#also sorry for replying so late !!! sometimes I don’t see asks on mobile

[racheyace]

Has Matt ever actually accidentally hurt Luke when he was shrunk before?

Another late reply to this ask! Again I'm sorry! But also your idea is the second runner up in the polls! So congratulations!

I'm really happy with how this story came out, also there is much angst! You've been warned!

Approx 3.3k words

Broken

“Luke! I hope you’ve already settled on the idea of takeout tonight cos I am so not in the mood to provide sustenance!” Matt groaned as he shut the apartment door behind him.

It had been a particularly taxing 12-hour shift for Matt, and he was honestly ready to just go to bed without dinner if there was nothing quick and easy to eat.

The apartment was quiet, but Matt hardly noticed being too tired to care much at the moment, he instead slid open the balcony door and promptly lit a cigarette, leaning heavily on the railing and fighting to keep his head held up straight.

He stood there for a long while, for once his mind was quiet, the sounds of the streets the only thing he could hear as the sunset for the day and he found himself admiring the orange and purple hues of the misty skyline. New York could be so very ugly sometimes, too busy, too loud, too many idiots and too much violence, but it could also be quite beautiful, Matt found himself smiling softly to himself and soaking in the view.

When he got back inside, he noticed with a little more alertness that Luke hadn’t said a word since he’d gotten home, which was strange.

Matt walked through to their small kitchen and turned the kettle on, ready to make himself a coffee and as he did so, he opened up his phone to look at the last messages he’d gotten from Luke that day.

Around mid-day Luke had sent a message to him reading:

‘Five hours to go! You got this!’

And then another message at 3:30pm reading:

‘At least you don’t have an hour of meetings this afternoon! What would you like for dinner?’

Matt had responded with:

‘So done with today! I’d be happy just to eat grass right now mooo! You choose.’

And then the last message from Luke was from only half an hour ago at 5:30pm:

‘Salad it is, your favourite! I’ll think of something, also the tv is doing weird shit again, I’ll sort it out tomorrow, see you when you get home’

“So weird, he should be here.” Matt said to himself as he added milk and sugar to his coffee.

Taking a sip, he headed for the balcony again, figuring that Luke may have gone out to get dinner or something from the shop. He paused at the sliding door though when another possibility entered his mind.

“Luke?” He called out again. “Are you small right now?”

Luke was usually pretty good about letting Matt know when he was small which honestly was not very often. Whatever Luke had on him at the time of the shift would shift with him, so if he was small Luke would normally have sent Matt a text to let him know. That, or he would call out, it could be dangerous for Luke when he was small, particularly if Matt didn’t know where he was.

There was still no reply.

Matt decided he needed to do some elimination, so first he headed down to the garage to see if Luke’s car was still there, which it was, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t gone out, there was a takeaway place down the street that Luke would walk to from here. Matt then pulled out his phone again to call his missing friend.

It rang and rang and then went to the message bank.

“I swear to god Luke, if you shrank without your phone on you, I’m gonna kill you, if I don’t step on you first of course, fuck!” Matt shivered at the thought.

It was a very real possibility and one that had given Matt nightmares in the past, not that the scenario had ever even come close to happening in reality, it still made Matt uncomfortable to think about.

Matt headed back upstairs to their apartment and dialled Luke’s number again, this time he could hear a ringing, though it was very faint, probably coming from a very small mobile phone. He tried to follow the sound but then it went to the message bank again and he groaned in frustration.

“Luke I’ve had the shittest day, could you just come out, I don’t have the energy for this stupid game of cat and mouse.” Matt said to the empty apartment, again there was no response.

With a hand slowly dragging down his tired face, he paused remembering that Luke would also shrink when he was sad, tired or scared. The last time Luke had shrunk when he was sad was when Luke and Jason had broken up, that time he’d also not called out or texted Matt that he was small. Matt had found him sobbing by the front door, he also hadn’t had to go searching for him because he was out in the open, but Luke was nowhere to be seen right now.

Matt realised that his last comment was probably kind of harsh, particularly if Luke was upset, but he had nothing to go on, just a tiny ringing and no Luke.

“I’m sorry, I’m just tired, please call out or make a noise if you can, I’m starting to freak out over here.” Matt said more gently this time.

He walked over to the loungeroom, watching his step and sat down on the couch after also checking that it was Luke free, including checking under the cushions.

Matt then noticed the blue screen of death was on their tv and remembered that Luke had said something about the tv being broken again.

He stared at the awful blue screen for a few minutes, and then it struck him that Luke had said something about the tv in his last text.

Matt pulled out his phone once more and redialled Luke’s number, the faint ringing could be heard again and as Matt slowly moved closer to the entertainment unit, he could hear it getting louder.

“Luke?” Matt called out again after the phone went to voicemail once more.

“M-matt!?” Luke’s small voice called out, and Matt breathed a sigh of relief at the sound.

He’d finally gotten a response and he couldn’t believe what Luke was doing, clearly, he’d decided to try and fix the problematic television himself and most likely gotten himself stuck or something.

“Dude, are you seriously inside the Tv right now?” Matt asked incredulously.

“No I-I was in the wire box thing-the thing behind the tv and now….I’m not sure, I think I-fell.” Matt had to strain to hear him, he still sounded so far away.

Carefully he pulled the entertainment unit away from the wall and found the box that Luke had mentioned, a small white box with wires coming out of it that were then connected to the tv.

“Are you hurt?” Matt asked with his hands on the white box, ready to pull it from the wall but hesitating when he realised that he could potentially hurt Luke in the process.

“I-I think I was-electrocuted.” Came Luke’s muffled response.

“Jesus fucking Christ Luke.” Matt was pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration with his idiotic roommate. “Are you still in the white box? What can you see?”

Turns out Matts long day as a paramedic was not yet over, he would have to pull a full search and rescue on his best friend, he’d pulled many people out of walls before, never one so small though.

“I’m not in the white box…” Luke began. “I’m in the wall-but I’m stuck-the wires are all around me-Matt I can’t move!”

“It’s alright Luke, I’ll get you out of there, just try not to move much, I’ll be back in a sec.” Matt moved away from the wall and went looking for some tools that he may need.

Once all the necessary equipment was acquired, he returned to the space behind the Tv, with a stethoscope in his ear, he placed the metal end to the wall and began to listen carefully.

“Marco.” Matt said, figuring lightening the mood would ease both of their nerves.

“Polo!” Luke called, his voice was a little further down the wall and Matt repositioned the stethoscope.

“Marco.”

“POLO!”

“Bingo.” Matt smiled, he pulled out a pencil and marked the spot on the wall.

Now if he was with his team, they’d discuss strategies, either cutting a hole from above or below, but Matt didn’t have a team so he would have to work out the best course of action himself.

If he cut from below, Luke could be stuck with a mess of wires tangled around his legs which would make it difficult to pull him downward from. If he cut from above Luke, then it was possible he’d be able to lift Luke back up the way he’d come. If worst came to worst, he’d have to cut some wires to free his small friend.

“Now, I’m going to cut a hole in the wall above you, it may be noisy, I’ll try to be quick, but I’ve only got our little handsaw to work with.” Matt gave a nervous chuckle and waited for Luke to respond.

“Okay!” Luke shouted in response to his friend’s plan.

Matt pushed the saw into the wall about 8 inches from the line that he’d marked, if he estimated correctly, he should make the hole a few inches above Luke’s head.

The handsaw was rusty and pretty much useless, so it took a good ten minutes for Matt to make a square big enough for even just his hand to fit through. With a grunt of effort Matt pulled the square piece of plaster out of the wall and then made to look inside but it was far to dark to make out anything except the wires directly behind the hole.

Matt grabbed his phone and held it in the hole with the camera on flash, the flash setting illuminated the space and the camera showed Matt what he was working with. Luke was indeed tangled and didn’t look like he was fairing too well, Matt thought he looked rather pale, his hair was a staticky mess, and he was indeed very tangled.

“Hey buddy.” Matt said in a quieter tone and smiled when Luke’s little blue eyes looked upward and squinted into the light.

Luke was very stuck, not only were his legs tangled as Matt had suspected but both his arms were looped by wires as well as his chest. Matt wasn’t even sure how he’d managed to get so tangled, it was actually quite impressive.

“You are pretty wedged in there. Are you in any pain? Do you have any burns?” Matt asked, still looking at the camera trying to see any physical injuries that Luke may have gotten.

“I’ve got a burn on my hand and that kinda hurts, I’m cold and sort of tingly but that’s probably from shock, right?” Luke’s blue eyes looked up toward the camera again after looking over his own body the best he could.

“Yeah, electrical shock, your gonna need to go to hospital when I figure out how to get you out of there.” Matt grumbled, his long day was going to turn into a long night so it seemed.

Matt picked up the pair of pliers and hesitated as he thought over how he was going to do this. There were five wires, three of them were wrapped around Luke in one way or another.

He could cut the two wires holding his arms but then he would still be stuck around his middle, or possibly fall further into the wall. If he cut one of the wires holding his arms, then Luke could hold onto the wire with his other hand when his midsection was freed.

Matt would then need to pull Luke out and hope that the upward movement would be enough to free his other hand in the process. It was all he could come up with for the moment and it would have to do, he needed to get Luke out of there and to a hospital as quickly as he could.

“Alright, I’ve got a plan.” Matt explained his idea to his friend and Luke agreed that it seemed like the best option.

Matt pinched the wire that held Luke’s injured hand and made the first cut, Luke gasped as the taught wire went limp and with a small shake it fell far below him. One done, one to go.

“Hold onto the wire now, I’ll try to be fast.” Matt warned, as he pinched the wire that was holding Luke’s midsection captive.

Luke winced as the wire tightened momentarily around his stomach, his knuckles white around the wire that held his left arm, and then his stomach was free as the second wire fell through the wall below him.

Wasting no time, Matt reached his hand in, having to go in blind for this part, his fingers extended toward Luke, only two of his fingers could fit far enough in and they bumped into the miniscule body, causing Luke to sway on the wire.

“Matt hurry!” Luke gasped, legs dangling and his palm becoming sweaty.

“Give me your hand.” Matt called down.

Luke’s free hand reach toward the large fingers and when he placed his palm on the pad of Matt’s middle finger, Matt pinched Luke’s hand between the two. This would be a judgment game, too much pressure and he would break Luke’s hand, too little pressure and Luke would fall.

“Does that feel secure?” Matt asked.

“A little tight but good, don’t let go!” Luke called upward.

“I’m gonna pull you up now, ready?” Matt felt small beads of sweat building on his own forehead, he shook the stray strands of blonde hair that had fallen out of his ponytail out of his eyes and focused.

“Yep!” Was Luke’s high pitched response.

Matt began to slowly pull his hand out of the wall, beads of sweat formed on his forehead at the painstaking pace and then his heart dropped into his stomach when he heard Luke cry out in pain. There was a small pop of muscle that Matt could feel had come from Luke and he stopped immediately, almost losing his grasp on his Luke’s hand.

“Are you okay? What happened? Is your hand free? Luke!?” Matt was hysterical, he couldn’t let go of Luke’s hand between his fingers for fear he would fall.

Matt’s mind was racing, had he pulled too hard? Too fast? Had he injured his best friend in an attempt to save him?

“Ahhh!” Luke cried out again in agony, before responding properly. “I-It’s free p-pull me out!” Luke’s voice was laced with pain and Matt feared the worst.

Finally, his fingers were free of the wall, and he pulled Luke out immediately laying him in his open palm. Luke clutched his left shoulder and was visibly shaking.

“M-my shoulder.” Luke cried, tears falling down his dusty cheeks.

“D-did I do that?” Matt asked in a state of shock and fear, his worst fear, that he would hurt his best friend when he was so small.

“I-I think its dislocated ahhhh” Luke winced touching his sore arm and immediately regretting it.

“I’m so sorry Luke, I didn’t mean to I-“

“It’s okay Matt, I’m okay, ahhhh, just-can-you put it back?” Luke’s eyes met his once more, Matt was shaking his head, his hands shaking and feeling as though he was only making things worse, he quickly lay Luke down on the carpeted floor.

“I-I can’t.” Matt was stunned, he looked at his hands as though they weren’t his own, his fingers trembled furiously.

“You’re a paramedic.” Luke said through gritted teeth.

Matt almost laughed, he didn’t feel like much of a paramedic right now. He was supposed to heal people and get them to help faster, he wasn’t supposed to injure his patients, how could he have done this to his best friend?

“I-I’m too big.” Matt sat down on the carpet, utterly at a loss as to what to do now, how could he help his friend without making everything worse or hurting him further?

Matt seemed to drift off into space, he could no longer hear Luke talking to him or trying to calm him down, everything was dull and foggy, the only thing he could hear was his heart beating in his ears and the tingling of his shaky body.

Perhaps his nightmare had come true, he had dreamt years ago that Luke had been hurt by his own monstrous hands. He could hear Luke’s small voice begging with him, pleading with him and yet there was nothing he could do, he was simply too big, too rough and too dangerous.

“MATT!” Luke was shouting in his face now, waving his hands in front of his face to try and snap his friend out of his trance.

“L-Luke?” Matt asked, his brain not fully comprehending that his friend was now his usual size and shaking his shoulders.

“H-how? What?” Matt didn’t even know what to think, Luke was normal sized again, he wasn’t gripping his shoulder in pain, the colour had returned to his face, and he seemed to be okay.

“Super healing remember?” Luke smiled at him, showing his hands to Matt and finding no evidence of an electrical burn, or a dislocated shoulder, it was as though nothing had happened at all.

Matt finally snapped out of his stupor and tackled Luke to the floor, hugging his friend furiously and cursing him for his stupidity for getting himself into that kind of situation.

When he calmed down, he released Luke and offered him a hand to help him up off the floor, he then made a beeline for the balcony, figuring he had earnt himself a cigarette after that stressful event. Still not fully believing that he hadn’t just imagined the whole thing, he could still feel the small pop through his fingers as he’d pulled Luke’s shoulder out of it’s socket.

The nausea still swimming in his stomach at the reality that he’d hurt his best friend, hurt Luke when he’d been at his most vulnerable.

“Are you sure you feel fine?” Matt asked once seated in his usual chair on the balcony, Luke sitting in the other chair beside him.

“Really, I’m okay, I’m sorry I scared you, it was stu-“

“I’m the one who should be sorry, I could have ripped your damned arm off!” Matt still couldn’t shake the queasiness in his stomach at what he’d done to his friend, he didn’t deserve to be forgiven so easily.

Luke had trusted him, and Matt had hurt him.

“Matt come on, don’t do this, this is my thing, I’m supposed to be the one riddled with self-loathing and unable to forgive myself, not you.” Luke began but Matt wasn’t listening, instead looking off into the distance and shaking his head as he took another drag of his cigarette.

“You’re the hero this time Matt, you saved me.” Luke insisted. “I can’t thank you enough honestly.”

Matt crushed out his cigarette and stood up.

“I’m gonna head to bed, we’ll need to call an actual electrician tomorrow, goodnight.” Matt brushed past him and made his way into his room before promptly closing the door and leaving Luke sitting there in the cool night air.

He wasn’t sure if he was mad at Luke, or angry with himself, all he knew right now was that he didn’t want to talk about it and he desperately needed some sleep. Perhaps forgiveness and closure would come in the morning, but he wasn’t going to find it that night.

Oh no! The tv is broken! Luke was broken! And now we’ve managed to break Matt! My poor boys! Who else agrees that Matt deserves a holiday, the poor boy needs a day at the spa.

[theweedisasterxoxo]

Hi, hon! I saw your recent post you just made, and just wanted to say a few things!

First off, I’m so sorry to hear you’re going through a rough time right now. I can’t say I understand specifically what you’re going through, but I do know what it’s like to be in those rough episodes, and I will say it’s not great. I really hope you’re taking the time to take care of yourself. You are your number one priority🩶

Second, low engagement truly can be very disappointing, and I’m sorry it’s not hitting where you’d like it to be at. Tumblr is honestly so weird. A while back, I don’t know what or why, but they started limiting how many blogs you could tag? This started when I was first writing, and oh my goodness. My engagement took a while to build. Idk if the tag limit is true still, but I’ve still been experiencing that tagging doesn’t even send notifications anymore. There’s so many posts that I end up scrolling past only to find out that I was tagged all along (oh gosh especially in tag games, I’m either always so late to those or I don’t even see them😭)! I don’t understand!! But if my time on tumblr has taught me anything, and I wish I was told this when I first started out, I feel like (for my personal experience) tag lists might be the least helpful way to truly boosting any posts out there for a much wider audience to see. What’s worked for me though is focusing what actual hashtags at the very bottom of the post that I use, and also posting at a consistent time (I always post around 12pm my local time🤣 - I literally don’t know why I chose that time, but the consistency has worked wonders for me!!!) 🙂‍↕️

Also - and this is just me personally - but I limit my time on this app crazily now. I’ve also turned off mobile notifications. This isn’t because of anyone or anything in regards to tumblr, but it is simply for the sake of my own mental health🩶 I fully understand your anxieties about people being annoyed and whatnot, but it is truly nothing personal with me if I tend to overlook a post🩶 and I hope that can ease your mind a little bit because I know just how persistent those voices in our head can be.

Lastly, just wanted to mention that you are so so so interactive and one of the sweetest that this community has (and needs a bit more of if we’re being honest). Your comments and the rocks 🪨 you give me truly brighten up my day.🫶 I think I can happily speak for several when I say we appreciate you more than you know.🩶

Some rocks for u, fren🩶🪨🪨🪨🪨🪨

Hi, my love! I am SO sorry for how long it has taken to reply to this ask. My notifications on Tumblr for likes and asks have been so dodgy; I wasn’t ignoring you, pinky promise!

Firstly, rough episodes are awful and I’m sorry that someone as lovely as you has to go through them too. It can be disheartening to experience especially if you’re alone or don’t have a good support system in place. That being said, you are so sweet and I’m eternally grateful to be on the receiving end of it.

Secondly, I didn’t realise that tagging for other people wasn’t working either! I also still have some Tag Games to post, holy moly. But in terms of the lack of engagement, while I do feel a little disheartened sometimes that people don’t really interact with my stuff, I realise that it’s more to do with me knowing that I don’t have a super wide reach over this platform. I think that a lot of it is because I don’t write graphic smut, and I’ve definitely noticed that there are different levels of interaction between smut fics and more ‘tame’ fics, whether they’re angst or fluff. I will most likely never branch into writing that style because I read most of my works to my mum and I am absolutely not reading Joel getting diddly with the reader to my sweet, Christian mother. Though, to reference another point you made, I will definitely keep it in my mind to expand my hashtags and make a more strict posting time!

Third, I absolutely get the reason for limiting your time on this app and the notifications on it due to how overwhelming it can be to be on Tumblr, especially with the level of interaction you get! I’m barely on this app at this point — partly due to a lack of motivation to post anything, partly because of how negative and triggering the community on here has been recently — so I promise I don’t take it as a personal offence if you don’t interact!

Lastly, but not really because I still have other stuff to say, I try hard to show people the appreciation and love on the things they post that they deserve! After being on Fanfiction sites for almost nine years now, starting on Fanfic.net and then moving over to Quotev, Wattpad, AO3, and now on Tumblr, I’ve always strived to leave a positive comment on what I’ve read and interacted with because I’m a firm believer that if you like something you should leave a little positive comment behind to tell the writer that you like it! I know I get giddy when the few people who read what I post leave a comment or reblog so I enjoy to spread that same joy to other people!!

I appreciate your loveliness way more than I can hope to explain, L, and I’m grateful for the reminder that other people appreciate me because it’s felt like the world has been sitting on my face with no signs of standing up any time soon. Now, I’m not religious but to be known and spoken to by you fills me with such light that it’s like receiving a revelation by the most loving deity. You have a gorgeous soul, my love.

Here are some rocks for you too!! 🪨🪨🪨🪨🪨🪨🪨🪨🪨🪨

[demcnsinmymind]

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. ( REPOST DO NOT REBLOG ! )

○    name: Veri (short for veritaaas) is the nickname I usually roll with :)

○    pronouns: she/her.

○    preference of communication: tumblr ims tbh. I do have a disco but we also use disco for work so it generally stresses me out to see it blink/make noises

○     name of muse(s): Lance, Azathoth, Kiara (@thatevester)

○    experience/how long (months/years?): writing in German in general since late elementary school, English fanfic writing since 2012, RPing since 2018

○    platforms you’ve used: livejournal (lol), tumblr, disco

○    best experience: coming back after a 4 year break last year and still having some loyal mutuals left (once again shout out to awesome peops like @greatwrath and @orphanedshadow), while at the same time making a lot of new friends and dearly beloved mutuals. I just LOVE writing with you guys!

○    rp pet peeves / dealbreakers: It just upsets me so much when people start following first, only to then never bother interacting in any way whatsover. be that sending in a meme from my meme tag that is always there to choose from and easily accessible, or replying to opens or liking the permanent starter call. Like, all that stuff is in my pinned post and super easy to find and access both on a pc or on mobile. It literally takes like two clicks and a copy paste and here we go, we’re rolling. And especially if you’re too shy to start up an IM conversation/plotting first - it’s so easy to get something started by just sending something in without comment. I’ll be more than happy to reply and wing it and start developing something from there. But to have people follow you who can’t be bothered to get anything started for weeks, if not months and always having to be the one to start things first only to see your efforts to reach out be ignored as well, is seriously discouraging. If you don’t have time to actually interact or aren’t interested after all, don’t get my hopes up and don’t start following me first. It is as simple as that. I get excited every time I gain a new follower because I assume they’re interested and I’m super looking forward to getting something  started with their character soon. But if I’m just there to boost a number, well, no thanks. I’ll softblock sooner or later. And if you’re too shy to start something first, my posts and IMs are always open to give me a heads up. Then I’ll be more than happy to write you something first. But then again, that’s what the starter call is already for, that takes just one click on a heart and that’s it, so I seriously don’t get a complete lack of interaction. It’s not really about who starts something first, it’s more about a complete lack of effort/communication/interest on one side. Sorry for the rant haha.

○    fluff, angst, or smut: angst > smut > fluff. Though I admit my blog could use a little more fluff and comedy every now and then

○    plots or memes: truth be told, I’m super into winging stuff. I write based on emotions and how I feel and think in a moment, I’m not much one to plan far ahead and just keep talking about writing for a while instead of just doing it. I simply get to excited to just start writing right away :D HOWEVER, if people require some plotting first, I’ll be more than happy to do so. My goal is to build fun character relationships and developments over time too. I just get there differently most of the time.

○    long or short replies: looks at the blog. Laughs. I can’t do short replies for the life of me, though once again, I’ll be more than happy to try much harder and keep it short if my partner asks for it. Personally, I just have much more fun exploring thoughts and emotions, so my replies tend to get heavy on the descriptive and heavy inner monologue but sparse on the written dialogue.

○    best time to write: night owl through and through. Sometimes I get started around 8pmish (GMT+1), most of the time I won’t get started before midnight. My most creative and active phase is between 2-4am though tbh.

○    are you like your muse(s): I think I actually am in a lot of ways. I think I’m a bit friendlier/kinder and more polite and empathic, but other than that, I can be a pretty selfish, workaholic bitch as well if I want to be. Also we’re both filmmaking nerds who dig the paranormal, so...🤷

tagged by : @ebonyforged <3 tagging: @innerwar @adeathsentence @thesoulofasurvivor @therebekahmikaelson @bitchheroine and whoever else wants to do the thang

[huahua]

none of my friends know tgcf but i must say somewhere so like im 10000% in love w/ donghualian but!!! the butterfly didnt land on xie lians finger in the teahouse!!! and also i feel like xie lian should have had a different outfit for the flashbacks like, keep the white but a more expensive design? idk what do u think

YEAH I totally agree with you!! On both of these points. I wonder why they didn’t let the butterfly land on xie lian finger? honestly I still liked the scene because the music was beautiful and the way everything goes quiet for a moment made it seem so uh magical idk. But I still wonder why they changed it.

I was also expecting xie lian to wear a different outfit in the flashback. It’s been said in the book that he has many expensive outfits and accessories. I actually really like the idea that xie lian will eventually go back to wearing fancy outfits like that. Like the only reason he stopped was that he fell into poverty and became depressed. But I’m guessing it was an animation issue.

[celestial-kit]

When He Sees Me

Pairing: Kirishima x f!reader

Warning: NSFW, Minors DNI, Oral (Male and Female Receiving), Penetration, Just general sex I guess

As a waitress in a diner, it wasn’t uncommon to have regular patrons. You often saw a group of nurses come in for mimosas and pancakes after finishing a night shift, a pair of retired old men who set up a small, mobile tv to watch old movies while slowly eating their lunch, and a gaggle of grumpy middle aged women who always tip you with spare change and life advice. One regular that you always look forward to seeing is Pro-Hero Red Riot. He started coming by the diner a few months ago, looking for a quick meal after finishing a long patrol and, even though you could tell he was tired, he greeted you with a big, toothy grin and introduced himself as Kirishima.

Since that first night, he started regularly eating dinner at the diner every Monday, always sitting at the same table in the back of the restaurant and always looking so happy to see you. He took the time to ask how you were doing, he was patient and kind when you were having a particularly busy shift, and he always tipped very well. He was, undoubtedly, your favorite customer.

This Monday, you were surprised to see that Kirishima wasn’t alone when he walked into the diner. Standing next to him was Pro-Hero Dynamight, wearing his signature scowl as he looked at you with annoyance. You had to admit, you were a little frightened to see him in person. He was rather intimidating and it was a stark contrast to Kirishima’s disarming nature. 

Kirishima saw you freeze as his best friend gave you a death glare. He rubbed the back of his neck as he leaned down and gave you a sympathetic smile, “Don’t mind him, he gets hangry. Can we have my normal table?” 

“Sure!” You squeak nervously. You grab two menus for the large men and quickly walk them back to their table. After they’ve taken their seats, you whip out your notepad and pen. “Can I start you with something to drink?” 

Kirishima gives you a smile as he looks up into your eyes. “I’ll just have water. How’s your night been?” 

You can feel your cheeks warming up at his attention. He was always so genuine when he spoke to you, with his head resting on his fist and looking at you like you’re the only person in the room. You meet his eye contact and tuck some hair behind your ear as you reply. “It’s been good. A little slow, but that just means I have more time to read between tables.”

His eyebrows rise at that. “Oh? What are you reading?” You open your mouth to respond, but you’re interrupted by a cough next to you. You turn your head and see Dynamight with his arms crossed and his death glare now focused on Kirishima. You quickly realize that you never took his drink order. 

“I’m so sorry! What can I get you to drink?” You respond hastily. Without looking at you, he grumbled a low “Water” and you left to get their drinks. As you came back, you could see them both leaning over the table and whispering about something.

“Just tell her, idiot,” Dynamight whispered loudly to Kirishima as you set their water on the table. 

“Tell me what?” You ask, innocently looking at Kirishima. His face went almost as red as his hair as he waved his hands in front of him. 

“Nothing! Don’t worry about it,” he laughed as he looked pointedly at his blonde friend. Dynamite groaned at this, clearly annoyed with this interaction.

“If you don’t tell her, I will. I’m sick of you talking about it all the time,” he crossed his arms again and looked at Kirishima with an eyebrow raised, daring him to take on his challenge. Kirishima looked horrified for a split second before he looked at you and ultimately looked away, a soft blush painting his cheeks as he started to speak.

“I have a little crush on you,” he admits, making Dynamight snort. Kirishima frowned at his friend before he continued, “Ok, it’s not little. I think you’re beautiful and you’re all I can think about. Can I take you out sometime?” He finally looked up at you, hopeful and nervous after his confession. You stared at him with your mouth agape as your face started burning up. You were shocked that he felt this way, but you weren’t displeased. You always thought that Kirishima was handsome and you loved the brief amount of time you got to spend with him each Monday. 

As you tried to wrap your mind around the situation, you could see Kirishima’s face fall. You realize that it had been a minute and you still hadn’t responded to his question. “Yes! Of course, I’d love to! Are you free Friday?” 

Kirishima’s face brightens at this, excitedly saying, “Really? Yeah, let’s do Friday!” He stands up with a big grin on his face, raising his hand to high-five his friend, and starts to walk out of the diner, with Dynamight following closely behind. You gawk at them as they push the door open to walk out onto the sidewalk. 

“Wait! Aren’t you forgetting something?” You giggle as the redhead turns around, looking as if he had an epiphany and starts walking back to where you're rooted at his table.

“Oh, yeah,” he laughs sheepishly as he pulls out a large bill from his wallet and places it on the table, presumably to pay for the water that neither of them drank. 

You blink before you push the bill back into his hand and say, “No, don’t you need my phone number?” 

Kirishima blinks back at you and nods, pulling his phone from his pocket and handing it to you as a fresh blush paints his cheeks. You giggle again as you input your number, acutely aware of Kirishima staring over your shoulder, his large frame invading your space. You hand his phone back to him with a dizzy smile, his hand brushing yours as he takes it from you. 

Kirishima meets your eyes and flashes you another smile, “I’ll text you!” And then he was out the door, meeting up with his scowling friend and walking away from the diner.

_

Kirishima did, in fact, text you. During the days leading up to your date, you spent every spare moment you could texting each other, updating each other throughout the day of what you were doing and texting late into the night, getting to know each other. You also swapped photos back and forth, nothing raunchy, just little snapshots of your day. You would send photos of you curled up with your cat, cooking dinner, drinking wine. He would send photos of himself at the gym, walking with Dynamight, and showing himself looking bored as he filled out paperwork. 

One picture in particular had your mouth going dry and your stomach doing flips. Around midday on Wednesday he sent you a picture of him sitting on top of a criminal, pinning him to the ground with one hand on the back of his head, the selfie taken at an angle above Kirishima’s head and showed off the sweat stuck to his brow as he grinned proudly at the camera. You zoomed in on the picture, admiring his pectoral muscles and chiseled abs, imagining how it might feel to have him pin you down like that. You texted back a simple “Be careful!” before rushing to the restroom in the diner to splash cold water on your face. 

When Friday came, you were eager to see Kirishima. It had been a while since you had been on a date, so you took your time getting ready, sipping on a chilled glass of wine to calm your nerves. The restaurant you agreed to meet at was close to your apartment, so you knew you could walk there and didn’t need to worry about driving. When you arrived, you could see Kirishima already at a table, wearing a simple white button down tucked into black slacks. A few buttons were undone at the top of his shirt, showing off his pecs and some of the black hair that littered his chest.

When he saw you walking up, he broke out in a massive grin, standing up and wrapping you in a warm hug, landing a quick kiss on your cheek. He pulled away, still grinning, to pull out your chair for you to sit down. Your cheeks were burning red from the affection as you sat down and said, “Thank you.”

Kirishima sat across from you and took the time to look you up and down as you started perusing the menu. His gaze swept across the gentle features of your face, admiring the curve of your lips which was accentuated with your lipgloss, and continued to move his gaze down past your exposed neck to land on your cleavage. Your dress loosely fits your curves, and he can’t help but stare. 

The rest of your evening seemed like a blur, you and Kirishima falling into a rhythm of talking, laughing, and drinking. Together you share a bottle of wine, various appetizers, and, at one point, shots of tequila. You were feeling warm and giggly from the booze and the company, it felt nice. Under the table, Kirishima had kicked out his long legs and intertwined them with yours, playing footsie as he looked at you dreamily. The waiter eventually interrupts you to ask if you would like dessert. You and Kirishima share a look before he declines the waiter's offer. As Kirishima pays the bill, you reach across the table to graze your fingers over his knuckles, gently asking, “Want to have dessert at my place?” 

Kirishima’s hungry, red eyes meet yours at your suggestion and he simply nods before throwing some money on the bill and grabbing your hand to pull you out of the restaurant. You lead the way down the street, walking swiftly with Kirishima’s hand on your back, keeping you close. When you get into your apartment elevator, Kirishima doesn’t hesitate to grab your face and crash his lips to yours. It feels as if the events of the week have been leading up to this moment, and the release of tension between the two of you has you moaning into his lips. 

The elevator ride is short, and you’re pulling away from him before you really want to to lead you both to your apartment door. You fumble with your keys as Kirishima holds onto your hips, pressing his chest to your back and laying soft, wet kisses to your neck. When your door finally swings open, Kirishima is quick to turn you around, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you as close as he can while he bullies his tongue into your mouth. He blindly kicks your door shut and starts walking you backwards into your apartment, practically lifting you off the ground to keep your mouth glued to his. When he pulls back for air, he can’t help but groan when he sees your disheveled state. You hair is a mess from his hands wandering in it in the elevator, you dress is pulled down dangerously low, exposing more of your cleavage with one strap falling off your shoulder, and your bruised lips are agape as you look at him with glassy eyes.

“You know, I think I changed my mind. I do want dessert,” he states simply before lifting you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and walking through your apartment, searching for your bedroom. You take this opportunity to attack his neck, doing your best to leave your mark on him while your hands fist in his hair. 

Before you can do too much damage, you are dropped unceremoniously on your bed, startling your cat who was sleeping peacefully on your pillow. “Sorry buddy,” Kirishima mumbles without looking at the animal, too focused on running his hot hands up your thighs and under your dress. He wraps his strong fingers around the edges of your underwear, pushing his thumb into the fabric at your crotch and feeling how you’re already soaking through your underwear and wetting his thumb. He brings his hand back to examine the glistening digit briefly before sticking it in his mouth and sucking your essence off it, his eyes meeting yours as you gasp his name. 

He frowns at the use of his surname. “Call me Eijiro,” he says gruffly.

His tone and intense stare warm you up, turning your cheeks red and filling your stomach with butterflies. “Eijiro,” you moan, as he goes back to rubbing you through your underwear. 

“Good girl,” he smirks at you. Then you hear a ripping noise and you realize that your underwear is now just a limp piece of fabric being tossed behind Kirishima’s shoulder.

“Eijiro!” You exclaim, shocked that your favorite pair of panties are completely destroyed.  Kirishima just laughs at you.

“Don’t worry, precious. I’ll buy you a new pair.” Then he was leaning in and swiping his tongue across your wet heat, making you gasp at the contact. He uses his big hands to push your dress up past your hips and bury his tongue inside your pussy, thrusting in and out and drinking your essence as you moan his name and grab fistfuls of his hair. 

His hot tongue works its way up to your clit, circling it as he moans against you, before wrapping his lips around it and sucking. He brings one hand down from your hips and slowly works a finger inside you while you hiss at the stretch. His hands are so big, like everything else about him, and if you weren’t so wet then the intrusion might have hurt. He starts working this finger inside you, thrusting in and out at a steady pace and curling to hit that spongy spot inside you each time. His attention on your clit persists, making you whimper, and soon you can hear the loud squelching noises of his finger moving inside you while you sucks and licks at your clit. 

When he pushes a second finger in, you let out a loud moan, throwing your head back and doing your best to buck your hips up to meet his thrusts. He groans against you and uses his one hand on your hip to halt your movements, holding you in place while he starts pistoning his fingers into you. You feel tears beading at your eyes as you start heading towards a familiar cliff.

“Oh god, Eijiro!” you gasp as you near your peak.

Kirishima pulls back briefly, “Cum for me, honey. You can do it. Cum on my fingers.” His fingers don’t relent and his mouth goes back to abusing your clit as you let out a pitiful sob, gushing around his fingers and clamping down on him. He works you through your orgasm, your quiet cries spurring him on as he continues to slowly push his fingers into you. 

Eventually, he pulls away, kissing up your body and dragging your dress with him until it is over your head and on the floor. He leans down to place a kiss on your lips while he grabs your breasts and flicks your hardening nipples with his thumbs. You moan when you taste yourself on his tongue and then your pushing at his shoulders so that he’s hovering over you. Before he can say anything, you grab at the edges of his shirt and pull to try to pop the buttons off his shirt. It doesn’t work, so you try again, but still fail. 

You pout at his indestructible shirt and he laughs at you again. Then, he sits up and grabs the edges where you had and rips the buttons open himself. You gasp as he shucks the ruined material from his shoulders with a cocky smirk and you reach up to run your hands over his newly exposed chest, admiring the way black hair is scattered across his chest and leads down his abs to below his belt. Your mouth starts to water at the idea of what his pants might be hiding, so you sit up with him to start laying kissing on chest and stomach while your hands work his belt open. 

When he’s finally free from his confines, you can’t help but gasp at his size, your eyes widening as you take him in. 

He’s thick and long, the weight of him causing his length to fall despite him being fully hard. The black hair that you admired on his torso is neatly trimmed around the base of his cock, which sits directly atop his full, round balls. You clench your thighs together at the idea of him filling you up. Part of you doesn’t think he’ll fit, but another, more excited, part of you is eager to try.

You tentatively wrap a hand around the base of his cock, looking up at him through your tear stained lashes for approval. His hand reaches down to fist your hair, nodding and pulling your face closer to him. You bring your other hand up to wrap around him as well and you poke your tongue out to give him kitten licks around his head. He groans and tightens his hand in your hair, thrusting his hips a little, wiping his head and smearing precum along your cheek. You sit up on your knees for better leverage and bend down to wrap your lips around his head, feeling his fist tighten again as he starts dragging your mouth along his cock. 

Kirishima knows he’s big, he doesn’t want to hurt you, so he’s gentle as he fucks your face. When he starts hitting the back of your throat and tears start spilling down your cheeks, his other hand comes up and he uses his thumbs to wipe them from your face and cradle your cheek, feeling the way his length fills your cheeks. 

His moans are loud, he wants you to know how good you’re making him feel. He tells you things like You’re doing so good, baby and You’re taking my cock so well. When his moans get louder, you think he’s going to cum, so you twist one hand at the base of him and use your other hand to hold and squeeze his balls. Right when you expect him to finish down your throat, he’s using your hair to pull you back, looking down at your tear stained face while his chest heaves up and down from the effort of holding off his orgasm.

“Don’t want to cum yet. I wanna fuck you,” he says, pushing your shoulders until your back hits the bed. You nod your head like a woman possessed while he kicks his pants off and pulls a condom out of his pocket. You want to tell him not to worry about it, you’re on birth control, but you understand that as a Pro-Hero he may want to take certain precautions. Next time you think to yourself as he rolls the latex down his length and lines himself up with your leaking hole. 

When he pushes in, you gasp at the burn of it, and new tears start rolling down your cheeks as he continues to push his monster length inside you. Kirishima knows it probably hurts, but he ignores your weak cries of Wait, you’re too big because he knows that the best way for the pain to stop is to just push through it. When he’s fully seated inside you, he just sits there, leaning down to kiss the tears from your face as you sob weakly. You want him to fuck you, but the stretch of him is making you clamp down so hard that he’s unable to move from his spot inside you.

“Relax, baby. You gotta stop clenching,” Kirishima says through gritted teeth. He looks as if he’s in pain, too.

“I can’t,” you say. “You’re too big, Eiji. I can’t do it.” You let out another broken sob, wishing your body would listen to what you wanted. Kirishima didn’t say anything, he just leaned down to kiss you, shoving his tongue in your mouth again and making out with you to distract you from the pressure of his length inside you. His lips moving against yours have you warming up again, and you can feel yourself flutter around his length, your wetness giving him enough lubricant to slowly pull out and push back in at a shallow pace. 

When you start moaning at this action, Kirishima takes this as a cue that you’re feeling good, you want more. He leans back from kissing you and grabs the backs of your thighs, pushing your legs up and close to your chest, and starts fucking you faster and harder. You cry out at the new angle, watching him as he watches his cock disappear inside of you, his mouth hanging open as he releases long, loud moans. When he looks at your face, he smirks.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” He asks, continuing his brutal pace. You nod your head, holding his eye contact and reaching up to play with your breasts, tugging on your nipples and moaning out his name. He grunts at your display, pushing himself harder into you and reaching down to swipe fast circles around your clit. 

You can feel that coil tightening again in your stomach, nearing your second orgasm of the night as Kirishima’s hips increase in speed. You start to feel delirious from the pleasure, drooling and babbling about how good he feels, how he’s so big, how you’re so close to cumming again.

“Yeah, baby? You want to cum again?” Kirishima asks lowly, trying to contain himself as you writhe beneath him.

“Yes, yes! Please Eijiro, I want to cum!” Your head is thrown back and you know you won’t last as the head of his cock hits your g-spot over and over and over.

“Cum for me, angel. Cum on my cock, I want to feel you.” Kirishima encourages you, and you listen to him. You arch your back and let out a wail you didn’t know you were capable of as you cum all over his cock, clamping down on him again and holding him in place as he groans at your tight walls. As you’re coming down from your high, Kirishima pushes your legs closer to your chest and fucks you faster and harder than he had all night, chasing his own high. You gasp and watch him as he grunts and groans and moans your name unashamedly, drowning in pleasure. 

You moan at the feeling of him dragging inside your wet walls, and you tell him how bad you want him to cum. You tell him you wish he could cum inside you, you want him to fill you up until your dripping cum. It’s too much for Kirishima as he hastily pulls out with a loud groan, ripping the condom off his fat cock and fisting himself until he’s cumming all over your breasts and stomach. 

You gaze up at the man above you, his head thrown back as he tries to catch his breath, his length softening in his hand, and you think that he’s beautiful. He looks down at you, sees you covered in his seed, and gives you a shy smile. “Sorry, I got carried away.”

You giggle a little, “It’s ok, I like it.” You smile up at him and rub your hand through his cum on your stomach. He groans again and then leans down to give you a long, wet kiss before leaving the bed to look for a towel. After cleaning up, it doesn’t take long before you’re climbing under the covers, cuddling against Kirishima’s chest as his soft snores lull you to sleep. 

[hopelesshawks]

WOAH WOAH is your MHA reqs open?? So I wanted to request a Todoroki x Reader Angst where Todoroki sees his s/o getting stabbed by a villain with countless sharp spears like in Chiaki’s death video in danganronpa along with 1-A and just loses it? I’m sorry I’m craving for angst rn ✨✨ also love your writing and remember to stay safe <33 💕💗

My requests are open yes!! I have actually missed receiving them (and tbf I’m prolly not getting them because I’m doing daily updates on History of Us hahaha). So thanks for the request anon. I’m also really touched that you love my writing 🥰 I hope this lives up to your impression of me!

I had never seen danganropa but I just looked up what you were talking about and w o w I am in ✨pain✨ 🥲 I’ve got you anon. It’s going to hurt but I got you. Did I drag out (y/n)’s last words? Yes. Would they realistically already have died before saying all that I have them say? Probably. But this is fanfic and if movie writers can do it then goddamn it so can I!

CW for angst, somewhat graphic description of major character injury and death (reader), non-major character death, and canon typical violence

Nothing has been the same since the fall of the hero commission and the loss of faith in the Symbol of Peace’s generation of heroes. It’s been two years since Shigaraki wreaked havoc and Dabi exposed Endeavor’s crimes. As pros unused to that level of violence retired or quit, hero class students have been forced to step up and fill in the spaces they left behind. As a result, even as their faith in the pros waned, the public started to see the students as a beacon of hope. All Might, they whisper, spoiled the current generation of heroes. They argue that Endeavor is now too old to keep up, that Hawks and Mirko are too burdened by their mentors’ failures, and all the heroes aged in between are too used to the relative peace of the golden era to be effective. These current students though? Students like the famous UA hero class A, now third years who’ve already seen so much? They are the new hope. They’d grown up in the fires of a post-symbol of peace era and as such they are the only ones who can drag society out of it. It would be flattering if not for the overwhelming pressure that comes along with it.

Shoto thinks he would have been crushed beneath that pressure if not for you.

The two of you had started growing close your first year during the provisional license exam make up classes. Spending so much additional time together over the weekend had allowed Shoto to slowly open up to you until a beautiful friendship had blossomed. Even still, both of you had secretly yearned for something more. It was only after the destruction of Jaku City and the Todoroki family secrets were aired to the whole of Japan that the two of you finally acted on your feelings. You’d been such a source of support for him afterwards that eventually he hadn’t been able or willing to hold back any longer and had confessed his feelings to you late one night in the dorms. The two of you have been together ever since and fully intend to open a hero agency together after graduation. He knows the two of you are still young but sometimes when he looks at you with your blinding smile or when you’re sleeping peacefully beside him, he swears he can hear wedding bells. If the civilians of Japan can consistently forget how young you all are as they urge you to take over for the pros, then it seems only fair he should be able to forget too.

His mother was ecstatic when he asked her about engagement rings. Endeavor had said it was too early, that marriage is too large a commitment to make at 18 years old, but Shoto insisted and eventually a compromise was reached. He’ll wait until after graduation but then he’s determined to make you his forever and always.

It’s an otherwise normal Saturday afternoon in the dorms when Iida and Momo get an urgent distress signal to gather the entirety of the class and head into the city. A large group of ragtag criminals, determined to become the next League of Villains, is terrorizing Musutafu and the number of casualties is climbing rapidly. The other heroes usually responsible for that area had been called away to handle a different disaster and all attempts made by the civilians to defend themselves had only led to more chaos. The entire class mobilized in seconds. Calls like this aren’t uncommon now. The villains have been banding together more and their bloodlust seems to have grown exponentially with civilians’ continued lack of trust in the current pros. By the time you all arrive to the scene there’s no time to waste. “Be careful,” you tell Shoto, carefully running a hand through his hair before resting it on his cheek. He brings his hand up to cover yours before promising, “I will.” He presses a kiss to your palm but before he can do more Bakugo sharply barks “Hurry it up lovebirds we got a fucking job to do!” before racing off. You both know he’s right. “I love you,” you tell Shoto. “Love you too,” he promises before you both steel yourselves and then take off into the fray.

It’s an absolutely grueling battle. Every time someone takes one villain down, another comes to take their place. “Pinky! On your left!” you call out, causing your classmate to sharply turn. Mina just manages to dodge a punch one of the villains throws her way and swiftly counteracts with an attack of her own, calling out a thanks. There’s no time to breathe though and almost as soon as you’re done warning Mina, you have to dive in to keep another villain off Ojiro’s back. It’s chaotic but slowly you’re starting to pick away the forces as many of the remaining villains start fleeing. Once it looks like they’ve all retreated you instinctively look for Shoto, having not seen him since the fighting had properly started. You catch sight of him and heave a sigh of relief. You call out his name to catch his attention and although he initially offers you a soft smile you notice his eyes suddenly widen. “(Y/n) behind you!” he calls out.

Every moment after that seems to happen in slow motion.

You turn around just in time for a spear to fire clean through your shoulder, knocking you off balance. You start to fall backwards but before you can even hit the ground at least a dozen more rise up from the asphalt and impale your body. You hear Shoto’s broken cry of your name but it sounds so distant to you. After a moment stuck in place the spears suddenly drop back into the ground. Shoto is next to you in a second, pulling your broken body close as you bleed out. One of your other classmates tries to call for medical support but all he can focus on is you and the sheer amount of blood you’re losing. Shoto knows his training. He knows that when a victim has been stabbed it’s crucial to put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding, but how can he when there’s so many fucking wounds. “You’re going to be ok. You’re going to be ok. You’re going to be ok.” He says it over and over again like a mantra. It’s both a plea to you and a desperate attempt to deny the harsh reality that the love of his life is bleeding out in his arms.

You press a bloody hand to his cheek, looking lovingly up at the man you’d do anything for, and shush him quietly. “Sho,” you rasp, voice already weak as your body tries and fails to cope with your injuries. “Don’t,” he warns. “Sho, baby, look at me,” you try again but he shakes his head, shutting his eyes tightly as tears start to run down his cheeks. “Please?” you ask and he can’t deny you, never could, so he opens his eyes and looks down at your glossy ones as you fight to stay awake just a little bit longer. “There they are. I always did love your eyes,” you tell him wistfully as your thumb strokes his cheek, smearing your blood there, though you don’t seem to notice. “You can’t leave me. You have to be ok,” he whispers but you shake your head. You can already feel yourself fading and with medical attention still several minutes out at least you know there’s no fixing this. “I need you to promise me something,” you tell him. “Anything,” he replies immediately and it brings a sad smile to your blood stained lips. “Promise you’ll find someone else after me,” you say and the scandalized look on his face would have probably made you laugh under different circumstances. “You’ve got too much love to give to let it die with me,” you tell him but he shakes his head again. “I could never love anyone else like I love you,” he swears and he means it with every fiber of his being. You chuckle wetly. “You always were stubborn. Fine, then promise to never forget me,” you compromise, tears welling in your own eyes now too. “I couldn’t even if I tried,” he swears before leaning down to press one last kiss to your lips. He can taste the tang of iron and feel your tears and his mingling on your cheeks. “I love you,” he whispers against your lips as he pulls away, but for the first time since he first said the words to you, you don’t say them back. “(Y/n)? Baby, I love you,” he tries again, pulling back to look at you properly now. Your eyes remain shut, your hand falling limp from his cheek, and when he looks to your chest the rise and fall of it has ceased.

Devastation claws up through him like a rabid animal, tearing him apart as his whole world shatters around him. He feels his grief like a physical ache in his chest, radiating out to each of his limbs as if every cell of his body is violently rejecting the fact that you’re gone. “Todoroki-kun?” Midoriya asks cautiously, putting a gentle hand on Shoto’s shoulder. Shoto’s head snaps up as he cradles you closer, as if scared your body will be taken away from him too. Before Midoriya can say whatever he was going to, Denki’s voice cuts through the tense silence. “I got him!” he crows, shoving the villain down to the ground in front of his classmates. Shoto’s eyes land on the villain and instantly his grief twists into a searing rage. He gently lays your body down but his eyes are cold and lethal as he stares down the man that took you away from him. Midoriya realizes what’s happening a beat too late and by the time he reaches out to grab Shoto, the grief stricken man has already launched himself at the villain and grasped hold of him. His right hand closes around the man’s throat, ice wrapping around it like a vice grip. He’s vaguely aware of his classmates calling his name but he doesn’t care. This man stole the love of his life from him. For that he will pay. Before Todoroki can finish the job he’s suddenly being yanked back by Midoriya and Bakugo. “Let go of me!” he demands as he fights against their hold, ignoring their warnings and empty platitudes. He manages to wrench his left arm free for a brief moment and that’s all he needs. His flames shoot out, preventing Midoriya from getting a good hold of him again, and the man who murdered you goes up in flame. His howls of pain echo around the buildings around them but the sound is music to Shoto’s ears. Let him suffer. It’s a fate he deserves.

His classmates watch on in stunned horror until the villain is burned down to ash. As his flames die out so too does all the fight seem to drain from Shoto as the crushing grief returns. Bakugo let’s him go once it’s clear he’s not a threat anymore and Shoto uses his freedom to drag himself back over to your lifeless body. It’s not fair. You’re so young. He’s so young. Why was this fight even you all’s responsibility in the first place? He’s been excitedly planning his proposal to you for weeks. Now he’ll have to plan a funeral. The thought makes him physically ill and he has to turn to the side as bile climbs up his throat and he retches onto the asphalt beside him.

How is he supposed to go on without you?

Midoriya returns a hand to his shoulder as the paramedics finally arrive. It’s too late. Far too late. One of them approaches cautiously and like a dog protecting his master Shoto immediately lashes out. “Don’t you fucking touch them,” he warns, eyes cold and voice lethal. The paramedic jerks backwards, his hands up in surrender, as he cautiously looks to the other class A students for advice. They have none. They’ve never seen Todoroki like this. They can’t even begin to imagine what he’s going through. It’s Eijirou who steps up in the end. He approaches Shoto carefully, as if his classmate is a feral animal, before kneeling down to his level. “They need to take (y/n) to the hospital on that stretcher over there,” Kirishima tells him carefully, jerking his head in the direction of the waiting ambulance. “Can you carry them there for the paramedics?” he asks. Shoto stares at Kirishima blankly as if trying to process his words before slowly nodding. “Ok. Let’s go then, yea?” Kiri asks. Another nod in response before Shoto carefully gathers you into his arms. He ignores the way your body has already started to go cold as he carries you over to the stretcher. He tries to pretend they’re just rushing you to the hospital, that they’re speeding you over to recovery girl and in a few hours time you’ll be tired but cheery, teasing him for being so worried about nothing. But as he lays you down and then watches them zip you up into a black bag, he knows it’s a hopeless fantasy. You’re gone and you’re never coming back.

A few days later he sits in a black suit with a black tie and a silver chain carrying an engagement ring around his neck. He leans against Fuyumi, who sits on his left side, while his mother grasps tightly onto his right hand. Behind him Natsuo rests a steady hand on his shoulder. His father hovers nearby, unsure how best to offer his support or if his support would even be welcome. They are the only thing that keeps Shoto from falling apart. When the time comes, he stands on shaky legs and approaches your open casket. At first he’d been insistent he wouldn’t look, but his mother had argued his last image of you shouldn’t be your broken body, riddled with holes. So he looks down at you, pieced back together by some mortician, lying motionless in the nicest outfit you own and he traces every detail of you. He tries to patch over the memory of you broken on the ground that haunts him every night since it’s happened with this image of you now. He pictures all of the good and beautiful moments you’ve shared together, let’s them swell in his chest until they’re too large to contain and pour out of him through his silent tears. He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your too cold forehead and mumbles to you again his final promise:

“I love you, (y/n). I’ll never forget you.”

[disloopy]

𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐞

i wanted to write a college au but i was also horny so this came into existence.

tendou satori

word count: 6199

genre: smut but with a plot??

It was hard to study with your parents constantly bickering in the living room downstairs. Ever since you moved back in with them, you've found it hard to concentrate on virtually anything besides their frequent, yet petty, arguments. Sometimes you'd stay at college late into the evenings under the guise of classes and assignments but really you just hated being around them. The stress of school was already a mounting threat without the emotional toll of your parents' nearly shattered relationship.

Scraping your chair back as you stood up, you decided you'd had enough. You shoved your textbooks, notebooks, and some random clothing articles from the top of your drawer into a bag and ran down the stairs. Your mother twisted her body around to face you from the couch, an eyebrow raised.

"Where are you going, young lady?" 

You didn't look at her in the process of yanking on your shoes. "I'm going to Sam's house or am I not even allowed to visit her without you breathing down my neck?" you asked sharply, feeling your heart hammer in your chest. You were fed up. "I'm twenty and under no obligation to listen to the two of you arguing about whatever movie you want to watch just because you don't have the cajones to discuss the real issue!"

With finality, you slammed the door shut behind you and hopped onto your bike, pedaling as fast as legally possible out of the neighborhood. You always knew that the main reason your parents had urged you to move back in with them was to fill the empty void their failed marriage left in the house. At first, even you were convinced that your presence would revitalize their marriage and they'd remember why they loved each other from the start.

However, their own child wasn't enough to give them a reason to put aside their differences and love each other for what they were - a family; a family, you knew, should be willing to sacrifice a part of their individual lives for each other, that's what it meant to be married.

But your parents weren't even willing to confront the problem -- not being in love with each other anymore -- much less work it out. At your age, you were aware of the fact that love wasn't all a marriage needed, there was responsibility and sacrifice and with a little understanding, the love could be rekindled, not just once but multiple times throughout the life spent together. The last thing you'd want was for them to separate and you were quite certain that with a little communication this hellish nightmare could be put past them. They were immature, you concluded. Your parents wanted to ignore it altogether, which would only leave them stumped at this obstacle, growing angrier with each bland dinner and mismatched grocery.

You couldn't take it anymore. Stopping your bike at a nearby convenience store to pick up a few snacks, you texted your boyfriend, Tendo. He was usually around, and usually free -- plus, he lived in a dorm all by himself. It was the perfect escape from your exhausting household. Without waiting for a reply, you journeyed across a few streets to get to the college residence and parked your bike anywhere. It wasn't worth enough to get stolen and even if some desperate thief decided to have some fun, it would only serve as an excuse for your parents to finally get you a car.

After the long and silent elevator ride which seemed to compress you on all sides, you arrive at the seventh floor and felt your shoulders relax almost immediately. You'd been here so many times it was like a second home to you. Tendo's place always gave you the relief you wanted after a tiresome day of school, or your parents, or both.

Struggling to keep the strap of your heavy bag filled with books, clothes, and food on your shoulder, you lightly knocked on the front door. There were sounds of incomprehensible yelling and laughter coming from inside which you thought was strange but not enough to question it.

When there was no answer and you were fed up with waiting, you decided to try the knob which was surprisingly unlocked. So, you entered the house and called out loudly, "Tendo? It's Y/N". Not even a step later, a strong scent of weed hit your nose directly and you winced.

"Y/N?" said a voice, followed by Tendo rolling back in a computer chair, tugging his headset to his neck with the hand that wasn't latched onto the controller, his eyes wide in pleasant surprise. 

"Hey," you said quietly, smiling at the sight of him. "I texted you . . ."

"Oh, sorry. I was in a game so I didn't check my phone," Tendo murmured, throwing a distracted glance at his phone on the couch before immediately returning his attention to the screen, his headset back on his ears. "I SAID COVER ME!" 

"He's been yelling all match," someone said and you startled, looking back at the couch to see one of Tendo's friends, Semi, sitting cross-legged on the couch, a hoodie covering most of his head and a bong tucked between his thighs. It was unusual for Tendo to have friends over. Even at school, he rarely sat with a large group of friends for long. On weekends, it was mostly just you and him when it could be.

"I swear I'm playing with 11 year olds," Tendo remarked as the screen flashed red, signaling his team's failure. He spun around in his chair and glanced between you and Semi. "Sit down, Y/N, what the fuck. Semi got kicked out of his parents house so he's gonna be here for a while."

You widened your eyes. "You got kicked out?"

The ashy-blonde haired boy nodded, seeming casual as he fiddled with the bong. "They caught me smoking in the basement and said they didn't want me back till I quit," he explained with a shrug. "I miss my drum set but I'd rather be free to smoke, if I'm being honest."

Tendo shook his head, amused. "Get a fucking job, Semi -- then you can pay for half of this place and we can live together."

"Really?" Semi's eyes lit up and he seemed attentive for the first time that night. "I totally should, huh? I can work at some government institute, you know? They'll see that I'm smart since I major in political science . . ." 

"Tendo, can I get in the shower?" you asked and Tendo nodded of course. As you were about to disappear down the hall before turning around and feeling blush creep onto your cheeks when Tendo gave you a questioning look. "Um . . . I also . . . Wanted to stay here for a bit. My parents are just really . . ."

"You can!" Tendo said with an enthusiasm that made your heart jump with pleasure. "It'll be fun with the three of us. I'm sorry about your parents though." 

The shower was warm and almost therapeutic with the muffled sounds of Tendo's frustration with his team and Semi teasing him about it. You even sat down on the porcelain for a bit, the soothing water sprinkling down on your bare body. When you had finally decided to come out, you found that Semi was eating the snacks you'd brought along with you. Although you were initially doubtful of him staying over with you and Tendo, you quickly grew more open about it. He was normally quiet and serious, but the weed seemed to open him up to being actually friendly and talkative, not failing to make you laugh several times that evening.

"Yo, if you make my girl laugh that much I'm gonna have to ask you to leave," Tendo said, throwing a cheeto at Semi's head. 

You eventually fell asleep on the couch, Tendo and Semi's voice almost serving as a lullaby. You'd rather hear their weed-inspired symposium in your sleepy stupors than the sound of your parents arguing. Some time that night, unknown to the dizzy you, Tendo had hauled you into his arms and transferred you to the warm security of his bed, wrapping his covers around you, and then wrapping his arms around you. 

The next morning, Semi was already gone for an 8am class. Despite sharing Tendo's major, he had registered very late and got the worst schedule a student could ask for. You and Tendo, however, were able to fool around in the bathroom (no, not like that. Tendo spit toothpaste on you), and eat lazy bowls of cereal before heading out, walking under the warm morning sun to get to campus.

When you'd arrived at your own class, Tendo let you know he'd wait for you at the college center after class. You checked your phone while the professor was setting up his stuff. Disappointment settled in your chest at the realization that your parents hadn't bothered to check up on you. You hadn't given them the heads-up that you would be staying over at "Sam's" house and although you declared that you weren't under their jurisdiction, you half-expected a "should we wait up for you?" text from either parent.

You tried to push your dejectedness and self-pity in order to pay attention to your lecture. The anger formed into a kind of resistance, telling you to stay as contactless from them as possible, waiting for one of them to care about your absence, or at least notice.

After class, you stopped by the vending machine to buy Tendo and yourself two bottles of juice before walking with your head down to the college center. You didn't want to see any of your friends or anyone for that matter. You wanted to be alone . . . With Tendo. He knew how to give you the reassurance and comfort you needed without uttering a single word. Sometimes you wondered if he was even aware of the effect he had on you. Did he know how his mere presence could reduce your anxiety? The man was like a remedy.

You spotted Tendo slumped on one of the couches, thumbs tapping away on his phone and you were almost certain he was engaged in a game of COD mobile. Then he seemed to notice you and he lifted his bright red-haired head up, shoving his phone in his pocket.

"Damn bay-bee!" Tendo whistled and you rolled your eyes as an instant reaction to his typical attention-drawing behaviour. "Hot girl alert," he announced, grinning at you.

"Shut up!" you yelled, chucking a juice bottle at him, which he caught with extraneous ease. You would've been surprised if you weren't already familiar with the fact that he, along with Semi, were on the volleyball team of a prestigious high school. He never failed to remind you and always talked about a mysterious "best friend" named Ushijima who he strongly believed would be famous one day.

Grateful that no one was staring at you two anymore, you collapsed next to Tendo, resting your head on his shoulder. He had produced his phone once again and you realized he had been texting Semi. You didn't want to intrude on his messages but you couldn't help catch parts of the conversation. He was going out drinking with Semi later because they had both received excellent grades on one of their tests. This also didn't come as a surprise because although you've never actually seen Tendo studying, he always did well on his tests.

Tendo turned to you. "You can go ahead back to my place," he suggested, twirling his dorm keys around his finger as he handed them to you. You gave him a small smile when he left you with a parting kiss on the lips as you separated for your next class.

You didn't see him again before leaving campus to return to Tendo's house. As you walked, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. Why hadn't Tendo ask you to join him? You shook your head, why were you even thinking of such a thing when you knew you hated drinking? But some uncomfortable tug in your chest left you questioning whether Tendo even wanted you at his place. Maybe he had accepted to be polite, or because he felt sorry for you . . . or because he didn't want to say no to you in front of Semi.

The biting thoughts bounced around your head, a reminder that Tendo loved you popping up every now and then to shoot those thoughts into a corner but not doing much to quell your worries.

You spent your evening studying, getting excited only at the occasional text from Tendo, making sure you got home fine, or that you knew you could eat anything in his fridge, or sleep in his bed if you were tired, or play on his PlayStation if you were bored. You did neither of those things, not touching a single thing in his kitchen even while your poor stomach cried with hungry grumbles.

You felt sick to your stomach, opting to switch on the television for background noise as you hugged your knees on the couch. There was an aching fear building up inside of you, fear that you were as unwanted to your boyfriend as you were to your own parents. You knew you shouldn't have been insecure, he'd always been there for you and never gave you a reason to doubt him.

But it had been quite a while since he'd last told that he loved you, sincerely, from the bottom of his heart. A lot could change within a person in that sort of time. And the last time the two of you had sex or even really made out was several months ago before you moved in with your parents. You could blame that on the chaos of school, both of you being in your second-years with exams and pressure to find jobs keeping your heads under water.

Nonetheless, the fear of Tendo falling out of love with you the same way your father fell out of love with your mother still existed and was still very real. You could always untangle this very confusing frustration with Tendo, he'd never shied away from important conversations. However, despite the many insecurities he'd helped you through, this just wasn't one you wanted him to hear.

And maybe you were like your parents in that way . . .

You dropped your head into your lap, feeling the burn of tears in your eyes, your chest tightening under the pressure of the worries you knew had no foundations but still pushed their way into your system. Eventually, your eyes had drooped and your brain was shifting in and out of focus with the screen before you.

Before you could really fall asleep though, you heard the sound of the door opening and Tendo's voice informing you of his presence. You hummed in response and Tendo furrowed his brows at you, jumping in next to you on the couch. You could tell he was still a little delirious from drinking but not enough to turn you away from him, as you usually did when he got completely wasted.

"Y/N, I went to the corner store on the way back and got you the cake you said you really liked," Tendo mumbled, putting his arms around you and pulling you closer. You wanted the cake, sure, but to be truthful, you wanted him more than anything.

"I just wanna fuck," you blurted out and Tendo's head instantly snapped up to look at you, a lazy grin pulling at the edges of his lips.

"Uh? You wanna what?"

You blushed, tugging your knees to your chest but Tendo's hands were already on them, pulling them apart. "I said I wanna fuck," you murmur.

"That's right, baby," said Tendo, settling himself between your thighs as he licked his lips. "I knew what you said, I wanted to hear you say it again."

"I got it, stupid," you told him, curling your fingers around the shoulders of Tendo's shirt and bringing his chest to yours before connecting your lips. The effect was immediate. You simultaneously relaxed and tensed up underneath the weight of his body, completely winded by the effortlessness with which his tongue moved past your lips and pressed to your own.

"You're right, I deserve this," Tendo breathed against your lips, a hand going to your thigh and guiding your leg around his waist. You hadn't said that but didn't care enough to point it out. "I can't call it a treat without wrecking this pretty body of yours." Your heart fluttered with his words and you watched him trail his lips down your chin, jaw, and neck toward the now exposed skin of your chest as he hooked a finger over the collar of your sweater and forced it down.

You shut your eyes, drowning in the anxious ecstasy of what was to come, the outcome of all this; him inside of you, filling you up, and fighting off all your worries with each sway of his hips against yours.

His teeth grazed against your skin and you pressed your lips together, knowing it was going to be followed by a bite and it did. Tendo bit and tugged at your sensitive skin, earning a pained gasp from your lips before smoothing over the sting with his tongue. It hurt but in that good way you never wanted it to stop, not until every inch of your body was covered in marks from him and only him.

Tendo had always liked to take his time. Even now, with you practically squirming and wordlessly begging for him. You could tell by the way he rubbed the seam of his jeans right against the very spot you craved him most, knocking the air out of your lungs and making your hips snap up against his, which caused you both to moan (Tendo's turned into choked laughter). He usually opted to wear sweatpants or, at best, trousers, but the roughness of his jeans really did amplify the feeling and although it made you throb almost everywhere, you were starting to get impatient.

"Jinx," Tendo groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck as your fingernails raked through his messy hair.

"Shut up, Tendo, just . . . Fuck . . . Get inside already," you said between shallow breaths. Tendo was already doing that, wedging a hand between both your bodies to unbutton his jeans. But between making jokes of your desperation and dry-humping you right on his couch, Tendo (and you) failed to realize that you had company.

The sound of the door swinging open almost completely shattered your preoccupation with each other. Tendo dragged himself off you and onto his knees while you propped yourself up, slightly embarrassed but more so disappointed when Semi walked into the living room, squinting at the two of you.

"Oh," he said, realizing what he had interrupted with a nod. High Semi was a lot different than this not-very-drunk or just-sober-enough Semi, who was stoic and didn't laugh the awkwardness off like you expected. "S-sorry about that," he stuttered and made to head towards his own room.

Tendo turned back to you with a smile that told you he didn't mind continuing what you two had already started. He didn't mind . . . But that probably didn't mean he wanted to. Neither did you with Semi in the next room. The heavy feeling from earlier took residence in your stomach once more, unwarranted and so quick you felt tears spring to your eyes.

Pushing Tendo off, you ran to his room in order to cry without his prying eyes, kind as they were. But you knew you wouldn't have the room for very long. The five minutes you really were alone, you were quite sure Tendo was trying to give you space or wonder what he'd done wrong. Then the door opened and he stepped in and you buried your head in your hands.

"Y/N, what the fuck is up with you?" He asked, but in a gentle tone before you felt his hand on your back, rubbing soothingly. "Why are you crying, hm? Look at me." Tendo tugged on your forearm and practically forced your head up. You stared at him through tear-blurry vision.

"Why didn't you invite me to come with you and Semi?" You stuttered dumbly and Tendo blinked in surprise.

"I-I didn't think you'd want to come," he answered with a shrug and a look of guilt marred the fond carelessness of his face. "Usually you say no . . . I'm sorry, I should've asked."

You shook your head quickly and realized you were doing exactly what you hated about your parents: avoiding the problem. But how could you not avoid the problem when the problem was questioning his love for you? Maybe you were the immature one, thinking talking about those things was so simple. It wasn't.

So you just said, "Sorry, I've been having a rough week . . . "

Tendo nodded, understanding. "Do you want Semi out of here?"

"W-What? No, no, no," you said quickly, wiping your wet eyes. "He needs somewhere to stay, I-I don't mind. It's mostly just . . . " you braced yourself to finally voice your fear out loud. Tendo's eyes on you, full of concern and attention. "I'm sick of my parents," you ended up saying and then cringed with your whole body.

"They fighting again?" Tendo asked, wrapping an arm around your waist and maneuvering the two of you against the bed frame to lean back. You leaned into his chest and relaxed in the comforting scent of him.

"They haven't checked up on me," you murmured, feeling slightly embarrassed for needing your parents attention this much. Tendo just stroked his fingers through your hair, intently listening. "I didn't tell them I'd be away from home and I usually never am. But they haven't even texted me to ask. I just feel like I'm not wanted there."

"They're probably just lost in their own issues to even think about dealing with you," Tendo said and he seemed to have the simplest answers to the complicated worries in your heart. "Stay here with me, just until they really get worried. Besides you're wanted here all the time."

You lifted your head and smiled. "Thanks Tendo, I-I love you," you mumbled shyly and Tendo grinned, shaking his head in amusement.

"I love you too," he replied without hesitating. The two of you soon fell asleep, Tendo changing out of his jeans first and yelling at you to get in your pajamas, before throwing a shirt at your head. You were too tired to get up now and Tendo knew that but it didn't stop him from trying. He gave up shortly and muttered something about you being a stubborn little bitch before sinking into the mattress next to you and shutting off the lights.

The next week flew by just like that. You were getting quite used to living with Tendo and he seemed to be happy with that. Most days were just busy with school and assignments, the slower days were spent in wondering if Semi would be home now or then to gauge how long the two of you had alone. But in that worry itself, you and Tendo would miss the opportunity Semi seemed to have intentionally been giving you each time. Dinners were nice since the three of you got along very well. Tendo would usually make the jokes, vulgar or downright shocking, causing you to almost choke up your food and Semi to roll his eyes yet smirk all the same.

Semi had found a job as a male receptionist at some package delivering company, which was a grounds for all three of you to celebrate. Tendo explained that they probably only wanted Semi because he was eye-candy  for anyone entering the building. You agreed that Semi was very pretty and Tendo pouted at you.

Friday night, the bong was reintroduced and you surrendered to the thought of really forgetting all your stress and just getting high. Which you did. And it was really relieving. So the next day, you decided it couldn't hurt to have another session. Semi had gone off to work and he wouldn't be back till very late, which gave you and Tendo time to smoke a little and fuck a lot.

But neither of you were really in the mood that evening and you could tell by the lack of foreplay Tendo usually invested in before putting it inside. He was out of focus and so were you, lying in his bed and occasionally moaning when he hit the right spot.

And when he'd pulled out so quick, you couldn't help lifting your head in confusion. "T-Tendo, what—" but the question was cut off with warm liquid spraying over your bare chest and splashing onto your mouth, droplets almost hitting your eyes before you shut them.

"Ah shit!" Tendo gasped, giggling breathlessly. "I'm s-sorry about that. I just wanted to cum on your tits."

"I'm gonna get pink-eye!" You complained, wiping your eyes and mouth with the back of your hand.

"Don't be dramatic," he said dismissively, hopping off the bed and disappearing into the closet. You blinked, heavy breaths living your lips and slightly disoriented. But Tendo had really just . . . Done that, without bothering to ask if you'd finished (he never really asked because it was quite obvious you had every time, but not tonight).

Before the worthlessness could settle in, a towel was thrown directly at your face and now you were just . . . Really angry. Your own boyfriend seemed to have used you and discarded you, you thought, furiously wiping yourself down with the towel and watching Tendo from the corner of your eye light up a joint and take a deep drag from it.

You slipped your shirt back over your bare chest and stared down at your lap as he breathed out, smoke filling the air and your nose. You just wanted to turn around and sleep.

"Y/N," said Tendo, prompting you to glance up at him. You shifted your gaze to him and saw that he was dangling a pair of handcuffs in one hand and a collar with a chain attached to it in another. Tendo grinned lazily, the joint hanging from his lips as he tossed both on the bed, you gazing at them in wonder.

"Do you wanna try these?" He asked, setting the joint aside and crawling onto the bed. "I ordered them a while ago, they're cheap as fuck but if we like them — if you like them — we can get something proper."

You licked your lips, excitement rising in your stomach. "I . . . Um . . . Yes! I'd like to try . . ."

"That's my girl," said Tendo eagerly, clicking the collar around your neck with a sly smile. "You look pretty fucking hot, if I'm being honest." He turned your head to the side so you could see yourself in the mirror. You couldn't help but agree with your boyfriend. The presence of the collar on your throat did wonderful things to your conscious.

Then there was a rough tug on the chain, squeezing the collar around your neck, and a whimper tumbled past your lips as Tendo forced you to face him. Tendo's eyes widened in wicked surprise as he stared at you and felt yourself blushing.

"This chain comes in handy then, I bet," he muttered with a smile.

Once your shirt was off and the handcuffs were locked around your wrists, both behind your back, Tendo pushed you to the ground in front of him and swung his feet off the bed. He reached one of his large hands towards you, fingers immediately tangling in your hair as you made quick work of him. The constant yanking on your hair and the choked grunts Tendo made was really adding to the rush of it all. Especially when he pushed your head down and forced himself deeper into your throat. 

"Take all of my cock," he hissed out the order, the chain of your collar wrapped around his free hand, tugging at it every now and then when he wanted you to look at him. You accepted every  praise that followed, tears forming at the edge of your vision with each thrust. "You look so pretty like this, baby. God, I love face-fucking you . . . You're so good . . . You're the best." 

After he'd shuddered and his cock twitched, sending a warm stream of cum down your throat, Tendo didn't stop there. He pulled the chain up, your head rising with it as the collar squeezed your neck. "Let me see," he whispered, gently gripping your jaw as you opened your mouth, feeling the liquid drip down your chin. "Good girl. Now swallow." The instruction was followed by the harsh slap of his palm against your ass, prompting you to obey.

"Ah!" you cried out, biting your lip. "Y-Yes, sir." 

Tendo smirked and yanked the chain again, bringing your lips down upon his and the saltiness from earlier was wiped away as he sucked on your lips, grasping your hips and sitting you down on top of him where you could feel his cock pressing right against your entrance. 

"Tell me what you want, baby," Tendo groaned as you moved your hips against him, your head buried in his neck along with your lips grazing his warm skin. Your wrists were sore and aching and all you wanted was to latch onto him but Tendo didn't seem to want to take them off just yet. 

"Fuck me," you whispered against his ear.

Tendo didn't waste time, moving back so he was lying down on the bed, shirt off and you, on top of him, wanted to touch the tanned skin of his bare chest so bad. He watched your every moment with a dizzying intrigue, allowing you to fuck yourself on his cock while his fingers pressed bruises into your hips. 

"Just like that, Y/N," he grunted through a clenched jaw, pushing you all the way down as he lifted his own hips and thrust up into you. 

"Tendo!" You gasped, your head falling back, eyes shut tightly as the pain and pleasure shot up your body, releasing breathless moans from the base of your throat. "Fuck . . ."

Tendo grinned. "You ride me so well, Y/N . . . Ugh, fuck!" He pulled the chain towards him, swallowing your moan with the careful, wet kisses of his mouth. "You look so hot on top of me." You could feel the tight knots in your stomach slowly unraveling, the new angle doing mind-shattering things to your insides. 

"I-I . . . Tendo . . ." You stuttered, blinking rapidly as the feeling overcame you. 

Tendo's hands went to your thighs immediately, throwing you off of him and the sudden feeling of emptiness shocked you. "What the fuck?!" You cried, shaking the hair off your face as your wrists were still faithfully behind you. 

"Let me fuck that pussy," Tendo muttered, shifting you onto your hands and knees before sinking into you from behind as your head pressed into the pillow beneath you. "You're so tight . . . I love this pussy . . ." Tendo bent over you, till his chest was pressed to your back, his hand still clamped around the chain of your collar, making sure you were being choked how he liked you. 

"Moan for me, Y/N . . ." he whispered, lips and teeth clashing against the skin under your ear, your neck, your shoulder. You should've been embarrassed with the sounds leaving your parted mouth but you really couldn't focus on much besides the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you. 

The mindless euphoria and muffled pain of it all drove every thought out of your head, the uncertainty and unease. You wanted to be as close to Tendo as possible and he wanted to be deep inside you. As your vision blurred and you were so close to completely losing it, Tendo pulled out of you again. Your jaw fell open but he'd flipped you around and frantically uncuffed your now throbbing wrists, tossing the handcuffs to the side, before sliding back into you. 

"Fuucckkk . . ." He moaned, eyes fluttering but he tried to keep them open to watch your flushed face, your back arching until your breasts were pressed right up against his chest. The sound of profanities leaving his swelling lips was smothered as he sucked on your neck, your arms finally able to loop around his neck, yanking at his hair as he slipped his fingers between your legs. "C-Cum on my cock . . ." Tendo stuttered.

But you'd begged him to come inside and Tendo had to pull his head back to look at you with surprise. After the painful edging and denial, those words were enough to snap every knot in your stomach completely. Tendo had grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. "I wanna see you when you cum," he managed to choke out as you tried your best to keep your eyes open, focused on his gaze and the way it sent goosebumps all over your sweat-glistening body. Tendo had sped up and groaned a string of curse words as he released inside of you, and you had given to defeat, throwing your head back, mouth open in a silent cry before Tendo's hips slowed down and the room was filled with shuddering breaths and occasional whimpers. 

"Holy fuck," Tendo whispered, unclipping the collar from around your neck and examining the red and almost bleeding skin before tossing the item to the side. "I'm so sorry . . . Did it hurt?" 

"K-Kinda," you squeaked as he kissed your neck softly. Truthfully, you hadn't noticed it then but the pain was coming back to you in short bursts as you trembled underneath Tendo. 

"I should've known considering it was like five bucks," he responded, dropping down next to you. You wrapped your arms around him and rested your head on his chest. Tendo seemed surprised by this as you two normally cleaned yourselves up first before cuddling. 

"My parents are falling out of love," you blurted out. 

Tendo scoffed, pushing your hair out of your face. "I just fucked you like you were a bitch in heat and the first thing you say is 'my parents are falling out of love' . . . What the fuck am I doing?" he murmured, leaning down and kissing the top of your head. "I'm sorry to hear that, Y/N."

You licked your lips, trailing your fingers over Tendo's bare chest. "I-I'm scared that . . . That you don't love me anymore either."

"Oh . . . This fucking girl, you can't leave her alone with her thoughts for a second," Tendo teased. "I can tell you this, Y/N; sometimes it doesn't work between people and forcing it will just make it worse." 

You nodded, shifting into a seated position so you could look at him properly. Tendo smiled at you, the mere action causing your heart to jump into you throat. "You're right . . . I'll have to hope for the best between my parents."

"That being said," Tendo continued, tucking your hair behind your ear gently. "I fucking love you and I don't plan on stopping so you can get that silly thought out of your head." There was a distant sound of the front door opening and when you'd glanced at the clock, you knew Semi was home. He'd announced his arrival and said,

"Keep fucking if you guys are fucking! I don't wanna ruin your relationship!"

Tendo rolled his eyes and hugged you closer, putting his chin on your shoulder. "You were amazing and I'm sorry about before . . ." You giggled. It seemed sort of trivial now. "You're beautiful by the way," Tendo said and you blushed. "Your face and body but also on the inside . . . and I'm not talking about these sweet insides I just ruined . . ."

"I know," You laughed as Tendo tickled your thigh with his fingertips. 

"Y/N," said Tendo suddenly and you glanced at him. "D-Do you want to try something new?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Hey, I guess the handcuffs weren't enough, huh? Yeah, let's do something new!" But you weren't expecting Tendo to call for Semi. To your own surprise though, you didn't stop him and even smiled widely when the boy pushed the door open and froze, blush creeping onto his cheeks. 

Tendo hadn't said anything further but your heart was pounding furiously again, especially when Semi's eyes shifted from Tendo to meet your own. He opened his mouth to say something but then thought better of it.

A second later, he was tugging at his own hoodie, the only two words that left his lips "fuck it" completely forgotten once the door shut and Tendo dimmed the lights. 

[thebrochtuarachs]

Something in the Rain - “Finding Solid Ground”

A/N:  Hi all! This chapter has been in the drafts for quite sometime now but I only had the time to pick up the writing. Thank you so much for your patience with my slow updates but rest assured, I absolutely love this story and daydream about the chapters ahead. As always, your comment and suggestions help a lot moving this story forward. Hope you all are keeping safe and healthy! Till the next one!

AO3  / C1: A Day In June : C2: Definitely, Maybe : C3: So We Meet Again : C4: Friday Lunch

XXXXX

She was 45 minutes late.

Claire was running as fast as she could, catching some curious eyes on her as she raced towards Mrs. Kim’s Korean Street Food Hub to hopefully, still catch Jamie for their lunch.

She got off from her morning surgery quite late due to some complications but she still went as courtesy and because, in all honesty, she still wanted to see him. Their last encounter kind of left them in an awkward place and she was hoping that this meeting could help clarify some things. She has been waiting for this all week but alas, life (and medicine) had other plans.

Claire entered the store and knew instantly that he wasn’t there. The place was empty after the lunch rush and she sighed in disappointment.

“Claire!” Mrs. Kim suddenly called out. “This is for you, left by your friend”, she said while handing her a piece of paper.

“Thank you” Claire replied, opening it on spot.

Hi Claire,

Sorry, I left before you arrived but I have to get back to the office. Don’t worry about the wait, I really don’t mind but I just have a packed schedule today.

Forgive me if this is too forward but here’s my number. No pressure! Just figured we can text or call whenever is a better time to catch up. Just hit me up when you feel like it and I’ll be on the other line.

I do hope to hear from you soon. If not, I’ll be here next Friday, same time :)

Jamie

Claire did not waste any more time and punched in Jamie’s mobile number to call. After three rings, he answered.

“Hello?”

“Jamie? It’s me, Claire.”

“Claire, hi! I see you got my note.”

“I did. I am so sorry. My surgery ran a little bit long and…”

“Don’t worry, I figured that must be it.” he said cheerfully, cutting her off before she went into a long explanation. “I mean, you save lives and all, couldn’t be angry about that.”

Claire sighed relief on the other line and couldn’t believe just how understanding he is. So understanding that she’s starting to wonder if he’s even real. She hasn't really met anyone that chivalrous and it captures her.

“Oh, wow. Thank you - and thank you for the note and your number. My guilt would’ve eaten me alive if I couldn’t apologize to you.”

“You don’t think it was too forward?”

“No, not at all. To be honest, I was going to ask it last week before we got, erm, interrupted.”

“Well, that’s good to know. And in any case, I would’ve given it.” Jamie said.

She could hear his smile from the other line and she couldn’t help but smile too.

“Anyhow,” Claire followed. “I am so sorry I missed you today. To make up for it, would you happen to be doing anything tomorrow?”

“Hmm, let me check." Jamie checked his board calendar. "Nope, my weekend is free. Anything you had in mind?”

“Well, if you’re up for it, I’d like to invite you to the center tomorrow, see what we’re doing with the kids. Fair warning though, they get a little rowdy sometimes.”

“I’m game! Text me the details and what time to meet you.”

“Really? Great! Sure, I’ll text you the details in a bit”

“Will wait for it. Claire, sorry to cut this short but I have to run to a meeting. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Oh no, please. Go ahead. I’ll see you tomorrow, Alright, bye!”

-

It was a Saturday, two weeks since their encounter by the crossing, and now she’s waiting for him to arrive and bring him to one of the most special places for her.

Claire hadn’t absolutely thought through what inviting Jamie to the center would mean. Reflecting on yesterday, a part of Claire thought she may have panicked and this invite might’ve been a mistake. On another end was a part of her that was excited to see him and if she was really being honest, spend time with him, and show her the work they have been doing.

She had told her their meeting story and the extended invite to her friends and staff but left out the part about their lunches. She messaged the team on WhatsApp about their upcoming guest and her inbox has blown with messages asking her for more details about the man himself. She messaged that they’ll be able to find out for themselves tomorrow when they meet him and turned off her phone.

“Claire?” Deep in thought she hadn’t seen or hear Jamie arrive. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Spaced out there for a bit” she embarrassingly admitted.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Jamie asked as Claire pointed the way in.

“Erm, nothing much. Just thinking about giving you fair warning about everyone upstairs. They’re quite curious about you, Jamie Fraser.” she said jokingly the half truth.

Jamie got a bit nervous suddenly and Claire felt it. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll save you if they get too rowdy. Be ready to answer questions though." She said, smiling, hoping to ease his thoughts.

“Is any topic off limits? Should I not mention anything to them?”

“I leave it to you. But if you ask me, just be yourself and charm everyone away”

Jamie chuckled and Claire turned to him. “What?”

“You think I’m charming?”

Claire laughed and smacked him in the arm. “Oh, bug off!”

“I’ll take that as a yes”

“Anyway!” Claire interrupted. “Today’s event is just art and crafts and a story session. The rest, the kids can do and play how ever they like. I usually just play with any kid who asks me to and time just flies and suddenly, the afternoon is done.”

“Got it. I honestly hope I can help more than distract or whatever”

“Pssh, you’ll be fine, Jamie. You’ll be fine”

--

The moment the elevator doors opened, a line of people greeted Jamie and Claire at the entrance.

“Hello, everyone” Claire greeted but to her surprise, no one spoke or moved. Everyone was just looking at Jamie. “This is Jamie. Jamie Fraser, our guest for today”

She ushered them closer to the stunned group and began to introduce them one by one.

Mary, the receptionist and admin assistant.

Mrs. Graham, the secretariat and head of operations.

Joe, also a surgeon from Claire’s hospital.

Frank, the history professor he’d met a week earlier.

Geilis, a botanist and herbalist.

“It’s nice to meet you all. Thank you for having me this afternoon.” Jamie said and it was only then that the ice was broken.

“Hi, Jamie was it? Can I call you Jamie?” Mrs. Graham prodded.

“Yes, Mam”

“Alright, this way. Let me show you around”

As Mrs. Graham swept Jamie away for a short tour, the rest of the group crowded Claire with questions.

“Okay, he is even more handsome than in the pictures!” Geilis excitedly said.

“Pictures?” Claire asked.

“Ugh, I sometimes forget you’re a doctor who needs to catch up to the times” Geilis pinched her nose jokingly. “Jamie was named one of Scotland’s most eligible bachelors in a tatler magazine last year. There’s pretty striking photos of him in a tux and in casual clothes.”

“I remember that issue. Gail had one lying in the house and I happen to peruse it one time. You’re right, the pictures don’t do him justice.” Joe chimed in.

“I had no idea. I mean, I just literally bumped into the guy on the street!” Claire said, a curiosity pooling in her mind. She had to look for that magazine later.

“Such a meet-cute story. Ugh, Claire! It’s like something out of the books or movies” Geilis added.

“Psh, he seems too manly for me. I mean, who is that fit and that put together.” Frank mused.

“I think he’s quite charming” Joe added.

“If you ask me, Claire, I don’t know what’s going on between you two but keep it going” Geilis added.

“Aish, nothing is going on. I just extended a polite invite to make up for - “ Claire stopped as Jamie and Mrs. Graham arrived back, thankful for the Interruption.

“Make up for what?” Geilis asked, not missing that info.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Mhm” Geilis hummed raising an eyebrow to Claire. She’ll pull it out of her later.

---

It was a long but fun afternoon for everyone.

Afterwards, one by one, the space cleared out, the kids were picked up, saying goodbye to the staff with some even approaching and waving at Jamie as they left, leaving him with a heartwarming feeling.

“Well, another successful weekend, folks!” Frank called out and the team gave themselves applause.

“Great job to Joe and Mary for taking on the storytelling and painting sessions this afternoon and I would also like to thank our guest, Jamie, for being patient and helpful with the kids” Mrs. Graham added, earning another group applause.

“Thank ye, I hope I helped at all today but otherwise, I enjoyed today and thank ye for inviting me.” Jamie shared.

“Come join us anytime” Joe patted him on the back. “Alright, everyone, have a goodnight. See you all next week, I’ll bring Gail and Lenny along.” With that he made a way for the elevator and it was everyone’s cue to leave.

Claire approached Jamie just as he was going to her. “Well, how are you and how was it?” she asked. If she expected to spend time with Jamie, well, it didn’t happen. First, he was whisked away by Mrs. Graham. Afterwards, it was Joe asking help to build his set. Next up was Mary who got him assisting on getting and serving the food, and the rest of the time, it was kids calling out on Jamie here and there and he was more than happy to oblige.

“Fun and a little bit tiring” he replied and Claire gave a small laugh. “But in all honesty, thank ye for inviting me to come here. Made me miss my niece and nephew”

“I’m glad you had fun and I’m glad you got to see what we’re doing here.”

Jamie might be overthinking things but he knew that Claire sharing this part of her to him seems like a big thing and he intends to cherish that.

“Anyway, I’d like to offer to drive ye home...or to the nearest bus stop” he added, panicking he put her in a tight spot.

Claire paused, eyed him jokingly, intentionally making him more flush and nervous.

“I’d take that offer but” she began and Jamie swallowed the lump on his throat, “I actually live nearby so we don’t need to drive”

“Okay,” Jamie sighed in relief which Claire found very cute. “Lead the way, then”

[skinsharpenedteeth]

RNM After Dark - Friday - Down to Earth

Here's my submission for @rnmafterdark

Day 1 - Down to Earth.

It features... dom/sub behavior, discussions of kink and safewords, impact play, cock and ball torture (CBT), masochism, sadism, a little bit of humiliation, and a school bus converted into a sex dungeon...

it's 6400 words, rated E-AF for Explicit As Fuck.

Also posted on AO3 for your kudos-ing, commenting, and bookmarking pleasure!

-

"What You Need and What You Want"

.

Alex didn't know why he needed it. He'd thought he was past needing to be yelled at after basic and living with his father, but the drill sergeants could only yell at you about the most superficial weaknesses. He could be called soft, pretty, or a mama's boy all day and it wouldn't even tweak a nerve. But late at night in foreign cities stateside and abroad, in clubs he’d found for people like him, people who needed something more, he had found other men who got closer to making him feel the way he needed to feel. Their rough hands, their sharp words, and the way they weren’t moved by his tears unless he said a word to make them stop, had turned out to be exactly what he’d needed that was more.

Then Alex had come back home from combat and anonymity. He’d tried to move into his old life, tried to fit into the version of himself that was normal, and found out that so many things were not what they seemed. But he hadn’t been able to get what he needed in a small town. So he’d driven to Albuquerque, looking for someone to fill that part of himself that needed to wallow in punishment and pain. But Albuquerque wasn’t big enough, wasn’t dark enough, wasn’t learned enough to know the difference between dominance and cruelty. It was close enough though. Close enough for Alex to fill in the gaps with his mind of the things he was missing.

Michael had noticed his trips. Michael noticed everything. He’d noticed that Alex wasn’t coming home calm, but haunted. He'd come home with the edge taken off, but not the need taken care of. Not fully. Never fully. The itch was always there, just sometimes more manageable if he'd let someone slap him around for a bit. The trips had been to someone who would do just that. But they didn't know him. Not really. He’d been the one to point out to Alex that he really wasn’t getting what he needed. Then, after an out-of-town trip that had left Alex with one too many bruises and scratches and a significant limp, Michael had begged him to let him help instead of continuing to go to someone who wasn’t treating him right.

"Just come to me for it," Michael had said, half order and half offer. Alex had scoffed initially. He hadn't thought Michael had understood what Alex actually wanted. Michael had leveled him with a glare and continued. "I don't like the idea of you going somewhere else for this. I don't like the idea of you trusting a stranger. And it's obvious it's not enough. Next time you have to scratch the itch, just come to me."

"Sure," Alex had agreed. He'd said 'sure’ like he meant 'not a chance'. Then he'd had a week of nights filled with nightmares. Caulfield, explosions, death, dismemberment, and ghosts plagued him whenever his body lost the fight to unconsciousness. The guy he'd been seeing was too far away and busy and Alex was almost trembling with the need for someone to bleed the tension out of him. So he'd called Michael just to see. Maybe he could do it. Maybe he could be enough until Alex could find another person or another way.

He’d never expected it to work, but he’d underestimated how well Michael knew him. Michael saw the way he seemed to bend towards harsh criticisms against him or his family. He saw how he warred with letting go of those terrible pieces of himself and holding onto them as tightly as if they were his security blanket. Michael had seen inside his mind and had rooted around for the most shameful things to use against him. Once Michael had figured out what he'd been going out of town to get, he’d made Alex an offer he couldn't refuse.

Alex stepped up into the old yellow school bus apprehensively. It sat near the Airstream in the junkyard, electric cables running to it and making it glow through the cracks. Michael had blacked out the windows with paint, making it look vaguely ominous in the blue hours of dusk. He wasn't sure what he'd find inside. What he found was a work in progress.

The cavernous space had been stripped of the seats and given a new floor. Michael had installed a drop ceiling down the middle of the bus and lined it with invisible lights around the edges. It made the ceiling dark, but the rounded walls and windows glow with subdued light. The effect was modern and sophisticated, and not at all what Alex would normally expect from Michael. Michael was watching him take in the bus's interior from a dark modular sofa that had been pushed along the side of the bus. He was wearing a loose, distressed pair of jeans and his ever-present plaid-over-tank combo. Alex felt his apprehension tighten the muscles in his back, but he pushed forward until he was standing in front of Michael looking down at him. He shoved his hands into his pockets and made a show of looking around the bus.

"So, starting an escort service?" Alex asked, watching for Michael's reaction.

"Maybe. Nothing wrong with sex work. It wasn't what I had planned for this space, but maybe there's a niche market for a mobile brothel in Roswell," Michael answered, spreading his arms over the back of the sofa and leveling Alex with a look. "I assume you didn't call to insult my decorating."

Alex scoffed. He shook his head slowly and gave Michael a wry smile.

"No. I guess I didn't," Alex replied. "So are we going to do this?"

"Sure. But sit down. We need to do some quick housekeeping," Michael said, waving to the empty space next to him. Alex sat and tried not to fidget. He didn't want to talk right then. He wanted to hurt and have the demons inside him go silent and be sated. Michael watched him silently, gaze intense and laser-focused to the point that Alex stilled himself, suddenly self-conscious.

"Okay. So, first I need to know what you want out of this," Michael started. Alex rolled his eyes, but Michael just kept looking at him, even and steady.

"I want… release," Alex bit out. He could feel a flush starting to heat the skin of his neck. This wasn’t what he wanted to talk about.

"I'm assuming you don't mean orgasm...well, or not just orgasm. How do you want me to give that to you?" Michael asked. Alex's knee bounced and he scratched his thumbnail over the inside of his palm, letting the sting settle him enough to answer Michael's question.

"Yes, orgasm would be nice. But, what I need isn't just physical. I want to… I need you to… I need someone to make me make my physically feel as shitty as I need mentally. I need someone to strip me bare and then flay me alive. I need to hurt. I need to feel… empty at the end of it. Quiet, ya know?" Alex explained. His thumbnail scratched over and over, dragging across the same spot. Michael's hand closed gently over his wrist, startling Alex out of his thoughts. Alex looked up to catch Michael's eye and felt Michael pull his hand away and lay it on his thigh before taking the hand Alex had been scratching and holding it in his own.

"Do you need this to be verbal or just physical?" Michael asked, carefully. Alex tried not to let his shame overwhelm him. He wanted both. He needed both so badly and he hated how weak that need made him feel.

"Both," Alex replied just as quietly. Michael waited for a moment before speaking again. Alex watched the gears turn behind Michael's eyes, but he didn't see any pity in his expression… or disgust. A small part of him was surprised. He'd expected one or the other.

"So, hard limits?" Michael continued. He had started to rub his thumb sweetly over the red line Alex had made in his palm. It was at once painful and soothing.

"Nothing permanent. No choking, for obvious reasons. No broken skin. Don't call me ‘soldier.’ Don't call me ‘son.’ Don't make me…" Alex broke off, suddenly feeling ashamed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Michael paused his thumb over the scratch and pressed down firmly. A bright flare of stinging pain gave Alex the resolution to continue. "Don't make me feel good about any of it til we're done. And I don't need aftercare."

"Aftercare isn't optional, Alex. Not for you, not for me. That's a hard limit of mine," Michael replied, voice low and serious. Alex stared at him before huffing out a little laugh.

"How would you know what your limits are? Have you done this before?" Alex asked, removing his hand from Michael's. Unconsciously, he'd started to turn his body more towards Michael's. One leg was folded in front of him on the couch seat, his prosthesis still resting on the floor of the bus.

"You're not the only person who's found themselves with a need that wasn't fulfilled by what was easily obtained. You're not the gatekeeper to kink. You were gone for ten years and I had plenty of time to experiment and learn on my own. Stop acting like just because I've never been off the continent, I'm a fucking narrow-minded moron." Michael's voice was sharp at the end, making Alex flinch internally. He couldn't imagine a world where Michael had explored BDSM or kink. He'd just assumed Michael was drinking and sleeping around like a college frat boy the entire time. It stung Alex that he hadn't even imagined Michael really living a full life without him. He always just thought of Michael biding his time, waiting on him, perpetually looking over his shoulder and waiting for Alex to appear on the horizon. What a selfish, egotistical dick he was to assume Michael had nothing better to do than cool his heels dreaming of an idolized version of Alex (the version of Alex that he wished he was in reality, that he tried to be and failed to be every single day).

"Sorry," Alex said after a quiet span of minutes where he manually adjusted his mental image of Michael Guerin.

"Try again, Alex. And look me in the face while you do it." Alex raised his head and looked at Michael. He looked older and calmer than he had a moment before. He looked like he was wearing all the years of his life on his shoulders and he was used to the weight of carrying them. Alex felt younger somehow. He felt chastened.

"I'm sorry, Michael," he repeated, keeping his eyes locked on Guerin’s. Michael nodded once before continuing.

"What's your safeword?"

"Finland," Alex replied without hesitation.

"Mine's ‘orbit.’ Are you okay with using the stoplight system?" Michael asked easily. Alex nodded.

"So, do you want a trial run tonight?" Michael asked.

Alex took a deep breath and nodded again before clearing his throat, knowing he had to speak it out loud. "Yeah, sure. Let's give it a go."

"So stand up and take off your clothes. I'll be right back," Michael said as he stood up off the couch. Alex stood also and waited for Michael to disappear behind a partition that presumably hid the way to the bathroom. Slowly, Alex undressed himself, feeling nerves and anticipation start to flutter behind his bellybutton. He folded his clothes and laid them on the couch. Before he had to figure out if Michael wanted him to be kneeling or not, Michael came back into the room. He'd stripped off his plaid shirt and was just in jeans and a tank. Alex watched him walk across the room and pick up a remote from one of the window ledges. He pointed it towards the ceiling and the lights turned from a warm golden light to an almost sinister red.

"Going to murder me?" Alex tried to joke. Michael gave him a quick grin.

"Want a different color? I've got the full range. We can disco through the whole pride flag if you want," Michael joked back.

"No. Red is fine," Alex assured him. While he spoke, Michael had discarded the remote back onto the window ledge and moved to stand in front of Alex. He reached up and brushed some of Alex's hair behind his ear, watching his own action contemplatively.

"So what brought this on tonight? What are you feeling?" Michael asked, eyes seeming to float back to meet Alex's while his hand rested on the side of Alex's neck, fingers gently playing with the too long curling pieces near the nape of his neck.

"Just… stuff. Nightmares," Alex mumbled, dropping his eyes and staring at the dark patch of chest hair that showed above the scoop collar of Michael's tank. He wanted to get started. He was doubting his decision to come. Why didn't Michael just do something already?!

"What would you tell your anonymous Dom in Albuquerque or Santa Fe if they asked?" Alex's eyes darted back up to meet Michael's and he scowled. Through tight lips, he managed to spit out an answer.

"They wouldn't have asked about why I needed it, they’d just give it to me."

"Well, you gotta give me something to work with here. What feeling is causing the nightmares?" Michael asked patiently. He let the knuckles of his left hand drag down the side of Alex's bare stomach, reminding him that he was standing naked in front of Michael while he stood there fully clothed. Maybe they should've just had sex. Maybe that would've been enough.

"Guilt. I feel… guilty about a lot of things," Alex finally confessed, shame filling his cheeks with heat and color. Michael nodded, almost to himself.

"Okay. I can work with that," he replied. Then his hands slid away from Alex's body and he stepped back. He let his eyes travel down every inch of Alex's skin and back up. "I thought I told you to get naked."

Alex furrowed his brow in confusion and looked down at himself. He wasn't wearing any clothes. Michael smiled and bent down slightly to tap at Alex's prosthesis. Alex looked at him, still confused.

"Take it off. I'm going to have you kneeling on a pillow when you're finished. Arms up and behind your head," Michael instructed. Alex sat back on the couch and began to remove the prosthesis. Michael produced a square floor cushion and sat it in the middle of the bus floor, then stood in front of it and waited on Alex to finish. The floor cushion was just far enough that Alex would have to crawl to get to it from the couch. Humiliation bloomed in his stomach, and his cock twitched with interest. Michael was testing him.

Lowering himself down from the couch, Alex crawled the short distance to the floor cushion and then began to arrange himself. He sat forward on his knees, widening them for easier balance, and then slowly he lifted his arms up and interlocked his fingers behind his head. He was bared for the cool gaze Michael was giving him, and it thrilled him how very vulnerable he was in the position he’d been asked to hold. He could and would hold the position easily, but Michael could also just as easily knock him to the ground if he chose to. Alex let his eyes lift only as far as Michael's best buckle, brain beginning to quiet and settle as he did so, and then he waited.

"Very good, Alex. You look good like this," Michael complimented with a slightly mocking edge to his tone. He made a slow half-circle to stand behind Alex so that Alex could see them. "So you're feeling guilty, huh? Think you need to earn your forgiveness? Want someone to take your penance out of your flesh?" Michael asked from behind him. Alex nodded briskly, not sure if he was allowed to speak. "What do you feel guilty for? Because I can't punish you for having dreams."

"Just… everything. I'm so angry at myself for not being over shit. For failing you, for failing my dad, for failing everyone," Alex choked out, feeling like fleeing but forcing himself to stay still.

"How did you fail me?" Michael asked, voice cool and impartial. Alex appreciated the lack of emotion. It helped him keep going. He wouldn't be able to continue if he could tell he was hurting Michael with his honesty.

"I always underestimate you. You’re better, smarter, and more capable than I think you are a lot of the time," Alex admitted. Michael hummed thoughtfully.

"How many hours of sleep do you think you've gotten this week, Manes? Sixteen? Twenty?" Michael asked. Alex did the rough mental math in his head. He cleared his throat before he spoke.

"Fifteen-ish," he answered. His lower back muscles were starting to quietly let themselves be felt as they were continually used to keep him upright, the muscles in his thighs and arms warming up from holding him still. He felt Michael step up close behind him, legs on the outside of his own and cool belt buckle pressing into the bottom of his interlocked hands. Michael's hands slid through the gaps between his arms and shoulders and smoothed down his chest before scratching back up, nails dragging red lines into his tanned skin. He shifted into the sting, wishing for Michael to scratch harder.

"Color?" Michael asked quietly as his hands once again smoothed down Alex's pecs.

"Green," Alex answered through a harsh breath as Michael scratched back up, but harder. The bite of pain had Alex gasping in surprise, and he felt his cock starting to plump up from the attention.

"How about I give you ten on your ass and give five to your balls? If you take your punishment good, I'll help you cum. Does that sound fair?" Michael asked, thumbs rubbing roughly over Alex's nipples. The low thrum of arousal was starting to build under Alex’s skin from Michael’s words. The low level sting from Michael’s nails was already starting to put him in the right headspace. He closed his eyes for a moment, just enjoying the rough push and pull of Michael’s fingers on him.

“Yes,” Alex agreed out loud. Michael brought his hands back up to rest on Alex’s shoulders. He bent close to his ear before speaking again. His breath was warm where it tickled over Alex’s skin.

“Then get on your elbows and knees. I want your ass higher than your head,” Michael instructed. Alex took a deep breath in and nodded before unclasping his hands from behind his head. Gingerly, he moved until his head was resting on top of his forearms against the floor. He tucked his knees under his hips and presented himself. He was keenly aware of how exposed he was. The cool air from the A/C unit fluttered over his backside. Michael hadn’t moved as Alex had gotten into position, so he could also feel the threat of someone lording over him. He could almost feel Michael’s eyes trailing over his naked skin, taking his time, mentally caressing every curve. After what felt like an eternity, Michael moved. He knelt down next to Alex’s side. When his fingertips started to skim down Alex’s side, it made him jump.

“None of that now,” Michael said, though his tone was soothing instead of harsh, like Alex was a spooked horse he was trying to calm. His hand continued stroking gently over Alex’s side and then down his back, around the curve of his ass and down his leg. The touch almost tickled and Alex had to fight not to flinch or shy away from the sensation.

“You always think you know better than me, don’t you, Alex?” Michael asked quietly. He shifted his body, moving further down Alex’s body and behind him. He started to use both hands to tickle over Alex’s back. When he got to his ass, though, Michael paused. Carefully, he spread Alex’s cheeks to look at his hole. A light touch of Michael’s thumb trailed down the center, barely glancing over Alex’s hole, and then down over his taint until Michael could cup Alex’s balls in his hand. He massaged them gently in his palm, pulling gently at the skin of his sack. Circling his thumb and forefinger around the base of Alex’s scrotum under his cock, he used the other three fingers to cup around the fleshy sack and began squeezing gently. Discomfort and heat prickled at Alex’s skin, making him whimper softly when Michael’s hand began to tighten and loosen in a slow rhythm. It wasn’t rough, wasn’t painful, but it was uncomfortable in the way that triggered his most primal instinct to escape. Alex stayed still and breathed deeply against his forearms. The feeling was mesmerizing, so it caught Alex off guard when Michael reached down with his free hand to stroke his cock.

“Fuck!” Alex burst out, shifting restlessly knee to knee. Michael held still as he settled. The electricity of that touch crackled along Alex’s nerve endings, pins and needles under his skin.

“Color?” Michael asked, not moving.

“Green,” Alex replied, feeling suddenly out of breath. Without warning, the hand that had touched Alex’s cock came down with a crack on one of his ass cheeks. This pain too was electric, but more like a quick strike of lighting, localized and bright. Alex swore, but tried to stay still.

“One,” Michael counted. His hand rubbed over the stinging skin before he removed it. A moment later, he was using it to loosely stroke over Alex’s cock. The hand around Alex’s balls tightened, again threatening the violence that Alex wanted. He moaned, wishing for more. “I was just never good enough for you, was I? But you kept coming back. Kept slumming it with the foster kid. Did you think I didn’t notice the way you kept me secret?”

Another slap against Alex’s ass, another sting, and another gentle caress by Michael’s hand over the heated skin. The next one came faster and harder than the first. Michael learned forward over one side of Alex’s back, the roughness of his jeans irritating and wonderful over Alex’s heated skin. He leaned close enough to be able to rest his chin on Alex’s shoulder.

“Two and Three. You’re an arrogant piece of shit sometimes, Alex. You’re wrapped up in classism, just like your father was. At least you can recognize that you’re a fucking asshole for it and that you deserve for someone to take you down a peg.”

He kept his voice calm and the words stung all the more for it. Alex held his breath against their effect until he couldn’t any longer and then let it out in a long, slow breath. Michael took his hand away from the base of Alex’s balls.

“Do you think you’re better than me, Alex? Smarter? Think you need to always be the white fucking knight for everyone?” Michael asked, fingers dragging up Alex’s perineum in a firm line.

“No,” Alex said, shaking his head. A hard crack sounded and fire lit up the previously untouched ass cheek. Alex felt a throb run through his body as the heat started to radiate. His cock hung heavy between his legs. He looked down the line of his body and could see it hanging, tip wet and threatening to drip onto the floor.

“Are you lying to me, Alex?” Michael asked, nails scratching over the abused spot on Alex’s ass. His voice was quiet, threatening, teasing and starting to make Alex feel unraveled. Alex shook his head weakly. Another lick of fire, another crack, and Alex was moaning into his forearms.

“I think you’re lying to me. You think I’m stupid, Alex? Your actions speak louder than words. You think you’re the only one in the room who's aware enough to notice other people. You think we don’t have you pegged? You think you’re better than your friends, your family and me and you always have, haven’t you?” Michael asked, right before pushing up off from Alex’s back to sit back on his heels. His hands came to rest on Alex’s waist, pulling him back to center Alex’s hips back over his knees and correct his position. A hand slid up Alex’s spine and then pressed between his shoulder blades. Alex followed the unspoken direction until his chest was resting on the floor. He laid his cheek against the cool flooring and closed his eyes, letting his mind sink into Michael’s words.

“We’re halfway through your ass punishment. Your skin is getting so pretty and pink for me. And your cock is making a fucking mess on my floor. You look so fucking shameless right now. It’s a good look for you, Alex. You just needed to be reminded of how good you look when you’re being put in your place,” Michael praised from behind him.

Michael’s hands slid back from Alex’s hips to grip his ass. Alex felt himself being spread wide, Michael’s thumbs pulling at the skin next to his hole gently. The feeling of something warm and wet hitting his pucker and starting to slide over his entrance confused Alex for only a moment until he realized Michael must’ve spit on him. Hot shame and arousal flushed through him at the mental image. One of Michael’s thumbs moved in and he massaged his spit over Alex’s hole, pressing firmly but not truly trying to penetrate. Alex groaned, pushing back against the pressure of Michael’s thumb, vainly wishing he’d open him up and fuck him. He wanted to feel pinned open under Michael’s cock.

“Maybe next time. If you’re good,” Michael assured him before he took his hands away. Alex shook with need. He needed pain or pleasure or words or something. He was rewarded with a quick series of slaps, two on each ass cheek, one right after the other, heavy enough to thud through his muscle. These weren’t the stinging, surface slaps of earlier. When Michael finished, his hands massaged roughly across the skin. Alex felt a dizzying rush of blood and emotion coursing through him a moment before he felt the warm wet of Michael’s mouth and the sharper sting of his stubble as Michael nipped and kissed over the abused cheeks. His final slap on one cheek was quickly followed by a sharp bite to the other. Alex cursed and his foot flexed against the floor, toes trying to dig against the hard surface as Michael used his jaw’s grip on Alex’s skin to coax a whine from Alex’s throat. Alex didn’t need to see the floor under his cock to know it was sticky with a pool of his arousal.

“Mmm,” Michael hummed, rubbing his stubbled cheek over his bite mark, sounding well-pleased. “So warm.”

“Michael, please,” Alex managed to choke out. Michael hummed again, but Alex felt subtle movement behind him. A moment later, Michael’s hand wrapped around Alex’s cock, wet and slick and tight. His hand slid up and down Alex’s shaft and it was all he could do not to hump forward into the pressure. It felt so fucking good. Michael was still rubbing his bristled chin and upper lip over Alex’s ass, mouthing at the inflamed flesh.

“You’re doing so good. I love hearing you beg, Alex,” Michael murmured against his skin. Alex almost didn’t hear him, his attention so wrapped up in the slick sounds and tight hole Michael’s fist was making for him. He was getting close, he could tell, but he knew he hadn’t finished his punishment. Abruptly, Michael let go of Alex’s cock and sat up. Alex wailed into his arms, eyes stinging at the loss. His cock ached where it swung, newly neglected and dripping between his legs.

“You still need to take the five to your balls. Then I’ll let you cum,” Michael reminded him, tone lazy. He said this while wrapping his hand around the base of Alex’s sack again and pulling back towards him. Alex whined at the stretch, his balls had been tightening close to his body in preparation for cumming and now Michael was stretching them away. He’d stretched them far enough that Alex could imagine they looked like two pink plums in Michael’s grip, skin tight over the swollen orbs, looking fit to burst. He felt Michael’s hot breath against them a moment before the blunt pressure of his teeth resting on either side of one of his balls. Some heady mix of fear and arousal shot through Alex’s body making him tremble, his stomach tightening and hips hitching forward. “So full. I bet you haven’t cum since your last trip to Albuquerque. Maybe I should make you wait longer, see how big of a load you’ll save up for me.”

“Please, Michael, I need…,” Alex started, only to yelp in surprise at the first three-fingered smack to his testicles.

“You need,” Michael started, voice harsh and admonishing; another smack, wringing out another, higher-pitched yelp from Alex, and then Michael continued, “to let me make the decisions here. I know what you need, Alex. I’ve got you all figured out. You need to stop,” SMACK! “Underestimating,” SMACK! “Me.” SMACK!

Alex's breath was heaving from his body. He didn’t even realize he was speaking until Michael was pulling him up to sit back onto his lap, hands around his waist to help support him and Alex’s back pressed against Michael’s chest.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Alex continued to mumble thickly. Michael was shushing him softly, arms tight and comforting around him, lips delivering soft kisses to Alex’s shoulder and neck. Alex’s cheeks were hot, his eyes tight, and he knew he was crying.

“I know you are, sweetheart. I know,” Michael murmured against his skin. Alex’s breath hitched under another sob. Michael gently maneuvered him to half turn so he could wipe at the tear tracks on Alex’s cheek and kiss the corner of his mouth softly. “You did so good. I know you’re sorry cause you followed all my directions and took your punishment. So good, baby.”

Alex found himself turning more until he could cling to Michael’s neck and hug his body close. Michael stroked one of his hands up and down Alex’s spine while the other combed through his hair. The new position trapped Alex’s aching balls and still-hard cock in between their bodies. The cotton of Michael’s shirt was irritating against Alex’s sensitive skin, but Alex couldn’t bear to pull back.

“Did you want me to help you cum, Alex?” Michael asked, nose gently bumping against Alex’s, lips a hair's breadth away. Alex took a deep breath in to steady himself before nodding. He moved forward, hoping to capture Michael’s mouth in a kiss. Michael let him, opening obligingly when Alex smoothed his inquisitive tongue along Michael’s lips. Michael let Alex kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. While they kissed, Michael’s hands wandered over Alex’s naked body until his hands came down onto Alex’s ass cheeks. Alex had almost forgotten about them until the flare of fire was reignited under Michael’s grip. The pain only served to excite Alex further.

“Michael, fuck me, please,” Alex begged, lips against Michael’s cheek as he pressed his body back into Michael’s strong grip.

“Not this time,” Michael responded gently. “But I’ll help get you off. You did so well, I can let you cum.”

“Please,” Alex said again, writhing softly in Michael’s lap to get some much-needed friction against his cock.

“So impatient,” Michael griped fondly. Removing one of his hands from Alex’s ass, Alex watched as he went to a previously unseen pump bottle of lube. He pumped twice and then brought his hand between their bodies and wrapped it around Alex’s cock. The lube was slick and sticky, and Alex immediately hitched his hips to push his cock through Michael’s grip.

“Oh, it’s like that?” Michael teased, tightening his grip to slow Alex’s quickening thrusts. Alex whined, hands flexing against Michael’s shoulders. Slowly, Michael started to move his tight-fisted hand over Alex’s cock. It was too tight for Alex to get off on it, but the edge of pain kept him hard and hoping. “If you keep acting greedy like this, I’m going to strap you down and edge you until you’ve learned some patience. Would you like that, Alex? Want me to keep you hard and begging for hours? Or do you want me to just make you cum until you’re dry and begging for me to stop?”

“Both, please,” Alex gasped out after a particularly cruel twist of Michael’s wrist. Michael loosened his grip then and paused, letting Alex catch his breath.

“You insatiable creature,” Michael praised. He kissed along Alex’s jaw to his shoulder where he bit harshly into the meat of Alex’s muscle. Alex groaned and tried not to writhe against the pain, but couldn’t seem to stop his body from rocking gently against Michael’s fist.

“That’s it. You can fuck my hand now.” He continued to kiss and bite Alex’s flesh after he said it, causing small fires everywhere his teeth touched. His mouth moved down from Alex’s shoulder to his chest, causing Alex to lean back. Alex held onto Michael’s shoulders tightly, but didn’t stop thrusting into Michael’s perfect, slick grip. Michael sucked Alex’s nipple into his mouth and let his teeth scrape over the sensitive flesh as he pulled his head back. Alex moaned and cursed at the feeling, throwing his head back. The tension in Alex was building quickly. He wanted so badly to cum, wanted to feel himself released from reality into oblivion if only for a few seconds.

“Please, Michael. Just a little tighter, please,” Alex managed to pant out. Michael kissed across his exposed throat.

“Show me, sweetheart,” he insisted. Alex pulled one of his hands from Michael’s shoulder and wrapped it over Michael’s. He squeezed until the pressure was perfect and then let go, replacing his hand on Michael’s shoulder. The hand that had been harshly kneading at Alex’s ass, encouraging his rolling hips and sloppy thrusts, came around to stack itself on top of the hand gripping him. Together they created a deep channel for Alex to thrust his cock into over and over again.

“Shit, shit, shit, Michael. I need to cum. Can I? Please?” Alex whined, even as he kept pushing his body towards the edge.

“Sure, darlin'. You can cum,” Michael said agreeably. Alex let go of any restraint, pressing close and letting his thrusts get quick and out of rhythm as he felt the pressure building behind his balls. When Alex was only a few thrusts away, Michael continued, “But I’m going to make you clean up the mess you make with your mouth.”

The last bit did it for Alex. With a strangled, silent yell, his cock swelled against Michael’s hands and then erupted white, sticky streams that dripped and smeared along the insides of his fingers and palms. When Alex was able to move, Michael let go of his slowly softening cock and Alex lowered himself onto his back on the floor. The coolness of it felt good against his overheated skin. Carefully, Michael crawled over him to straddle his stomach, careful of his oversensitive cock.

“Open up,” Michael demanded, tapping two sticky fingers against Alex’s lips. Obediently, Alex opened his mouth and felt Michael plunge his salty, spunk-covered digits in. Alex moaned at the taste of himself on Michael’s skin, using his tongue to trace every inch of skin to find more of his leftover pleasure. Michael made him lick and suck all of his fingers and then palms. When he was finished, he swooped down and took Alex’s mouth with his own, plunging his tongue in for any traces left for him to taste. When the taste dissolved into nothing they parted. Michael helped Alex up onto the couch, where he held Alex against his chest and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Want some water? Dinner?” Michael asked a little while later when Alex was practically dozing off against his chest where he was sprawled. Alex hummed noncommittally and nuzzled his head against Michael’s shirt, laying a kiss against his cotton-covered chest.

“How was it? Everything you expected?” Michael asked easily. Alex nodded, eyes still closed and mind still wrapped in a blanket of satiation.

“Anything you didn’t like or would like me to do differently next time?” Michael asked next. Alex thought about it. His hand drifted down to Michael’s crotch, completely covered, but still half hard from their scene.

“I want you to use this on me next time. Mouth, ass, hands, whatever. I want you to get off too,” Alex replied, voice drowsy but firm. He opened his eyes and locked eyes with Michael. His hand stayed resting over Michael’s crotch and he could feel it twitch against his palm. Alex raised an eyebrow in question. Michael smiled, bent his head down to kiss Alex’s mouth, and brushed his hand away.

“Next time. Promise,” Michael responded easily. Alex knew it wasn’t a real rejection, so he nodded and turned his head to lay it back down against Michael’s chest, his ear pressed to where he could hear the steady thumping rhythm of Michael’s heart. He drifted and with faint surprise, realized he was really falling asleep. He wondered how long Michael would let him lay like this if he fell asleep. Would he wake up to warm sunshine tomorrow morning? Would Michael only let him nap for a while and then wake him to get dressed so he could go home to his own bed? As if hearing his thoughts, Michael ran the back of a finger along Alex’s cheek bone.

“Do you want to sleep here, the Airstream, or your house?” Michael asked softly. Alex considered it.

“Let’s go to the Airstream. I don’t wanna sleep alone tonight,” Alex said through a yawn. Michael nodded and hugged his arms around Alex’s shoulders.

“Sure. Whatever you want,” Michael concluded. Alex only hummed a vague response before he was oblivious to anything else. He didn’t have nightmares that night.

[nocturna-starr]

The Picture

Prompter: @gottacatchghosts

Prompt: Danny/Jazz swap AU: Jazz is the half ghost and Danny is the older sibling. Go wild on your take of how this would all play out

Words: 1811

Notes: Related to THIS fic

“Hey Jazz, can you stand still for a minute? The lighting by you is perfect!”

“Daniel!”

A flash went off. Jazz blinked away the spots. Where had he come from? She would have sworn that it had only been her in the kitchen a few seconds ago. How had he come in so fast, or alternatively, how long had Daniel been watching her? Sometimes Jazz wondered who really was the ghost in their family, him or her?

“That was perfect!” Daniel cheered, “Now I’ll need a couple more photos and then you can go.”

“I thought you wanted to be a painter, Daniel?” Jazz frowned, “Since when did you care about photography?”

“Since I was the first one in all of Amity Park to catch a photo of the ghost girl in action! I discovered that I really do have a natural talent for it.” Daniel gloated as he changed the filters on his camera. Jazz smiled. It had been a long time since she had seen this side of her brother.

“Okaaayyy” She tried to sound like she was doing him a favour. If he knew that she was actually happy for him, then Daniel would never let it go.

“I knew you would agree!” Daniel grinned, “Now I have a bunch a filters that I need to try out! How busy is your day today?”

“Well I was planning to meet spike at the mall…”

“Perfect! I swear these photos are going to make you a star!” Daniel smirked, “Or at least get your name in the history books when these pictures come through.”

xXx

“I’m so sorry I’m late Spike! Daniel is on another stupid project kick.” Jazz huffed as she sat down in the mall’s cafeteria. Her friend looked up from the phone game he was playing. She wondered how long he had been waiting for her. Spike rarely ever tried out mobile games unless he was absolutely bored.

“And he says that he is nothing like his parents. Dude really is clueless to his own tendencies, isn’t he?” Spike laughed, “Maybe it’s a Fenton trait?”

“What do you mean by that?” Jazz asked.

“You still haven’t noticed my- You know what? I’ll let you figure it out.” Spike took a huge gulp from his soda.

“Come on Spike! That’s not fair!” Jazz whined. How could she even begin to guess something if she didn’t have a hint? She wasn’t a genius like her parents or her brother. She couldn’t help it she accidentally overlooked something that she didn’t even know was supposed to be there!

“Nothing is fair in love and war.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jazz wondered. Spike only smirked. He was about to explain (or maybe torment Jazz some more) when he was interrupted by one of Daniel’s friends.

“Hey Jazz! Have you seen Danny?” asked her brother’s not-so-secret admirer, Sam Manson. Jazz sighed. Judging by the new camera hanging from her neck, Sam seemed to be encouraging Daniel’s new endeavor. That meant he would be taking pictures for the next month or so. It was something that Jazz was not looking forward to.

“He’s in the house taking photos of plants. Or he decided he wanted to go on another jungle adventure and went into the ghost zone.” Jazz rolled her eyes. She muttered under her breath, “Then I’ll have to save him again this week…”

“Do you think he’s dumb enough to do that again?” Spike laughed, “Last time he got chased half-way across the zone by Klemper!”

“But he got some awesome pictures!” Sam grinned. She practically skipped away. Jazz giggled at her enthusiasm. She could see what Daniel liked about Sam. Maybe by this summer they would finally get together. Then they wouldn’t have another Ember situation.

“Your brother is going to get eaten by a ghost one day and all his friends are going to care about is that he got a good picture.” Spike snickered, “Man, I feel bad for him.”

Jazz joined into his laughter, “Yeah, but don’t feel too bad for him. You should have seen him when Tucker got attacked by Technus. He managed to get the two of them to stand still long enough for him to take a sketch.”

“And he didn’t snap a photo why?”

“As much as he hates to admit it, Daniel is just like our parents! He wanted to prove a point or something.”

Spike nodded in agreement, “Wanna get some ice cream?”

“You bet I do!”

xXx

The two best friends sauntered in the park, enjoying the beautiful weather and the lack of ghost attacks. It was peaceful times like these that Jazz liked the most. Times where she could just be a regular fifteen-year-old kid.

Of course, peace doesn’t last long in Amity Park.

“Wanna take a selfie?” Spike asked, “It’s been a while since our last!”

Jazz smiled, trying not to feel too guilty. Since becoming Jazz Phantom, she had veered away from cameras. In all of her research, she had discovered that photos tended to… change while in the presence of other ghosts. Yet the photos Daniel had taken of her, always seemed to end well. Maybe she was just being too paranoid?

“Say cheese!” Spike said, sounding way too bright to be considered a goth.

“Cheese!”

Spike took the picture, then went to see the results, “Uh… Jazz?”

He handed over the picture to her trembling. Nervous, Jazz took a look and paled.

Spike looked happier than he has in a long time. She on the other hand… If you showed the picture to anyone else, they would probably think that Spike had gotten a picture with Jazz Phantom herself! Jazz’s eyes were the bright red of her ghost form. Her hair was blue as the ocean. Her clothes looked faded, though if Jazz squinted, she could make out her logo.

All in all, this was a disaster.

“We have to get those photos from Daniel!” Jazz squeaked. She dived into a bush, transforming into her other half. Without a second thought she took to the skies, heading towards her home.

“Guess my plans have been cancelled,” Spike muttered, “Better tell mom not to cancel that trip to my therapist.”

xXx

“Daniel?” Jazz called while entering the house, “Are you here?”

Fentonworks was too quiet… Like her entire family was ready to attack her. She shivered, were they watching her? Jazz was afraid to even consider this. Maybe… maybe… Maybe her parents were out, and Daniel was with his friends?

“I’m up here,” Daniel called from up the stairs.

That didn’t feel like a trap at all.

With the very little courage she had left, Jazz carefully made her way up the stairs. Her yes darted around, waiting to catch the slightest movement. She prayed that her life was not about to fall apart. How could she have been so trusting? Daniel was her brother, but he had also been raised by ghost hunters. What if he warned her that she would have to leave? What if the government was here to take her away? These seconds could be the last of the life she had once known.

“Hey Jazz! The filters worked like a charm!” Daniel called from the top of the stairs.  The ghostly heroine nearly fell down the stairs in surprise.

“Danny?!”

“Oh sorry. Totally didn’t mean to scare you little sis! Sam, Tucker and I have finally come up with a filter that can properly take pictures of anyone. No more red eyes, or blurry pictures! And it’s not going to malfunction around you like all of our other inventions!” Daniel was talking at a mile a minute.

Jazz sighed in relief. He hadn’t mentioned how her picture had looked. Did it mean that her brother had discovered a way to properly photograph half ghosts? She would need to steal a dozen of these camera filters which, knowing her brother, he would have around.

Jazz practically skipped down the stairs, “I was just seeing where everyone was! I’m going to go find Spike again! Tell mom and dad that I’ll be home for dinner!”

“Okay? But don’t you want to hear more?” Daniel asked.

She answered his question by racing out of the door. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate her brother’s efforts. But Daniel could be just like Jack Fenton when explaining how something worked. She supposed she could be the same way when talking about psychology.

xXx

Daniel shook his head and sighed as his sister slammed the door. While he could understand her concerns, it still hurt to be rejected that way. It wasn’t like he could tell her that he knew her secret. She would freak out and try to trick him into thinking he just saw things. Now wasn’t the time for him to get down. He had just invented something revolutionary!

“How did you know that adding ectoranium to the filter would work?” Tucker asked, turning on the hall light, “And why did you have to tell her in the dark?”

“Cause it’s more fun to tell her that way. Who’d think that the ghost girl was afraid of the dark?” Sam answered for him, as she exited his room.

“Honestly, I forgot to turn on the lights.”

His two best friends howled but Daniel frowned. How could he have been so stupid? He’d after to reassure Jazz that everything was okay in a subtle way. Afterall, Jazz had a nasty habit of jumping to conclusions.

“I’m curious too,” Sam began, after she had calmed down a little, “how did you come up with the idea?”

“Ectoranium is the opposite or ectoplasm. I figured that the ectoranium would cancel out the effects that Jazz’s powers had on the camera. Now she can have her picture taken at school or join in family photos without a need for an excuse.” Daniel replied.

“That was very sweet of you Danny.” Sam gushed.

Daniel didn’t reply. Instead he headed back into his room. He put his hand under the mattress and pulled out the photo album he had been working on for the past couple of months. Carefully he placed one of the photos he had taken that day into the album. He flipped the picture over and wrote a note just like he had done to the other pictures.

This is the first photo taken with the new lens. Use the lens to reveal the true door. If the event has not happened, ignore this.

“Dude, the cryptic messages are a little freaky.” Tucker said.

“Call them safeguards, for just in case.” Daniel closed the book and hid it under his mattress again. Once he was done hiding his gift, he turned to his friends and smirked.

“Anyone want to see if we can get a picture of that Box Ghost again?”

“We’re in!”

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 278: MOMO IN CHARGE

Previously on BnHA: Deku and Kacchan were all “SIR, THAT’S OUR EMOTIONAL SUPPORT SENSEI” and got really ferocious and made a very passionate attempt to blow Tomura up and it was great. It basically did nothing, but it was still great. AFO was all “COME HERE LIL BRO”, and Tomura was all “silly Sensei, you can’t just take over my mind and body just like that”, and he was very confident of this despite there really being no evidence to back it up, but okay! Gran was all “time to make the fandom mad at me” and grabbed Tomura by the collar and yelled at him about Nana a bit, and then Bakugou and Endeavor made an even MORE passionate attempt to blow up Tomura, which may or may not have done some actual damage. The chapter ended with Gigantomachia battling Mt. Lady, just kinda out of the blue, which is FINE, but she had better be all right, though!

Today on BnHA: Everyone is all “WAUGHH IT’S GIGANTOMACHIA” and running around freaking out about it. The U.A. alums all kick some ass, and pretty much everyone else not from U.A. does jack fucking shit. Mt. Lady, who I plan on naming all of my future children after, does her best to stop Machia but he keeps flinging her aside. Kamui Woods is all “here I come with Midnight to put Gigantomachia to sleep!” and is PROMPTLY FUCKING MURDERED!? by Dabi because he’s a flammable tree man, and so Midnight falls all the way to the ground and is badly injured. So then she’s all “well I better call the most competent person I can think of to fix this mess” and dials up YAOYOROZU FUCKING MOMO, who proceeds to take charge LIKE THE BOSS SHE IS, and mobilizes the rest of the kids. And honestly I have more faith in them than in any of the adults at this point, so yeah, you know what? Let’s do this.

so I am possibly a bit spoiled on this chapter because I did a “top five predictions” post earlier this week, and someone replied to that yesterday on Thursday saying that they were mostly correct. I don’t know exactly how close to the mark I was though, and in any case most of the predictions were just “so-and-so shows up, probably”, so it’s not too bad. we’ll see how it goes!

OH THANK GOD MY BABIES ARE SAFE

I mean, CLEARLY they’re all about to be in horrible danger, seeing as Jirou is about to inform them of the whole “THE BIG GUY EVERYONE WAS AFRAID ABOUT WAKING UP WOKE UP” thing, but in the meantime at least Kami and Toadette and Honenuki made it back to the group safely

also Kaminari’s use of “Jirou-Jack” here is fucking inspired and I want him to teach a class on nicknames. isn’t he the one who coined “Yaomomo” as well? this boy has a gift and it needs to be appreciated

so Jirou is all “SOMETHING REALLY BIG IS COMING”, and actually she says “INSANELY HUGE”, which if anything is still an understatement, hard as it is to believe

WOW

“A BAD GUY IS HEADING THIS WAY?? SOUNDS LIKE IT’S TIME TO ABANDON THE CHILDREN IN THE WOODS” kjlfakh okay you know what?? fine!! you weren’t even going to do anything anyway so let’s not pretend!!

holy shit it’s like Mt. Lady isn’t even there

look at those speed lines!! goddamn. I just felt this huge rush of empathy for Mt. Lady though. like can you imagine growing up with this super-destructive quirk, and managing to become a hero with it against all odds, and having to put up with the manga making fun of you all the time just because sometimes you have a tendency to DESTROY A LOT OF STUFF, but it’s not like you can help it!! but the upside has always been that when your quirk is on, you are fucking UNSTOPPABLE though. so even though it’s been a hell of a rough ride for you, it’s worth it because you’re a complete badass and the number of people who can beat you out in terms of sheer physical strength is probably in the single digits. and you’re working really hard too, and lately you’ve been moving up through the ranks and actually becoming a damn fine hero if I do say so myself (and I do), and it’s like, about time though?? like finally, finally it is all starting to come together for you. and then this snarling trashrock person suddenly comes stampeding along and you put your all into trying to stop him, and it doesn’t even do a damn thing. like, holy shit. that’s just not fucking fair and YOU DESERVE BETTER, MT. LADY

anyway so she’s still hanging in there for now though so let’s check in with our villain squad riding on his back

lmaooo they’re all “I don’t even understand what is going on here”

YOU GUYS, THIS IMPLIES THAT THEY WERE ALL PLUCKED OFF THE GROUND BY THE SCRUFFS OF THEIR NECKS AND THEY HAD ABSOLUTELY NO SAY IN THE MATTER OMG. like I’m picturing Spinner being held by his cape pinched in between Machia’s thumb and forefinger, and awkwardly trying to lecture him like a mom with his hands on his hips all, “BAD GIGANTOMACHIA! NO! NOOOUAGH -- !” and cutting off with a yelp as he’s dropped onto his back

and I am glad they got Toga some clothes! I like to think Gigantomachia grabbed those for her as well. so thoughtful

wow Skeptic actually wants to go back to Re-Destro??

color me legit impressed. I underestimated your loyalty my dude. and let me also just take this moment to extend my gratitude toward Horikoshi for leaving the rest of the MLA out of it because good fucking riddance to them, goodbye forever hopefully!!

I guess they’ll be needing Skeptic’s quirk down the line for some reason? maybe he is meant to be like a new, less out-of-control Twice. smdh y’all out here trying to replace your dead buddy like a pet goldfish

who is this “they” Dabi is referring to

do you mean the heroes? lol yeah I guess they’re pretty distracted by the literal fucking kaijuu you’re currently piggybacking on

SIGH

“the Jakku team must’ve made a mistake” BOY, I’LL SAY. you know what, don’t even talk to me about that yet. it’s still too fresh. suffice it to say that your suspicions are correct and things in Jakku are not very daijobu right about now

anyway here’s a closeup of this bubble person just cuz

they are everything and I want them to be my friend. also there’s a squid person a few paces behind them who can probably do anything a squid can do. or they might actually be a shark person, actually. I don’t know. either way I love them

GETEN PLEASE GO AWAY

WE ARE PHASING OUT THE MLA!! MOVING FORWARD IT’S ORIGINAL LOV ONLY!! I’M SORRY BUT YOU DIDN’T MAKE THE CUT. we already have an ice character so shoo

OH DAMN MY MAN CEMENTOSS HAS HAD ENOUGH OF HIS NONSENSE TOO AHHHH YESS

1) hey so Cementoss is legit terrifying who’d’ve thought

and 2), did Cementoss always have a mouthful of gigantic perfect teeth each the size of a slice of bread, or is this just something I’m only noticing now because I’m behind the curve. either way, let me just say sincerely, DKJDLKFJLSKJG

RE-DESTRO YOU GO AWAY TOO!!

@waywardfacegarden​ you asked the other day which are the characters I actually dislike, and this is one of them lol. he’s just a big ol’ prick, and on top of that has the audacity to not even be interesting in any way so as to balance it out. anyway so apologies to any Re-Destro stans out there but I basically spend every panel he’s in hoping that someone will punch him in the face hard enough to finally make him shut up

anyway so my man Edgeshot is here though, finally!! but of all the people for him to fight! this is a real predicament for me. the most soothing character in the series contrasted with the character who grates my nerves the most. Edgeshot’s sexy ASMR voice is gonna be drowned out by all of RD’s punching and self-important ranting in the anime and I’m lowkey devastated but I’m gonna pull myself together and read on

SPEAKING OF SELF-IMPORTANT RANTING

Edge, if you can liberate us from having to put up with his insufferable ass once and for all I will be so grateful to you. can you do this. please. for me

and it looks like some other boring MLA villains are following along behind Machia so I’m gonna need someone to kick their asses as well. please

-- YESSSSSS

okay so now I see what that comment on my prediction post was referring to lol. I did indeed have my fingers crossed that these two would show up again, and sure enough! THE GANG’S ALL HERE YAY

and Mt. Lady is being sumoed aside!

anyone want tonight’s lotto numbers. during this brief fleeting moment of having my predictions be actually credible, I would just like to say that Hagakure is the U.A. traitor. thank you and goodnight

OH NO KAMUI IS WORRIED

HE LOOKS SO PANICKED?? OUT OF THE BLUE I SHIP IT SO MUCH?? I keep forgetting they’re on the same team and stuff and wow, I need to calm down

LOL MIDNIGHT IS ALL “NO TIME FOR SHIPS!!”

I wonder if her quirk will actually be enough to take him down? this is something I’ve been itching to see for a long time, actually. just how powerful is she? we know her quirk is more effective on males than females, but is anyone actually capable of resisting it? imagine if she really did just knock Gigantomachia out after all of this buildup. that would be some god-tier shit omg, DO IT

(ETA: I am just going to assume that since Horikoshi had to go to elaborate lengths to take her out of the fight, this means that her quirk really was capable of knocking them all out. another tragic case of Too Badass For The Plot. y’all better respect Midnight.)

YESSSSSSSS

is she stripping. you know what -- don’t think about it. I won’t let you ruin this for me Horikoshi. Midnight’s gonna be a badass because the ladies are fucking ruling this arc and that’s all there is to it

NOOOOOO

DABI GET BACK HERE I JUST WANT TO TALK!!

oh thank god, she’s all right. BUT KAMUI ISN’T THOUGH DLKJSFLKSJDG??!

did Kamui Woods just... die

(ETA: okay but for real, is there an actual curse in effect on the Billboard Top Ten right now, though?? did one of them accidentally disturb the tomb of some ancient king??)

...

( ･ั﹏･ั)

oH MY GOD!?!

NOOOOOOO WHY ARE YOU SO QUICK TO SLEEP ON MAJESTIC, LET’S SEE IF THEY CAN DO IT!! GIVE US MAJESTIC GOD DAMMIT

(ETA: Horikoshi is seriously just yanking our chain at this point. when Majestic finally does show up, he or she better have the coolest fucking quirk of all time, that’s all I’m saying.)

okay how badly injured is Midnight here, though?? she just fell all that way?? DO I NEED TO BE REALLY MAD. I CAN WORK MY WAY UP TO IT PRETTY QUICKLY, JUST SAY THE WORD. I’M ALREADY HALFWAY THERE HONESTLY. WHERE’S KAMUI WOODS

!!!!!!!!!!!

AND JUST LIKE THAT MY ANGER EVAPORATES INTO THE NIGHT, YESSSSSSSSS!! MOMOOOOO

holy shit. “a quirk that can stop that thing,” she says. and goes and calls YAOYOROZU FUCKING MOMO y’all I am barely holding myself back from SCREAMING right now I...

you guys

you guys. if Midnight and Yaomomo team up to take down Gigantofuckingmachia using some sort of MOMO MADE A MACHINE TO SPREAD MIDNIGHT’S QUIRK strategy, or whatnot?? I will fucking die on the spot. you can end the manga right there. Kacchan you can keep your quirk I don’t even care

“IT MIGHT BE AGAINST THE LAW” lmaooooo insert John Mulaney “WE’RE WELL PAST THAT” gif here. holy shit. listen, that is fine. if anything it’s even better

WHAT THE FUCK

DO I NEED TO START GETTING REALLY MAD AGAIN!?!?! FUCKING WHIPLASH, IS WHAT THIS IS, BUT YOU JUST TELL ME WHAT SORT OF OVER-THE-TOP REACTION IS NEEDED HERE AND I’LL GO FOR IT

(((( ;°Д°))))

[GRABS HORIKOSHI BY THE COLLAR] listen, you. if you only just now, for the first time ever, gave us a lady hero actually mentoring another lady hero, which we have somehow NEVER HAD BEFORE in almost three hundred chapters, only for you to then KILL OFF THE MENTOR IN THE MIDDLE OF HER GODDAMN SPEECH TO THE MENTOREE, I will... there’s... I’ll... okay, listen. DON’T. THERE WILL BE A RECKONING. CAPSLOCK SUCH AS THIS WORLD HAS NEVER WITNESSED!!

ヽ(#ﾟДﾟ)ﾉ┌┛

I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO REACT TO ANYTHING IN THIS CHAPTER AND I’M LOSING MY MIND OVER IT

so the other kids are all “what the fuck” and “so Momo’s in charge??” which, YES!!! IT’S THE ONE GOOD PART ABOUT ALL THIS SO DON’T YOU DARE QUESTION IT

MOMO NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO BE CRIPPLED BY YOUR ANXIETY, YOU CAN DO THIS GIRL I BELIEVE IN YOU

hell, it’s not even just an “I believe in you” thing, because it’s not just belief, it’s fact. you motherfucking can do this, you are the most capable and brilliant student in 1-A, you just gotta have faith and let yourself shine!!

so now there are some more panels of Machia running and the villains and heroes fighting, blah blah blah. and Momo screwing up her face as she makes her decision...

YESSSSSSSSS

my baby girl is all grown up and TAKING THESE MOTHERFUCKIN REINS and MOMO I WILL LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU JUST SAY THE WORD!!

lol she’s all “Jirou use your ears and scientifically calculate how long it’ll take him to get here”, and Jirou is all “I can literally fucking see him, he’s gonna be on top of us in like two seconds” WELL OKAY THEN

thank god there are no adult pros left to fuck this up. is that weird that this is a real and honest and completely sincere thought that just ran through my head? like, at this point if any of the adults were around I’d just be afraid of them dying honestly. but with the kids I actually feel real hope that they’re somehow gonna do this. of course it helps that unlike the adults they’re pretty safe from being killed off

also! way to represent the entirety of class 1-B there Honenuki lulz. sorry, The Rest of Class 1-B

OH MY GOD

MT. LADY I WILL LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU AS WELL!! YOU HAVE MY LOVE AND FEALTY!!

I’M STANNING HER SO HARD I’M GONNA EXPLODE SOMEBODY HELP!?!

JIROU SAYS THAT MACHIA HAS SLOWED DOWN!! YOU GUYS I’M ABOUT TO GET “MT. LADY FOR PRESIDENT” TATTOOED ACROSS MY FOREHEAD

lmao at Shouji using his power of “putting some extra eyeballs on my arms” to inform everyone that Gigantomachia is Right Over There and Very Big

good job Shouji

oh my glob I have so much love for Momo right now that it can’t even fucking be contained. brb wildly flailing my hands around a little to try and release some of this excess excitement

maybe Momo can be president instead and Mt. Lady can be the vice president

NO THE CHAPTER IS ENDING I’M NOT READY

AND JUMP IS ON BREAK AGAIN NEXT WEEK TOO, FML!!

okay!!

Kaminari is so fucking brave right now I just want to crush him in a hug?! we know he’s still scared!! look at his eyes!! and he was freaking the hell out earlier too, and now the situation is much worse! but he doesn’t give a fuck because his friends need him! he is ready to be a hero, my little baby boy is all grown up and I’m so proud??

Mineta’s face in the bottom right corner is everything. I know, I know, boooo Mineta, but that’s still the best face anyone has made in the entirety of this manga

Tetsutetsu’s out here all “I humbly request to also represent class 1-B” and Momo is all “okay fine I guess we can have two of you guys”

can we all just stop for a moment to appreciate how KamiJirouMomo is alive and well. like, we had interactions between all three of them in this chapter, in all possible permutations? do you know how happy this makes me?? I am vibrating with joy??!

I really can’t stress this enough -- I have no clue at all what these little soda can things are (anesthetic, I guess??? you know, like how you sometimes buy cans of anesthetic at the supermarket?? what do you mean you don’t do that??), or what they’re gonna do with them. I have like negative clues. but DAMNED IF I GIVE ONE SINGLE FUCK. the next chapter can be them all fucking hurling them at his face for all I care. THE DETAILS OF HOW SHE KICKS HIS ASS DO NOT MATTER!! GOOD MORNING TO YAOMOMO AND YAOMOMO ONLY!! MY MOMO ACADEMIA

[mrpenguinpants]

Exuse me but do you have any info on how to start a blog for writing? I just made an account but I really do enjoy writing for others (commission money would also be nice) but I have no idea how to get others to read what I put out? How do I even set up a functional blog?

Hey anon!

Honestly, I am the last person you should ask because my own blog is a total mess but I'll do my best haha. But I do want to say that I'm so happy that you've decided to start writing! I'm sorry that this is super delayed and if you already made one I would love to be mutuals with you!

---

TLDR:

Functioning blog

Make sure you verify your email and that your posts appear in tags before you start writing.

Make a masterlist and a pinned post with all your request rules. Future self will thank you.

If you write or read smut. Please put your age or if you're 18+ in your bio.

Credit the artists you use if you plan to make banners.

Writing blog

Limit the requests you take.

Tag correctly.

Put a read more if you feel your posts are long.

Personally, I use kofi for commissions but it's up to you.

Formatting is important.

Please, if you feel there is a glitch with your blog (you don't appear in tags anywhere, no one can see your blog, etc). CONTACT SUPPORT

You can make side blogs for all your reblogs/likes if you don't like clutter

New Account Issues

So you probably already noticed or know this info already but just in case, if your blog is new, your post won't appear in tags. This is because tumblr needs to verify you aren't a bot. Make sure you verify your email before anything and do some human activity (likes, reblogs, posts). When I made my second account, it took a day before I started appearing.

First Priorities - Functioning blog

1. Please. Make a masterlist and a pinned post describing all your rules for requesting. Especially the masterlist. Your future self will thank you.

2. My pinned post is long and gross so don't use it as a template but sectioning off your content (masterlist, taglist, etc) into separate posts that you can link onto your pinned post. But keep your request rules and whether your requests are open on your pinned post.

3. I'm not calling anyone out here since I don't mind it, but sometimes people won't read your pinned post or double-check if your requests are open. If you want to, in your bio, write if requests are open or not.

4. If you write or read smut, please put your age or if you're 18+ in your bio or pinned post. A lot of smut blogs will block you if you're a minor or if they think you're a minor.

5. If you plan to use banners (character portraits) in your writing. Please credit the artist. I use official genshin art because I'm lazy but please link to the artist's account/pixiv ID/or at least mention their name if you can't find either.

What now? - Starting a writing blog

1. Please. Limit the requests you take at a time. Whether you really enjoy writing or you can write really fast, please put a limit on it. You will hit burnout or get overwhelmed fast.

2. Tag correctly. This mostly applies to smut content but keep it in the smut category. Don't put it in the fluff tag or at least put a read more.

3. If your posts are long please put a "read more" tag. It helps for mobile users since scrolling can be a pain. There's no real word check but if you feel it's long, it's probably long.

4. Since you're interested in commissions, the easiest way is to set up a kofi and all your commission rules there. I usually do $1 = 100 words but stylize it to whatever your preferences are.

5. Formatting is kind of a big one that I don't see a lot of people talk about. The usual template is:

Title

Anon ask

Authors note - if you want to

Masterlist

Taglist - this can also be put at the bottom of your fic

Banner

Writing

6. I've been seeing this a lot lately, but with your tag list. Sometimes you won't be able to tag people. This is usually because either 1. their blog is new or 2. tumblr machine broke. Ask them to contact support to see if their account can be mentioned. If that doesn't work, contact support yourself.

7. This is a big one because I went through it and I don't want you to experience it. At some point, if your posts don't appear in tags for whatever reason. And I'm saying at all, nothing works. You just don't appear the second you post. CONTACT SUPPORT. For me, it was a glitch on tumblr and they got my blog back but I still lost months. I'm still pissed about it.

8. I made a side account for reblogs and replying to others because I hate cluttering my main with them. You don't have to do this but it's a way for me to try and keep everything clean.

Social Interaction - Gettings others to read your work

1. There's no good or real way to get people to read what you put out, they are only going to read it if they want to and that's fine. I know that's obvious but it's something to know.

2. You can make separate accounts on other writing platforms, I know a lot of AOE and Twitter have links to their tumblr.

3. Tumblr has an algorithm so your posts will appear in the tags you add to your posts. Your post might sometimes disappear from tags after a while but don't worry. That's because tumblr has to filter a lot of users. Just because you can't see it doesn't mean another can't either.

4. Don't be afraid to make mutuals with other writing blogs. Heck, I'll be your mutual right now. At the end of the day, we're all people.

5. Write what you want to write, when you want to write it. Don't make it feel like a chore for yourself, that you need to write every day to beat that algorithm.

6. Don't be discouraged if it seems that you aren't getting attention, and that's totally fine by the way to feel like that.

7. Personally, I think brainrot is the best way to get some type of interaction. Just spit some ideas out but leave the option for others to add to it. That's how I've met most of my mutuals/anons.

8. I'm actually kind of surprised that not many tumblr's do this but I always reply to reblog comments or stuff written in the tags. You can filter your activity settings so it's easier to see everyone's replies and just talk. You'd be surprised by how many people get back to you.

---

Just keep writing and doing what you like. I'm still learning tumblr myself so if anyone has anything to add, please feel free to. Goodluck anon! I hope to be able to call you by a name later.

[janeofcakes]

Soulmates: How John Met Sherlock...Again  Chapter 8

Hello, my friends! In keeping my word, I am posting tonight to try and stay on schedule after the two-week wait for the last chapter. You may also be pleased to know that this one is more like the usual length.

---

Sherlock has just picked up the dish of shepherd’s pie from off the oven shelf when his mobile sounds. He glances to his right pocket with a sharp look and a grumble. He can hear Olive in the loo just turning on the taps to wash up for dinner. Without ceremony, Sherlock lifts the dish quickly and all but throws it on the hot plates situated in the middle of the table. He has learned over time that shepherd’s pie should live on the table while they eat it rather than on the counter. Olive always wants seconds and sometimes thirds, so it is best to have it handy.

With the dish on the table, Sherlock turns back to the counter and tosses the oven mitts onto it while fishing for his mobile. It is a number he does not recognize so not Greg or Mycroft, thank god. That’s all he needs, another conversation with his brother. The birthday party only a few short days ago seems to have opened the floodgate and the meddling sod has phoned Sherlock every day since. An utterly pointless venture, except to annoy Sherlock as Mycroft repeats himself each time. He despises the exercise as much as Sherlock does, which is not completely lost on the detective. His brother obviously considers his words of the utmost importance. Of course, he always does, but this is different. His tone is all wrong and Sherlock cannot help wondering what Mycroft is so afraid of because it can be called nothing else. Pure, skillfully hidden fear. Anger stirs hot in Sherlock’s chest again. Does Mycroft honestly think he would do anything to endanger Olive or the life he has with her? Sherlock is happier than he has ever been and how on earth could having John Watson back in his life jeopardize that?

The mobile sounds once more, coupled with Olive’s voice shouting from the loo to see if he knows it is ringing.

“Yes. Thank you,” Sherlock calls and hastily hits accept before putting the device to his ear. The case had better not be tedious. “Sherlock Holmes.”

He hears a man clear his throat somewhat nervously on the other end and rolls his eyes. Missing spouse who is really having an affair, best friend won’t talk to him and he is worried the man has been kidnapped or… Sherlock’s grey-blue eyes pop open wide. He knows this man. It is there in the timbre of his voice. There is no mistaking it.

“Sherlock,” the voice is hesitant. “Hi.”

“John,” the detective breathes, dropping his left hand to the countertop for support. At that moment, Olive rushes into the room before he can say another word. She wooshes past him and plops down in her chair.

“Shepherd’s pie! I knew it,” she leans over the dish and takes a deep breath. “Oh, it smells so good!”

“Go ahead and start,” Sherlock tells her, covering the phone with his hand. “I’ll be done in a minute.”

“Ok,” Olive reaches for the serving spoon with a huge grin on her face. Sherlock’s lip curls up into a half smile as he pushes through the door into the sitting room and closes it behind. 

“Are you having dinner?” John is saying. “I’m sorry. I should’ve picked a better time to call.”

“It’s fine,” Sherlock assures him, staring across the room to the skull on the mantle and the photograph of himself with John that sits next to it. “We were just getting started. It’s no trouble.”

“You’re sure?” John sounds uncertain, but relieved at the same time. “I could phone later.”

“John, it’s fine,” Sherlock repeats with an edge of tension in his voice he hopes John does not notice. He will only misinterpret it as irritation when that couldn’t be further from the truth. Sherlock is actually more concerned that John will talk himself out of the phone call and then never call again.

Guard your heart.

Mycroft’s words slam their way into Sherlock’s mind with all the power of a lorry. Clenching his teeth, he pushes them away in favor of listening to his friend.

“All right,” John replies, unaware of the detective’s inner struggle. “I ran into Greg and he gave me your new number. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“Not at all,” Sherlock says easily. “I had to change it about a year ago.”

“Yeah, he mentioned that,” John sucks air in through his teeth with a cringe. “Nasty business.”

“It can be, yes,” Sherlock confirms, feeling a bit less edgy. “I should have given you the number myself since the girls are friends.”

“Right,” John agrees and Sherlock can tell he is wetting his lips, readying himself to say something momentous. Sherlock swallows, every synapsis in his brain firing as one thought fills his mind.

Please don’t say Olive and Gracie can be friends, but we should never see each other. I’ve just got you back. Don’t leave me again.

Sherlock slaps the thought down hurriedly, shoves it into an open door in his mind palace and locks it. What he feels right now is exactly what his ass of a brother was referring to when he cautioned him not to open his heart to John again. Sherlock lets out a mirthless huff. As if he ever closed his heart in the first place.

“I wanted to talk to you about that,” John begins. Sherlock can hear him shifting uncomfortably. “If you’re both free on Saturday and the offer to host a playdate still stands, I’d be happy to bring Gracie by. Or we can have it here if you want.”

Sherlock’s mouth drops open and he stares numbly at the mantle, not actually seeing any of the items resting upon it. That was certainly not what he expected John to say, but he’ll take it. Reach out and grab it with both hands, in fact.

“Sherlock?” John asks curiously and Sherlock snaps to attention, wondering how much time passed while he was in his stupor. 

“Yes,” he says too quickly, too excitedly and eases back when he continues. “Yes, of course. We would love to have you over. Olive has an endless list of things she wants to show Gracie.”

“I think I’ve heard it,” John lets out a warm laugh.”More than once.”

“Would just after lunch work?” Sherlock asks, a smile slowly taking over his face. This is truly too good to be. “One o’clock?”

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” John answers pleasantly. “We’ll be there.”

“I look forward to it,” Sherlock tells him, “and I know Olive will be overjoyed.”

“Oh, yeah,” John chuckles. “If you hear a far away explosion in the next few minutes, don’t worry. It’ll just be Gracie finding out.”

Sherlock laughs heartily and so easily it nearly surprises him. It feels good to laugh with John again. Astonishingly good.

“We’ll see you in a couple of days then,” John says in what can only be described as fond. “Good night, Sherlock.”

“Good night, John,” Sherlock ends the call and stays where he is, just breathing in and out. His heart is full and its warmth is running through his entire body. He is glowing with the feel of it.

Guard your heart. 

It is already too late and Sherlock cannot be bothered to care. Not in the slightest. With a skip in his step, he turns for the kitchen and strides in to tell Olive the new plans for Saturday.

***

John and Gracie had set off as soon as they finished washing up after lunch. The walk from their flat to Baker Street isn’t far at all, but the clouds and rain saw them away in a taxi. The ride was pleasant enough, Gracie telling John for the umpteenth time what she and Olive had planned. The girl didn’t stop once to take a breath and John couldn’t stop smiling. Unfortunately, things all changed as soon as he paid the cabbie and turned to face the old building that was once his home.

John stands agog as the cab pulls away. Everything is exactly the same. Speedy’s is as busy as ever, every window has the same curtains so far as John can tell, and the door is still dark and imposing over the short step up to it. An image of a younger Sherlock Holmes standing on it flashes before John’s eyes and he sees himself limp over to the detective to shake hands. John blinks and the memory is gone as quickly as it came.

Feeling a light tug on his hand, John looks down to Gracie as she fidgets and angles her head toward the door. John nods, squares his shoulders and marches up to the door. The name plates are just as he had left them. M. Hudson. S. Holmes. John stares at the names, frozen in time. A thousand memories come unbidden, but not the cases as one would expect. Moments in the flat when they were alone. Sherlock working on countless experiments, John finding body parts in the fridge, blogging, reading, eating breakfast together, that time Sherlock covered John’s hand with his own and John was sure he saw something in the detective’s eyes before he turned away. John sees every detail in his mind’s eye as each one drifts around him, stories from a past life coming back into focus.

“Dad,” Gracie’s voice whispers through the haze and John blinks himself back to the present, his face wet with raindrops. He turns his head away from the door to see his daughter watching him with a curious expression. “Aren’t you going to knock?”

“Erm, of course. Yes, I was just…” John trails off, thinking of all the times he had let himself in and trotted up the stairs after a shift at the surgery to find Sherlock playing his violin or bent over an experiment or good god, tolerating Mycroft and his patronizing smirks. John cocks his head in thought, a warm feeling spreading throughout his body. Sherlock really had refused his brother’s information for all these years. He could have known everything from day one, but chose to give John his privacy. No, that wasn’t the only reason. It was too painful. That’s what Sherlock had said in the park. John’s heart squeezes in his chest at the thought of causing his best friend’s pain.

“Dad,” Gracie repeats, her tone impatient and bordering on irritable. “Dad, it’s raining and I’m starting to get really wet.”

“Right. Yes,” John remarks, knocking on the door swiftly and efficiently.

They only wait a moment before the door swings open to reveal Martha Hudson in a light blue dress. Her hair has gone nearly entirely grey and a few more lines have found their way onto her face, but John would know her anywhere. Mrs. Hudson’s every feature brightens as soon as she lays eyes on John, a smile of genuine delight on her lips.

“Hello, John,” she greets warmly and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Hello, Mrs. Hudson,” John replies thickly, realizing only at that moment how much he had missed her.

“It’s wonderful to see you,” Mrs. Hudson tells him and then looks down at his daughter. “And this must be Gracie. Olive’s told me so much about you.”

“She has?” Gracie asks, her excitement oozing from every pore.

“Oh, yes, definitely,” Mrs. Hudson declares, stepping aside. “Come in, come in. She’s been waiting for you all morning. Why don’t you go right on up?”

Gracie’s awed eyes follow the woman’s gesture all the way up the seventeen steps and they all three hear a clatter from the top. There is a muffled voice shouting ‘They’re here! They’re here!’ and Olive’s thumping footsteps scamper across the floor above. She throws open the door to 221B and jumps out onto the landing. Both girls squeal and start on the stairs, meeting halfway in a rib-crushing hug.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you’re finally here,” Olive gasps. “I’ve been waiting forever!”

“I know. I know!” Gracie’s voice is on the verge of a shout barely reigned in. The two girls separate and just look at each other, their bodies trembling with pure joy. Olive grabs Gracie’s hand and jumps up a step.

“Come on! You have to see our new experiment,” she darts up the stairs and Gracie follows right on her heels.

John and Mrs. Hudson watch them run and disappear into the flat above. John looks back at the older woman with an apologetic smile.

“I’d better get up after her,” he says with a quiet laugh. He turns and puts one foot on the first stair when a strong grip around his forearm stops him. He glances at her hand and then meets the kind, brown eyes of his former landlady. Mrs. Hudson’s expression is soft and wise as she silently studies the doctor. Enough time passes that John begins to wonder exactly what she sees, as well as what she’s looking for. After another long moment passes, the corners of her mouth turn up into a sweet smile and she gives his arm a squeeze.

“I’m glad you’re here, John,” she says tenderly. She glances up the stairs and nods. “He hasn’t stopped talking about this since you phoned. Cleaned the whole flat himself.”

“Himself?” John muses with raised browns. “Now that is something.”

They share a chuckle. Mrs. Hudson squeezes his arm again.

“He has changed so much, John,” she tells him in a motherly tone.

“So I’ve heard,” John replies with a touch of dismissiveness that she picks up on immediately.

“I’ll not have that tone, young man,” Mrs. Hudson chides sternly. “Not about my boy.”

“I’m hardly a young man,” John tries to reclaim the jovial mood, but gets nowhere.

“You went through so much before you left,” the older woman interrupts as if John said nothing. “No one could blame you, but he’s not the same man who did those things, who left you behind.”

“All right. Fine,” John mutters tersely, shifting his weight impatiently and glancing up the stairs before looking at her again. “What would you have me do? Just forget it all and pretend it never happened?”

“No,” Mrs. Hudson answers, her brow furrowed. “Just give him a chance. That’s all. You think you know him, but you don’t.”

John huffs a mirthless laugh and tilts his head back a fraction to look up at the ceiling, trying to hold his temper.

“You’ve seen him with Olive,” Mrs. Hudson continues on and John lowers his gaze to meet hers, already understanding. “Is that the man you knew?”

“No,” John concedes after a long pause. Sherlock hadn’t minded children and seemed to enjoy talking to them, but by his own admission it was only because they hadn’t learned enough to be as stupid as adults. What Sherlock has with Olive is genuine love and adoration, pure and simple. Even just that tells John his friend is very different these days. 

John presses his lips together in a physical manifestation of tamping down his curiosity and all the questions rolling through his mind in a loop. Who is Jessie? Where did they meet? Are they married? John’s eyes widen, nerves on the rise and his heart in his throat. He fights not to look up the stairs as every muscle grows tense. He will surely meet Jessie today as soon as he enters his former flat. Suddenly those seventeen steps look like hundreds.

“Are you going to stay at all?” Mrs. Hudson’s gentle voice breaks the spell of his slight panic, bringing him back to where he stands at the bottom of the stairs.

“What? No,” John answers quickly, feeling flustered and trying not to show it. Judging by Mrs. Hudson’s empathetic smile, he has failed miserably. “I mean, I hadn’t planned on it. I have some errands.”

John had, in fact, thought he might stay for a bit and suggest tea if Sherlock did not. It seemed like the best way to assess the possibility of renewing their friendship. Now the idea of Jessie being there has John striking it from the schedule. He and Sherlock have so much history and not all of it is good. Surely Sherlock must have told Jessie enough that she will want to keep him as far from the detective as possible. Lestrade had said Sherlock was a shell of his former self until Jessie came into his life. Why would she let John hurt him again when she could protect him?

“Of course, dear. I understand,” Mrs. Hudson finally releases John’s arm, “but maybe just for tea? He’s honestly just as excited as Olive, though he’d never admit it.”

“Yeah,” John’s voice is light and he exhales a breath he had not realized he was holding. He can’t believe the words are passing through his lips even as he says, “Sure. It’ll be good to talk for a bit. I...have missed him.”

John surprises himself with the admission. He might have known Mrs. Hudson would get the truth out of him one way or another. The clever woman smiles, pats his arm and heads for her own flat.

“Stop by when you and Gracie are on your way out,” she disappears into the doorway and then peeks around the frame with only one hand and her head in John’s line of vision. “I have biscuits for you.”

John laughs quietly at her teasing voice and saucy grin.

“I could never refuse you anything, Mrs. Hudson. You know that,” he remarks with an answering grin.

“Oh, I know, dear,” comes Mrs. Hudson’s sly tone as she disappears again.

Left alone, John turns his attention to the stairs, his eyes following them all the way up to the landing. He exhales deeply, steeling himself for what lies beyond.

“Come on then, Watson,” he mumbles to himself, taking the first stair. “Once more into the breach.”

When John reaches the landing and walks through the open door to 221B, his normal pace slows abruptly.The flat is bright and cheerful in a way it certainly never was when he lived here. The skull is still on the mantle and Sherlock’s desk in the corner of the sitting room. There is a different telly, but it’s in the same place. All of the furniture and area rugs are new, except for Sherlock’s favorite leather chair and…

John stops. Everything stops. He doesn’t even hear Gracie and Olive’s giggles. Something in John’s chest that he had locked up tightly breaks open, spreading warmth and a comforting sort of tingle through his body. His lips part and he mutters quietly to himself in wonder.

“Oh, John,” Sherlock’s voice startles him out of his reverie and he turns to see the detective entering from the kitchen with the girls fast on his heels. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming up.”

The detective’s appearance and gait betray nothing, but his eyes sparkle like the night sky. It is dazzling. John closes his mouth and blinks. Wetting his lips, he shoots for casual.

“No, sorry. I was having a word with Mrs. Hudson,” John says, knowing he isn’t quite pulling it off.

“Or she had a word with you,” Sherlock counters with a playful smirk and something in John’s chest pops. Ten years is a long time to wait for that face. John didn’t even know he had been waiting and hoping until the exact moment he saw it. His mind is awash with memories once again, of stolen glances and brushing fingers never spoken of, but always noticed. 

“Dad! Dad, I just got the full tour!” Gracie hoots at her stunned father. “This place is great and there’s even a cool experiment in the kitchen.”

“I still need to show you my room,” Olive declares, her whole face the very pinnacle of happiness.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Gracie chants, jumping up and down. “I want to see it all!”

“Gracie,” John scolds, even as they run for the stairs to the second level, “be courteous, please.”

“Ok, Dad,” his daughter calls back in the voice she uses when she isn’t paying attention. John sighs and turns to see Sherlock’s amused smile.

“She’s fine,” the detective waves a hand dismissively and then sobers as a thought occurs. “I assure you that the flat is quite safe. The experiment we’re conducting contains no harmful materials.”

“I know,” John replies with a shrug. “You’d never allow anything that might be dangerous.”

Sherlock’s lips curve up, but he makes no other acknowledgement. John finds himself at a loss for words. He has so many questions that he should let Sherlock answer himself, but he can’t just start blurting them out with the girls up in his old room where they could burst in at any moment. Sherlock looks as though he is about to speak, but John beats him to it, suddenly compelled to break the silence.

“She’s beautiful, Sherlock, really. She looks just like you,” John almost whispers, not caring at all that he essentially just said the same about Sherlock.

“Thank you,” Sherlock murmurs, somewhat taken aback. He regroups swiftly and gestures toward the kitchen. John’s eyes follow, his mind convinced Jessie will be standing in the doorway awaiting an introduction, but he sees no one. “Do you have a moment to spare for tea?”

“Uh, I have some errands, but yeah,” John says as disappointment flashes through his mind only to be chased away just as quickly as it came. Sherlock offered him tea. John didn’t even have to hint around it as he had planned in the cab. Mrs. Hudson was right. The detective is willing to open the door again. “I’d like that.”

“Good. That’s good,” Sherlock perks up. “Have a seat and I’ll bring it out.”

“No need to be so formal,” John replies, walking in the direction of the detective and the kitchen door behind him. “Let’s just do it in the kitchen. I don’t mind.”

Sherlock’s lip curls and he steps aside, stretching his arm toward the door.

“Be my guest,” he says knowingly and follows as John walks by.

Ten minutes later and the two men are sitting at the small kitchen table, mugs of steaming tea in hand. John opted for mugs and Sherlock had even remembered that John takes it with a splash of milk. John lets a quick breath out through his nose in place of a short laugh as he considers the man in front of him. Of course he remembers. He could probably tell from the way John tied his shoes or something.

“You’ve redone the kitchen,” John begins once they are settled. His smile grows when muffled giggles drift down from the floor above. John’s eyes look fondly upward and then back to Sherlock, who nods as he takes the mug from his lips and swallows.

“Four years ago, yes,” Sherlock fills in the blanks. “Minor explosion. Olive was not home.”

He says the last four words sternly, his face deadly serious and expecting a lecture, but John just rests his chin in his own hand and watches Sherlock with a contented gaze.

“I like it,” the doctor says simply.

“Thank you,” Sherlock clears his throat, thrown off by the unexpected response and John smiles behind his hand. “I’ll be sure to tell Olive. She was instrumental in its design.”

“You two work well together,” John says, racking his brain for some way to include Jessie without sounding like he’s being nosy.

“So do you and Gracie,” Sherlock offers sincerely and suddenly John wants to change the subject. He can tell Sherlock is going to apologize again for not knowing about Rosie and John really doesn’t want to have that conversation. He shifts in his seat and raises his own mug to his lips.

“So Greg and Mycroft?” John inquires before taking a drink. “I wouldn’t have predicted that one.”

“The last ten years have brought a good many surprises,” Sherlock responds with a chuckle. “Even my brother hadn’t anticipated that.”

“How did they even meet?” John asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.”Mycroft usually avoided everyone, especially police.”

“Olive’s first birthday party,” Sherlock says rather smugly. “I knew neither would refuse.”

“Sherlock Holmes,” John declares with an incredulous grin that makes the detective smile inquisitively, “you set them up. You’re a matchmaker.”

Without hesitation, they both burst out laughing and don’t stop for a good minute. It feels so good to laugh with his best friend again. His best friend. John hasn’t thought of Sherlock that way for years and yet, somehow he never stopped. It’s true to this day. Even with the other friends he has made, no matter how close, Sherlock has always been the best and closest one. Now that John and Gracie are back in London, maybe Sherlock could be again.

“Not so much,” Sherlock comments, his laughter devolving into giggles. John is so taken aback by the way Sherlock seems to be responding to his thoughts that the smile he wears freezes on his face and his eyes begin to widen in panic as John tries to remember what they were talking about. 

“I mostly wanted them to meet because I was tired of Greg asking me about my ‘invisible brother’,” Sherlock sets John’s mind at ease as he continues speaking, “and don’t get me started on Mycroft’s thinly veiled insinuations.”

“So you just wanted them to stop bothering you,” John sums up, “and they ended up together instead?”

“They took their time about it too,” Sherlock tells him with disgust. “Three years I had to endure incessant conversation. ‘Should I ask him out, Sherlock? Is he even interested in that? What does he think of me? We had a really good time at dinner.’ And that was just Greg.”

“Mycroft,” John begins slowly, his voice flat. “Asked you. About Greg?”

“Oh god, it was detestable,” Sherlock all but moans and John has a hard time hiding a smile. The detective catches sight of it anyway and grumbles a low sound from deep in his chest. “I don’t do feelings.”

“Don’t you?” John counters instantly, not believing the man’s snarl for a minute. Sherlock meets John’s steady gaze and his expression softens as unspoken understanding passes between them. Sherlock presses his lips together and suddenly looks younger, a touch vulnerable. John sees the man who looked at him the same way all those years ago on their first case when John said he didn’t have to use his imagination to know what he would say when about to die.

“I have limits,” Sherlock snarks, pulling John from the past. The detective schools his face to match the topic again and reaches for a biscuit. “My brother’s emotional awakening extends far beyond them, I assure you.”

“I believe it,” John smirks as he takes a drink.

“I fail to see the humor in this, John,” Sherlock glowers, but there is no heat in it and his lips turn up the longer he looks at John. Unable to stop himself from imagining Sherlock rolling his eyes and covering his ears as Mycroft waxes poetic about Greg, John descends into giggles. Sherlock gives him a withering look, but the corners of his mouth begin turning up of their own accord again and his own giggles soon join John’s. A minute later both men are laughing outright. John wipes at his eyes as the snorts begin to fade.

“I didn’t even realize Greg was gay,” he says absently.

Sherlock’s chuckles stop abruptly and John looks at him apprehensively, knowing his mistake immediately and kicking himself.

“He isn’t,” the detective tells him sharply. “He’s bisexual.”

“Right,” John swallows thickly, cursing himself for being such an idiot.

A moment of awkward silence passes while Sherlock sips from his mug and John looks down at his own, contemplating what to say. Coming up with nothing, he reaches for the biscuits with a silent inquiry on his face and Sherlock waves a hand in answer. John plucks one up and pops it in his mouth.

“Mm,” John hums with enthusiasm. “Mrs. Hudson is still an expert.”

“Actually, Olive and I made them,” Sherlock corrects and then says without thinking: “It’s Jessie’s recipe.”

He stops abruptly, mouth still open and fixes a penetrating but uneasy gaze on John. The doctor stares back. This is exactly the topic he is most curious about and the focus of nearly all his questions, but he suddenly doesn’t want to talk about it. He looks into those grey-blue eyes, deep and full of emotion, and he can’t. He can’t ask, can’t know. Not right now.

“John…” Sherlock starts in. John knows what he is going to say and he can’t bear it.

“Oh, god,” John interrupts, looking at his watch. “It’s been an hour. I really have to do those errands.”

He all but leaps out of his seat and bolts for the kitchen door, pausing only a moment to look back at his speechless friend. Sherlock has risen as well, but stands in place.

“Do you need any help?” John gestures to the table. “I can wash up.”

“No, it’s fine,” Sherlock’s voice is uncertain as though he has done something wrong and John’s chest squeezes painfully.

“All right. Ok,” John’s own voice is full of tension. He doesn’t even sound like himself. He fists his hands at his sides for lack of anything else to do with them. “I’ll be back at...four? Four thirty?”

“Four thirty is fine,” Sherlock replies, sounding more resigned now. “I’ll make sure they have a healthy snack in a bit.”

Feeling like a complete idiot, John mutters his thanks and rushes from the flat without another word.

***

When John returns, it is nearly five o’clock. Tesco had been a madhouse and at least one person in every aisle was intolerable. He had texted Sherlock around four fifteen to say he would be a little late and received a response of ‘no problem’ almost immediately. Marching up the stairs to the flat, he still feels a bit guilty. Mrs. Hudson let him in the building and then rushed back to her flat to check on a cake in the oven. Small mercies, not making the walk of shame back up to 221B under her watchful eyes.

John turns to the door to Sherlock’s flat when he reaches the landing and knocks with the hand carrying only one light-weight bag. He will give it to Gracie for the trip home so he has only the two heavier ones to contend with. He hears footsteps nearing the door soon enough and Sherlock looks at him a bit oddly after opening it. His grey-blue eyes clearly ask why John didn’t just walk in, but then shift in recognition as if reminding himself that John is a guest rather than a resident.

The detective steps aside and directs John to place his bags on a bench near the door. John smiles to himself when he sees the line of eight year old shoes next to three pairs of Sherlock’s posh shoes. He still wears it when he turns around to follow Sherlock into the sitting room. John stops next to the couch while Sherlock goes to the bottom of the stairs. 

“Olive, Gracie,” Sherlock calls. “John is here.”

“Ok,” his daughter replies.

Sherlock turns back to John and begins approaching the couch.

“They’ll just be a minute. I asked them to clean up a bit once you got here,” Sherlock explains and then gestures to the furniture. “Please, have a seat.”

“Ta,” John says automatically and sits on the couch, leaving room for Sherlock. John’s stomach flips when the detective sits next to him. His palms are sweaty and his pulse steps up its pace, but John tries not to show it. He’s being ridiculous.

“I hope she behaved herself,” John comments with a quiet laugh, resisting the temptation to wipe his hands on his jeans. 

“She was wonderful,” Sherlock answers with an expression that says John had nothing to worry. “They kept themselves busy all afternoon. I only saw them at snack time and then they were right back at it. They get along so well.”

“Good. That’s good,” John says a little stiffly. What is wrong with him? He is tense and apprehensive and has no reason to be. Just because he ran from his friend as fast as he could when he left a few hours earlier doesn’t mean he should be uncomfortable now. Sherlock probably thought nothing of it. John sighs internally, wanting to roll his eyes. That is the single stupidest thought to pass through his mind all day.

“John,” Sherlock’s silky voice draws John’s attention, as always.

“Hm?” he hums, looking at his friend and trying not to give away every thought in his head with just one glance. 

“We have a lot to talk about,” Sherlock tells him softly. John’s brows arch toward his hairline and his lips part in mild surprise. He is not entirely sure what Sherlock is referring to, but it can’t be what John thinks he means, what John increasingly wants it to mean.

“The girls have grown quite close in only a short time,” the detective continues. “They’re already planning a sleepover.”

“Oh,” John releases the breath he had been holding. He had not anticipated that, but should have. He nods in understanding, feeling both relieved and disappointed in equal measure. “I should’ve known they’d make that leap right out the gate.”

“Indeed,” Sherlock wets his lips, drawing John’s eyes and damn it if he can’t drag the traitorous little bastards away from that cupid’s bow. John is sure Sherlock notices, but he spares John the embarrassment of saying anything. “John, are you free for dinner next Saturday evening?”

“What?” John stumbles over the word like an idiot. He can’t have heard that right. Dinner? With Sherlock? With him? Then it dawns on him. Sherlock wants to introduce him to Jessie over dinner where there won’t be interruptions significant enough to pull them away. “Yeah. I don’t have plans. It’ll be easy enough to have Candace watch Gracie for the night.”

“Good,” Sherlock’s lips quirk up. “I’m glad. I...I have a lot to tell you.”

Before John can reply or even put much thought into the implications of that sentence, Gracie and Olive clatter down the stairs and bound into the room. The young blonde is at John’s side in seconds, hugging him and bubbling over about all she has to tell him.

Surrounded by constant chatter, John and Sherlock rise and all four walk to the door where Gracie pulls on her coat and shoes. Both she and John thank Sherlock and Olive for everything and then make their way down to Mrs. Hudson. She meets them in the foyer with a tin of biscuits, which they put in Gracie’s grocery bag. Thanking her as they head out the door, Mrs. Hudson waves goodbye with promises to see them again as though there was never any doubt of their return.

Once the door to the building is closed and John and Gracie are on the pavement, a cab appears seemingly from nowhere. John eyes the driver suspiciously for a moment, wondering if he is really one of Mycroft’s lackeys before dismissing the notion. He opens the door with the hand holding the lighter of his two bags and piles in with his daughter. John gives their address to the man and sits back in his seat just in time to hear his mobile ping with a text.

7 o’clock?

John can’t help the smile that blooms on his face as he types an affirmative response. 

“What does that mean?” Gracie asks, reading over his shoulder. John looks down at her curious face as he pockets the mobile.

“Olive’s dad and I are going to meet for dinner next Saturday,” John tells her. “So that means Candace will stay over and put you to bed.”

“Yay!” Gracie exclaims. “She promised to play Cluedo the next time she stays over.”

“Well, I hope the two of you discover it was the doctor in the lounge with the lead pipe before it’s too late,” John jokes, wrapping his arm around his little girl and pulling her close.

“Dad,” Gracie laughs with an eye roll and hugs him.

The cab ride home is not long at all and the Watsons joke with one another all the way to their doorstep.

---

A new chapter coming with promises of dinner, Jane, and you make us wait? Gah! I may not be torturing you with the angst of my other works, but I hope to still have to on the edge of your seats. Thank you, thank you one and all for your support and love. Love, Jane

@johnlock-rocks

[jaybear1701]

Pam can only stare wide-eyed at Ellen, wondering if she’s in a dream.

There’s no moon dust or space suits or a vast expanse of stars. And yet, somehow, Ellen standing in her classroom--nervous and expectant and achingly beautiful in gray slacks and a simple white blouse--feels even more surreal. She can’t bring herself to speak, afraid that if she makes an attempt, Ellen will vanish and Pam will once again wake up alone in the darkness of her bedroom.

“I’m sorry for showing up out of the blue like this,” Ellen breaks the silence. “But I was hoping we could talk?”

Pam’s lips part, but for someone who prides herself on her ability to capture the right words and construct them into the perfect turn of phrase, she’s still speechless. Each resounding thud against her ribs pumps out conflicting emotions into her buzzing bloodstream, surprise and confusion, elation and dread.

“Pam?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Somehow, Pam strings together a coherent sentence, her voice scratchy and low.

Ellen’s shoulders droop. “You know that’s not true.” She takes a tentative step closer, treating Pam like some skittish animal ready to bolt, which honestly isn’t too far from the truth. “Please, just five minutes.”

“I don’t really have time--”

“Five minutes,” Ellen repeats, firmer. “Hear me out, and then you’ll never have to see me again if you don’t want to.”

Self-preservation demands that Pam refuses. In the long run, it’d be better for them both to sever ties, clean and fast, without dragging things out. But she can’t, not with the way Ellen’s imploring her with those disarming brown eyes. Her heart won’t let her.

“Fine,” Pam acquiesces. “Five minutes. But not here.”

“Okay,” Ellen exhales in relief.

Unsteadily, Pam pushes up from her desk to stand, grabbing her messenger bag and slinging its strap over her shoulder. She exits the classroom with Ellen in tow, and heads toward her office.

A million questions swirl in Pam’s head. Why are you here? How did you even know where to find me? But she bites her tongue. The hallways of the community college aren’t the place to air things out. Ellen follows her wordlessly, maintaining a respectful distance as she glances furtively at Pam out of the corner of her eye. They’re halfway to her office when someone calls out for Pam.

“Ms. H!”

One of her first-year students, Valerie, rushes to catch up to them with a fistful of papers in hand. “I forgot to give you a draft of my manuscript before the final.” She comes to an abrupt stop when she notices Pam has company, eyes widening. “Holy shit, you’re Ellen Wilson!”

Ellen’s brows shoot up, still surprised when someone recognizes her despite more than a decade in the public eye. “Oh, yes, that’s me.” She offers a hand that Valerie shakes with great enthusiasm “Hi, um....”

“Valerie. But everyone calls me Val.”

“Nice to meet you, Val.”

“Wow.” Val runs a hand through the unshaved side of her red hair. “You know an astronaut?” She asks Pam incredulously. “How on earth do you know an astronaut?!”

“Long story,” Pam replies with a taut smile.

“I’ll bet.” Val says, starstruck. “I saw you on TV when I was a kid, catching that tank. You’re amazing!”

Smiling sheepishly, Ellen ducks her head. “Thank you. Feels like it was a lifetime ago now.”

“I’ll bet. And, hey, sorry to hear you left NASA.”

Pam’s stomach bottoms out as her head snaps toward Ellen. “You what?” She shakes her head, unsure she heard correctly.

Ellen’s eyes slide to Pam briefly before focusing back on Valerie. “It was the right time.”

Val shrugs. “Gotta know when to fold ‘em. Do you know what you’ll do now?”

“Oh, you know, just take it easy while I weigh some options.” Ellen shifts her weight from one foot to another, nonchalant, like it’s no big deal. Like she didn’t just walk away from a hard-earned career and upward mobility.

Pam’s head swims at the revelation, knees wobbly, but manages to change the subject. “You said you have your manuscript, Valerie?”

“Oh, yeah.” Val hands over her papers. “Thanks again for taking a look.”

“No problem.” Pam slides the manuscript into her bag, hoping the tremor in her hands isn’t too obvious.

“What’s it about?” Ellen asks politely.

“Oh,” Val grins, flattered, tucking her hands in the pockets of her black leather jacket. “Just my humble contribution to the cyberpunk genre. You ever watch Blade Runner?”

“I did! It was, uh, interesting.”

“Yeah! Well, it’s similar to that. Though I’m guessing you’re more into Ms. H’s sci-fi.”

“You write science fiction?” Ellen asks Pam, curious.

“Ms. H, you should tell her about your story about the astronauts exploring Mars.”

Ellen’s eyebrows rise slowly, and Pam coughs to hide the blush she already knows is heating her cheeks. “Some other time, maybe,” Pam says. “I’ll touch base with you after the holidays?”

“That’d be great.” Valerie grins. “Thanks again, Ms. H. And nice meeting you, Mrs. Wilson. Er, Commander.”

“Just Ellen will do,” Ellen chuckles, waving goodbye to the retreating student. “So,” Ellen says as they resume walking. “You’re writing about Martian explorers?”

“You’ve got five minutes. Do you really want to spend it talking about my work?” Pam retorts, face still flushed, when they finally reach her office.

Ellen doesn’t respond as Pam unlocks the door, turns on the light, and leads them inside. “Have a seat.” She maneuvers behind her desk and sits, already feeling more at ease in her own space, like she can recapture a modicum of control over her warring emotions. In red, glowing numbers, the answering machine by her phone shows she has about half a dozen messages waiting.

If Ellen’s nervous or uncomfortable on Pam’s turf, she doesn’t show it while she drinks in the small office, taking in the framed diplomas on the walls, crammed bookshelves, and stacks of paper on her desk. She lowers herself into the chair across from Pam.

“I’m not really sure where to start.” Ellen folds her hands in her lap, gaze determined and unwavering. “So I’ll start by saying this: I’m not here to upset you, though I can tell by the look on your face I already have. But, please believe me when I say that’s the last thing I ever want. Okay?”

“Okay.” Pam can already feel her pulse starting to accelerate.

Ellen takes a deep breath. “I wanted… I needed to see you. To understand why you left.”

Pam’s chest instantly clenches in response. There was a reason she hadn’t wanted to see Ellen, who could read her so well she’d know instantly that Pam was lying. “I explained it in my letter.” Schooling her expression, she sticks with the same narrative.

“You said your heart still belongs to Elise.”

Pam inclines her head forward. That is what she wrote, after all.

“Then why aren’t you with her.” It’s not a question.

It feels like all the air has rushed out of the room, and Pam thinks this is the closest she’ll ever come to experiencing life in a vacuum. It’s so quiet that she can hear the scuff of sneakers on the floor outside her office door.

Ellen scoots forward in her seat, words coming faster now. “I called your house, trying to reach you.”

“You what?”

“Elise picked up instead.”

Pam’s stomach twists.

“She said you weren’t together,” Ellen continues. "That you moved out weeks ago.”

Anger lances through Pam, white and hot. “Ellen, you had no right.” Her voice is strained from keeping her temper under control.

“Maybe so,” Ellen concedes, but she doesn’t look repentant at all. “But you also said we owe each other the truth. So what is it?”

“Your five minutes are up.” Pam knows she’s being irrational, but she doesn’t care. Clinging to her outrage is preferable to succumbing to her spiraling panic at being called out on her lie.

Ellen lets out an incredulous laugh. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Pam confirms, crossing her arms as if that would shield her from the growing tumult between them. “Please leave.”

Ellen just stares at her, unblinking, before she shakes her head. “No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I told you once before that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep you. And I’m not leaving until I get the truth.”

Ellen’s eyes are dark, earnest. Pam hates that she’s not immune to them and, if she’s honest with herself, never will be. Her traitorous heart’s already melting, but Pam’s nothing if not stubborn and she sets her mouth in a thin, hard line. “Then I’ll go.”

She gets up to leave, not even bothering to grab her bag, but Ellen rushes to her feet and blocks her path--not unlike the time at The Outpost years ago, after Pam had given her ultimatum about Ellen’s marriage to Larry.

They’re close, too close that it makes Pam dizzy, and she has to take a step back. Ellen reaches out to Pam, but stops before she can make contact. Her right hand hovers in the air for several long seconds before it drops back to her side.

“Please don’t be angry,” Ellen pleads.

“A little too late for that.”

“I know.” Ellen’s brow furrows, but still she doesn’t move.

“Then please go,” Pam says in a pained whisper. “Or let me go.”

“I can’t.” The crack in Ellen’s voice splits straight down Pam’s heart. “I love you, Pam. Always have. Always will.”

Pam squeezes her eyes shut. The room feels like it’s tilting on its axis.

“If you don’t feel the same, then…”Ellen’s throat constricts as she swallows. . “Then that’s fine. I’ll learn to live with that. But I just need to know. Please.”

When she opens them, Pam’s eyes are full, stinging. “You know I do.”

“Then why…”

“Because sometimes it’s not enough!”

Confusion etches across Ellen’s features, wrinkling her forehead and tugging the corners of her lips down. “Enough for what?”

“For us to work, Ellen.” Pam wipes away a tear that’s trickled down her cheek. “We live in completely different worlds.”

Ellen’s next response is drowned out by the telephone, its shrill ring cutting through the air. For a moment, Pam’s paralyzed, unable to move beneath Ellen’s piercing gaze, both of them breathing heavily. By the fourth ring, Pam snaps out of it. She walks back behind the desk, inhales, exhales, and picks up the receiver.

“Pam Horton.”

It’s the dean’s secretary, asking her to drop by the office before she leaves for the day. Pam normally dreads having to meet with the dean, never quite enjoying the administrative aspects of her job, but right now she’s relieved to have an excuse to end this conversation with Ellen before she does or says anything more that she’ll regret.

“Yes, ma’am, of course,” Pam says as Ellen’s eyes track her movements. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

After she hangs up the phone, she clears her throat. “I’m sorry, but I have to get back to work.”

Ellen looks like she wants to object, but ultimately she retreats back a step. She doesn’t sit back down. Pam’s not sure if she feels relieved or disappointed.

“I understand.” She self-consciously tucks her hair behind her ears. “Can we at least talk later?”

Pam’s mind shouts no. Her heart screams yes. Her mouth lands somewhere in between. “I don’t know,” she says lamely. “We’re wrapping up finals… you know how it goes.”

Ellen’s looking at her like this might be the last opportunity she’ll have to do so. “Well, if you find yourself with some free time, I’m staying at the Driskill ‘til the end of the week.”

The Driskill is the oldest hotel in Austin, right in the heart of downtown. Iconic. Historic. Perfectly suited for someone of Ellen’s background and stature. And much too rich for Pam’s blood. It’s so fitting that Pam doesn’t know whether she wants to laugh or cry.

“We’ll see,” she says.

Ellen nods slowly before turning toward the door. But her hand stills on the knob, and Pam finds herself holding her breath.

“Maybe we do live in different worlds.” Ellen smiles sadly over her shoulder. “But we could create a new one. Together.”

With that, she’s gone. The door softly clicks shut. And it takes all of Pam’s willpower not to follow.

[hellroots]

『 MOBILE FRIENDLY RULES 』

— here you will find my rules or can also find them on my gdocs as well once i’m done with it. please like this if you read it, but otherwise don’t interact with this post, thank you. rest assured that i always read my moots rules before following and that i fully expect the same courtesy. i tried not to let them get too long but feel free to ask me anything you wanna know about them if it’s not clear ok?

 『 THE MUN』

NOXTROMUN, THEY/THEM, 21+, BRAZILIAN

shy but friendly ! i don't follow for follow, if i follow you that means i've read your rules and want to write with you. i have no triggers nor squicks of my own except drama in the dash, for that reason i do not engage in callouts/witch hunts and if you do it on a constant basis i might have to hard block you for my own peace of mind. although i may come off too strong/harsh, i am always up to talking things out privately. as long as you are civil, so am i. any form of hate will be deleted and blocked -  sometimes mocked, if i’m feeling cocky…

『 THE BLOG』

HELLROOTS, INDIE ( POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING AND NOT MINOR FRIENDLY ), HIGHLY SELECTIVE & PRIVATE MULTIFANDOM MULTIMUSE

primarily run on a low activity \ effort and with a slow speed.. my muselist changes a lot, depends a lot on what i’m watching lately so bear with me please. this is a drama free zone, therefore do realise that mun ≠ muses and (obviously) writing ≠ condoning !! as a quick note, do keep in mind that my blog is my safe space, just as your blog is yours - you are responsible for your own internet experience just as i am responsible for mine. should anything in my blog annoy/trigger/squick you, i strongly encourage you to block me & not write with me - your mental health is far more important ( for me, and hopefully for you as well ) than rp. on that note, please do not softblock me - that’s annoying, just hardblock please.

『 THE TRIGGERS』

TRIGGER HEAVY, PROPERLY TAGGED AND TAKING NO CRAP

i  usually  tend to write for trigger heavy fandoms (such as asoiaf, kingdom and others) and may incorporate some of it into my writing, muses' backgrounds and overall characterization. if you're bothered \ squicked \ triggered by that, i kindly encourage you to reconsider and not follow me. no amount of rp fun is worth your mental health.  i try to tag everything accordingly and i fully expect the same courtesy for our followers' sakes. be aware that there may be mentions of death, gore, violence, consanguinamory \ endogamy (especially when it comes to the lannisters and kekkei genkai clans), rape ( kingdom, though it will only be mentioned on the character’s backstory ) and cannibalism ( hannibal and kingdom ) , as well as unhealthy relationships and dynamics alongside with powerplay, and otherwise bad behaviours.  for all that is sacred, please, do note that i, the mun, do not approve, support or condone any of these actions or behaviours !!  i simply am capable of separating fiction from reality. as long as everything is properly tagged, with mutual consent and there are no minors involved (muse and especially not muns), . i support the right of a consenting adult to explore these awful dark topics in a safe fictional environment with other like minded consenting adults, people shouldn’t have to share their traumas to strangers on the internet to explain why they write what they write, be considerate. if that notion bothers you perhaps you might not want to interact with me, for both of ours sakes. fair warning, most of my graphics and aesthetics might trigger those who have xylophobia/hylophobia (phobia of trees or wooded areas), and considering it is a main theme here i will not be tagging it, i'm sorry. but its too many. however, if you want me to create a special tag for you, there's no issue! it will be either "[your mun name] don't look!" or "[your url] don't look!", whichever you prefer. QUICK EDIT/ADDITION: i do not believe that aging up fictional characters is inherently a bad thing - from what i understand, the whole appeal of aging up a character is that while you like their personality but you do not want them to be kids (for whatever reason) but insteasd adults. if you are one of those who think that aging up a character is automatically something bad (without even knowing why it was done in the first place) don’t bother following me because i do think that opinion is quite silly.

『 THE INTERACTIONS』

OC, DUPLICATE, MULTIMUSE AND CANON DIVERGENT FRIENDLY

my tagging system is simple, i tag triggers as "tw; x" and . images that may be sensitive or triggering as "cw; x". you can further see how my tags work by taking a look at my tag dump post, just search ‘tag dump’ on my blog and you will find the most recent one i’m using.    i shitpost and talk oocly on the dash constantly but you can easily blacklist my tag if it bothers you.  here's something you should know about me:  when i'm doing drafts i usually don't feel like chatting much, so please do not spam me because i won't be able to reply, i love to talk with my moots but sometimes it overwhelms me.  on that note, please don't pester me for replies ic or ooc, i am slow and chances are that if you try to guilt trip me or just nag me about it i'll leave as the ones i'll get to in the later end on purpose, just out of spite. yes, i be like that.   please be patient - i’ll never pressure you and expect the same in return.  plotting wise: i prefer to just wing it with just a faint idea of where to take the thread but honestly i'm cool with anything. please be considerate when formatting your replies, i have a bad eyesight & if i can't read it, i won't bother with it.   my own formatting is simple and clean.   on a smaller note, please bear with me and my muses as my muses ramble a lot but you don't have to match the length, just give me something to work with. if we write together, the chances of me making edits/tagging you in stuff are really big, just lmk if you don’t like that though !

『 THE FLEET』

MOSTLY BI/PAN MUSES, MULTISHIP AND MULTIVERSE, SMUT FRIENDLY

i love shipping but i like my ships to be devices to move the plot/dynamics/muses forward, every once in a while though i partake in some much loved self indulgent shipping. just because i ship a certain pairing don't presume that my characters are approaching yours with second intentions, please.   most of the time i like to reblog those relationship memes, so if you’re interested in a ship the best way (other than  sending me a message ofc) to let me know is by sending ones. there will be some triggering ships here ( like the lannisters, both cersei x jaime and joanna x tywin are my otps, and potential inter clan ships, like with the hyugas - i mean how the hell you think they keep the byakugan in their family?? ) that may either be played with trusted friends or be mentioned/reblogged sometimes, all properly tagged so you can easily blocklist/avoid it.  most of my muses are either bi or pan, those who are not will be specified. don't be afraid to reach out to me for shipping right off the bat - i'd rather have you to be open and honest with me about the interactions you want than lying to me, just know that there will be needed some plotting and threading first to see if your muses match. as an adult, my blog is smut friendly, i partake in sexual sunday a lot because some of my muses are very lewd in nature, you can blacklist my tag if that bothers you as well.

『 THE FINAL NOTES』

GENERAL RP ETIQUETTE APPLIES, CREDITS, THANK YOU FOR READING MY RULES

lastly but not least, general rp etiquette applies on my blog: no godmodding, forced ships, etc. there’s only ONE thing that truly makes me go apeshit crazy, and it’s when people don’t read my rules. i ALWAYS find out and it’s not pretty; i block it like it’s hot, ♪ ♫ ♬ block it like it’s hot ♪ ♫ ♬.   i strongly assure you that i always read your rules before both following you and also before sending memes, just in case. on a much smaller note, i’m not so hot on single shipping and i really feel weirded out about people forcing me to pic who i’m going to interact with due to theirs DNI’s. while i get DNI’s when it comes to actual predators, when it’s something seemingly random chances are that i’ll softblock you because it weirds me out how volatile some can be when it comes to a hobby. i have some trigger heavy hcs ( for example, the one about jiraiya’s hypersexuality being rooted in trauma that he suffered at a young age ) that i share with only a few muns that are closer with me, so i’ll be mentioning them every once in a while but won’t share them, please don’t insist.  i don’t really like most of the main characters of the franchises i write for, and when it comes to certain characters  i reserve the right to decline an rp for my own comfort. for further info on what i use to make my graphics please check my “CREDITS.” tag.  most of my stuff is made by me, i’ve got a lowkey rph in case you wanna check it out it’s @brazucahelps, however if you want a custom content i can see if i get a free time to come up with something :D

 IF YOU READ THIS FAR, THANK YOU SO MUCH — JUST ONE LAST THING, COULD YOU PLS LIKE THIS SO I KNOW YOU’VE READ IT? <3 THANKS!

[word-addict-lisette]

Dear Lisette,

I am back in you inbox, yay! How was your day? How's life? How's school?

I am really mad because we had this piece of work and it was like "pen down your idea on this statement, 'i can do whatever i want on the internet as long as i don't get caught' and i put down my thoughts which were 'this statement is true, i stand by it and you can do whatever you like as long as you don't get caught and don't own up' and then people were like throwing shade at me and i looked at it. I have 5 comments.

My teachers tried to delete it, my classmates literally lectured me and then she read it out loud and the whole class went looking for that one note i made. In the comments, people are spelling my name in caps. It was my opinion, and oh, look all of them are basically hypocrites. Let me just say, these people make me uncomfortable, they don't talk about exactly nice things or approriate things and they are all commenting ( without names too may i add) like "KAT, THAT'S NOT HOW THINGS WORK!" but with my real name and just arghhh.

Also if my teachers wanted me to say, "no, that isn't the right thing to do," or any other answer that the others provided them with, they shouldn't have asked for my opinion. They should have just forced us all to just type the same thing. The other people all wrote like, "no, its unethical and bad" or "False, no, its bad" and stuff like that, filmsy evidence and elaboration. I HAVE MORALS, i am just saying the truth. I feel like the victim of a hate crime. People don't like me enough already, i am a very intresting person, uh, yeah, we are gonna stop there.

Enjoy the rant i guess? I don't know? I am sorry for loading on you but there's a little extra rant so uh, yeah. im just gonna take this out, one sec.

Ok, so uh my teacher was like, next week, we are making pancakes. Fluffy pancakes. It was changed to pancakes without eggs? and now we have to make it ourselves, at home. Where do i get flour? What do i do with the extra flour? I don't know how to cook at all, my partner who has been extremely controlling and like kinda driving me insane, ( ahem i did the whole coursework) also she uses my friend's name for everything? Like, bestie i was literally helping out and you went all, "Oh you don't want (friend's name) to see you burnt right?". Obviously i don't but if i burnt down my house, she wouldn't be surprised. I BURNT MYSELF LAST YEAR, SHE SAW ME BURN MYSELF. Well, my friend burnt me and then the week after that, she burnt herself.

This happens a lot. Also, the very common questions and statements of, "Are you straight?" , "aren't you and (friend's name) dating?", "you guys would make such a cute couple" , " aren't you bi?" and "i thought the two of you were dating," there is nothing wrong with being bi but i am not attracted to her like that. So, they use her for leverage over me to get me to do what they want and also think im dating her? If we were dating, we would both be homeless. I like my house. This doesn't only happen with her. I once got shipped with my brother. I hugged him and some guy was like, "oh you guys like each other," that was awkward. Can i just add, a lot of people like majority of that community know we are siblings.

I also get shipped with his best friend, thanks to a rumor my brother made up. So, sometimes, i would get like comments like, "oh, you like him" or "(brother's name) told me that you and (brother's best friend) are dating," we are not dating. WE ARE JUST REALLY GOOD FRIENDS. I LIKE A FICTIONAL CHARACTER. LEAVE ME ALONE. Also, everytime i have a picture of a guy on my phone or something my cousin just has to tell my brother. THEY ARE STREAMERS. ONE IS OF V FROM BTS SO I CAN TRAMATISE MY FRIEND.

Everytime i cry, someone comes in my room. It is so annoying. LEAVE ME ALONE, I WANT TO CRY. This is why i started reading sad books, listening to sad songs, watching sad movies so i have a reason to cry. There was this once, i wasnt selected to be part of my choir's competition and i was sad about it because i didn't feel good enough. THEY SAID I WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH. So, i cried but it wasn't enough so i read the saddest book i could find so i had a reason to cry but by that time, my feelings were gone. This is why i get breakdowns when im overwhelmed because of all this. You know how old i am. I have to deal with this and the pressure of always wanting to be perfect. What else can i do? I am not pretty or smart or talented or have friends, i have like 6 friends and nobody ever keeps me company. So, i focus on being perfect. 100%, i deal with not having any attention because my parents didn't pay me any attention just because i was "independent" or something?

Did i mention, i babysit all my siblings? I am the second child. I baby-sit my older brother. I am sleep-deprived because i can't sleep well at night and i constantly worry about everything and i have to take care of all my friends and it is so exhausting. Yet, i can not cry.

Thanks for staying with me through whatever that was. Uh, yeah, i took the quiz and got chaotic academia. That is my aesthetic. I really want one of those fancy skirts they wear like on pintrest and stuff? Like you know what i mean? The academia skirt? Yeah, i don't have one yet.

Question of the day, what is your dream profession or you could answer my other question which is what would you want to look like? Or you could answer both?

Ok, thank you again. i am gonna go study. Love and hugs and just literal joy sent your way!

- Kat, the ultimate dino mom of Leo, Billy Bob, Jessica, Sophie, Jackson, Sarah, Lily, the Micheals and all her other kids. (Jessica, Sophie and Jackson are mailboxes and Lily is a computer, Micheal is my screwdriver and laptop pencil, there are two micheals.)

Dear Kat,

It's really good to see you in my inbox. I'm sorry for replying late, but exams really had occupied my schedule today and I got my Saturday exam tomorrow. This week is going to be stressful and today's day has been pathetic. I had nothing to do except study and write exams. I feel like I haven't really been social recently and That I'm losing touch with people that I used to be close with and basically I'm letting overthinking take over my mind.

That is so sick. Why is someone's genuine opinion bothering them so much? I totally wouldn't be able to tolerate that. They ought to understand that there is a fine line between a fact and an opinion, and what you stated was just an OPINION. they have no right whatsoever to come at you like that. I totally agree... the teachers ought to have not asked for your opinion if all they desired was a particularly specific answer which opposed the statement. one of the reasons I hate the schooling system has to be THIS. people who are putting comments like that ought to realize that what you stated is exactly what they do in real life. They just want to be seen as the good kid here. At least you have the guts enough to speak the truth.

Miss! You don't have to worry about ranting out to me. You can rant to me for days and I'd still listen. Just go on ranting nobody is stopping you.

Ahhh! I've had that happen to me. I really understand how tough that can be. I really really hate being shipped with someone who I am just platonically friends with like you've got no valid proof to believe that we are romantically involved with each other. I've burnt myself plenty of times too. It's not a pleasant experience. Plus I also hate having controlling partners. Cause all they do is boss you around while they are barely doing a thing. It sucks.

Why? Just why? Why does it even matter to them? Who you date and what your sexuality is, is none of their business. I have no idea why people concern themselves with topics that really don't involve them. It's like people are just ready to make gossip out of anything. A person can't have a bestie without not liking them? I don't get what's so difficult to understand about that. I hate it when I'm casually talking to a guy and people start shipping us and start spreading rumors of us being in a romantic relationship. Another thing they do is, if a person likes me, they automatically assume that I like him back when I've barely even ever spoken to that guy. And yes! I like fictional characters! Don't even assume I like any of you fools cause You idiots bully me and ship me with total crackheads... And my standards are good enough for me to not include you guys in my list of *appropriate candidates* which consists of non-existent people.

Similarly, the moment I'm chatting with some guy, or like have a pic with someone on my mobile phone people just assume that fact that I'm crushing on him. Like no! I don't. We are friends... the others are celebrities, Why can't you understand that? I can't imagine how thick their skull must be considering they can't let a small statement like that sink in.

The crying thingy... I feel personally attacked. Nobody lets me do anything in peace, let alone crying. I literally use the washroom in my room and even my sister comes in there just banging on the door asking me to get the heck out of there and go somewhere else, like can't she use the other two washrooms or what? I like listening to sad stuff and reading angst cause somehow or the other it calms me down... it makes me feel at peace cause I know I'm not the only one who feels like crying. I've got a lot of friends, nobody remembers my birthday, I remember all of theirs'. They don't even text me, It's always me who takes the first step. All my friends just want me by their side cause I'm a smartass they want to show off as a trophy and cause I've got much better sarcasm than them. They just want to benefit from me. That's all. GOD, I'm not pretty at all. I look like a random idiot all the time. I look pathetic. And I lack talent... And you! I warned you, miss! You are pretty, beautiful, talented, smart, friendly, caring, kind and THE BEST!!!

I've never been given attention. Never ever. My sister has always stolen the spotlight. And I hate it. Not even my friends acknowledge me, my parents just ehhhhh. No matter how good I score, No matter how good I behave, No matter what. I'm just never good enough. My parents think of me as a rebellious kid. And I don't know what to do about that. All I've ever done is listen to them. My parents never allowed me to go out and play with my friends when I was a kid, they never let me go on overnight trips, and they barely let me spend time with the few friends I have. They never let me go to outings my school friends planned. Despite that, I never complained. I never had good friends because of that, yet I never complained. A lot of kids my age roam around in shopping malls by themselves, have sleepovers, spend money, roam around with tons of makeup on their faces, are in relationships, and even get into illegal shit. I've never done anything Like that. And yet... I'm never the good kid. I'm still the rebel.

I've got to take care of my sister almost every day. Get her to study, study myself, take care of myself while tolerating my grandmother. I really don't like my grandma, she s very fussy and just keeps yelling around the house the moment my dad and mom leave the house. I've got sensory overload because of her voice. And now I sit and have an anxiety attack almost every time she speaks. I've always got to strive for perfection as well. And I too can't sleep well at night just cause all the worries of the world, keep weighing me down.

Chaotic academia sounds good. It's the same aesthetic my sister got when I asked her to take the test! And oooh! Me too! I love those skirts and outfits they show on Pinterest. I'd love to have them someday.

My dream profession has to be that of a writer. Or perhaps even running a library. just something cozy. Ohh! I'd love to have brown hair, and I'd want to be tall just a little shorter than What I am right now. I just reached my father's height yesterday. And more or less, I'd like the rest to stay just as it is. and perhaps a lighter shade of skin tone. What about you though?

My question for you! If you were to be stranded on a beach island for a week. Who would you bring with you and how would you spend your time there. You can include whatever elements of nature you want to include like forests, lakes, and all.

Sending love, warmth, hugs, and whatever I have to spare that you would like to you!!!!

-Love from Lisette

P.S. That's an interesting family you've got, right there!