you pull them out to smear her cheeks with her own spit.

"Please, please cum for me already," Yeeun begs, drooling from where you had hooked her, it was too much, far beyond what she had expected! You are just about at your limit too, and with a few rapid ruts into her overfucked pussy you pull out, lodging your cock between her butt cheeks and thrusting forward, shooting your load all over her flawless back. Yeeun hisses, the thick white fluid scalding red hot lava on her skin. She moans in relief when it quickly cools, and when your cock throbs and slowly gets smaller on her lower back, indicating the end of the night. You knock the breath out of Yeeun when you collapse on top of her, kissing her sweaty neck.

"Too much for the nympho doctor?"

"Mmhmm, fuck that was too good."

"Are we done with treatment then?"

"Yes, no problems with your lack of masturbation. Might need you to come back in for another round of treatment sometime." Yeeun cranes her neck to look at you.

"I'd like that." You capture her lips passionately, two people thoroughly satisfied.

But the talk after you're all cleaned up is awkward.

"You know I can't be your doctor anymore right, this is a huge violation."

"Of course, I understand. You're losing my business then, I get sick very easily." Yeeun scoffs in response before walking you to the door.

"Please, my business will be fine. But I won't be, give me your number."

"You already have it no, from my records?"

"Yeah but it feels wrong to use that." You oblige and type your number in, and she calls you back. "Good, I'll contact you for your next treatment— Wait! Don’t save my number as that!” Yeeun winces as you save her number as "Doctor Jang". She takes your phone away from you before slipping it back into your hand with a kiss and a wink.

"I'll let you know when to come over, and bring some clothes to change into next time."

You look down at your phone on the way home. Her contact name says "Nympho Yeeun" instead—and already she's sending you a text for when you should come over next. An apple a day keeps the doctor away, but a lay a day keeps your balls drained, and your nympho doctor Jang Yeeun will make sure of that.

A/N: Took my time writing this one, Yeeun is gorgeous. It might read a little similar to the Woohee story, but hope it’s different enough. Anyways thanks for reading, hope you enjoy the medical references!

[moonlightazriel]

Traitor /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: "do you think that maybe you could do and azrielx reader where the reader is falsely accused of treason and azriel is super mad, but then realises that its not true and is like suuuuper sorry. I love your writing so much btw."

Warnings: Mentions of blood, angst, torture and etc..

Word Count: 3,5K

Notes: Does this request mean that she was accused of treason against her court or cheating on Azriel? I got kinda confused, if this is not what you meant by this request please let me know.

Main Masterlist

Azriel couldn’t believe his eyes, his heart shattering in his chest as he removed the hood covering her head, the face he loved to held between his hands, those eyes that would look at him with so much love, her hair was a mess and she had bruises all over her face, her eyebrow was split open, a black eye, and blood pouring out her nose. She didn't look at him in the eyes, she didn’t want to see the hurt in her lover’s eyes, it was too much to bear.

She had been delivered to him, with six other illyrians , the group was being accused of planning the murder of the high lord and lady, Azriel expected this from these males, but her? Conspiring against her own family, he felt sick, his heart dropping to his stomach, he looked away before he fainted, his mind tried to think about a motive, anything to justify this situation, and he had to hold his shadows on a leash so they wouldn’t rush to her, they yelled at him, about every wound covering her body.

“Why?” It was all he could say, his voice shaking with anxiety, even after everything he went through, this was the most painful of them all, he wanted to hold her, but even if he loved her with every fiber of his being, he was even more loyal to his brother and would never put him in danger, he knew better than that.

“Az.” She cried, the tears now streaming down her face and her voice creaking, he tried not to give in and grab her in his arms, he needed to wear the mask of the spymaster, the same he used to deal with traitors and criminals, she flinched as she saw his face changing, the dark expression covering his beautiful features, she was used with the harsh gaze but it was never directed to her, her heart started hammering against her rib cage, making it hard to breath. “It’s not what you think.”

“You have no idea of what i’m thinking.” He interrupted her, his voice cold and threatening, she breathed deeply, her head hurts and she tried to stop crying, she never thought that she would end up here, like this, her plan was easy, she didn’t expected that she would get caught before she finished it, she felt like an idiot. “So let me be clear, what i’m thinking is that my mate was conspiring against my brother, to kill him and his mate, for Mother knows what reason, and that she lied to my face pretending everything was okay.”

“I swear to you that i can explain everything, you just have to listen to me, it’s all i'm asking for.” He scoffed, he tried to hide his broken heart with anger, if he didn’t had closed his side of the bond, she would be able to feel the burning rage, confusion and especially the sadness he was feeling inside, he felt so hurt that he didn’t think he wanted to hear what she had to say, maybe he should ask Cassian or Rhys himself to take care of her. “If you will feel better, call Rhys over, so i can explain to him as well.” She knew him like the palm of her hand, and she would do everything to explain the situation and clean this mess.

He called his brother, he knew Rhys was just waiting somewhere in the Hewn City, he made sure to inform what was happening before getting to the interrogation. Rhysand stepped of the shadows, he's imponent figure faltering as he landed his eyes on Y/N, the same confused expression covered his face now, an eyebrow raised as he analyzed the scene.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, the whole thing was really odd and he had a bad feeling.

“She was caught among the traitors, she’s trying to give excuses.” Azriel stated and she looked at Rhys, silently pleading for his help.

“I’m not a traitor.” She breathed, her throat dry, she couldn’t remember the last time she had something to drink, sighing she closed her eyes.

“Let’s hear what she have to say then, by the end of it, i will be able to tell if she’s lying or not.” Rhysand spoke, his voice loud and powerful, he felt sorry for her, so he made sure that she was comfortable before starting her story.

2 weeks earlier

Rhys had sent her to a monthly checking in the illyrian camps that were far away in the northern parts of the Steppes, she just had one job, to make sure the females were training and the lord was following the rules, he thought that if the females saw a powerful illyrian, a true warrior like Y/N was, they would get the courage and be inspired to join the training, he knew she was more than capable to defend herself, she certainly was more skilled and stronger than any of them.

When Y/N got there, things were unusually normal, the females were training and even sparring with some of the males, something that she only learned later that it was a trick to distract her, she wasn’t able to find the camp’s lord, when she asked around no one had seen him, she felt immediately that something was wrong, she couldn’t point out what yet, but she would find out soon.

She decided to search for him in his house, the residence carved in the mountain, when she reached for the doorknob, the door swing open and suddenly the lord was in front of her, he was acting strange, trying to get her away from the house, she could only see a group reunited in the living room before the door closed and he dragged her away.

Darian, the lord of the camp, was being extra friendly with her, inviting her to their nightly feast and offering her a bed in the camp, she knew she should have been more careful and payed more attention, but she just accepted, the food was good and the wine tasted delicious, but as soon as she felt her limbs going numb and her eyelids heavy, begging to be closed she knew she was fucked.

When she woke up, her whole body hurt, her head was still spinning and she felt her stomach twisting, the urge to throw up too strong that she just had enough time to turn her head to the side before the food she ate saw the daylight again, she inspired heavy after she had finish, a sour taste in her mouth while she looked around, the cell she was locked on was nasty, she was laying on a dirty mattress, the cell smelled like rotten food and death, if she had anything in her stomach, she would have throw up again.

She waited a whole day for someone to show up, Darian’s footsteps were loud against the stone floor, he crouched in front of the cell door, a smirk on his lips while he looked at her.

“I’m sorry that you’re being held in a such disgusting place, but we need you, you will help us to kill the high lord.” Y/N laughed at him.

“You’re more insane than i thought if you think i would do such a thing.” She rolled her eyes at the pathetic male.

“It’s not like your going to have a choice darling, i don’t think you quite understood me.” He got up, walking to another cell on the other side of the room. “Wake up sweetie.” He said, slamming his hands on the iron bars, she noticed the two bodies laying on the floor, her heart almost stop completely as she recognized the two figures, her whole body went still as her sister Maze and Easton, her nephew looked at her, they had fading bruises, she wondered how many days they were being held hostage in this hole. “If you don’t kill Rhysand and his whore, i will kill your precious sister, you thought that you could keep her hidden? Poor you.” He laughed and walked away.

She cried as she apologized to her sister, her heart breaking at the scene, Maze tried to comfort her sister, she knew that it wasn’t Y/N’s fault, she couldn’t be blamed by the cruelty the Illyrian males seemed to have within them. She promised to Maze that she would do everything in her power to set her free and to punish those who dared to inflict pain on her family, she knew she had to dance with them if she wanted to keep her sister alive.

They set her free two days later, she was being sent back to gather information, anything she could do to help them, they wanted to know where the high lord would be, with who, doing what and when, they were preparing an ambush for him, she knew they had someone keeping an eye on her, to make sure she did her part, so she pretended that everything was okay, she pretended to gather information and made sure to have public conversations so they would know that she was collaborating.

She tried to tell Azriel, but every time he asked why she was acting strange, the terrified faces of her family crossed her mind while Darian’s word ringed in her head, promising that if she told anyone, he would kill her sister and would sent both of their hearts to her as a gift, so she just kept quiet, saying she was tired and he shouldn't worry about her, it broke her heart having to lie to him, but she was in a delicate situation, she had to filter everything that she sent down the bond to make sure he wouldn't notice her fear and desperation, it was the hardest part.

She got back to the camp, 1 week later, Darian was waiting for her with a wicked grin and his guards were behind him, she felt defeated, her heart was completely broken and her spirit was almost as damaged as her heart, she didn’t know for how long she could keep doing this before breaking entirely.

“You’ve been a really good girl.” He clapped and she felt the bile rising in her mouth, ready to throw up on this disgusting male. “But we just come up with a even better idea, I’m sure your going to love this one.” He said, his hands flickering in the air and his guards moved, she didn’t had the strength to fight anymore, this could cost her sister’s life, so she just let them hand cuff her, and walked with them silently, once she was locked in that cell again, he spoke. “Your fucking mate will be devastated if he saw that his precious slut is working against her family, so devastated that he won’t even seek revenge once his brother is gone. All the information you gave was helpful and now we don’t need you anymore.” He turned around ready to leave, his voice distant as he commanded. “Now let the party begin.”

They would go down there every day to beat her up, she closed her end of the bond so Azriel wouldn’t feel her pain and her hopes dying every day, at least they left her sister and nephew alone, ever since they started torturing her, they wouldn’t rise a finger against her sister and for that she was glad. Maze tried to reassure Y/N, telling her that they would get out of there soon, but as time went on she was starting to doubt her own words.

When they got her out of the cell, she felt weak, dehydrated and dizzy, she hadn’t anything to eat or drink in three days, she was fighting to stay awake while they dropped her on the ground, Darian was looking at her, she noticed the other six figures also laying on the ground with her.

“It’s the big day honey, time for you to shine.” She didn't understand what he meant, but as soon as the kicking and punching started, she knew that they would deliver her to Azriel as a traitor, all she could think was what this would do to her mate, she knew this would break him beyond the point of repair, she tried to fight, tried to escape for him but it was useless, when she woke up again, everything was black, she felt her body being moved and the sound of water, the smell was pungent and it reeked of sadness and regret, she knew exactly where she was. She was in the interrogation chambers underneath the Court of Nightmares, she was in her mate's hands.

Present

Rhys handed her the cup of water, which she sipped greedily, the liquid soothing her sore throat, she felt like she was going to black out but she couldn’t help as she kept pushing the water down. Azriel felt conflicted, he had his mate telling him that she was forced to do it but he also had letters from her, he would recognize her calligraphy anywhere, the sensitive information about Rhysand and Feyre, he didn’t know if they were true information, he felt his heart split in two, the wanting to believe her burning stronger in his chest than the doubts in his head. He waited for his brother, if all she said was true, Rhys would know, he didn’t dare to say a thing while he looked at the two, he knew that he was looking in her mind, his Daemati powers were a blessing in times like this.

The chains dissipated in thin air as she sobbed relieved, she let her mind open, inviting Rhys in, allowing him to see everything he pleased, she didn’t have anything to hide from him, and he felt her pain and her loneliness as she dealt with that alone, he walked over to her, helping her stand and hugged her, his hands gently holding her, afraid that she would break. It was in this moment that Azriel knew he fucked up, that he should’ve believed his mate, as she cried hard in another male’s arms, he didn’t know what to say or do to make up for her, the guilty starting to spread in his mind like poison.

He approached them shyly, his feet barely making any noise as he walked, his hand touching the high lord’s shoulder and he turned to face Azriel, he silently handed Y/N to him, Azriel wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her face even deeper in his chest, sobbing louder as her crying got more hysterical, she felt like she disappointed her mate, and that, was too much for her.

“Az, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t know what to do.” She cried, her voice strangled and weird, he grabbed her even close and felt his own tears gathering in his eyes at the sight of his broken mate, he didn’t noticed Rhysand disappearing behind him, the high lord was going to fix this while Azriel would try to fix his Y/N.

“You don’t have to apologize, you were just trying to protect you family, I’m the only that should be sorry, for doubting you.” He said, his voice a whisper while he tried to hold his own emotions, he needed to be strong for her. “Let’s get out of here, you should see a healer.” He then winnowed them both back to Velaris, he got her straight to the healers hall, so Madja could check on her. He stayed glued to her side as she slept, Madja administrating a sleeping potion to make her rest, she had two broken ribs and was severely dehydrated, he felt his mind getting a little calmer as he watched her peacefully sleeping, the bruising slowly starting to fade.

When Rhysand showed up again, he was holding a female and Cassian was behind him, with a child in his arms, Madja quickly made sure to take care of Maze and Easton, as Azriel dismissed his brothers, saying it was his fault and he should be to one to look after them, Rhys tried to argue, saying that it wasn’t his fault but his words fell on deaf ears.

The healers would come two times a day to make sure they were fine, Azriel had not left her side, only when Cassian dragged him home, to at least shower. He felt terrible leaving her there, his body claimed to be with her, wanting to be by her side when she woke up. He was heading to bed when he felt something pulling in his chest, he knew what that meant, he rushed to the opposite direction, flying off the balcony to get to the healers hall as fast as possible, his wings flapping faster and the wind whipping his face, he didn’t care about his state when he landed, rushing through the doors.

She was awake, her body felt numb and she felt slightly confused, her mind foggy as she tried to piece things together, when he brushed through the doors, everything came crashing down, every memory and dark feeling that made her chest heavy, she looked away, feeling ashamed to look him in the eyes, his heart broke a little more at her fragile state. . Her eyes landed on the sleeping bodies, her family safe once more, she tried to contain the silent tears but it was useless, she felt so tired and defeated, she felt him grabbing her hand, her head slowly turning to her mate. She didn’t find in herself any reason to blame him, she was acting suspicious for days, she knew he had the letters that she sent to them, why would he think differently from what was being shown to him? Azriel was about to open his mouth when she shut him.

“If your going to apologize, there’s no need. I understand that you were led to believe I was a traitor, they did the same to me, but I need you right now, I need my mate, and I know your going to blame yourself, so please don’t, if someone should be blamed, It’s Darian and his camp.” Azriel pondered her words, hearing them brought a weird relief to his heart, he knew that things wouldn’t be easily fixed right away, but she needed him and he wanted to be there for her.

“He’s being held on the same filthy cell he locked you, Rhysand is waiting for you to decide what you want to do with him.” She knew that this was coming, of course he would give the decision to her, and for that, she was grateful. She didn’t know if killing him would do anything for her, but she knew that would make her sister feel safe, and she would do everything in her power to make sure that her family was safe.

3 days later

When Rhysand got to the healers hall to visit Y/N, he offered to her sister to just erase this tragic moment from her life, she didn’t accept, she wanted to remember everything that she gone through but for Easton, she chose to make him forget, he was to young to have to deal with such a thing, he also offered her a new start, a life in the Dawn Court, she gladly accepted, needing a fresh start somewhere else, Maze made Y/N promise to her that she would forgive herself, it wasn’t fair that they just kept taking things from them, Y/N hugged Maze with all her strength, telling her how much she loved her and how she was proud of her big sister. She had told Maze about her decision against Darian, and all Maze did was nod her head and tell her to “Make him pay”.

Y/N got shivers all over her body when she and Azriel landed in the camp, she looked around, the field now empty, it was like a ghost town, tents everywhere but no one to live in them, Azriel held her close as he walked her to the cells block. She held her breath as she got there, the smell of blood even worse than she remembered, her hands shaking as she stopped in front of the same cell she was held hostage just a few days ago. Darian was severely injured but still alive, his eyes looked at her, the sarcastic gaze long gone while he started to plead for her to have mercy on him.

“You weren’t merciful when you tortured my sister or my nephew, a mere child, you weren’t merciful when you forced me to work against my family and lie to them, there’s no need for me to show you any mercy, you don’t deserve it.” She finished, extending her hand to Azriel, where he softly placed truth teller, the cold blade freezing in her hand, holding it tightly, in one move, a clean cut in his throat, his body collapsed on the ground, blood pouring out of him like water, cleaning the dagger, she handed it back to its owner and turned away. Ready to leave this nightmare behind, with her mate glued on her side.

[ronearoundblindly]

Do You Two...Fondue? (3)

Door-to-Door, Part One (see previous or series)

Summary: Going public has its drawbacks but you have more than just Steve's support.

While no warnings really apply to this part, this storyline is not suitable for all ages. MINORS DNI.

Dating has its ups and downs. You’re with both Steve Rogers and Captain America, but the press are pretty indifferent to you dating Cap. Stories about your ‘brother’ are irritating to the whole family because you and your parents worked really hard to make Ro feel supported. Tabloids don’t seem to care if they dead-name people. Ro ends their leave time and returns to cruise work to get away from the nonsense, wishing you good luck.

Without any real scandal in your present, one ‘journalist’ runs a horrifyingly inaccurate, nonsensical, drivel piece about Norm grooming you for the express purpose of going after Steve. Somehow your entire education, your lack of previous longterm romances, even your hobbies are all reduced to a ploy for attracting the dude you are half-convinced isn’t actually attracted to you.

You still have to show your face at work like none of it bothers you, as if you’re not getting a call every hour from Norm’s widow. Bruce tells you to go home at lunch, but you go hide in Steve’s apartment and use his pretty, pretty pencils to draw the world’s fanciest stick figures until he returns.

They run this story, of course, three weeks after the one-year anniversary of Norm’s death, so it makes you sick to your stomach to think people might actually believe it. His family deserves better. Steve believes you deserve better and, shortly after he arrives, excuses himself to get your favorite food as comfort.

Except…he clearly doesn’t go do that because Natasha texts you about half an hour later with a simple:

: Never heard Steve yell like that.

—followed by a text from Tony Stark himself (a man who does not text you)—

: Star-Spangler

: I’m handling it. Call off Goldie.

: I think he ruptured my eardrum

: Correction: Pep says that was def Morgan yesterday at the park.

Steve comes back with your food like nothing’s happened and apologizes for the wait.

The story miraculously goes away which is good for Norm’s family, but you have absolutely zero clue how to talk about any of it with Steve. There’s a twinge of fear that even he might believe the faintest hint of that awful article.

Instead, in the middle of an emotionally draining ‘hike’—you’re fully dragging your feet by this point—Steve turns around to grip your chin and force you to look at him. It’s a bright, sunny spring day, and he is so perfectly America’s Golden Boy, your heart dies and resuscitates simply by the potency of his glow.

“It worked,” he starts with an easy smile. “You didn’t do any of that for me, and they didn’t even mention the best bits.” Steve releases your chin and sweeps a bit of hair behind your ear carefully, slowly, (you think) sensually. “That’s what I kept thinking. Gosh, they don’t know the half of it, the stuff that I…appreciate about you.”

That pause.

That one hesitation where your stomach bottoms out and you go blind. Was he gonna say it? Why didn’t he say it? Why do you expect him to say it? You analyze every micro expression you think you saw on his face, unsure how much to get your hopes up. Steve’s feelings are indecipherable, an uncrackable code, mostly because his physical actions are so limited towards you and they haven’t really escalated to the point you’d think it’s love.

By the end of the walk, Steve offers to play hooky for an upcoming event, the biggest you two will have attended as a couple yet. You don’t have to worry about anything big-press related, he insists. You can stay in, just the two of you.

You’re feeling staunchly brave. You won’t give those fuckers the satisfaction. Steve even lets the curse go without protest, but he asks again the day before the gala to make sure you haven’t lost your nerve. Tony advises that you not skip it, says it will help to offer some innocuous photo ops, says it’ll bury the need for any salacious stories.

Tony Stark has a skewed version of ‘innocuous.’ 

The spring charity gala starts with a red carpet entrance and a truly outrageous amount of press. Steve is a huge stick in the mud. You can’t blame him. You’re fighting back tears by the time you reach the actual front doors.

“Are you pregnant? Is that why you’re together?”

“Do you think of yourself as the worthiest woman then?”

“Have you gotten a makeover to be ready for tonight?”

“Do you feel pressure to slim down?”

“Will you quit work now that you’re a kept woman?”

Half of these go unnoticed by Steve because he is asked other questions, relevant ones about the damn charity, while you get grilled, roasted, and skewered.

You have to stop by the restroom to check your makeup before returning inside where more photographers await. You did have a bit of a makeover—and a pep talk—from Natasha before this, but your carefully tempered nerves of steel are warping in the direct heat of utter bullshit. You’ll never joke that he’s Captain Judgment ever again.

When you pop out of the restroom after a too-long reprieve, Steve is right there. “Say the word and we leave.”

You say nothing, nod and smile, but he becomes a wall of muscle between you and almost everyone the whole night. Literally, only fellow Avengers are allowed to approach you, which is an appreciated protection but makes it impossible to think of anything other than how polarizing you seem to be. You keep drinking and try to distract yourself.

The band doesn’t play Steve’s type of music, so he stays seated with you during the majority of the night. He puts his hand on your knee, tells you that you look lovely in the dress you’re convinced is suffocating you very slowly, and says he’d like to dance with you…just not to this and not here. As always, his hand is warm and heavy.

After seeing you wiggle around to the beat, Tony takes pity and offers his hand. He doesn’t allow Steve time to answer the rushed “you don’t mind” before pulling you around the table to the center floor. There’re plenty of people dancing already, and it’s an easy bit of fun. Moving helps you flake off some anxious energy.

Tony looks around for a bit, assessing the party, then returns his focus to you. “Nice to have ya ‘round, Spangler.”

You sniffle a bit and whip your hair out of your face dramatically. “It’s nice to be around, sir.”

He brings you very close to dance, expecting the eye roll it earns him, but Tony’s hand stays respectfully high on your waist. “You look very glowy tonight. Could it be love?”

A nervous giggle is all you manage while failing to stop a glance over his shoulder at Steve. 

“People don’t generally shriek at me for good reasons,” Tony rambles as he sways with you, “sure, yeah, valid reasons but rarely good reasons. Pep yells at me out of love, or so I’m told—“ he snorts “—baby girl also. Those are one-hundred percent loving shrieks.”

Steve chats with a couple of people on the other side of the room. Your cheeks burn, and you try to change the subject. “And how is Miss Morgan?”

Tony puffs up. “Smartest kid ever. Runs away from all responsibility. Won’t pick up her toys. Orders Dum-E around. Dum-E actually listens to her which is just insulting.” He shrugs with the most rapturous grin on. “She’ll eclipse me by ten.”

How predictable of a Stark… “A young whippersnapper, eh?” 

It’s the kind of joke that makes the billionaire’s eyes melt when he recognizes who it reminds him of.

Unnervingly, he keeps his full attention trained on you for a few more steps. “I’m glad he has you.” Tony twirls you around playfully. “Pep’s hoping to do a cookout by the river when summer hits. You in?”

Tony’s caught you off guard with his intuition, so you nod and accidentally swing back into his chest a little hard. He mockingly clutches his heart while you apologize. Tony assures you the outing would be secluded and no stress. He thinks that’s what’s flustered you.

You wouldn’t dare complain or let Stark in on any details of your relationship, but your throat tightens at his words. You’re in pretty deep now, and your feelings are obvious enough that Mr. Neon Signs is onto you. It makes you foggy the rest of the event.

(Next part)

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[cherienymphe]

Cruel Intentions (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, manipulation, mentions of abuse, therapist!Steve, silverfox!Steve, drugging

! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !

➥ Image by @angrybirdcr

      ➥ dividers by @firefly-graphics

This is for the “For the Fic” challenge whose winner for my fic was @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​

The entire plot was her request and I hope that you like it!

summary: after escaping an abusive ex, you find solace in a therapist recommended to you by a friend. 

~

“...I know I shouldn’t...but sometimes I blame myself. In Harry, I know that I was looking for what I never had in my family. I think it made me quick to rush into things...to ignore what I should have seen.”

Your eyes remained on the dark carpet, the man before you humming as the scribbling sound of his pen reached your ears. You fought hard not to fidget, a horrible habit you’d picked up in the last 3 years. You finally lifted your head again when the room was bathed in silence, eyes meeting familiar blue ones as he studied you.

You were used to these short moments of silence by now.

You’d been recommended to Dr. Steve Rogers by a friend, a friend who’d helped you escape your violent ex in the dead of night while he’d been away on business. She had grown worried when it became obvious that the effects of your tumultuous relationship would be lasting if you didn’t do something about it. Oddly enough, you’d been receptive. For 2 whole years, you’d wanted to tell someone, have anyone to turn to and talk to, but fear, a very valid fear, had stopped you.

Not only had you been worried for your life, something that was threatened on a constant basis, but you’d also been afraid of judgement. You worried what your friends would say, if they’d blame you for finding yourself in such a predicament, if they’d look down on you for no longer fighting back. It was only by a stroke of luck that Nakia had seen Harry slap you right across the face when he thought she’d left. You were grateful that she’d waited for him to leave before rushing towards your trembling frame, pulling you into her arms as she shushed you.

She had demanded to know how long this had been going on. She had been horrified and confused and angry. It didn’t take her long to come up with a plan, and within 2 weeks, after waiting for Harry to leave the city for 2 days, she’d gotten you out and into her place across town. You didn’t stay for long, maybe a few weeks, wanting nothing but to put it all behind you, and although she was sad to see you go, she understood.

It was how you found yourself in upstate New York, in a secluded tiny thing of a house. You hadn’t even realized that you’d become something of a recluse until Nakia had pointed it out during one of your weekly calls. It had never hit you that you went to work and to home and that was it. You barely ate anymore, so grocery shopping was never a frequent affair. That was when she’d told you about a well known therapist in the area, Steven G. Rogers. You had been shocked by how much you weren’t opposed to the idea as she went on listing all of his credentials. 

It was only moments after she hung up that you found yourself researching him yourself. You remembered noting how handsome the man was, even more so in person. His bright blue eyes and silver tresses complimented his strong features nicely, pink lips pulled up into a polite smile. You didn’t find yourself put off by the stranger, thinking to yourself that talking to someone you didn’t know, an objective listener who was paid not to judge you, might be for the best.

You soon found out that was easier said than done.

The first visit had been rocky, barely mumbling a thing and constantly fidgeting. You had hardly been able to meet his eye, and the session had abruptly ended when you’d left early, stumbling over your words as you gave some half assed excuse for your sudden departure. He was far more understanding than you deserved during your second visit. Wracked with guilt and anxiety, you’d written some things down that you wanted to talk about, and thankfully, the man hadn’t laughed at you. In fact, you remembered how fondly he looked at you as you unfolded it.

As it turned out, you didn’t need the slip of paper at all. Notes forgotten, you had rambled on for an hour. It was like once you started, you just couldn’t stop, and Steve simply listened the entire time. The next time he spoke to you was only to tell you that your time was up, and both embarrassment and disappointment had flooded through you. It must have been obvious, plain as day on your features, because Steve reassured you that it was normal to ramble. 

You had been reluctant to leave. After years of biting your tongue and living in fear of even making the wrong sound, you finally found someone to listen. Even if it was only a stranger getting paid for it, it was still something. There was someone to express your fears to, and although it had taken some time, terrified that you’d say the wrong thing and upset him, eventually, you started to express your anger too.

“...and then I get angry all over again,” you continued when he said nothing. “...because I’m smart, because red flags in others’ relationships have always been so obvious to me. I’ve always been the mom friend, the one who can spot trouble before it even starts. I’ve helped friends get out of situations before they even had the chance to turn sour…”

You shook your head.

“...and yet...it took a slap to the face to realize just how deep I was in? Not the jealousy, not the anger issues nor the way he’d isolated me from just about everyone in my life...but a slap? It should’ve never gotten to that.”

“You can’t blame yourself for the actions of others.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d heard that. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time he’d told you that, and yet here you were again.

“We can go in circles analyzing your own behavior and the things you did and the things you said, but the truth is that you could play it out in your head a million times. You could do every single thing differently, and it still wouldn’t change a thing.”

The corner of his lips lifted into a crooked smile, a familiar sight.

“Some people are simply cruel, and it has nothing at all to do with you.”

You sharply inhaled, unsure of why such a simple statement resonated with you so deeply. You stared at Steve, blinking a few times, opening your mouth to respond when he glanced at the clock. It was a tell tale sign, and your shoulders sagged. You would think that after seeing him for 7 months now, you’d be used to leaving after only an hour, but it never got easier.

“That’s all the time we have for today,” he said, standing. “You’re progressing nicely, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, and he chuckled, eyes crinkling. 

“You are. Progress and healing isn’t linear. Sometimes you’re going to take 2 steps back before you can take 10 more forward. It’s all part of the process,” he assured you.

You sighed.

“Well… I guess that does make me feel a bit better,” you replied.

He sent you a small smile as he guided you towards the door.

“I’ll see you next week?”

You returned his smile with a nod and didn’t let your face fall until the door was shut behind you. The good thing about therapy was that you could recognize your own toxic behaviors now, and it was clear that you were becoming reliant on your sessions with Steve. You had never liked being alone, but you had come all the way out here to learn to do just that. For your sake, you needed to learn to love being alone. It was how you had gotten into this mess to begin with.

Your phone vibrated with a call from an unknown number, and figuring it was a scam call, you silenced it.

Your house was practically in the middle of nowhere, so when the tv wasn’t blasting or you didn’t have Spotify playing some light tune, the house could get scarily quiet. But that was what you wanted...right? Harry had always been so explosive. The smallest of things could set him off and then the sound of yelling and shattering glass would rain down on you. Silence and solitude was what you wanted, needed.

Your phone buzzed again as you settled into your car, and you huffed when you noticed it was the same number. Again, you weren’t unfamiliar with scam callers so you ignored it. You noted that you needed to go grocery shopping, but you weren’t on the precipice of starvation just yet, so it could hold off for another day. By the time you got inside, your phone had started to buzz again, and with a frown, you decided to answer it.

“Hello?”

You were met with silence as you unlocked your door, and you repeated yourself, but there was no response. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You both loved and hated coming home. It was quiet and safe and everything you had craved for years now, but the unfamiliarity of it all unnerved you. Sometimes you were just waiting for Harry to come flying through the door, screaming and breaking things. You had to remind yourself that this silence, this security, is how it’s supposed to be.

You went about making a quick meal, hopping into the shower while leaving the stove on low. When you got out, in the process of moisturizing your arms, you noticed your phone buzzing with another call. From that same number. Unease filled you as you neared it, and you hesitantly reached for it before answering.

Again, you were met with silence, and frustrated and annoyed, you simply blocked the number. A quick look through your phone revealed that you’d missed several calls from the same number while in the bathroom. Blinking with a deepening frown, you set your phone down and made your way to your kitchen. Dinner, like always these days, was quiet. You curled up on the couch with your plate while you watched some old sitcom.

The rest of the night passed as blandly as it always did. Sleep was much easier to find these days, so you had no trouble as soon as your head hit the pillow. However, just as you were on the verge, your phone buzzed with another call. This number didn’t match the previous one, but it was unknown nonetheless. With a groan, you put your phone on silent and rolled over, sleep claiming you.

“I know it’s you,” you sneered into the phone.

Unsurprisingly, you were met with the faint sound of breathing, and you clenched your jaw. You slammed the car door behind you before stomping across the parking lot.

“I know it’s you,” you quietly repeated. “Stay away from me.”

You hung up before blocking the number, the 10th number you had blocked in the past week. Every few hours or so a day, like clockwork, you got calls from an unknown number. You’d always end up blocking the number after the first few calls, but they always called again from a different one. At first, they’d say nothing, and you’d listen to silence for a few seconds before hanging up. Now, they’d taken to breathing in your ear like a creep. It wasn’t even until you blocked the 3rd number did it finally hit you.

Harry.

Harry freaking Osborn.

You felt like such an idiot for not putting it together sooner. Of course, it was Harry. Was this not the same man who threatened to hunt you down and drag you back like some animal if you ever left him? You had always equated woman beaters to cowards so you never thought he’d have the nerve to actually do it. Putting the pieces together didn’t bring you any comfort. Your filthy rich abusive ex had managed to track you down. What comfort was there to find in that?

Since that day, you hadn’t had a proper night of sleep. Your mind was constantly at war with itself on what to do. Having been down this road before, you knew the police would be no help. You’d gone to them once before, at the very beginning after the first time he’d hit you. It was your first harsh lesson that money ruled over everything. If you thought hard enough, you could still recall his hands around your throat, eyes alight with anger at what you’d tried to pull.

Still, you considered at least trying to get a restraining order but at the end of the day, that was a mere piece of paper. If Harry came to your door, it wasn’t going to stop him from hurting you, and that’s even if the whole process went through. They don’t just give restraining orders out willy nilly. You tried not to dwell on that hypothetical situation, but if he’d found your number, it would only be a matter of time before he found your address.

“Oh!”

You’d only just entered the grocery store, barely stepping into an aisle when you bumped into someone. The chips and bread in his hands went flying to the floor, and apologies tumbled from your lips. It was only after you helped him pick up what you made him drop did you realize who you’d run into.

“Dr. Rogers...hi,” you breathed.

The corner of his lips pulled into a crooked smile, head tilting to the side as his gaze fell onto you.

“We’ve discussed this before, Y/N. You’re more than welcome to call me Steve,” he told you.

You gave a nervous chuckle, nodding.

“Yeah...uh… I normally do, it just...it just slipped my mind,” you replied.

He blinked at you, eyes narrowing just a bit as he studied you. His brows furrowed in that concerned way you were used to, a silver strand of hair kissing his forehead.

“Everything okay…?”

You folded your arms over your chest, nodding with a strained smile.

“Everything’s fine,” you lied. “It’s just… It’s been a weird week. Our next session cannot come fast enough.”

You forced a light laugh, and he joined you. He placed a hand on his hip, eyes boring into your own.

“There’s a coffee shop just over there,” he gestured. “Did you want to sit and have a chat?”

You frantically shook your head.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t,” you told him. “I-.”

“I know I’m your therapist, but I want you to think of me as a confidant outside of the office too. You’re more than welcome to talk to me anytime. In fact, I encourage it,” he interrupted. 

You nervously eyed him with a frown.

“Are...are you sure?”

His smile was comforting.

“This may be my job, but it’s one I chose because it’s one I enjoy. I don’t want you to feel like you’re only allowed to talk to me during our sessions,” he quietly said.

You bit your lip, and Steve continued.

“I’d hate to think that you’re bottling things up for days on end, suffering in silence because you’re just waiting to talk to me,” he confessed.

Your shoulders sagged, and you hesitantly nodded.

“...okay. I just need to get a few things for the house.”

“Okay,” he said with a smile. “You know where to find me.”

You parted ways, and a sigh escaped you. You really didn’t want to become reliant on Steve. Wasn’t the whole point of therapy to learn how to process your feelings and cope with them better? Running to your therapist every time you have a problem just seemed counterproductive. And yet, once your car was loaded up with the few items you bought, you found yourself making your way to the coffee shop.

After ordering a small drink, you easily spotted Steve at a table in the back. You noted that even outside of your sessions, he still dressed nicely. The dark button down he wore contrasted with his light hair, dark slacks making him appear taller. You felt simultaneously nervous and comforted as you settled across from him. There was a brief silence, one in which you sipped on your drink while he eyed you before finally speaking.

“So what’s on your mind?”

What a loaded question. You struggled over whether or not to tell him the truth. Your abusive ex had found you somehow and was currently harassing you. That’s not something you could just casually drop into the conversation. Besides, Steve was your therapist, not your friend. You didn’t think it fair to rope him into the drama with your ex. That wasn’t part of his job description. Right?

“Just sleepless nights,” you said.

It wasn’t a complete lie. Steve eyed you like he was waiting for you to continue, blue eyes soft.

“I’m also worried that...my past might not remain in the past.”

Once again, this wasn’t a complete lie. 

“How so?” Steve hummed.

“I can’t help but wonder about what will happen if Harry finds me. He always threatened that he would if I ever left, and while I never believed him before, I just keep wondering… What if he does?”

Steve tilted his head at you, and you leaned back in your seat with a sigh.

“I’ve moved all the way out here to get away from him. I’ve isolated myself because I thought it was for the best, but it would have the opposite effect if he ever found me. I’ve never been particularly close with my family as you well know, and I’ve left all of my friends. I’m all alone here, and it’s the worst thing to be if he ever did track me down.”

Like always, you had started to ramble, and you snapped your mouth closed, embarrassment flooding through you.

“What brought all of this on?”

Steve’s eyes were sincere as he ran them over you, handsome face twisted in concern, and you glanced away.

“Just thinking,” you lamely replied, eyes on your drink now. “It’s something I’ve always thought about, sure, but it’s been more pressing as of late.”

“Well...that’s what I’m here for. You shouldn’t have to deal with these thoughts alone,” he eventually said.

“I know,” you sighed, rubbing your temples. “...but I shouldn’t become so reliant on you. The whole point of therapy is to learn to deal with these things on my own, is it not?”

Steve exhaled, leaning back in his seat as he gazed at you.

“Not necessarily. Not always,” he answered. “...but even then, until you can get to that point, it’s best to lean into your support. After all, you’ve gotta crawl before you can walk, right?”

You nodded, taking in his words.

“...and even when you’re walking, you usually need someone there in the beginning to hold your hand in case you fall. I encourage you to talk to your friends more, maybe even branch out and find some friends here, but I’m here as well. Don’t halt any of your progress because you feel like you need to be dealing with this alone. Outside help does more for your progress than you’d think.”

“I guess that does make sense. I don’t know… I just- I’d feel so bad about showing up at your office throughout all hours of the day or calling your receptionist-.”

You cut yourself off when he took out a pen and a slip of paper.

“Here,” he said, scribbling a number on it before handing it to you. “This is my personal number.”

Your eyes widened. 

“Oh, I can’t-.”

“It’s fine, trust me.”

You hesitantly returned his smile, taking the piece of paper.

“Don’t hesitate to call me anytime you want to,” he told you, standing.

You joined him, fingering the note before sliding it into your pocket.

“Thank you…Steve. I don’t know if I’ll ever actually call you, but just knowing that I have the option makes me feel so much better,” you whispered.

You heard his pager go off, and you watched as he glanced at it. He let out a sigh, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he sounded disappointed.

“I’ve got to go, but I hope you’ll use that number if you need to.”

Thanking him again, you said your goodbyes, and you watched as he exited the shop. The slip of paper felt heavy in your pocket, so you solved that by putting his number into your phone. Just as you were about to put it back into your purse, it buzzed with a call from an unknown number. Fear settled into your gut, and with a grimace, you silenced the call and blocked the number.

You were late. You were so late it was laughable to even show up at this point. Your shoes tapped against the tile as the numbers on the elevator lit up as it passed each floor. You slipped through the doors as soon as they parted, and with no mind to check in, the receptionist calling your name, you raced towards Steve’s office. You reached his door just as he opened it to step out, and the papers that he was holding scattered to the floor as you collided with him. You hadn’t even realized how fast you’d been running until you were knocked on your ass. 

You could hear the heels of the receptionist as she ran over, apologizing to Steve for letting you slip past her, but he waved her off. She reluctantly returned to her desk, and you scrambled to sit up, reaching for everything that had fallen.

“I was beginning to think you’d never show,” Steve joked.

You gave a shaky laugh.

“I uh...I got caught up,” you replied through trembling lips, fingers shaking as you struggled to stack all of his paperwork.

You could feel Steve’s eyes on you, but you avoided his gaze.

“I know I’m late. Our hour is practically over, but I- I just… Um, crap.”

You had dropped the papers all over again, and you both reached for them at the same time. At least, that was what you thought. Steve’s hands covered yours, and you only just realized how badly they were shaking.

“Y/N.”

His voice was soft, exactly what you needed right now, but you couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Y/N, is everything alright?”

Your chest was tight, and you wanted to will your lips to form a yes. You wanted to tell him that everything was fine, but you couldn’t even get the words out. He called your name again, and you suddenly stood, taking the papers with you. You handed them to him as he followed your lead, still avoiding his eye.

“I’m sorry for being late, and I know that you probably have another session-.”

“I don’t,” he interrupted. “Come in.”

You glanced up from beneath your lashes as he opened the door, ushering you inside. You wrapped your arms around yourself as he shut the door behind you.

“Is everything okay?”

You turned your face away from him, unable to keep it from crumbling as you held in a sob.

“Y/N.”

The way he called your name had you freezing in place, a shiver running through you at his firm tone, authority in the one simple word. In a way, it reminded you of Harry, and you looked to him with wide eyes. Seeming to understand what he’d done, Steve sighed before sitting down, making himself appear smaller to show that he wasn’t a threat to you.

“I’m sorry,” he genuinely apologized. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. Please...sit.”

You hesitantly did so and reached out to take the tissue he offered you. You hadn’t even realized that you’d started crying.

“Now… I’m going to ask you again, and I’m begging you to please be honest with me. I’m here to help you in any way I can,” he whispered.

You wiped your face, sinking your teeth into your lip.

“It’s...Harry.”

Steve’s face was pinched with concern.

“What is it? Are you having nightmares again-?”

“No, you don’t understand. He’s calling me,” you confessed.

Steve froze, blinking a few times before his eyes widened, your words finally registering. You sniffed, fighting to hold in a sob.

“It started weeks ago, before we ran into each other that night…”

You didn’t miss the disappointment that flitted over his features, lips pressed together.

“...and I know I should’ve said something then-.”

“You should’ve called me.”

“I know! I know, but… I don’t know. I just wanted to handle this on my own,” you quietly said.

He didn’t respond, and you turned your eyes towards the window.

“Last time...I wasn’t able to get away on my own. I wanted it to be different this time. At first, I simply blocked him but he kept calling and calling from different numbers. Then I got a new phone...and eventually another, but it’s still the same. He keeps finding me,” you tearfully told him. “...and today…”

Your eyes met his, and you were comforted by the concern you saw there.

“Today I was at the police station. That’s why I was late.”

Steve straightened up at this.

“I thought that maybe I could get a restraining order or maybe they could trace the calls to show that it’s him, but the whole visit was useless. They boiled it down to petty relationship drama, and since there’s no record of his violent behavior because I never reported anything…”

You shrugged, scoffing.

“There’s basically nothing they can do. The whole visit was a waste,” you spat.

Steve heaved a sigh, and he slowly reached out towards you, leaning forward.

“I didn’t ask before, but… Is it alright if I hold your hand?”

You nodded. That was what you liked about Steve. He was always asking for your consent with just about everything, even the simplest of things, and it was such a nice contrast to Harry who used to feel like he was entitled to your body. Steve took your hand, throwing you a comforting smile as he eyed you, worried.

“I wish that you had called me,” he said.

You looked down, guilt filling you.

“I could have helped you before it ever got to this point. I have friends on the force, friends in high places who could lock this creep up if you wanted.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

Of course Steve, Dr. Steven Rogers, knew people who could help you. Of course he did! Your stubbornness had gotten you far deeper into this than necessary. 

“What have I said about self deprecating language?”

“Sorry,” you murmured.

“You’re not an idiot. Don’t talk about yourself like that. You’re just a woman trying to find her strength again.”

You hesitantly nodded, and he brushed his thumb over the back of your hand.

“I want you to get rid of your phone,” he suggested.

You frowned, and he continued before you could question him.

“I’ll work on getting a new one for you. A secure one under my name.”

You frowned, not liking the idea of being so indebted to him.

“Steve, I don’t know-.”

“It’ll only be temporary. You can use it until I talk to some people and have him properly dealt with.”

Even though you weren’t keen on the idea, you reluctantly agreed.

“...and you have to promise me one thing…”

You eyed him, holding his gaze as you waited for him to continue.

“Promise me that you’ll call me the second he bothers you again,” he proposed.

Accepting the fact that your stubbornness was doing you more harm than good, you nodded. Steve seemed pleased with that, and with one last pat on your hand, he let you go. As he guided you out of your office, your phone in his hand, you felt more hopeful than you had in over a month. You felt so silly for not seeking out his help sooner, and you couldn’t deny the weight that had been lifted from your shoulders as you settled into your car.

True to his word, at your next session, Steve presented you with a new phone. It had all of your important contacts with Steve being at the top of the list. Embarrassment had flooded you as you thanked him with tears in your eyes. The week without your phone had been the most peace you’d had in a while, and you finally got some much needed rest.

“You haven’t heard anything from him, have you?” he’d asked you.

“No,” you answered, shaking your head. “Not a peep.”

He threw you that same smile that always brought you comfort.

“Good. Even if you never do, you’re always free to call me,” he’d reminded you.

Finally deciding to let your stubbornness go, you did. Talking to Steve outside of your sessions was easier than you thought it’d be. It was like talking to a friend. Sometimes you’d meet up at that same coffee shop not too far from his office, and other times you’d be putting a quick meal together while he was on the other line, listening to you ramble. You soon realized that it wasn’t just his profession that made him that way, but Steve truly was an unbiased listener. He never judged you for any steps back in your progress nor for any of your more self deprecating thoughts.

Best of all, you hadn’t heard anything more from Harry.

Not until he knocked on your door one night.

It was late when you’d heard the pounding on the wood, and having been watching tv in your room, you wondered if you imagined it. It was only moments later that you’d heard it again. Your eyes had widened, sitting up in alarm. No one knew you lived here. Not even your mailman. All of your mail collected at a Post Office box before you eventually went to pick it up. You stood, standing in your room, trembling in fear before a knock on your bedroom window had you screaming.

You didn’t hesitate to call the police, and it took longer than you liked for them to arrive. All the while, you dealt with knocking and pounding on your window and door. Back and forth, it alternated with minutes in between before stopping altogether when the sound of sirens could be heard. Unsurprisingly, and frustratingly, the police didn’t find anyone.

“Look, we’ll get this report down to the station,” the brunette had told you, not looking concerned in the least.

Frustration filled you, and you shuffled on your feet.

“Can’t you...idk, have someone stay here? Not even the whole night but just a few hours in case they come back?”

The tall man sighed, and you glanced at his badge. Officer Barnes, you noted.

“With all due respect mam, we can’t just have one of our officers sitting in your yard because someone knocked on your door-.”

“I told you-!”

“I know, I know. The windows too,” he said, sounding exasperated, and your frown deepened. “The best we can do is get this down to the station. You’re more than welcome to call us again should anyone come back.”

You crossed your arms over your chest as they left, finding no relief. You swallowed as you thought about Steve. You didn’t want to, but Harry had found you, tormenting you by knocking on your house in the dead of night. This was exactly the reason Steve had given you his number. Swallowing down your stubbornness, and with a deep breath, you called him.

He didn’t sound like he was asleep, and for that you were grateful. You would’ve kicked yourself if you had woken him up. Finally getting out why you’d called him was an awkward affair, stumbling over your words, and you felt even worse as he agreed to come over. There was no hesitation, and you couldn’t help but feel as if you were taking advantage of Steve’s generosity. 

You mumbled out your address, surprised to realize how relieved you were. You couldn’t remember the last time you had trusted a man this much. Harry had made you so paranoid, but you supposed that was what therapy was for. This was why you had all those sessions with Steve. To learn to heal and to trust again.

You opened the door with a small smile when he finally pulled into your yard. He was dressed comfortably, and you felt much better about your own ratty t-shirt and leggings, but his casual attire made him no less striking. 

“Thank you,” you breathed as he stepped inside.

“I was up going over paperwork when you called. I’m glad you did,” he told you.

You leaned against the door as you closed it, rubbing your arms.

“I didn’t know if I should. It’s just… He was here, Steve. Knocking on my door and window like something out of a horror movie, and the police treated it like it was nothing,” you complained.

Steve tilted his head at you with a sad smile.

“First thing in the morning, I’m going to make some more calls. Since he’s in town, it should be easy to have him put away. At the very least, a restraining order.”

Relief and hope filled you as you brushed past him.

“I really can’t thank you enough for coming over. I promise I won’t keep you long, just until I feel I can be ok being alone,” you said over your shoulder.

He followed you into the kitchen.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Eat? It’s the least I can do.”

“Some wine might be nice. You might want to pour yourself a glass too,” he suggested.

You chuckled, and he joined you, but you agreed with him nonetheless. You poured a glass for both of you, and you leaned against the counter with a sigh.

“I just don’t understand why he can’t leave me alone. Hasn’t he put me through enough?”

Steve hummed.

“From what you’ve told me, he strikes me as a narcissist. I’d bet that he doesn’t want you to move on,” he mused.

“Maybe,” you distractedly replied as you heard your phone ring. “I’ll be right back. Let me grab that super quick, it might be Nakia.”

Your phone was in your room, but by the time you reached it, it had stopped ringing. Sure enough, it was a missed call from your best friend, and you brought your phone with you to the kitchen, determined to call her back. Steve’s eyes were fond when you returned, and you shrugged.

“I need to call her back. I’ll only be a moment,” you said, swiping your glass.

“Take all the time you need.”

You made your way to the living room, taking your place on the couch as you called her back. She answered almost immediately.

“Hey, what’s up?”

She greeted you with a soft exhale.

“Uh… Harry’s...dead.”

You froze at her words, pulling the glass away from your lips. You blinked a few times, trying to come to terms with what she’d said.

“...what?”

“I just found out. I honestly didn’t know how you’d take the news, but I thought you should know.”

She was right. You yourself didn’t even know how you felt about this news. You had loved this man at one point...but he was also your abuser. This was good news...right?

“How?” you finally asked her.

She sighed.

“Apparently, he’d been missing for months-.”

“Months?”

“Yeah,” she quietly replied. “They found and identified his body today. I just saw it on the news.”

Your stomach twisted as the truth, and the meaning behind it, sank in. Just because Harry had been missing for months, it didn’t mean that he’d been dead for months. It very well could have been him harassing you like you believed. But...if they’d found and identified his body today, then there was no way it was him at your house tonight.

“Thank you,” you eventually said. “Um… I’m glad you told me.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” you honestly replied. “I’m just a little unsure of how I feel about all of this, but I’ll call you tomorrow when I’ve slept on it.”

“Alright. Be safe.”

You said your goodbyes and returned to the kitchen with an empty glass.

“Everything okay?” Steve questioned.

Your face must have been an open book.

“Harry’s dead,” you scoffed, blinking as you still fought to process this.

Steve didn’t respond, and just like one of your sessions, he seemed to be waiting for you to continue.

“Apparently he’d been missing for months and they just identified his body today. There’s no way it could have been him knocking on my door tonight, and now...now I’m even more scared than I was before,” you confessed. “God, I can’t even fully come to terms with my feelings on this because I’m realizing that Harry might not have been the only thing I should’ve been afraid of.”

“Hey,” Steve soothingly said, nearing you. “Are you sure it wasn’t someone who got lost? Maybe they had the wrong house?”

You thought about it before shaking your head.

“No, it definitely didn’t seem like that. Oh my God,” you cried, letting your head fall into your hands.

Steve pulled you into his arms, startling you, but you eventually relaxed, the wine settling into your system nicely.

“It’s going to be alright-.”

“What if it isn’t? Because I’m the idiot who thought that Harry was the only possible danger out there, I’ve attracted another without even realizing it.”

“Hey, hey,” he soothed. “Maybe it was nothing, and maybe it was more. Either way, I’m only a phone call away. Say the word, and I’ll have an officer living in your yard if need be.”

You chuckled at that, and nodded.

“Thank you,” you said, looking at him. “I-.”

You swallowed your words when his lips met yours, soft and demanding as they moved against your own. You were stunned, and it took you a moment to realize just what was happening before you pulled away. You stared at Steve with wide eyes, hesitantly reaching up to touch your lips as you took a step back.

“Steve…”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he breathed.

Your lips parted, a soft gasp escaping you at both his words and the fire in his gaze. It was so sudden and great that it froze you.

“Steve, I think… I think you should go,” you whispered, almost in disbelief.

He frowned at you, tilting his head just a tad as he folded his arms over his chest.

“Go? Why would I do that when you’re not feeling well?”

You opened your mouth to repeat yourself, even demand to know what he meant, but a sudden wave of nausea hit you, head feeling fuzzy. Steve caught you just as you stumbled, and you frowned, fighting to get out of his arms.

“What…?”

“You seemed really tense. I thought you could use something to take the edge off…”

You stared at him in disbelief, attempting to blink away the stars in your vision. Your legs felt like they were made of Jell-O as Steve guided you towards the living room. He deposited you on the couch, and you could hardly do anything as he laid you down, sitting beside you. His blue eyes, normally so soft and comforting, were dark with a longing you had never seen before.

“You were like a wounded little lamb when you first came to me,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your lip. “So lost...broken… It’s because of me that you’re even halfway back together again.”

His hands moved to slowly undress you, taking his time, and your hands might as well had been air as you tried to stop him. You shuddered as the cool air in the house hit you, nipples pebbling, even more so when Steve brushed his fingers over them.

“I wanted to wrap you in my arms during that first session. Drag you back as you tried to leave, show you how a woman should be touched by a man.”

You were in a state of shock, disbelief coursing through you as you watched Steve undress. Even at his age, the man was a wall of muscle, thick bands making you swallow in fear as you hopelessly tried to tell yourself that this was a dream.

“Steve,” you whispered.

“I had to be patient. I didn’t want to scare you off, push you into the arms of another dangerous man. I had to help you heal before showing the kind of man I can be for you,” he told you, fingers on your face as he neared you again.

Your whole body felt weighed down, and you couldn’t stop your tears even if you wanted to. Your touch was light as you pressed your hands to his chest, feeling like you were going to be sick as he settled over you.

“Harry is gone. He can’t hurt you anymore, and I’m going to make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

The irony was not lost on you, but the way he said that struck something in you, and your mind traveled to the unthinkable. You didn’t get the chance to think about it some more before Steve was forcing himself inside of you. A choking noise escaped you as he filled you to the hilt, your legs spread wide to accommodate his frame. Steve released a shuddering breath, breathing through his nose, body trembling as he delighted in the feel of you wrapped around him.

It was amazing that while all of your senses felt dulled, you could feel his pulsing member inside of you so well. He surrounded you, bulky frame caging you in, and you felt like you would pass out from suffocation. Steve sighed just before his lips met yours, and your stomach clenched as he moved within you. A broken moan slipped out against your will, and Steve groaned at the sound.

“I’ll show you pleasure that you’ve never known, touch you in ways you never felt. I know how to make you happy,” he purred, his pace languid as he thrust in and out of you.

You turned your head away, the furniture of your living room blurring together from whatever he’d slipped into your drink.

“I know your deepest desires and your deepest fears. I know you better than anyone else out there…”

You hated that in a way, Steve was right. You’d bared yourself to him under the guise of trust and healing. He really did know all there was to know about you, and you hated yourself for it. You hated him for hiding his intentions so well, for taking advantage of your vulnerability and trauma. He tutted as you started to squirm beneath him.

“After all I’ve done for you...in all the ways I’ve helped you, the least you could do is give yourself to me. I deserve to reap the benefits of my efforts-.”

You gasped beneath him, legs kicking around him, but he only pressed himself more firmly against you.

“...I’ve gone out of my way to make sure you were safe, to protect you so that no more threats remained to you nor our relationship.”

“You’re crazy-.”

You cut yourself off with a yelp as he nipped at your neck, jerking in his hold as he continued to snap his hips into yours. His hands were gentle on you, a contrast to how he fucked you, his pace increasing with every passing minute. Despite the fact that you could hardly move, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you in place as the sound of your coupling filled the room, your core now wet and slick from his ministrations.

Steve seemed intoxicated, blissfully immersed in the feel of you and how you clung to him. His low groans and moans filled your ear, and you could do nothing as he covered your lips again, tongue tasting you, moaning at the taste of wine that still remained.

“My touch will never cause you harm, bringing you nothing but pleasure for the rest of our lives.”

~

tags:  @xoxabs88xox​ @harryspet​ @readermia​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @nickyl316h​ @captainchrisstan​ @sebabestianstan101​ @villanellevi​ @lokislastlove​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @coconutqueen21​ @hurricanerin​ @hyoyeoniie​ @sherrybaby14​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​ @mandiiblanche​ @gotnofucks​ @oneoftheprettynerds​ @doozywoozy​ @sapphirescrolls​ @threeminutesoflife​ @searchforanotherway​ @mcudarklibrary​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​ @widowsmaximoff​ @nerdygirl8203​  @supernaturalwintersoldier​ @charmed-asylum  @harrysthiccthighss​ @patzammit​

[kywaslost]

Comforting Student Reader ft. Aizawa and Present Mic

Warnings: crying, bad times, death, mourning

Requests are open!!

Although no one knows it, he always keeps an eye on his students. He can almost always tell when someone is upset.

He noticed how your actions changed. You were always quiet and reserved, daydreaming from time to time. You would always turn your work in, getting mostly A’s with a few B’s. So when you started failing the class with F’s and D’s, Aizawa knew something was wrong. He also noticed how everyday you would space out even more than you did before. He noticed the way you acted, slow and solum. He saw how sleep deprived you were. You had missing assignments and late work, unfinished tests and work.

Aizawa confronted you one day after class.

“L/N, stay after class please.” You nodded, taking in a shaky sigh. This day cannot get any worse, you thought. The bell rang and you packed up, walking slowly to Mr. Aizawa. 

“Yes, sir?” you asked quietly, giving a fake smile. He sat on his desk, looking over you. Your uniform looked as if you had just thrown it on. Aizawa brought his eyes up to yours. He could see how dull the had become.

“L/N, what is going on?” Aizawa asked. You gave him a confused look.

“What are you talking about?” you questioned, although you knew exactly what he meant. Aizawa gave you a soft look.

“I think you know exactly what I mean,” he started.

You looked around nervously, avoiding his gaze. “I, I… I don’t know what you mean.” Aizawa stared at you for a moment, analyzing your body composition.

“Your grades have dropped drastically, you’ve started falling asleep in class,” he listed off. You looked away, ashamed. “Y/N,” he said, resting a hand on your shoulder. You looked up, surprised by both his hand and the use of your first name. “What’s going on?”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “Can you close the door?” you asked quietly. Aizawa’s face softened.

“Of course.” He closed the door and came back to you. He pulled two chairs to face each other and he sat down in one. When he saw that you hadn’t moved he motioned for you to sit and you did as asked. The two of you sat in silence for a while before you bury your face in your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, silent tears falling down your face.

“It’s ok,” Aizawa said softly. “Take your time.” 

Silence.

You lifted your head and Aizawa’s heart broke slightly. Although he would never admit it, Aizawa would die for his students and seeing them cry made him feel bad. He saw the tear tracks on your face and leaned forward.

“Y/N,” he said quietly. You looked at him. “You know you can trust me, right?” You nodded, sitting up.

“Yeah,” you answered and wiped the tears from your face. Once you compose yourself you decided to speak. “I’ve just been having a really hard time lately. I’m sorry,” you apologized again, tearing up.

“It’s alright,” Aizawa assured. “Can you tell me why?” You nodded.

“It’s just…” you took a deep breath, “My dad… he, he’s a pro hero and a villain hurt him pretty bad. He’s, he’s my only family left and the doctors said that they’ve done all they could. 

Aizawa’s eyes softened as he stood, pulling you up with him. He pulled you into a hug, holding you tight. This caused you to burst into tears. Aizawa pulled you closer as you sobbed, clutching his shirt in fists. He used on hand to hold your head against him and his other to rub up and down your back in hopes to help calm you down.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Aizawa soothed, resting his chin on your head. He stayed with you until you had calmed down. When you finally pulled away you discovered how tired you really were. Aizawa saw it as well; the way you swayed slightly on your feet, the way your head bobbed down and how it took a lot of energy for you to keep your eyes open.

“Are you tired?” he asked with a small smile. You shook your head.

“No,” you slurred, rubbing your eyes and fixing your posture. Picking up your bag, you got ready to leave. “I need to get to my next class. I’m already late.” As you started to walk towards the door Aizawa caught your shoulder. You turned to face him and saw the look in his eyes. 

“Yes you are, I can tell,” he said, stopping you. “I can tell you haven’t been sleeping for several days.” He smiled, “you’re beginning to look like me.” You smiled slightly as well. “Come with me.” You followed him to a room connected to the classroom, his office. You looked around to see a cot against one of the walls.

“Rest here,” Aizawa instructed. You cocked your head.

“What about class?” you asked.

“Who do you have?”

“Mr. Hizashi,” you answered, yawning.

“Alright,” Aizawa smiled. “I will let him know that you are with me. Now, rest. You really need it.” He ruffled your hair as you nodded. He turned to leave the room before you stopped him.

“Mr. Aizawa?” you spoke. He turned towards you and smiled softly.

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” you said, smiling slightly as well. “For everything.”

“You’re welcome,” he responded. “But, hey, don’t tell anyone about this. I can’t go around with people thinking I’m soft.” You giggled.

“Ok.” You laid down on the cot, suddenly feeling extremely tired. Aizawa watched you fall asleep and smiled, knowing that you’d be ok in the long run.

Since Hizashi has such an outgoing personality, he always tries to make sure his class is awake and happy. He tries to make school exciting for his students and fellow coworkers. He always enjoyed how you smiled and laughed at his jokes. He even enjoyed when you would sing along quietly to the ear-blasting music he played sometimes during class.

What happened that day was hard on the both of you. On your way to school a villian decided to attack in your area. Because you live on the outside of the city, the big heros were not around. You watched helplessly as the villian with a fire quirk snatched your brother, taking him. You screamed running forward. Pro heroes fought against the villain as you ran forward to fight back.

“L/N!” Present Mic yelled but that did nothing to stop you. “Stop!”

You continued moving forward as Hizashi grabbed you by the waist and pulled back.

“No!” you sobbed, suddenly aware of what was going on. Hizashi’s grip tightened as he pulled you away from the scene.

“Shh,” he shushed, trying to calm you down. He dragged you into an alleyway. You continued to scream and cry, fighting against Present Mic.

“(Brother’s name)!” you shrieked. You tried to use your water quirk to escape but red eyes stopped you.

“Y/N,” Aizawa called, running up to the two of you. He kneeled down in front of you. “You need to calm down. You’ll hurt Mic if you keep it up. Calm down, ok?”

Something in his voice calmed you and you quit struggling. He smiled softly and patted your head, blinking. He stood and ran off. “Stay with her Hizashi. We’ll be ok.”

You fell limp and both you and Hizashi fell to the ground. You grabbed his arms and sobbed harder with each scream you heard.

“Shh,” Mic soothed again. He pulled a pair of headphones from his bag and plugged them into his phone. Pulling up Youtube Music, he typed in (favorite artist) and placed the headphones over your head. Hizashi picked a playlist, rocking the two of you back and forth. After several songs you finally calmed down, breathing heavily.

“You are alright,” Present Mic whispered, very unlike him. “Would you like to go home?” He realized you couldn’t hear him.

“How is she?” Aizawa asked, running back over to the two. He saw Hizashi’s headphones around your head.

“Much calmer,” Present Mic answered. “But I don’t think taking her home would be the best option.” Aizawa nodded.

“She certainly is not in the right state of mind to go to class.”

“I can keep her in my classroom,” Hizashi offered. Aizawa nodded. “That way she isn’t alone or have to go to class.” He picked you up and you didn’t bat an eye. You lay limp and silent the whole way to UA. When the three of you arrived to Mic’s class, Aizawa and Hizashi noticed that your eyes were closed.

“F/N?” Aizawa said, tapping your foot. Your eyes snapped open and you shot forward. Hizashi nearly dropped you as you landed on your feet.

“Wow, it’s alright hot shot,” Hizashi said as he placed his hand on your back. You pulled the headphones down to hang around your neck, looking up to your two teachers.

“You’re going to stay with Present Mic today, alright?” Aizawa explained.

“What about class?” you whispered.

“Y/N,” Hizashi started, catching your attention. “We just think it’ll be better if you stay with me.” You thought about it for a moment before nodding. Aizawa left for his class. Your puffy red eyes met Mic’s and he smiled softly.

“You can sit over there,” he said, motioning to a desk in the front row. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to you. “Just relax, ok?” You took his phone and nodded, heading to the desk and laying your head down.

Hizashi kept an eye on you for the rest of the day. He even stayed quiet during his classes just in case you had fallen asleep. When someone tried to bother you, he’d get defensive and tell them to leave you be. He even brought you lunch, figuring you wouldn’t eat unless he sat down with you and ate. He kept a good eye on you for several months and talked with you to make sure you were ok. Let’s just say that you appreciate what your teacher has done for you.

[leverage-ot3]

*asks you about The Mentalist because I've meant to watch for years but never got around to it*

I got a bunch of asks about my shows thank y’all so much for letting me vent

the mentalist follows a team of murder investigators in the cbi, the california bureau of investigation

let’s go through the characters:

patrick jane

the mentalist. grew up as a carnie in the circus as a (fake) boy psychic wonder. basically, he’s just really smart and good at analyzing things so he got away seamlessly pretending to be a psychic. at one point he became pretty famous and was getting rich from it.

everything came to a head when he went on tv arrogantly talking about this serial killer, red john. he did the whole psychic bit analyzing the killer, then went home to see that his wife and daughter had been murdered by red john because of it.

there’s a backstory episode about it, but basically he ends up joining the cbi as a civilian consultant helping them solve murders (with the motive to eventually hunt down and kill red john). the show takes place a couple years after he joined the team.

he’s very good with people and charismatic, and a total chaos gremlin. he always goes off and causes some trouble on investigations but because of it his team closes every single case they have. he’s been described by multiple people as the smartest man they’ve ever known.

he’s VERY adamant that there is no such thing as psychics. after all, pretending to be one got his family killed.

he also makes himself tea at almost every crime scene because he’s just Like That™

I’m barely into men but I am head over heels for patrick jane and that’s a fact

teresa lisbon

grew up in chicago as the eldest child with three younger brothers. had to take over being the parent after her mother died and father gave up being there for them (I think he was an alcoholic???). she was very strict with them, which causes friction in a couple episodes when her siblings are involved

she’s the head agent in their cbi team, and for all intensive purposes, jane’s partner. she is logical and wants to follow the rules (and supposed to “keep jane under control”) but accepts his hijinks as necessary in order to solve the murders. she just wishes he’d tell her what the fuck he’s doing so she can do damage control at the very least.

she’s totally the team mom. she loves and cares for her three children teammates.

I’m in love with her, your honor

grace van pelt

team newbie. great with tech. starts out as optimistic and bright-eyed but adapts to the harsh world they live in. very compassionate and kind.

wayne rigsby

a simp for van pelt. legit puppy eyes for her. fell in love with her day one.

NEEDS to know how jane does his tricks. like, he will go insane trying to figure out how he does his coin tricks

kimball cho

was in a gang when he was a kid before joining the military. kinda stoic but also SUPER witty/sarcastic. bitch queen. “that’s impressive. the best I can get with one call is a pizza”

lets jane do whatever the fuck he wants because he gets things done but also secretly thrives on his chaos

other important/notable things:

the found family vibe you crave? it’s There™

your ships are definitely endgame

I can’t think of any storyline that was handled badly

every episode is decent if not really good

the red john aspect actually keeps you on the edge of your seat. every time you think it might be X, all of a sudden Y looks like the better candidate and so on, etc

the openings/beginnings are usually funny

example a: jane messing with a sheriff playing rock paper scissors

example b: “I don’t have to run faster than a tiger. I just have to run faster than you” *sprints*

example c: “I’ll bet you... 35 cents”

tws:

there is blood and gore, but it’s a show about investigating murders so I feel like that’s warranted

there IS one kinda slightly major character death towards the end of the final season. (note: NOT any of these main five!!!) I don’t think it was fair even though the person playing the role said they were brought on knowing they were going to die but it still majorly sucked. I cried. HOWEVER, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t watch it. yeah, it sucked and I wish they didn’t do that but I love the show too much to hate it for that