#and it's all very stressful on top of the absolute mess at my current job

[imreallyloveleee]

there's just too much happening right now. stop

[feizon]

LET ME MAKE IT UP TO YOU

warning: nfsw + fem!reader

summary: He was a typical workaholic who enjoyed the thrill of his job. Many claim that he never smiles but only those who he unveils his cold facade to would beg to differ. His eyes always sought out for order that needed to be restored but when he first laid them upon you, he held nothing but romantic intentions. But when he's away from you for to long, he needs a stress reliever he can always count on.

note: note proofread

I'm so down bad for this man that I came out of hibernation just to write about him. anyways enjoy!

He was always on the go, always ready to assist in any situation that my cause his beloved city harm. He had a very strong presence, one that demanded respect and cooperation from those who witnessed him perform his day to day tasks. He was phenomenal at what he did, leaving many in awe as they couldn't help but feel safe in his presence.

His eyes were always on the search to restore balance wherever needed as his stern and authoritive gaze was rather effective at many things, one of them was to enforcing the law while the other was leaving your panties absolutely soaked.

"m-missed you so bad Gerpard..."

You were currently in a heated make out session in the comfort of your shared bedroom. It started with innocent touches before your hands shamelessly lusted for the one another, always you managing to spark such a fire in him first. The exotic exchange of oxygen somewho managing to leave you both breathless, your body was already littered with love bites wherever his mouth made contact with your skin.

Today exchange of pleasantries was due to the time intervals between each time he left your body trembling in pleasure becoming longer and longer then the last. As expected his job is rather demanding, him being given a mission almost everytime he breathed made it harder and harder for him to return home to your warm and loving embrace each time he was dismissed.

He was the definition of warrior in the streets and loving in the sheets but when he needs a desperate recharge he seeks the warmth of your walls, squeezing around him so tightly while hearing you moan oh so sweetly. He was currently slipping you out of your very skimpy silk night dress as your panties were next in line. He slipped in two fingers with ease as it seems you had gotten needy during his sexual absence.

"I barely even have to touch you... "

He already has you seeing stars with you desperately clench onto his shoulder at how persistent he was at targeting those spots deep inside you with ease. He wasn't much of a talker in such sinful acts but boy did his actions make up for it.

"C-Cumming!"

He then slides his fingers out as he licks his fingers covered in your arousal, making sure you could see just how much he enjoyed the little rewards. He then hovers on top of you as he postions you into a mating press, you knees getting closer and close to your chest.

"m going to be a little rough today princess... tell me if it's to overwhelming for you..."

He says before kissing your forehead almost as an apology in advanced. He hooks the back of your knees over his shoulder as he strokes himself a few times, the smearing of his own pre cum making him let out a light moan at the feeling. He then slides in painfully slow to ensure that you felt the way he stretched your cunt out so well as his girth hand your toes curling.

Once he bottoms out he gives you time to adjust due to no amount of times of you taking him being enough to numb that tiny sting of pain. You then give him the greenlight and he starts to thrust slowly two or three times, in and out of your cunt, to test the waters before his pace quickens.

"mmm fuck...!"

The longer he went, the sooner both your bodies were covered in a sheer layer of sweat as his dusty blonde hair started sticking to his forehead a bit. He then began to leave open mouthed kisses all over your face as you were already a babbling mess due to his ministrations. The sound of skin slapping almost pornographic as his tip kissed your womb repeatedly.

He was so deep as it was evident from your belly budge of his big, fat cock. he pressed down on it, gradually adding pressure as he wanted you to cum so hard on his cock to the point that you would be sucking out all his pent up sexual frustration.

"Ah.. can feel you in my belly Gepard!"

You say as your arch your back off the mattress at how hard your orgasm hit you, feeling shock was all over your body from the impact. You were so tight now, practically trying to milk him for every second he wasn't embedded deep within your walls, just a few more sharp thrusts and he followed soon after you. His load was more than usual as some of it mixes with all the other love juices you both shared as it soaked your sheets.

He then gave you a passionate little kiss before pulling out of you completely, still a bit sensitive form his release.

"Hope I wasn't to much this time..."

@feizon

[ina-nis]

To the anxious and nervous:

A lot of these feelings might be a response to external triggers.

Maybe it doesn’t feel like it. Maybe it might not feel like something is related - because your anxiety isn’t triggered by X situation since “it’s no big deal”; while Y situation is the one that you really have problems with. Maybe the feelings come and go, you make progress as long as you’re trying, but trying so hard all the time is very exhausting, isn’t it? Even more for something that come in waves, so you have to learn how to ride it. You might understand that as your current life and that’s how it is, and have been for a while.

The other piece is time.

Maybe you heard of “time heals all wounds” at some point and while that’s not absolutely true, time can have an important role in healing. Have you noticed how so many older people are chill and unbothered by things? They have the experience of time on their side, they may have seen a lot, they may have learned lots too. There’s no way around it but living and letting time pass.

The process to decreasing anxiety - especially, social anxiety - might have a lot to do with one’s environment and how patient they are in their own journey.

See that first example: maybe X situation is a family member, maybe it’s your school or a workplace, maybe it’s a friend. If you’ve been there for long enough, you might become desensitized by the harm - and it’s not exactly like you have a choice, you might think: “what am I supposed to do? Abandon my family? Drop out of school? Quit my job? Cut off my friend?“ Maybe it’s not safe to make any choices... maybe your family and friend are the only social support you have, maybe school is your one chance to network and find people in your field, maybe you need your job to literally survive and not starve or become homeless.

Regardless of the reason, maybe these situations (and many more) are active, on-going triggers for anxieties, even if it doesn’t feel like it anymore. Your brain is smart, it does its best to protect you from harm, and numbing things out or maybe watering down these stress triggers are a way to keep you going without losing your mind.

Back to the first example: you see all these Y situations and they’re your main triggers, it could be phone calls, it could be going outside, it could be being in spaces with people at all, it could be making eye contact and asking questions, and so on. In these, you do feel very anxious, and you might either avoid these situations, or you might rehearse them to exhaustion so you don’t “mess up” or do them in any way that can soothe you.

When you stop to think about it, it might not make sense that X situations and Y situations are related: what does your abusive father has to do with you having difficulties making calls? What do your back-breaking menial job has to do with you having difficulties with eye contact and small talk? They might, indeed, have no relation to each other whatsoever.

The point is you might live in a constant, low-key, maybe even imperceptible state of anxiety. Dealing with people, dealing with phones, dealing with talks and so on might be what takes for your brain to be unable to cope any more.

Anxiety is hard because it has this top-to-bottom construction. The bottom, you cope well with, “it’s how it’s been for a long time”; the top is panic attack-inducing, it’s your everyday activities and how bad they are, huh?

You might not be able to conquer these situations on the top, if you don’t address the bottom of the issue, and that’s where environment and time come into account.

It might be hard, it might feel impossible, or even something completely foolish and absolutely risky to break away from some of these root causes - “what am I supposed to do? Abandon my family? Drop out of school? Quit my job? Cut off my friend?“ - yes, these could be things you might have to do in order to be able to actually address your anxiety once and for all.

It’s not easy but it’s definitely possible. The healing process comes with lots of pain. This is all a huge part of it. And time will help you cope and soothe you, whatever happens.

You can keep using stopgaps, you can keep on coping with active triggers while dealing with the presence of old triggers that might not hurt you anymore. But they all hurt you nonetheless, you just stop feeling or getting bothered by it because you need to keep going.

There’s more outside of all this, but it’s a risk you might need to take.

You might lose your family, a friend, your job and school, but you gain another chance in life, you gain control over your life because you put yourself first... and you can always form your own family, make new friends, start again at school or with a new job. There’s no time-limit for these things. There’s no time-limit for healing either.

You’ll get to it whenever you’re ready.

[covenofthearticulate]

12!!!!!

12. what’s some good advice you want to share? Hi this has been sitting in my drafts for over a week now because genuinely I had NO IDEA what to say for the longest time because I...haven't gotten a lot of outstanding advice in my life lmao!!!

But it just hit me the other day though because I've been seeing a lot of those posts here on tumblr about like "do all the things that make your inner child happy! do all the things you dreamed about doing as a kid" and idk I've been thinking about it a lot because on the one hand YES absolutely treat yourself to ice cream or stickers or little things that fill you with joy, like that's lovely and we should always remember to be kinder to ourselves!

But the thing I've been grappling with a lot lately that no one ever told me is that it's okay that your aspirations now are different than your aspirations 10 years ago. Idk, this is just something I have to consistently remind myself of because like...in the fall of this year, I was offered my literal dream job. Like, my actual. DREAM. job. at my dream company. The exact job I wanted since I knew it was a thing people got paid to do. The job I stalked on linkedin throughout college. The job I told people I wanted to eventually land whenever anyone asked me about my "career plan."

I was offered that job.

And I was lucky enough to get to do a trial run of that job (it was a whole mess. I basically stepped in and worked as an interim position for the new job on top of working my other position so i was working two jobs for like 6 months and wanted to kill myself the whole time) only to find that it was NOT what I actually wanted! Turns out said dream job was stressful and not fulfilling at all and didn't allow me the same flexibility to work while also taking care of my family!

So ANYWAY long story short, when it came time to choose if I wanted to take the shiny new dream position or stay in my current position, I kept going back to this idea that I have to take it, because it's everything High School Ashley wanted, I could brag so much to my friends and family, I could be the hometown hero who actually achieved her dreams at 25 years old, I could stick it to all the assholes who told me that it wasn’t a viable career.

But uh. Obviously that didn't happen LOL! I chose not to take the job, and over the past few months I've been learning to let go of all the things I used to idealize as a kid. And I'm also learning that grind culture is bullshit and being stagnant isn't a death sentence!! I stayed in my original job because it makes me happy and my co-workers are lovely and it's much more intellectually stimulating! And I'm really, really happy!

Jesus christ this turned into a very long personal rant but TL;DR— growing up means knowing when to nurture your inner child, but it also means understanding that circumstances change, that wants and needs change, and that your definition of success is something that needs to grow and change as well.

[thebigshotman]

No context , just the Lightener leaning over the counter that separates her from her partner with little more than those soft hands gripping his collar . She then proceeds to smother him , decorating his porcelain features with lip marks before eventually slumped back against the synthetic counter top .

Spaul’s currently mid-rant in the middle of his still destroyed shop, fretting and yelling about how the world still hasn’t gotten its act together and is going to let him go completely broke before it decides to repair itself and let him make money again. He’s learned his lesson, don’t get in the giant robot! Stop punishing him! He ends up climbing on top of his shop counter at one point at his most feverish point.

*TH1S IS [[$&@!]] STUPID!!!! AT TH1S POINT THIS [[curse the Heavens]] [A Cyber’s World] IS JUST [[$&@!]] ME OVER CAUSE IT THINKS ITS [[hoo hoo hee hee]]!!! STOP IT!!!! JU$T LET ME DO MY [[you had one job]] GODDAMNIT—

His hands are raised to the sky like he is literally cursing the heavens, which he is, when Eileen grabs his collar. Oh crap, he forgot she was there with him! He’s probably scaring the poor girl! He’s still fuming, but he tries to even out his “breathing” and calm down for her sake.

*[Hazelnut] I-

He doesn’t get to say whatever he was going to, as he gets pulled close and absolutely smothered with kisses. His face, top to bottom, even his long nose, gets covered with lip stick marks courtesy of his beloved angel. By the time her lipstick is presumably completely kissed off and she returns to her spot on the other side of the counter, he’s now splayed out across the countertop and is a very dazed mess who can only vaguely recall why he was so furious just now. Giant marbles rolling around in his completely pink glasses.

*[[Try this new method of stress relief, 100% guaranteed to make your worries melt away!]]

*…I needed that.

He throws a very lovey-dovey smooch sound effect back her way in response to all of that. What would he do without her?

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐞𝐱/𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 (𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝)

Warnings: NSFW content. Read at your own discretion.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Hongjoong was already frustrated. He was on a deadline to finish up a song and he was nowhere near even getting halfway. Eden had just recently scolded him and he felt extremely agitated and irritated at this point.

"Hey Joong? I brought you lunch so-"

"Just leave it on the table, I'll eat it later." He cut you off rather sharply, barely even sparing you a glance.

"I was actually thinking we could eat together." You were off put by his short temper.

"I don't have time Y/N." He huffed out, a hand running through his hair.

You were pissed at this point and were not about to take his crap anymore.

"Exactly! You don't have time for me anymore! I get your job demands a lot of your time, but to not even take a break and enjoy just 10 minutes without....these." You gestured to all the mess scattered around his desk.

Hurt about being reminded about his neglect of you yet angry at being scolded once more, Hongjoong slammed his hands on the table, swiftly pushing off the chair before going over to where you were standing and stared you down.

"All right. Fine. 10 minutes you say? I can work with that."

Without a warning, he pushed you onto the couch, making a quick work of your pants and stripping them off you. You let out a sharp cry when he began devouring your pussy, animalistic growls spilling out his lips as he slurped you up as if he'd been starved. When you tried pulling away, he landed a harsh slap on your clit, making your hips jolt up and a shriek come out.

"Shut up and take what I give you you needy desperate whore. You wanted 10 minutes? Let's see how many times I can make you cum in that time."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Hearing the front door slam, Seonghwa brace himself for yet another one of your moods after a long day at work. Wanting to help your day be less stressful, he had prepared you some of your favorites food.

"Y/N." He called out to you in a sing song tone.

Stomping over, you just looked at him with an eyebrow raised, total resting bitch face plastered on.

"I made your favorite." He happily told you, but you still didn't seem to bat an eyelash at him, you simply turned around and began walking out.

"Wait Y/N come on. Here at least try some. It'll help you with your stress-"

"Can't you take a damn hint Seonghwa?! I don't fucking want it!"

When he tried to approach you with a spoonful of food, you actually snapped and slapped it out of his hand, making it stain his perfectly polished floor. Seonghwa looked at it then looked back at you.

"You know Y/N I think I put up with your bratty attitude and bitchy behavior for too long."

You gasped sharply when he suddenly turned you around and slammed you up against the table, grabbing your arms so he could hold them behind your back.

"Maybe I've been a little too nice to you....making you baths, preparing you food, all in hopes of helping you release stress....but its clear a little bitch like you doesn't need that."

You squirmed under his grasp, trying to get free but with no use as his grip was tight on you. The sound of him unbuckling his belt made you stop moving entirely, and you shivered when pulled your skirt up before ripping your tights and pushing your underwear to the side.

"Clearly a bitch like you needs a good pounding, fuck that attitude right out of you."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

You knew you were screwed the instant Yunho roughly pulled you off Mingi's lap and took you into his room, shutting the door right behind him before staring at you with fire burning through his eyes. You had never seen him so mad before.

No soon afterwards, you were currently on top of him, his hips bucking up at you at a relentless pace that had you screaming his name over and over again. His hands were practically digging into your skin, holding tightly onto you with such ferocity.

"Look at you, being so desperate for a good fuck that you'd actually try and whore yourself out to my best friend like a cheap bitch."

When one of his hands came up to grasp at your throat, you were shivering on top of him.

"Weren't you?! What! Is my cock not enough for you? My cock and these hands you love so much not satisfying you anymore? Hmm? Is that why you were all cuddled up to Mingi? Hoped he'd actually take pity and fuck you?"

You knew it wasn't your intention to make him jealous, but god if this is what jealousy did to him, you would totally do it again.

"Stupid slut. Mingi's not going to fuck you. You're just a dirty, filthy hole, he doesn't want you...."

Even after you came, you were still a crying mess as Yunho kept fucking up into you, not caring that you were beyond your limit, your inner thighs getting sore.

"But you're my little hole for me to fuck. Got it? And if I need to fuck you dumb to get it through that stupid useless brain of yours to understand that only I can make you feel this good, then so be it. I'll fuck you til you break, my little sex toy."

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang was not very pleased by your behavior lately. You had been giving him the silent treatment and avoiding him for no good reason. Trying to coax what was wrong out of you, he came up behind you as you were washing dishes.

"How's my little princess? Did you have a good day?"

He was only met with you elbowing him in the rib and shoved him off you.

"Ok seriously Y/N? What did I even do? Stop being so childish and talk to me like a mature adult."

Hearing you scoff and seeing you roll your eyes at him made him furious and irritated with you. As you tried to walk past him, he grabbed your elbow and picked you up, setting you down on the kitchen counter as his eyes burned a hole through you.

"If you're going to keep acting like a brat, maybe I should just treat you like one then."

You don't know if you truly regret breaking Yeosang's patience. On the one hand, you were definitely not going to be walking straight for a week. On the other, you utterly enjoyed having your face pressed against the pillow, ass up as Yeosang was shoving his dick in and out of you, red handprints scattered across your butt cheeks and hands tied behind your back with one of his ties. Everytime you tried to hide your face in the pillow to muffle your screams, he'd yank your hair up.

"I said I wasn't having you ignore me anymore princess. Now come on, scream my name. I want this entire floor to hear your pathetic whimpers."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San looked at you with an unamused gaze.

"Repeat what you just said.....I dare you to."

He was pissed off, it was more than clear. But maybe that's what you wanted, wanted him to be as pissed as you were, even just a bit of what you were feeling. It's not that you meant to take out your jealousy on him, but seeing his co-host be extremely clingy towards him backstage and he never did anything about it made your blood boil.

"I said you're nothing more than a fucking horn dog. Probably let that skank suck your dick." You exclaimed in disgust.

The sudden slam of his hand against the wall behind you both scared and thrilled you. Looking at you with a hungry smirk, he opened the door behind you, trapping you inside a closet. In minutes, he was pressing you against the wall, his frantic grunts mixing with your whimpered cries. San would occasionally let out a sadistic laugh at how wrecked you look.

"You're right baby, I am indeed a horn dog. Absolutely love getting my dick wet and fuck a pussy all the time."

Hand reaching between your legs, he began to harshly pinch and rub at your clit, his other hand that was holding onto your hip keeping you from collapsing on the floor as your orgasm took over you.

"But get this straight: I only fuck this pussy right here. Ok? I fucking claimed this a long ass time ago and I'll fuck it whenever I want to."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Ending the call with your friend, you were coming out of the bedroom when you were suddenly shoved back inside by none other than your usually caring and sweet boyfriend, who looked angry as he closed the door behind him.

"Mingi? What-"

You couldn't finish your sentence as his large hands cupped your cheeks, his long body pushing you back until you landed on the bed. He was kissing you harshly, nothing like the usual tender and loving kisses he'd be known to give you. His hands clutched at your covered breasts, groping at them before he unexpectedly tore your shirt in the middle.

"Mingi! What has gotten into you?!" You exclaimed in shock at his sudden change in behavior.

"I heard you talking to your friend. Saying shit like I'm too soft and vanilla for you."

You moaned out when he began to suck along your neck, his hands cupping your bra and pulling it down enough to have your breasts spill out.

"Oh princess if only you knew I've just been holding back all this time."

With a taunting chuckle, he pulled of you. Undoing his zipper, he began to strip out of his jeans and briefs, letting his long cock spring free, precum leaking at the tip.

"I didn't want to be selfish and break you like I wanted too....... but if that's what you want well then, I'd be happy to oblige my little princess."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Neither of you knew how it started nor exactly how it escalated. One minute Wooyoung was being the annoying shit he was, with you playfully shoving him away and calling him names, and then the next you were both pushing each other rather abruptly. When you called him a particularly degrading insult, he retaliated likewise and now it seemed like a screaming match between you two.

"You know what? This is fucking stupid!" You hollered and turned away, making a bee line towards your room.

"I'm not done yet!" Wooyoung trailed after you.

"Well I am! Now excuse me, I'm going to go take a shower and hopefully cool off this rage." You stated firmly before slamming the bathroom door right in his face.

The refreshing water seemed to calm you down a little, so you just stood there under the shower head, just letting your body soak in the cold. You were so unaware of your surroundings that you failed to notice Wooyoung had entered the bathroom and didn't realize it until you felt his arms turn you around to face him. No explanation, he just began kissing you, his tongue taking control over your mouth while one hand hiked one of your legs over his waist.

"Still think I'm an annoying bastard?" He grunted fiercely as he thrusted up into you, not giving you time to react as he began pounding into you.

"Yes you are!" You hissed at him, hands swooping his wet hair and tugging at it rather hardly.

He just looked at you with a shit eating grin.

"Yet you still let me fuck you. "

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

You were frustrated and stressed out, so was Jongho. Even as you two did your own little things inside the apartment, even the smallest things either of you did made the other let out an annoyed huff. It all culminated when Jongho accidentally spilled his cup of juice on the floor, that little action had you both looking at each other with near contempt.

"I feel like punching something." Jongho confessed.

"Me too." You admitted.

"Wanna punch me?" He offered.

Smirking at him, you thought about something better.

"No.... I think I'd rather fuck you."

So now here you were, underneath your inhumanely strong boyfriend, his cock balls deep inside you, your legs thrown over his shoulders while his hands were already leaving bruises around your inner thighs from how hard he was squeezing at them. You two had already cum several times but you still kept going, pushing past your sensitivity as you both still had a lot of rage and energy to release.

In a particularly sharp angle of his hips, you were quivering under Jongho, for the first time you were actually squirting under him.

"Oh fuck!" Seeing you break down and make a mess all over him and yourself had him cumming soon after, his body collapsing on top of yours.

Both of you were beyond exhausted after all that. Your bodies were so sticky with sweat and your breathing had not yet returned to normal. Looking over at you, Jongho smiled sincerely for the first time in days.

"So.... now that we got that out of the way.... can we cuddle?"

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Tf2 headcanons? Aw yeah! So let's say a new merc joins the team. They're a total asshole: Cocky, sarcastic, overconfident, refuse help. But both Spy and Scout see right through that, it's a defense mechanism. How do they go about making this person comfortable enough to not be an asshole?

*chanting* HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMF

Okay, jokes aside, this is one of my favorite tropes. Maybe I’m too naïve to believe that some people are just mean to be mean, or maybe it’s a sort of comfort to know that even the worst people can be understood, but either way, WOOOOOOOOO!

*****************

An Ass For An Ass

Headcanons

Scout:

To be honest, Scout’s threshold for asshole-ery is pretty high. Growing up with eight brothers will do that to you.

But when the new recruit came around, something immediately rubbed him the wrong way.

Recruit always stole his thunder with the crass jokes and over-the-top displays. Every battle turned into a competition, which messed with Scout’s system of fighting. He never had to focus much on his own team before, and now he had to worry about keeping his own reputation upheld while trying not to get stabbed, shot, or blown up.

Recruit also kept hitting on Miss Pauling - even after reminding them again and again that she was lesbian, and was not and never will be into dudes.

“Come on…you just haven’t been with a real man yet…”

“No, no, I’ve been with a lot of men. Real men. I just wasn’t into any of them. After a while, it was kind of obvious.”

But what really pissed a lot of people off was Recruit’s fighting style.

They were an absolute monster on the field - that’s why they were chosen - but every interaction was treated as some sort of survival scenario.

One would think that would be a good thing, but Recruit was ridiculous.

No matter what the situation was, he was fine, he was okay, he could take it, he could fix it.

He could be killed only inches away from a Medic because he would never yell for one. Sometimes Recruit would even show visible anger at being healed. It got to the point where Medic didn’t heal him at all, and just allowed him to die as to not waste time he could give too more grateful patients.

Missions were even worse.

He followed orders to a T, but Pauling had to beg him to leave a failed mission, or to leave without completely destroying the site.

Everyone just took it as Recruit showing off, or having something to prove as a rookie.

It was annoying, but ultimately harmless in most circumstances.

However, it all came to a head when Recruit tried disengage a sentry by himself and was severely injured.

Both Engineer and Medic, who had had to fix most of Recruit’s past and current recklessness, ripped him a new one, one chewing out after the other.

“What we’re you thinkin’, son?! One crossed wire and you woulda blown the whole base!”

“Zhe only reason you are allowed in my lab at all is because it’s in my contract. Personally, I vould have rather left nature to it…”

Since then, Recruit did exactly as he was told, and nothing else. And most of the team liked it that way.

But Scout recognized some warning signs immediately. Fatigue, near silence except for missions, self-isolation, snapping when people got too close…it all paved the way for a pretty nasty (and, for Scout, very familiar) result.

One night, Recruit was sitting on the balcony, and Scout came out with two bottles - a beer for Recruit and a root beer for himself.

(Scout can only drink on the weekends because one, unlike most, he can’t go to work hung over because his job requires a lot of movement, and two, he has no restraint and can’t stop once he starts.)

“What do you want?”

Scout shrugged. “Depends.”

“On what?!”

“What are ya willin’ to tell me?”

Recruit just looked at the beer and sneered.

“Can’t we just skip this?” Scout said. “Maybe get to the part where you tell me what kinda Sally Sob Story we’re dealin’ with here?”

Recruit looked away.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t tell me you don’t got one. ‘Cause you do. I can see it a mile away. So what happened? Pop leave? Somebody died? Lotta brothers and sisters? Ma had a few too many and smacked ya around?”

Recruit didn’t turn around, but Scout could tell he was crying. He had hit a sore spot. Hard.

“Hey, pal, listen…”

Scout trailed off, then slowly began again.

“…the only reason I know is ‘cause I’ve been through it, ‘kay? Outta everybody I knew, I only trusted me. And that was great when I did a good job, ‘cause I knew I put me there.”

Scout opened his bottle of root beer and took a long swig.

“But when I screwed somethin’ up, it’s like everybody I ever knew just let me down. The one thing I could count on was gone.”

Recruit looked at Scout with tears in his eyes.

“But ya can’t do everything by yourself,” Scout continued. “Believe me. I learned that the hard way.”

Scout laughed, but it was mostly to clear the air. He didn’t get serious very often.

Recruit hadn’t touched his beer, but was leaned over the balcony with his head in his hands.

Scout sighed and looked up at the stars.

“But here’s somethin’ that nobody told me - it gets easier, y’know that? You just gotta relax and cut yourself some slack.”

Recruit shifted uncomfortably. “But the Administrator said…”

“Yeah yeah yeah, I know what she said. Gave ya that whole speech about how bein’ part of the team means discipline and focus and whatever. It’s all bull crap. She don’t know the first thing about bein’ on the field. If she did, why’d she hire us?”

“Sh-she said my perseverance was an asset to the team.”

“Perseverance, my ass. You know what would be an asset to the team? Stayin’ alive for more than fifteen minutes!”

Recruit looked at his feet. He had blinked away his tears, but he still looked on the verge of falling apart.

Scout put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it a little.

“You’re a great fighter, Recruit. You’re one of the best…that’s why you’re here. You got nothin’ to prove to nobody. Not to me, not to the team, not to the Administrator…not even to yourself. You’ve made it, kid. You’ve made it.”

Scout slid his hand off Recruit and started to walk away.

“Hey.”

Scout turned to see Recruit in the process of opening his beer.

“Thanks.”

Scout smiled. “No problem, pal. Plenty more under Demo’s mattress.”

“No, I mean…for that. I needed that tonight.”

“Oh…yeah! Sure. Don’t worry about it.”

Scout went back inside and to his room - but not before checking the cameras on the balcony a few times. Just in case.

Over the next few months, Scout kept helping Recruit break some old bad habits.

Recruit learned to take criticism without getting angry, to leave tanked missions, and to take care of himself.

He still occasionally flirted with Miss Pauling, but it was now more of an inside joke than anything.

Recruit still isn’t perfect - he still cringes a little when he’s healed, and falls back into survival mode when times are stressful - but he is now a much happier, much healthier person.

Spy:

Spy’s asshole wasn’t a merc, per se.

They were more of an informant, usually giving out important facts about locations, missions, and a target’s history.

Sometimes they would even use the Administrator’s PA system to announce new rules and reminders.

This would be perfectly fine - after all, you get kind of tired of hearing the Administrator all the time - except for the fact that Informant was the most sarcastic, most nasally, most apathetic, most matter-of-fact person on earth.

Even outside of a work setting, which was rare because they stayed in their office most of the time, Informant would go out of their way to be as condescending as possible.

Especially to whoever they considered to be in the “less intelligent” category: Heavy, Pyro, Scout, Demo, and Soldier.

To all the “others,” he turned every briefing into a contest to see who knew more at any given time…which, of course, usually meant he won.

“Now, does anyone know where his address is? Come on, any takers? Yeah, I thought so.”

Unlike Recruit, which would only warrant a few grumbles here and there from the team, Informant was the subject of a lot of hissed complaints and terrible rants from even the calmest of members.

Informant was the only one who could get under Heavy’s skin - a personal pet peeve of his was being considered less intelligent or less of a human being because English wasn’t his first language, which Informant chose to remind him of constantly.

It began with a few simple jabs at his grammar or word structure, but once Informant figured out that Heavy wouldn’t hurt a fly outside of battle, the taunts grew more and more daring.

Heavy would usually ignore Informant, which would only exacerbate their need to be noticed. This led to some pretty nasty interactions - from spouting the statistics of Russia’s average intelligence to even saying Heavy was a disgrace to his country by being a literature major.

“How’s that Russian literature major treating you? You know - in America.”

Sniper and Medic had tried to set Informant straight, but Heavy refused to accept any help. This was something that was his to bear, and his alone. He knew that they both took their own helping of harassment.

But one day, Informant went a little to far.

He did the one thing you should never do: insult Heavy’s family.

“You mother and sisters can’t do anything more than wait for you. No wonder you’re the only source of income.”

Before he knew it, Informant was against a wall, struggling to breathe, blood running into his eyes.

Heavy walked away after the incident, and told Medic about it, but he refused to heal him. Informant had called Medic a Nazi on more than one occasion.

This, finally, is where Spy comes in.

Spy was walking by Informant’s office, when he heard a strange sound - barely suppressed hiccups and sobs.

Despite his aversion to displays of emotion, the promise of seeing one of his greatest enemies as their lowest was too amusing to resist.

He knocked lightly on the door, then slowly opened it - always the master of drama.

Informant was under their desk, bloodied and bruised, sobbing into their knees.

Spy entered noiselessly, sitting in Informant’s office chair and lighting a cigarette.

It was only when Spy made a dramatic exhale of the smoke that Informant looked up, tears streaking their face.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Spy finally spoke.

“Oh, how the mighty fall. Flown too close to the sun, have we?”

Informant couldn’t do much more than snivel and retreat farther below the desk.

“Who did it?” Spy asked. “I want to give them my regards…and maybe a bottle of wine.”

“H-Heavy…”

“Oh? Well, if anyone can bring him to blows, it’s you.”

Spy put his feet on the desk and continued to blow smoke out of his nose, thinking.

“It’s strange,” he said. “Most offices have at least a few pictures of family. A trip to the beach, perhaps the zoo…?”

He took a quick glance around.

“No children. No army mates. No graduation photos or a large catch at a local lake. The only personal item you have is this…”

Spy picked up a Rubik’s Cube. The plastic still around it crinkled.

“Unused.”

Informant looked at the floor.

“I like to keep my personal and professional life separate.”

Spy pursed his lips and squinted.

“How noble of you. But I don’t think that’s the case. You know what I think, Informant?”

Spy took his feet of the desk and bent down, looking Informant in the eyes.

“I don’t think you have a life.”

Informant’s eyes went wide for a moment, then his face immediately crumpled. Bullseye.

Spy smirked and got up from the chair, starting to leave.

Informant’s sniffling turned into sobbing, and before Spy could put his hand on the doorknob, muffled wailing filled the office.

Spy closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He was trying not to remember something. But the imagery was too strong.

He remembered hiding under a table, like Informant was. People screaming and cursing at each other in French. His knees all scarred and his nose runny from a cold that should have resolved weeks ago. Waltz music coming from next door, trying to drown out the fighting. Glass breaking. Biting his knuckles so he wouldn’t whimper or cry.

Spy’s hand closed into fist. He took a deep breath, and turned to face Informant again.

“But to be fair…”

He walked towards the desk, putting his hand in his suit pocket. He got on his knees and pulled out a pink handkerchief.

“…I don’t have one either.”

He offered the handkerchief to Informant, who put it to his face, still staring at Spy through red eyes.

The pair were silent for a moment, with Spy putting out his cigarette and lighting a new one while Informant cleaned themselves up.

“But the difference between you and I,” Spy said, his voice wavering a bit, “is that I am a Spy. If my information got into the wrong hands, it could be the end of me and my team.”

He tapped his cigarette on a nearby trash can, letting the ashes fall into it.

“But what are you hiding from?”

Informant took a shaky inhale, the handkerchief still covering his nose and mouth.

“W-what?”

“Why do you feel the need to be, as Scout puts it, a tier five jerkazoid?”

Informant sniffled. “I…I didn’t think I took it that far.”

“Took what that far?”

“I just…snrk…I thought that’s what I had to do to get them to take me seriously.”

Informant laughed, but their heart wasn’t in it.

“I’m five foot four with red hair and freckles. I look more like someone’s Andy doll than a contract killer. I thought maybe if I knew everything…I’d be worth it.”

They shrugged.

“At best, they’d be impressed. At worst, they would never get close enough to me to know the truth: the only reason why I’m here is because I can rattle off a few names and that I had good grades in school because I had nothing better to do.”

Spy’s chest ached. He didn’t know why, but it was a strange feeling to him.

“Mon ami…”

He cleared his throat.

“If half of the team is any indication, you don’t need to be Nikola Tesla to be hired. Hell, the fact you can read is an anomaly in itself. But there is something you must understand…”

Spy cleared his throat again. His voice had gotten quite unstable all of a sudden.

“Intelligence is measured in different ways. Scout could never read even the simplest of children’s books, but his physical intelligence - reflexes, spatial awareness, aim - is phenomenal. Medic would have to put my spine back together if I even attempted to do what he does on the field.”

Informant snickered at the joke, or perhaps the image it conjured.

“And me,” Spy continued. “I can speak almost any language, adjust to any social setting, charm anyone, fool anyone…kill anyone. Just like you, I can remember, and I use the information I absorb mostly to show how superior I am to all my lowly colleagues.”

Spy furrowed his brow and looked away.

“But I know less about myself than even my enemies. I have hidden it so deep within my mind that I can hardly remember…or perhaps would rather not remember…who I was before this mask of mine.”

Informant hesitated. “I…I’m sorry, Spy.”

Spy sneered and puffed a few smoke rings.

“I don’t want your sympathy. I want you to have some self-respect - and respect for my teammates. Because next time you are beaten within an inch of your life, you might catch me in a less generous mood.”

With that, Spy got up, reached into his suit pocket and presented a small MediKit, which he tossed to Informant.

“I’d suggest freshening up before going to any more briefings.”

Informant nodded, and set to work healing himself.

Spy started to leave, then stuck his head back in.

“And hang a few posters, would you? Your office looks like a prison cell.”

Finally, the Frenchman took his leave, adjusting his suit and nodding solemnly to the team members he happened to pass - or scowling at them, depending.

He glanced over the security feed, and once he was satisfied, made his way to his smoking room.

Spy closed the heavy oak door, poured himself a small glass of scotch, and sat down in his chair next to the fireplace.

He put a magazine on his knee and began to flip through the pages, but his gaze soon started to wander.

He closed the magazine, tossed it into the fire, leaned into his hand, and wept.

…So what became of Informant?

Well, after a reluctant heal from Medic and a few well-deserved apologies, Informant began to try and break the cycle of self-sabotage.

The process took a lot longer than Recruit’s did - especially since Informant’s transgressions were a lot more egregious - but, little by little, they began to heal.

A lot of the time, the other mercs would have to tell them to tone it down a bit, or to cut him off completely if necessary.

Informant still almost has a panic attack if he doesn’t have the right papers, and his office is still pretty bare, but he took Spy’s advice - a few AC/DC posters hang on the leftmost wall.

As for Spy, well…he needs to have a talk with Medic.

******************

I am so sorry…this is all so messy and weird. One is so much longer than the other, and I’m not even sure half the dialogue sounds right.

The two headcanons were just typed out at different times, the first where I had less motivation and the second when I had more motivation. This wasn’t on purpose, it just happened.

I hope you still like it, though!

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 292: You Say Jeans

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “well anyway here’s that Touya reveal I foreshadowed like a million years ago, viva la 2020.” Dabi was all “hello world, I’ve killed 30 people and today I’m going to explain to you all why” before he proceeded to explain ABSOLUTELY NOTHING but everyone was so distracted by his tale of child abuse and hero conspiracies that they didn’t much seem to notice. Can’t Ya See-Kun’s Shark Friend was all “IS THIS THE END OF HERO SOCIETY AS WE KNOW IT”, and Horikoshi was all “STAY TUNED”, and then Dabi set himself on fire and leaped off of Machia’s back like the chaotic evil, I-just-bleached-all-my-brain-cells weird little fire man he is, ready to burn everyone to crispy bits before they could even react properly to his whole big revenge speech. Fortunately he did not succeed on account of THE RETURN OF THE JING, THE JOAT, BEST FUCKING JEANIST, back from the dead by popular demand in what critics are calling “the best fucking comeback since Jesus himself.”

Today on BnHA: Best Jeanist snatches up Machia and the rest of the League with his fiber steel cables before you can say “more like BEAST JEANIST amirite.” Dabi gets all worked up and lights Hadou on fire which is a real JERK MOVE, and is all “THIS RIGHT HERE IS ALSO ENDEAVOR’S FAULT”, which, NOT SUPER CONVINCED ON THAT, BUT OKAY. Anyway so then he burns up all the cables holding him which is crazeballs btw, and then he and Shouto start fighting, and so basically the whole thing is a literal hot mess and we’ll see how that goes. Meanwhile Tomura wakes up and summons some Noumus, and poor Jeanist has to deal with those on top of the still-attempting-to-rampage Gigantomachia, and everyone else is all “we can’t help you on account of we’re all half dead”, and so it’s looking really bad. And then -- and I can’t stress enough how much I don’t even have the faintest idea how to segue into this next part -- the chapter ends with Mirio!?! just sort of POPPING UP OUT OF THE GROUND all, “SURPRISE, BITCH”, and it literally was so surprising that I am still just kind of speechless. WELL-PLAYED, I GUESS, lol wtf.

lol okay so the first page in the RHA scan is just the “three musketeers” movie promo image that we all already saw a few days ago. but it does confirm that (a) it is indeed a movie, and (b) that it’s set for a summer 2021 release! how exciting

okay so now back to our special Dabi edition of Making a Murderer

“ray of hope” oh hell yes. SAVE US MR. JEANIST

I guess he had a TV in his private hero jet or something?

gotta say, “dammit Dabi” does not even remotely sound like Authentic Best Jeanist Dialogue to me though. gonna need Caleb to see to this. well but what do you guys think? does Best Jeanist curse?? I personally feel like he’s one of those guys who NEVER EVER swears no matter what, except under the most hilariously trifling circumstances. like he’s eating an avocado one day and he accidentally stains the cuffs of his beloved jostume green and he’s all “FUCK”

btw how fucking rich is Best Jeanist though that he has his own fucking plane? the thought just suddenly occurred to me, you know? like even Endeavor, whose agency has its own on-site luxury apartment suites for all of his interns, still drives around in a dinky little car that Bakugou has declared to be too small. which, I guess we know why he felt that way now, seeing as the guy he previously interned with apparently gets around in Jeans Force One

anyway so back to the part where Jeanist shows up to save the day!! YEAH JEANIST WOOOOO

ILU JEANIST YOU REALLY ARE THE BEST!! HUGS AND KISSES!!!

lmao we just saw Gigantomachia take out like a hundred guys not ten chapters ago. and Best Jeanist shows up and takes him down in like two seconds. HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES LEAGUE OF VILLAINS. BET YOU’RE WISHING YOU’D TAKEN HIS QUIRK NOW, AFO. GET FUCKED YOU OLD SPUD

KACCHAN IS SO HAPPY TO SEE HIM AWW

SIDE NOTE, IIDA, YOU AND I ARE GONNA HAVE WORDS LATER ABOUT YOU ACTUALLY AGREEING TO PUT HIM BACK DOWN. YOU DO UNDERSTAND THAT THIS CHILD IS STILL DRIPPING BLOOD ALL OVER THE PLACE FROM HIS MULTIPLE STAB WOUNDS, RIGHT? WAY TO ASSERT YOUR AUTHORITY THERE. I THOUGHT YOU WERE THE CLASS PRESIDENT NOT THE CLASS CLOWN, COME ON NOW

LMAO DABI IS FRANTICALLY TRYING TO DO THE PLOT MATH

SHOULDA CHECKED MORE CLOSELY MY GOOD MARK. LOOKS LIKE YOU MISSED THE “MADE IN CHINA” STICKER ON THE BOTTOM. YOU HAVE BEEN BAMBOOZLED. OR ACTUALLY, I GUESS THE MORE ACCURATE WORD HERE IS JAMBOOZLED, AHAHAHAHA. JEANS

HOLY SHIT DABI

I legit almost thought that was Tomura for a second. you two look so alike now with the white hair and the crazy eyes

meanwhile, Shouto is still crying and it’s a lot to take, you guys. lotta feels

ffff come on Jeanist you better do something awesome again here, the mood of the chapter is starting to slip now

YES, GOOD, THAT’LL WORK

WELL YOU TELL ME, SPINNER. I GUESS THAT MEANS BEST JEANIST IS OFFICIALLY THE STRONGEST CHARACTER IN THE SERIES NOW. SORRY I DON’T MAKE THE RULES

ffff now Spinner is trying to wake Tomura back up. nah, how’s about we not do that

OH MY GOD HADOU YESSSS

MY GIRL OUT HERE WITH THE “NO THANK YOU” BOUT TO CURBSTOMP THE BIG BAD WITH HER QUIRK KSFHLKLK WHO HERE HAD “HADOU SAVES THE DAY” ON YOUR WAR ARC BINGO CARDS, YOU LOVE TO SEE IT!!

HEY!!!!

fucking son of a... fffkfkff... someone please reassure me that fire isn’t Hadou’s weakness. someone. anyone. also could someone please dial an ambulance and send them to Horikoshi’s house. but not just yet. first I’m gonna need you to wait about fifteen minutes or so while I take care of some things

well all right then, Dabi. so you wanna go on then and explain to us all how this, too, is somehow Endeavor’s fault?

oh I see, you’ve decided that since he’s responsible for “creating” you, everyone you hurt and kill is in truth really being hurt and killed by him! well now, that sure is convenient as fuck I guess

(ETA: that’s a nice effect with the panel sides getting all warped by Dabi’s quirk though, just noticed that.)

amazing how quickly you used up that sympathy card my guy. Shouto please kick his ass, I’m fucking done lol, you can all sort out the rest in therapy later

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE DIAL BACK DEKU’S EMPATHY STATS JUST A LITTLE BIT, HOLY --

“TODOROKI-KUN IS HURT THE MOST”, HE SAYS, WITH HIS ARM BONES SHATTERED INTO LITTLE TOOTHPICK-SIZED PIECES. I MEAN, HE’S PROBABLY TALKING MORE ABOUT MENTAL ANGUISH GIVEN THE CONTEXT HERE, BUT STILL. THAT’S ENOUGH HEROICS FROM YOU ALREADY FOR ONE DAY

NOOO JEANIST

LOTS OF SMOKE IN THE AIR RIGHT ABOUT NOW AND MY BOY’S STILL DOWN A LUNG. GOD DAMMIT

“if the number one suffers a total loss here, this country will fall to pieces” well okay, real talk though, I think the “country falling to pieces” part is pretty much unavoidable at this juncture. you all are just gonna have to try your best to pick up those pieces after the fact and see what you can do with them. if I were you I’d be less worried about the number one’s reputation and more concerned with the half-dozen child soldier interns who are still on the field and very much at risk of being burned to death should you suffer that “total loss.” please try to keep it together here for them

OH FOR FUCK’S

I really thought RockLockRock was gonna come into play here. USE YOUR QUIRK TO LOCK THE ROPES IN PLACE YOU DIP!! if he seriously just sits there and does nothing when his quirk could be the deciding factor I am cancelling his useless ass cute kid or no cute kid shfkjdls

(ETA: is he even there?? did he and Manual just hightail it out of there?? “well good luck, children.”)

also, we’ll put this aside for now to perhaps speculate about later, but what’s with Tomura remembering his dad’s house yet again in that far right panel?? and being itchy again?? I still have yet to fully work out the psychological mechanisms at work as far as his itchiness goes, so I’ll admit this is intriguing to me. it seemed like it was connected to his decay quirk, but then why is it acting up again now. what is this lol

yuh oh

forgot about these guys. looks like these heroes aren’t having such a fun time

oh fucksticks

excuse me ma’am but I don’t like this. you do know that my kids are all there, right. all burnt and impaled and broken-boned and the like. well except for Iida. he’s fine still. BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I FEEL LIKE WATCHING HIM GET TORN APART BY FOUR HIGH ENDS, WTF

HORIKOSHI YOU MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

god fucking... okay look. Horikoshi. you win, okay!? congratulations, you win, this is your show and we’re all just sitting here at your mercy. fine. go ahead and just kill off everyone ever, then!! what am I even gonna do about it. stop reading?? fuck

this whole thing really went from zero to fucked before I could even blink huh. I really thought this was gonna be a turning point chapter for the heroes. shows what I know I guess??

meanwhile this motherfucker is just SCREAMING

ngl, if I wasn’t currently terrified on account of things suddenly taking such a drastic turn for the worse, this would be the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Jeanist my man, I hype you up like it’s my job because you are the greatest fucking meme character in the history of time, but make no mistake, you are also highkey WORTH ALL THE HYPE AND THEN SOME

seriously, though. don’t fucking mind him you guys, he’s just standing here in the coolest pose of all time taking on Gigantomachia all alone with one fucking lung because the substance pumping through his veins is COLD-BLOODED LIQUID DENIM, and DENIM FEELS NO FEAR

Best Jeanist really needs to get his own theme song. -- oh my god I just finally thought of a title for this post. lmao and it’s the dumbest thing. omg

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKI BROS ARE OFF IN THEIR OWN DRAMATIC LITTLE FIRE WORLD

which one do you think is the Mario and which is the Luigi. well, but I mean, Dabi clearly thinks that he’s the Luigi though and that’s why he’s so mad. nobody wants to be Luigi. what a life

THAT’S IT, SHOUTO!! POINT OUT ALL OF HIS HYPOCRITICAL BULLSHIT, I WANT ANSWERS

JUST TO CLARIFY, IT’S THAT NATSU, NOT SOME OTHER NATSU!! SO WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF!!

OH, WELL IN THAT CASE

BUT OF COURSE. THAT WOULD MAKE IT ALL WORTHWHILE, holy shit. okay I’m just gonna go ahead and say it, Dabi is a piece of work. I really thought this arc would make him more sympathetic at long last, but it seems like it’s doing just the opposite?? this is like an anti-redemption arc. I don’t relish the thought of venturing into the fandom tags once I finish reading this lol

(ETA: well folks, I’ve done it. and actually it was pretty interesting because there are apparently like ten different things that people are mad about, and so it’s like. each post is a new adventure lmao.)

so Shouto is all “BRUH HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST IT” and Dabi is all “YES”, basically? like, he says he’s completely lost his feeling for anything. omg. but you were so sweet. how does that even happen

“finally I can kill you” okay for real what the heck is your damage bro?? can we not. I like Shouto just the way he is, un-killed

oh shit and now the Noumus are here

cue Bakugou diving in to save his mentor, STAB WOUNDS BE DAMNED!! actually it would make more sense for it to be Iida, but if Kacchan is really fixin’ to go full Shounen Dumbass here then he might as well go all out, y’know

-- unless of course, Deku decides to activate another quirk??

“last I checked, the main character of this series was still me” OH? WELL I SUPPOSE THAT IS TRUE, SO PRAY TELL, WHAT HAVE YOU GOT LEFT UP YOUR SLEEVE YOU SUICIDAL BRUSSELS SPROUT

fucking love how he’s all “HAHAHA WITH MY NEW QUIRKS I CAN STILL DO STUPID SHIT EVEN WITH MY ARMS AND LEGS GROUND TO A FINE POWDER” btw. what can I say. Deku gonna Deku

FMMFHDKUHK W H A T

HOLY SHIT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. WHAT THE WHAT. QUE THE FUCK

(ETA: okay look, all the love in the world to the brave scanlators who take time out of their lives to translate the leaks every week just so we can read the chapter a couple of days early like the addicts we are. that said, translating Mirio’s signature “POWER!!” -- which was already written in English in the original scan -- to “POG-CHAMP” is just a whole new level of wtfuckery from them lmao. is the Lida person back at it again?? amazing.)

MIRIO!?!?! SHOWS UP TO SAVE THE DAY?!?! POGS HIMSELF UP OUT THE GROUND TO BEAT THE NOUMUS LIKE IT AIN’T NO THING. JUST LIKE WE ALL PREDICTED!? I’M SORRY, DID YOU NOT SEE THAT COMING?? YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOUR DAILY HOROSCOPE FROM ASTROLOGY DOT COM DIDN’T HAVE THAT ONE IN THE CARDS?? WAS IT NOT OBVIOUS?? TODOROKIS PLUS BEST JEANIST EQUALS MIRIO??

hot damn. Tintin really saw the writing on the wall with the impending Dabi Discourse and was all “NOT SO FAST” lmao. “HERE’S A BRAND NEW THING FOR YOU ALL TO DISCOURSE ABOUT” MIRIO YOU WILD CHILD. YOU GLORIOUS THUG

MEANWHILE LET’S NOT FORGET WHAT MIRIO HAVING HIS POWERS BACK ACTUALLY IMPLIES. HOLY SHIT. SUDDENLY WE CUT BACK TO ALL MIGHT’S OFFICE, ALL THE WAY BACK AT UA. ERI BRANDISHES HER TOKOYAMI-GIFTED BUSTER SWORD, A DETERMINED GLEAM IN HER EYE. “I HEARD YOU WERE TRYING TO HAVE A GIRL POWER ARC WITHOUT ME.” OH. MY. GOD

[sinner-as-saint]

Cherries And Wine.

Sugar Baby!Seb x CEO!Reader

Requested.

Run-through: You meet a handsome young man at a bar, and together you embark on a somewhat unusual but exciting journey.

Themes: smut, fluff, sugarbaby!seb, age gap

“We don’t have to do anything too… risqué, if you’re not comfortable with it.” You said with a soft smile, then proceeded to sip on your red wine.

Sebastian smirked, setting his glass of cherry liqueur down and leaned back in his seat. “And what if I am absolutely comfortable with that?” he asked, his hands itching to touch you already.

You chuckled, “Well, you can have anything you want.”

You had met Sebastian in this very bar a few nights ago. He was shamelessly flirting with you, despite the age gap. So you exchanged numbers and texted for a few days, then decided to meet up again tonight. He was younger, and freshly out of university and currently job hunting. And you were financially stable, owner of your flourishing company and somewhat in need of a companion – but nothing too serious.

So you and Sebastian made an agreement; whereby you would take care of all his needs in exchange for his company.

-

Sebastian was quite interesting. Playful and sarcastic, but also sweet. And just after the first week together, you found out that you loved spending time with him. With him, and all his terrible jokes; you forgot all about work and the stressful days you had.

You paid off his student loans and got him his dream car within the next few weeks and he wouldn’t stop thanking you.

“Hey,” you cupped his face gently and stepped in between his legs as he sat on the edge of your desk in your office. His arms immediately wrapped around your waist. “That’s what I’m here for. To take care of you.” You explained, again, and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

When you pulled away to look at him again, he gave you the biggest smile ever and pulled you in for a hug. He pushed his face into the crook of your neck and mumbled a ‘thank you’ again. You slid your hand into his hair and kissed the side of his head.

“Anything else you want?” you asked softly, just as you had the habit of asking him all the time.

Sebastian pulled away and smiled, “You.” he answered and leaned in for a kiss immediately. You kissed him back. He tightened his grip around you and pulled you closer. You giggled through the kiss. He deepened the kiss and bit your lip.

You pulled away after a while and saw the hunger in his eyes. “Well you’re gonna have to wait. I have a meeting in a few minutes.” You spoke, running your fingers through his hair.

He sulked and groaned.

“Fine. I’ll see you at home.” He gave you another kiss and reluctantly walked out of your office. And you smiled as you watched him leave.

 You had offered to get him his own place the moment you found out that he had been living on a friend’s couch since he was out of uni, but he refused saying it was too much. Then you told him that he was welcome to use your guest bedroom. And he agreed immediately, and you two have been living together ever since.

He was quite an amazing roommate. Fun, and energetic and his smile and laughter was contagious. He made your days much livelier and better. He would always start out by sleeping in his own room, then each night, he would quietly walk into your room and slip under the covers; snuggling up to you. And you would always wake up in his arms.

It was comforting.

-

Sebastian soon began acting like spoilt brat. Not in a bad way, and definitely not just because of the money and all the nice things you bought him all the time – but he began getting insatiable with no matter how much attention he got. He was greedy regarding your attention, he wanted it all the time.

He didn’t care that you had a job; several branches of your company and so many employees to handle. He just wanted all your attention on him at all times, and he acted up when he didn’t get that.

 “Why won’t you talk to me?” he mumbled under his breath, sat next to you on the couch in your living room.

You were furiously typing an email because one of your workers had messed up something pretty bad and you had to fix it as soon as possible because you hated when things didn’t go your way. You were somewhat upset over the silly mistake of your silly employee, and on top of that Sebastian was being bratty since this morning. Whining and complaining about everything even when he had everything one can ever want. Part of it was your own fault, you had been spoiling him too much lately.

You heard him, but you were so engrossed in work that you forgot to reply to him. So he sighed dramatically, loudly. “Pay attention to me!” he whined again, inching closer to you.

“Hmm, what is it?” you spoke, sounding uninterested without even looking his way.

Unable to deal with the lack of attention, he leaned in and kissed your neck softly. He knew damn well it was your weakness, and you could never resist it. Sebastian smirked when he saw you stopped typing for a moment, but then resumed once you recovered from his unexpected soft touch.

“I want you.” he mumbled against your skin, moving your hair aside and kissed down the side of your throat, clearly preventing you from focusing on work.

“Baby,” you sighed softly, “I’m working right now, okay?” you kept your eyes on the screen in front of you, trying to finish this email as soon as possible because you had a hundred other things to do.

“So?” he sounded like he cared very little about the serious work you were doing. “I don’t care. I want you.” he said again, sucking and nibbling on your skin. And he didn’t miss the soft gasp which left your lips. He smirked when he heard it. “Now.” he added.

You sighed again as you felt him shamelessly slipping his hand under your sweater and toying with your breasts. He chuckled when he saw that you had stopped typing entirely. You couldn’t focus on work, not when he was acting like this.

“What do you want?” you sounded both tired and annoyed.

He frowned. “Hey, don’t use that voice on me.” He whispered against your skin and gently bit on the skin along your jaw. You closed your eyes and melted at his touch. It was really hard to resist him, especially now that he knew your body like the back of his hand, and he knew all your weaknesses.

“Sebastian…” you wanted it to sound like a warning but his name ended up sounding like a soft moan escaping your lips. He smirked again. “I have work to do, baby.” you tried escaping him and his needs but he wasn’t giving up.

“I don’t care. It’s your job to take care of me and my needs. And right now, all I want is you.” he kissed along your jaw up to your ear where he whispered again, “I need you.”

And that was it, you melted and gave in.

 Sebastian could be addicting. From his bubbly personality, witty jokes and comments to the way he let you take control in bed. Always obeying, and listening attentively to all that you had to say to him. He liked having you on top, he didn’t mind it. He liked how you playfully tortured him in bed, until he was a whimpering mess; begging for you to touch him and do what you will with him.

He liked how you would lean in to kiss him or look him deep in his eyes while you sank down on his cock and gently rocked your hips against his. You moved against him perfectly, your walls gripping him tightly and making him get louder and louder each time.

He liked how you put his needs first. Almost always – but not before teasing him. You often messed with him, you would slow down your pace whenever he got too excited, and you would speed up when he least expected it until he was nothing but a sweaty, moaning mess under you; messy hair, swollen lips, and a throbbing cock.

“You look gorgeous, baby…” you’d whisper in his ear as you teased him, making him whine and beg for you. He groaned at the sound of your sultry voice and he’d almost squirm under you. You giggled at his reaction and finally give him what he needs. What you both need. You fucked him good; making him cum in no time.

Your walls clenched around him; gripping him and milking him perfectly as you rode his sensitive, throbbing cock as he came – with you coming undone right after him. His heart raced, he breathed hard and fast as you fell limp on top of him. You kissed his chest, “You did so good, baby.” you murmured and he wrapped his arms around you immediately. Nodding at your words, but unable to speak as he gasped still.

-

Sebastian was just as addicted to you as you were to him. He liked being around you, you spoilt him – a lot. But also, he found himself liking you more than he intended to. He began caring a lot more, and also began getting more and more jealous whenever he caught you checking someone else out.

 “Why are you staring at him?” he asked once, while you two were out for date night at a really fancy place. Sebastian noticed you often looking over at the bar, and he followed your line of sight to find a handsome man at the bar, around his own age.

And he got jealous, and he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

You were surprised at the tone he used, but then felt ashamed after being caught. “I’m not,” you looked down at the menu and wine list, “It’s nothing.” You said.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at you. “Oh yeah? Why are you checking him out then?” he sounded jealous and you couldn’t help but smirk a little.

“I’m not. I’m just looking, I’m allowed to look at other people, aren’t I?” You clarified with a teasing smile and he frowned.

You thought he would drop it. But he didn’t. The minute you got home and into your bedroom, he followed you and pushed you against the wall. He stepped closer and you looked up at him to find that he wasn’t as playful as always. He looked irritated as he had you trapped between his muscular body and the wall.

“Hey, what-“

He cut you off.

“I don’t want you looking at other boys. You have me, you don’t need anything else. Or am I not enough?” he sounded both sad and pissed off.

You reached up and caressed his cheek gently. “Oh baby, you are enough. I don’t want anyone else.” You reassured him.

He smirked. “Good. Because you’re mine. And I’m not sharing.” He leaned in to press his lips to yours. Sebastian kissed you feverishly, passionately – as always, yet there was something different this time. Almost like he was showing you that you truly didn’t need anyone else.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you away from the wall. He walked the two of you to the couch. He would usually prefer the bed, but right now he was impatient and the couch was closer so he gently pushed you down on it and immediately got on his knees in front of you.

He locked his gaze with yours as he spread your legs apart slowly and slipped his hand under your dress. He dragged your underwear down your legs in no time. He pushed you down more, until you were lying on the couch with him in between your legs.

He lifted your dress up until it bunched around your waist and he proceeded to leave a trail of kisses along your thigh and inner thighs till he reached your dripping core. He looked up at you again as he kissed you right above your clit.

“You’re mine.” he whispered strictly, his warm breath hitting your damp core making you shiver. Your lips parted as you gasped when his tongue slowly circled your throbbing clit and licked down, parting your wet folds with ease.

He maintained eye contact as he touched you, tasted you, so intimately. Letting it be known that he was in charge this time. Usually you were the one in control in the bedroom, but not right now. Right now he intended to prove to you that you belonged to him and that you didn’t need anyone else.

Sebastian’s ocean blue eyes watched you in awe and how you lost control under his touch; legs shaking as he teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue. His arms wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you; making you whine. Your wetness and his spit drenched the lower half of his face. But he didn’t seem to mind it. His sole purpose was to make you come undone all over his tongue, and show you how good he could be to you.

Sebastian liked watching you whine and whimper under him; with your warm thighs wrapped around his head. Your taste drove him wild, so did your soft whimpers. Your hand flew to his hair and you tugged on it gently as he flicked his tongue over your clit over and over again. You threw your head back, moaning as he teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue.

It didn’t take much for you to come undone all over his tongue. With a few more agonizing but pleasurable stroked of his tongue, you came, gushing out on his tongue and he lapped up all that you gave him. He liked the sight of you moaning and whimpering wantonly above him, it gave him a surge of power

And driven by that same, newfound power he climbed on top of you, kissing you again and whispering all that he wants to do to you right in your ear. His words were sinful, and erotic and it only helped in adding to the wetness which was accumulating at your core. His words alone made you whimper and bit your lip.

And just like that, he took over you and your senses. He loved the control he had in the moment. Your hand reached in between the two of you to unbuckle his belt and lower his underwear again because you just needed him. You were eager. But he playfully smacked your hand and grabbed both of your wrists and pinned them down on the couch above your head.

The glare he gave you told you to keep your hands there. Your breathing quickened as your heart raced in anticipation. Sebastian wasted no time in undoing his pants, lowering his underwear and reaching down to stroke his cock, rubbing it all over your dripping core in the process.

You squirmed and moaned when he did so; the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your wet lips, parting them as he circled your clit gently. You shuddered under him; whining in need and the wet sounds. You were weak and needy already.

Sebastian smirked. “No one else is gonna fuck you better than I can, you hear me?” he spoke, gently guiding his cock over to your entrance and gently pushing inside you. He inserted his length entirely into you and shamelessly moaned right in your ear at how good you felt, wrapped around him.

Once you adjusted to his size, he sped up against you; rocking his hips against yours and his hand reached up to wrap around your throat gently. He stared into your eyes, speeding up again. “You’re mine.” He repeated, and leaned in to kiss your open mouth, shamelessly shoving his tongue past your parted lips and stroking the inside of your mouth.

You moaned again as he bit and licked the skin beneath your jaw, all while slamming into you relentlessly; stretching you out and pounding into you like his life depended on it. Sebastian was relentless, you felt a familiar pressure forming around your lower region. He quickened his pace and pounded into you harder than before, your legs trembled as you wrapped them around his waist.

“Fuck… you feel so good. This is where you belong, here with me…” his voice cracked as he whispered in your ear. He somehow sounded needy but in control at the same time, and it made you tremble under him. You felt your walls clench around him, and tightening around his thick member; making him swear out loud. With his words it felt like your roles were reversed, and you were fine with it. You like it when he was a little rough with you.

“Come on, cum for me...” he panted against your cheek, gripping your jaw with his hand. He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out his name as you came – hard.

Sebastian came right after you, groaning and panting as well. “Don’t you dare look at another man.” He mumbled, clearly still grumpy. You giggled at his words and wrapped your arms around him as he carelessly laid on top of you.

“I won’t.”

-

Time went by, and the two of you only got closer and closer. With the help of some of your close friends, you managed to get Sebastian his dream job and everything was going smoothly. Somehow, even without talking about it, you both knew that sooner or later, your ‘agreement’ would morph into something more solid. And neither one of you minded that in the least.

You decided to just let time do its thing.

Sebastian liked having you around more than anything. You made him feel warm and special and he bloody loved it. As for you, Sebastian felt like he was all that you were missing in life. He was good to you. 

[barnesbabee]

The Boss Doesn’t Like It || C.J

Summary: Don’t fuck around where you shouldn’t be.

Pairing: Choi Jongho x Reader

Words: Bruh ngl it’s long as fuuuuck :/

Genre: Smut, Angst

⚠ Mafia!au, metion of drugs, mentions of blood, usage of guns, degrading, spanking, hair pulling, dirty talk, thigh kink ⚠

A/N: This is for the lovers of the Mafia!au then. Enojy 💖

ᴄʀ: ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱʙᴀʙᴇᴇ

    His hand flew across your cheek, and an incredible, stinging pain spread through your face.

    “I’m gonna ask this one more fucking time, and you better answer properly, or else…” The dark-haired male pulled a gun from his thigh gun holster.

    He pressed the cold barrel to your temple harshly, forcing you to slightly cock your head. You were trying your best to remain calm and not seem pathetic, but you couldn’t help and freak out a little over the gun pointed at your head. Breathing was suddenly hard and small beads of sweat rolled down your forehead.

    “I’ve fucking told you three times. I don’t work for anyone. You got the wrong idea, it’s not my fault.”

   It was entirely your fault. You should have told your drug dealer to fuck off, that he was going to deliver them to you in a reasonable place and that you sure as Hell wouldn’t step into that part of the town, but of course your thought process didn’t go as far as considering the consequences of your dangerous actions.

    The very second you stepped foot into the dark street decorated with used syringes, broken glass and rusty knives, you were knocked out by a harsh blow to the head. You woke up tied to a chair, in a cold, cement room that had nothing but a table with pristine tools on top of it, that, to be honest, scared the living shit out of you.

    The tall mal smacked you with the gun barrel, proceeding to shove it back where he had taken it from. You winced at the pain, and soon after felt the warm blood.

    He turned his back, visibly infuriated by the response, and walked towards the metal door.

    “She doesn’t leave.” He told the man standing outside, just as he walked away from the scenario.

   The door was slammed shut with a loud noise. You finally let yourself break down, and never-ending tears streamed down your face as you bit your lower lip to try and suppress your sobs. You felt like puking. You felt claustrophobic because of the tight ropes you couldn’t wriggle out of.

    Suddenly, just as you were about to lose hope, your eyes landed on the tool table. The scalpel. You looked towards the door and started conjuring a way out, before they eventually killed you, or made you bleed to death. If you tried to move closer to the table in your current situation, the chair would creak against the floor and the man outside would hear you. He had to be gone… But how on earth would you be able to do that…

   An idea popped into your head, and you remembered your previous thoughts.

   You felt like puking.

   You bent over in the chair so that the ropes would be pressing tighter against the mouth of the stomach, triggering your gag reflex. You immediately started salivating and gagging in the air, loudly.

   The man outside heard this and burst inside immediately. He saw you hunching over, salivating onto the floor. The male gripped your hair and forced your body back to his original position. He removed his hand and approached his face to yours.

   “Boss doesn’t like his shit messy, so if you puke you’ll clean it right back up”

   You took the proximity of your faces as the perfect opportunity. You swung your head back and smashed it against his nose as hard as your body allowed you to. The man stumbled back and, by pure luck (for you), hit his head on the pipe behind him, and fell to the ground unconscious. 

    You wasted no time in grabbing the scalpel once you had gotten close enough to the table, and started by undoing the ropes around your wrists, then around your torso, and finally around your feet. Before you fleed the room, you rummaged through the man’s body until you found a gun. Did you know how to use it? No, but you felt safer with it in your hands knowing that probably everyone you’d run into had one of these with them.

    You blindly made your way through the halls, just praying to God that wherever you were going lead to a way out. Surprisingly enough, you were able to escape the building. The gun immediately slipped from your hands the second you stepped into the outside world and you ran away like some monster was out to get you. You didn’t stick around to hear the boss’ angry yell when he found that some mere girl was able to knock out the man whose specific instructions were to not let you out, and then escape. 

   He was beyond furious, because you had beat him. And no one beats Jongho. He swore on his life he’d find you and bring you back, and then he’d decide your fate.

   Enveloped with fear and paranoia, you barely left the house the following month, only when it was absolutely necessary. But as time passed, and as the weeks went by, you felt safer, the crazy thoughts washed away and you felt like you could start living your life again. Slowly your life began coming back, and as a celebration, one night, you hesitantly left your apartment and made your way to the club as a way of cheering for your returned freedom. 

    As the night went on, you started becoming more free and careless, living the party. Every shot you took was like piecing back together your confidence, and you eventually let go of your worries as the music played through your body. 

   The third song since you had been on the dance floor started playing, and you felt a pair of hands encircle your waist and pull you closer. Your back hit their chest and for a second you were worried and a little anxious, but when you glanced over your shoulder to see the person’s face, you were pleasantly surprised. You smiled at the good-looking, red-haired stranger and he replied with a smirk.

    “Hey pretty.” He whispered in your ear.

   Instead of replying, you began moving your body once more, swaying your hips to the music, making sure your ass was grinding against his crotch. His grunts and small squeezed were an incentive to keep going, and you gladly did.

    He lowered his head, so his lips would be leveled with your right ear.

    “What do you say we take this somewhere else, beautiful?”

   You turned around and encircled his neck with your arms. You placed a long, teasing kiss on his plump lips and pulled away right after, wanting to give him just a taste of what awaited him. 

    “Let’s go?” You asked, stepping away from the male’s body. 

   He answered your question by placing his hand on your ass and squeezing it, while he lead the two of you out of the crowded club. 

   Your legs were a little wobbly as you tried to keep up with the pace of his long legs. Your eyes wandered around the place you were heading towards. It was… odd. It was very dark and it seemed empty, compared to the rest of the city. A chill ran down your spine and you decided to walk a little bit behind the stranger, as you started feeling the fear creeping up again. You wanted to ignore it, because it was most probably still remains of your previous fright, but you couldn’t shake it. When the male grabbed your wrist and pulled you into an alleyway, you stopped being scared and became terrified.

    Everything was dark, but you could make out three figures standing in front of you.

   “W-what’s going on?” You asked and gulped.

   Your mind immediately went to the worst-case scenarios: kidnapping, sex traffic, you name it. Your legs were visibly shaking, until a car’s headlights turned on. Your body froze and you covered the light with your hand for a second, as it was too blinding. When you moved your hand and looked at the men standing in front of you, you became unable to think. There stood the male you had been avoiding for months, the man you swore you were safe from. 

   Your heart beat a million times per second, it felt like it was going to jump out of your chest at any second and breathing became hard.

   “Good job Mingi.” He said, in a stern voice to the man beside you. 

   You watched as the stranger that you had been following up until now nodded his head and joined the other men in front of the car. 

    The male you tried to avoid started stepping towards you, and, just as he opened his mouth to say something, you felt dizzy, and you suddenly felt light. It was all too overwhelming, too terrifying, and you couldn’t take it. You didn’t remember anything else, but the cold feeling of the floor as your body collapsed.

    You woke up, cold and uncomfortable. You tried to move, but you were obviously restrained by something. Your head was pounding, and for a second all you remembered were the insane amount of shots you took. When the rest of the memories hit you, however, your eyes shot open and you sat up, wherever you were. You moved a little too quickly and so your vision became blurry for a second, but that didn’t stop you from frantically looking around the room, trying to make out where you were.

     Oh great...

    One of your hands was handcuffed to the pipe in the room you had once been tied in a chair, except this time the tool table was nowhere to be seen. You cursed yourself for being so naive the previous night and following that stranger into this mess… 

    Whoever you were dealing with was smart, that much you could deduct. They must have been following you for weeks, tracing you and camping outside your home for the longest time, and you hadn’t even noticed. You shivered at how terrifying that was.

    Long streams of tears escaped your eyes, and you honestly couldn’t tell if they were from the stress, fear, desperation, or sadness. You reached your free hand up to your cheeks and wiped the tears. You looked at your fingers after your face was dry and saw all of the black mascara smeared on them.

    “I’m gonna die ugly I can’t believe this…”

    And so you began to cry once more at the thought of death. 

   The big door burst open and slammed against the wall. A red-haired male you recognized from the previous night approached you holding a key and knelt down next to you, beginning to undo your handcuff. The memories of what he had done to you hit you like a truck, and the shame and fury bubbling inside of you couldn’t be contained. You gathered all of the courage you had in you (which was not much at this point) and spat in his face. Straight between his pretty, cat-like eyes.

    “Asshole.” 

    He looked at you with a threatening expression and you cowered a little in your spot. The male cleaned the saliva on his face with the sleeve of his sweater.

    “I was doing my job.”

   You rolled your eyes and let yourself be pulled up by the man after he had uncuffed you. You didn’t try to run, you weren’t completely dumb and you were totally aware that not only was he much stronger, he was probably much faster too. 

   He pulled you along for a couple of meters and up a flight of stairs until you reached a pair of big, dark wood doors. The man opened the door, threw you in, and slammed it close, leaving you in there to your own fate.

   “You know….”

  You stopped facing the door and turned around to look at the familiar voice’s owner. He was wearing a white button-up shirt with his sleeves rolled up, tucked inside a pair of black jeans. The male seemed to miss the point of a button-up shirt, as it was very much ‘buttoned-down’.

   You watched each of his moves carefully and warily, as you were a little concerned about what awaited you. 

   “I’m very curious about how you managed to escape. Yeosang won’t tell me, admittedly because he must be very embarrassed a girl we came to find out is just a university student managed to knock him out and escape,” He paused, sipped on his whiskey and walked towards you, until you were chest to chest “ and I’m very, very, interested in your little endeavor.”

    You pushed him away with your index finger, very disturbed by the proximity. He looked at your finger curiously, and honestly amused about the way you behaved before someone who owned several guns and had threatened you before with one. 

    “I used my head, okay? Just kill me or torture me or do whatever you’re going to do, get it over with.” You didn’t want to go any farther.

    Jongho shrugged and leaned against his desk, crossing his arms in front of his chest in the process. 

    “You know princess, the problem is, I don’t know what it is that I’m going to do to you…”

   You looked at him confusedly, what kind of gang member was he? Did they just spin the wheel to decide what to do?

   “What is that supposed to mean?...” You question, crossing your arms as well.

   “What’s your name, princess?” 

   The pet name left his lips in such a natural way that you couldn’t help but like the sound of it.

   “You can just keep calling me princess.”

   Jongho chuckled and smirked, absolutely in love with your fierceness. Perhaps it was bravery, perhaps it was stupidity, but whatever it was, Jongho had never seen it in a woman and he was stunned, to say the least.

    “I like you, princess. I like the way you behave. You came into this side of town, got captured by Mafia members, got threatened by their boss and didn’t give a fuck, proceeded to knock down one of them, left the building, then you were caught again and now you’re here,” He approached you once more, this time taking your chin in his hand and tilting your head up to look him in the eye properly “talking down to the Boss.”

    You shivered in place, but maintained your confident posture. Jongho chuckled, his gaze never leaving yours.

    His eyes traveled along your body, followed by his hands that explored your curves shamelessly. 

    “I might just need to give you a punishment for being such a brat…”

   “You’re a lucky one.”

   You looked at the tall man that lead you to a random room you hadn’t been told what it was. 

    “How am I lucky?”

   He glanced at you as if you were stupid and chuckled.

   “Jongho took a liking to you, he’s invited you for dinner, pretty. You’re lucky you didn’t get on his bad side after what you did… My best guess was that you were going to die, in the best-case scenario.”

    You swallowed dryly, a little thankful for having a future to look upon. 

    “Here it is, fix yourself, you look like shit.”

    You scoffed at the tall male and entered the room. It was an enormous bathroom, marble-decorated bathroom. You looked yourself in the mirror, fuck, you did look like pure shit. Disheveled hair, runny makeup, and torn up dress. You questioned Jongho’s taste in women for a second…

   Your thoughts came to a halt when you saw white fabric sitting on the counter right beside you. It had a small, handwritten note. You picked it up to read it.

   ‘Wear this tonight, if it doesn’t fit you can wear nothing ;)’

   How long ago had he planned this!?

   Nonetheless, you stripped from yourself and cleaned your face the best you could so you could slip on the white dress without staining it. You had to admit, Jongho knew how to dress women well. The dress was absolutely stunning: it was a white, off-shoulder dress with a v-neck and a pencil skirt. 

    You fixed your hair quickly and made a braid out of it with the hair tie that was always on your wrist. Admittedly the dress was a little tight, but it was better than the other option.

    You opened the bathroom door once you were done and found the same tall, blue-haired man waiting for you.

    “Ready?”

   You nodded, and he silently lead you through the halls to what you supposed was the dining area.

    “Behave, Jongho isn’t as friendly as he looks.” The tall man advised before opening the door.

   He pushed it open for you to enter. Before getting in you looked over your shoulder.

   “Jongho seems to enjoy it when I misbehave.”

   You winked and finally stepped into the dining room. Jongho was already there, now in black dress pants instead of his previous jeans, looking outside of the building.

    When he heard the door close, he turned around.

    “Princess, you look beautiful. Although I have to say I’m a little disappointed you didn’t choose option number two.”

    You smiled at the cheesy joke and joined him looking at the pretty sunset. 

    The male noticed how the dress hugged your body, and suddenly the most beautiful sight wasn’t the sunset.

    Jongho’s eyes were glued to how well he could see every single of your curves through the dress. Your big bust, your wide hips, your thick thighs… The man grabbed your hips and pushed you against the wall, trapping you between it and his body. You were a little taken aback at the sudden movements.

    “You know, I don’t think I can wait until after dinner, I might have to punish you now.”

    “Wait but-”

    “Y/N,” He paused, and his tumb caressed your lower lip “you misbehaved, you’re lucky you’re not dead.”

   He did know your name. Of course he did…

    “Although depending on what your sexual preferences are, you might wish I had just killed you after what I’m going to do to you.” 

    You had never felt like this. You had never felt the urge to become this submissive to anybody… Excitement took over you and every trace of discomfort evaporated as you gave into his touch.

    Jongho noticed the shift in your behavior and smirked. He swung you over his shoulder, as if your body was made out of feathers, and made way for his bedroom. You were surprised at how easily he lifted you, and you couldn’t help but imagine how effortlessly he could maneuver you.

    Once he’d reached the bedroom, he closed the door with his foot and threw you on his king-sized bed. You watched him undress from his shirt at the speed of light before hovering over you, each leg beside your waist. One of his hands held him up while the other caressed your thigh.

    “I can’t fucking wait to take you off of this dress.” He whispered.

   Your hands caressed his arms, feeling and squeezing his biceps that you now loved. 

   “Why don’t you then?” 

   His eyes turned a darker shade and his hands immediately gripped the hem of your dress and peeled it off of your body. The tight fabric gave you no space for a bra, so as soon as you fell back on the bed, your boobs bounced on your chest, and Jongho’s cock hardened.

   He gripped both of your tits in his hands.

   “No bra? Such a fucking slut… Practically begging to be fucked.”

   He lowered himself so his lips could meet yours in a harsh, sloppy kiss. Your spit mixed with his as your tongues fought for dominance in a fight you were sure to lose. Jongho pinched your nipples, causing you to whimper and buck your hips. As you did so, your crotch rubbed against Jongho’s, making him groan into the kiss.

   He pulled away from the kiss and attached his lips to your neck, pampering it with kisses until he found soft spots. He bit down of them and sucked harshly, then making sure to lick around the place that would be marked soon enough. As he worked on your neck, his hand teased your clothed pussy.

   “I’m gonna fuck you so well princess, I’m gonna make you scream my name.” He said against your neck.

   You chuckled and sucked in a breath.

   “Are you sure you can do that?”

    Jongho’s grip on you grew tighter and he locked eyes with you for a second. The look in his eyes told you you’d struck a nerve, and you felt satisfied with yourself. Jongho’s fingers pulled your panties down and threw them on the floor of his bedroom.

    The man undid his belt and pulled down his zipper so he could strip from his pants. Then, in one swift movement, he wrapped his arm around your waist, sat on the edge of the bed, and placed you on his bare thigh. The feeling of your naked core against his skin alone made you hiss.

   Jongho grabbed your ass and spanked it harshly.

   “Ride it.”

   You looked at him as if the instructions were unclear, and he slapped your ass once more.

   “I’m gonna make you ride my thigh until you beg for my cock you fucking whore.”

   He gripped your hair and brought your face closer to his. You whimpered in pleasure when you felt his fingers tug on your hair.

   “You like this? Hm? Let’s see if you can take it, start moving baby girl.”

    Your hips started rocking slowly against his hips, but his big hands on your ass forced you to move faster. Jongho teasingly flexed his thigh against your core, and he could feel the wetness spread on his thigh. 

    You started moving faster looking for a release, but you knew it wasn’t enough, you needed more of him, you wanted more of him. 

   Jongho saw the desperation in your face as you gripped his shoulders and sunk yourself harsher and faster on his thigh. His hands gripped your ass tighter, as he wanted to push you to your limit, he wanted to hear you beg for him, and eventually, you gave in.

    “Jongho… Jongho please I need you.”

   He hummed, not quite please by your words.

   “You need me doing what? What do you need me for?”

   You held back a moan as his thumb found its way to your clit.

   “I-I need you fucking me. I need your cock in me Jongho.”

    Finally happy with your begs, Jongho picked you up effortlessly and pushed you down on his bed. He slid down his boxers, letting his cock hit your bare pussy. You whimpered at how big he was.

     Jongho ran his tip along your folds, teasing your clit with it for a second.

    “You want my cock? Hm? Do you want my cock in you my little whore? Beg for it.” He demanded. 

   You gripped the sheets in anticipation and looked up at him.

   “Please Jongho, please fuck me, I want you in me.”

   With no further notice, Jongho pushed into you. He thrust his hips into your body almost in an animalistic way. The headboard hit the wall violently but you couldn’t hear it, you were too focused on Jongho’s grunts as he fucked into you. 

    Jongho squeezed your sides, loving the way his fingers dipped in your skin.

    Your hands landed on Jongho’s biceps once more, squeezing them. You loved the way he looked so fucking big on top of you.

    He slapped your inner thigh and you whimpered at the pleasurable pain. 

    Jongho hit such a deep spot inside of you, even if you wanted to you couldn’t hold back your squeals and moans. Jongho gripped your waist and flipped you, so he’d be sitting on the bed with you riding him. He just loved to hear the way your ass slapped against his things.

    Your fingernails dug into his shoulder blades as you felt your orgasm building up.

     “J-Jongo fuck… You feel so good…”

    He smacked your ass once more and picked up the pace once he felt your walls tighten around his cock.

    “Cum for me princess, I wanna hear you.”

    You lasted about six more seconds before your body gave in. You slammed down on his cock one last time before an overwhelming orgasm washed over you. You hid your face on the crook of his neck as your whole body shook and you cried for his name. 

   Seeing your bratty, snappy figure crumble like that made something twist inside Jongho, and the final tight feeling of your hole clenching around him threw him over the edge. He shot his warm, thick load inside of you, filling you up to the brim. 

   Neither of you moved, you just sat like sat catching your breaths for a couple of minutes. You only lifted your head when you heard him chuckle. You gave him a puzzled look, and the male ran his hand up and down your back as he planted a kiss on one of the hickeys he’d given you.

    “I think I want to keep you for myself.”

[spookyswhore]

What You Gonna Do When They Come for You? (Oscar Diaz x Reader)

Summary: Creating a new life from Freeridge may have been more of a nightmare than a blessing. After a life altering decision, what you gonna do when they come for you?

Word count: 2.7k

Author’s Note: this is a request from @tinnadh7 , hope you like. Sorry I’ve been away for so long between graduating and going to college everything has been stressing me out lol

Freeridge still looked the same as it did before you left. Shit, it even smelled the same too. Cigarettes, alchohol, and 15 years later, you were now back in town after your move to New York. Right after your high school graduation, you moved out of state to New York to pursue your dreams of becoming a detective. Watching crime shows like The First 48 and Cops (and singing very passionately to the theme song) only put that final nail in the coffin and cemented your decision to become a part of the police force. Now here you were sitting on your older sister’s couch, a glass of wine sat chilled in your hand and you were clad in a sweater and some sweats with your hair in a ponytail. She lived in Brentwood, maintaning the life you were struggling to build, on your end. Her huge house, quiet neighborhood, and peace were all some things you wanted to acquire at some point in your life. That point is just not now.

"What are you doing here?" Your sister asked. By the tone of her voice, you could tell she wasn't exactly the happiest to see you. After you left, you lost contact with everything and everyone that was involved with Freeridge, which didn’t really sit right with her. After all, family was everything.

“I need somewhere to stay…” You said. You silently hoped that she would let go the grudge she held against you for the last 15 years and not be petty enough to not accpet her sister into her home. You both were raised on ‘Family First’ and you had no idea whether she was going to go against all that you were raised on.

“I’m not going to stay here forever. I just- I just need somehwere to lay low for a few days. I’ll find an apartment. I did something bad and not I’m in some shit that I can’t really explain right now..” You said as your pleas began to fade. You so badly wnated to fill your sister in all of the stuff that happened in the time that you were gone but right now you had no idea what to do and you didn’t want to put her or her newborn in jeopardy.

“Aren’t you some cop or something. Do that stuff that you guys do and you’ll be fine.” She said, completely dismissing you.

“It’s not that simple. I know you don’t really like me right now but just, please, can I stay here? I won't be in your way. I just need a little bit of time to figure this shit out.” You teared up as your voice broke. You hated the unknown and you were really scared of the shit you were caught up in and you didn’t know if you were going to make it out alive.

Your sister took a deep breath. You could see her internal dialogue spread across her face as she tried to decipher whether she’ll let you in or not. After a hot second, she shook her head of her thoughts and looked at your distraught state.

“Yeah. Sure. But I swear if you bring this shit to my home-.” You cut her off.

“I’m not. Thank you.” You got up and hugged her. “Now..” you smirked at her. “Can I meet my nephew?”

She laughed at your question. “Yes you can.” You followered into his room and never seen or experienced anything so heartwarming. The way his little beady eyes gleamed at you and the way his tiny little hand wrapped around your finger just melted your heart completely. She then showed the extra room she had, where you’ll be staying you thanked her again, bringing her into a teary eyed hug.

~

You woke up at noon with a sweat. The events that led you to your current state plagued your mind and your dreams as you slept and only left you a wet mess, breathing heavily in anxiety. You threw the covers off of your sticky body and trekked youself towards the bathroom and noticed your sister set you up with a fresh set of clothes throughout the night. Silently thanking her, you made a mental note to get a job and save up enough money to get you a whole new wardrobe, seeing as you literally had to get up and go and you were going to be in Freeridge for a while. Once you finished showering, you threw on the fresh set of clothes. In the middle of doing your hair, your stomach made the iconic sound that everybody loves and knows to be a whale call, indicating that you have eaten in the last 36 hours. Between spending money for transportion and paying for food at any diner that was closest to you, you were flat out broke. You began to walk down the spiral staircase, taking note of the white marble and planning to put it in your “future house items’ list. Only hearing the sound of your footsteps as you drew closer to the fridge, it was only right that you assumed you were the only person awake right now, not knowing that your sister’s husband had to get up this early too. Only difference was… he had a job. Rummaging through the fridge with a piece of toast after what seemed like two minutes, at least to you, you were startled by a deep voice.

“Excuse me? Who are you?” He said. You moved your eyes quckly side to side, trying to conjure up a response good enough to not make you look stupid.

“Uh, who are you?” You said, straightening up from being bent over in half, with a gallon of orange juice in your hand.

“I...” he said as he took a few steps closer, “...am Melissa’s husband. Now again who-”. He got cut off by the deadpan tone of your sister’s voice.

“Sean, who are you trying to intimidate now- oh.” Your sister’s words get cut off as her eyes land upon the situation she was absolutely dreading between her sister and her husband. She thought she would be able to put it off and hide her sister long enough to come up with a reasonable explanation to explain to her husband as to why there’s an extra person in this house.

“Yeah. Oh. Who is this?”

“This is my sister.” She said, taking long strides to stand next to you.

“Sister? You never told me you had a sister.” You stood there very awkwardly looking between your sister and her husband. Melissa started fiddling with her fingers and you saw the gears start rotating in her brain. So, calling onto your sisterly duties, you decided to relieve your sister of the stress and explain the long story yourself. After a lengthy 5 minutes, a dark grey cloud of silence loomed over everyone. For a second, you saw a look of pure rage engross her husband’s face but maybe it was your paranoia. Your sister and her husband looked at you, eyes wide in disbelief but you didn’t stay long as you turned and and made your way out of the door. You needed some fresh air anyways. Your legs took you farther and farther away from the house as you made your way towards somewhere that wasn’t the cringey feeling that encapsulated your sister’s home.

Great apprehension crept up in your body as you grew closer and closer to a home you’d never thought you’d see again. The memories you made with the Diaz residence when you were younger flooded your mind. The sexual thoughts you held sacred in your mind about Oscar had gotten interrupted by Oscar’s tall frame standing in front of you. During the time that you were friends, you developed a bit of a crush that only you knew of. It was imperative that you, in the name of the wellbeing of your family, would never get romantically involved with Oscar. With him being this infamous gang leader, it would just end very badly for every loved one in your life. As much as you saw through his machismo exterior and saw him as the loyal, caring, protective man, all of that had to be thrown out of the window as you stood in the present.

“What are you doing back over here?” He nodded. Not being the shy, little high schooler you once were, you sized him up, matching his intimidation. But don’t get yourself wrong, the rapid beating of your heart and the throbbing in your core was almost enough to have you start seeing wedding bells.

“You know, I REALLY don’t think that is any of your business. Bold of you to question me, isn’t it? Got a problem?” Your cop instincts kicked in as you and Oscar stood with your eyes locked with each other. His eyes faltered for a bit in defeat then darkened with what you assumed to be lust. It was then that he didn’t respond but let off but a smirk, small enough for you to see, as he walked away. Shaking your head of your thoughts, you noticed Cesar and the rest of the Santos burning holes in the side of your head. Offering a quick smile and a wave to Cesar, your face dropped as you mindlessly wandered, again, around the streets of Freeridge.

~

Day turned into night as you made your way back “home”. As you opened the door, the scene that laid out in front of you. There were broken items everywhere. The table, the vase that sat on top of the island in the kitchen, basically anything that can be within arms reach. Then, your eyes jolted to your sobbing sister on the floor, surrounded with the shambles of the house that once was.

“Melissa. What the hell?”

Her head shot up in shock and the mascara-laced tears that so deplorably ran down her face left you in utter shock. You immediately ran to kneel beside her and took the bottle from her hands. You proceeded to ask her what happened during the time that you got some air. As she told you what transpired, everything in the room started to turn red. Anger quickly simmered inside you like some meat in a pressure cooker as the maroon-colored richness that only resembled blood made it’s way into your pupils. Never in a million years would you have believed that life would put you in a situation where your sister is in some deep shit and you would be there by her side. But this was the card that you were dealt. You didn’t have much info on what was going on but you definitely knew you and your sister had to get out ASAP. Something told you that something, or someone rather, is bad. Thoughts on the many ways you were going to kill your sister's husband flooded your mind as you helped your sister up. You told her to wait outside for you while you went to go get her baby to make sure he was safe.

"Yes, baby, it's okay. Shh." You cooed. Your nephew was starting to awake from his sleep and you knew it was a matter of time before he would begin to cry. You grabbed as much stuff as you could--the essentials--and made your way to join your sister outside. The cool night air hit y’all as you came to a dreadful realization.

"Shit."

"What?" Your sister asked.

“We have nowhere to go.” You replied, swaddling the baby on your chest. You racked your brain trying to figure out who the hell in Freeridge was going to accept two random adults and a baby at this time of night. You couldn’t exactly go to certain parts of town because of the Prophets and 19th street. They would chew you up and spit you guys out, just loving the fact that you guys are in a vulnerable position. Your options were limited but they all pointed to the safest one. Oscar.

“Fuck.” You groaned.

“What?”

“We gotta go to Oscar’s.”

“Oscar. No. We are absolutely not going to that bastard’s house.” You sister said as she crossed her arms in retaliation.

“Well do you have a better idea. Because quite frankly, we don’t have anywhere to go and Oscar is our safest option right now. We also have to get a move on before Mr. Incredible Hulk comes back.”

“Fine. Alright. Let’s go.” Your sister huffed. When you arrived at Oscar's place, you knocked on the door until you couldn’t anymore.

“Yo are you crazy?” Oscar said as he threw open the door in frustration. But I mean, could you blame him? You and your sister showed up at an ungodly hour with a fussy baby in your arms and let’s not even get started with the way he was dressed which honestly made you feel some type of way. The way his tank top sat on his body and the shorts sat oh so perfectly on his hips sent a blissful sensation to parts down below.

“We need somewhere to stay for the night.” Your sister spoke.

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Oscar can you not be a dick for 2 seconds and let us in.” Melissa said, obviously irritated.

“Melissa,” you started. “Oscar can we just spend the night, please. There’s a lot that has to be explained but there’s nowhere else in town for us to stay. Please.” You were pleading with Oscar at this point.

“What’s in it for me?” He smirked at the suggestive tone of his voice.

“Oscar, now is not the time. Are you going to let us in or not?” The longer you stood there, you yourself also began to grow frustrated.

It took him a minute to make a decision as he went silent. He looked around to make sure nobody was watching or lurking in the shadows and mumbled a silent “come in.”

You set foot in the house and all of the air left your lungs. Memories of you and Oscar began to drown your thoughts, again. The laughs. The movie sessions. The food. The study sessions that led to him giving up because he was lazy. Everything. You put your nephew down in Cesar’s room to go back to sleep and made sure your sister was okay before making your way back out into the living room. Oscar sat there with a mug, casually sipping whatever liquid was in it. You let out a large breath of relief as you finally got to sit down and relax after the day you’ve had.

“Long day?” His deep voice grumbled.

“Major understatement.”

Soon after, you felt a presence beside you and a dip in the sofa letting you know that Oscar is now sitting on the couch with you. With the interaction you encountered today with your sister’s husband, a little inkling told you something was up. Although you had just met him, you would have never began to think that he would manhandle your sister like she’s same ragdoll and honestly, the reality that it became had the anger inside you boil over. On the other hand, reality also hit that you didn’t have your job or your badge had been confiscated so there’s really nothing much you two can do but run and never look back. In deep thought about your next steps, you feel a hand on your shoulders and it starts to rub the day’s tension away.

“You’re tense.” His deep voice boomed.

“Yeah, well can you blame me?”

“What’s wrong?”

The room becomes quiet as you try and decide whether you want to tell Oscar everything that has happened in the past 15 years.

“Everything I know is gone…” You whispered.

“What?” Oscar replies.

“I thought escaping from Freeridge and trying to create a whole new life was gonna fucking help but it’s obviously not.” You said, beginning to tear up.

“What are you talking about?”

“Goddamnit, Oscar there’s people coming, “you said with a warning tone. “I fucked up. I did some shit that I can’t take back and now-“

“Hey hey shh.” Oscar soothed. He took you in his arms and tried to calm you down as you cried your eyes out. The weight of trying to protect your sister, her child, yourself and everyone around over a senseless decision you made on the other side of the country, was coming down on to you entirely, bearing no mercy. Now the question is, what are you going to do from now on to ensure the safety of you and the people around you?

[kiwi-bitchez]

hey love can you maybe do a shower smut one shot? don't feel pressured like if u don’t wanna do it it’s fine!

Water Pressure

Reader x Peter Parker

Reader and Peter are both college-aged. College!Neighbor!AU I guess?

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Smut, shower sex, oral sex, face sitting, dick sucking, soap getting in your eyes, unreliable landlords

New York City in the summer was a great place to be. The stress of school was lifted off your shoulders, and you were lucky enough to be interning at your dream job. You were grateful for the opportunity to stay in the city after the semester ended, not having to move back home to your small town. However, there was one thing about summer in the city that was unbearable: the heat.

It was like a wet blanket that hit you every time you stepped out of your apartment, not that the tiny window box unit you had made much of a difference indoors. It was oppressive and heavy and difficult. You managed to survive with ice packs and cold showers. That was… until this afternoon.

You hike up the seven flights of stairs to your tiny apartment. The building was under serious renovations and didn’t have a working elevator, flickering lights, strange noises in the night. But it was seriously cheap rent compared to the other buildings in the area, so you were willing to make the sacrifices. Not many people lived on your floor, most of the rooms had been occupied by college students whose leases ended at the end of the school year.

You press your sweaty forehead against the chipped paint of the door as you fumble with your keys for a moment.

“Hey y/n, you good?” your neighbor from across the hall asks as he steps out of his apartment to leave for the afternoon.

“Yeah, thanks Flash. Its just so damn hot out. I’d suggest bringing some water wherever you’re going,” you respond. You sneak a peak into his apartment for a second before the door swings shut, getting a glance of his roommate Peter who was playing video games on the couch.

You were grateful to have them as neighbors, they were nice enough, would let you borrow a cup of sugar every once in a while, and weren’t too loud like the previous people you had lived near in college. It didn’t hurt that Peter was nice to look at. He was incredibly nice, and a little dorky, which only added to his charm. It wasn’t long into the summer before you had developed a little crush on him.

You had seen him around campus before, but never really got to know him. His best friend Ned had been your calculus tutor sophomore year, so you saw him in passing but never more than a wave or a smile. Now that he was living across the hall you saw him almost every day, lucky you.

You finally make it into your shoebox apartment and drop your stuff down on the kitchen counter. It wasn’t much cooler inside as it was outside, unfortunately. You immediately shed yourself of your slightly sticky clothing, peeling the few layers off your damp skin. It had become routine to hop in the shower as soon s you get home, an attempt to bring your body temperature down a few degrees and wash the sweat from your hair.

A sigh of relief escapes you as the ice cold water hits your face. The air of the city left a certain layer of grime on you that always felt nice to wash off. You allow yourself to use a large dollop of shampoo, wanting to scrub the roots of your hair from any sweat and dirt that the city had left.

It was moments like this that you cursed your landlord, cursed the building that you lived in, and cursed whatever higher power was in charge of your utilities. Your water shuts off. You jiggle the knob, hoping the water would turn back on, but it only lets out a few sad drips.

This had happened before, and typically wasn’t too big of a problem, however you had a mound of soapy hair on the top of your head that was starting to drip down your body. You let out an exasperated groan, not knowing what to do. You hop out and stick your head in the sink, hoping to use the sink water to rinse some of the shampoo suds out of your hair.

Of course the sink wouldn’t turn on either, and now your head was upside down in your tiny bathroom sink, soapy wet hair all in your face. When you stand up, the suds drip into your eyes and mouth, making you frown and scrunch your eyes up tight.

You grab the towel from the door hook and wrap it around your dripping body. In a moment of panic, soap burning in your eyes and starting to drip onto the floor, you decide to leave your apartment. It was a last ditch effort, but you needed this shampoo out of your hair and maybe their shower was working.

“Hey Peter?” you yell as you knock a few times, your other hand holding up the wet towel, “I need some help.”

You feel a little relieved when you hear his footsteps approaching, however that relief turns to embarrassment very quickly when he opens the door and you remember your current state.

“Y/n…. um…” he is a little confused.

“Sorry, my water shut off and I have soap in my eyes and in my hair and all over the floor,” you start to ramble, not really able to see him through your scrunched up soapy face, “is your water working? Can I use it for just a second.”

He starts laughing, which makes you feel a little bit better, you let out a laugh too. “Sure thing, I think it’s working.”

He runs over to the kitchen and turns on the sink, “Seems to be working fine, feel free to use the shower.”

“I…um…” you stand blindly in the frame of his doorway, dripping water and your hair a soapy mess in your face.

“Here, let me help you,” he laughs again. He takes your arm and guides you into their bathroom, his apartment the same model as yours just mirrored. “I have to leave, but feel free to take your time and let yourself out when you’re done.”

“Thank you so much, you’re a life saver,” you hear the door close behind you and you step into the shower, fumbling with the knob for a second before the water shoots out. You feel your heart rate slow as the soap is finally washed from your face.

You had only started to run your fingers through your tangled hair when you hear the bathroom door open again. Your eyebrows furrow as you start to peek your head out of the curtain. You see a figure for a second, floppy brown hair that could only be Peters. His hand quickly moves to the curtain, closing it in front of your face.

“Peter, what the fuck,” you start to ask.

“Shhh,” he shushes you and keeps the shower curtain closed tightly with his arm.

“Peter, what-” you begin to ask again before hearing Flash’s loud voice from the hallway.

“Hey dude, you in the shower?” He asks Peter.

“Umm, yeah, what’s up?” His voice is tense. You’re incredibly confused and just stand there in the shower enjoying the cold water.

“Just forgot my wallet. You mind if I take a piss?”

“Uhh,” before Peter can respond the doorknob starts to wiggle. You wonder why he doesn’t just tell Flash that you’re using the shower, but the situation is hard to gauge from inside.

“Fuck-” Peter mutters as he swiftly hops into the shower with you.

You turn to face him, about to throw your hands up, but it all happens too quickly. Before you can even ask what the fuck is going on his hand comes up to cover your mouth. Your eyes almost pop out of your head and your knees almost buckle when you finally see Peter.

Standing in the shower in front of you from the neck up was your neighbor Peter, the science whiz, nerdy, cute, t-shirt wearing, floppy haired Peter you had come to know. From the neck down…was Spider-man. Tight red and black suit that hugged his body, hand covering your mouth was gloved in a strange material that felt cold against your skin.

His face was incredibly panicked, his eyes almost as wide as yours. His other hand frantically came up to his face, signaling you to be quiet with a finger to his lips. Not that you had a choice, his large suited hand was tightly covering the lower half of your face.

You didn’t even have the time or focus to be embarrassed about being naked in front of him. You were overwhelmed with confusion and were too concentrated on the superhero in front of you to bother covering yourself up.

He throws his head back in annoyance as you can hear Flash peeing a few feet away, humming all the while.

“Alright man, have a good day,” he yells as he exits the bathroom.

“Yeah, you too,” Peter tries to keep his voice cool but you can hear an underlying shakiness.

As soon as the door slams shut he removes his hands from your mouth, but is still frantically gesturing for you to stay quiet. A few seconds pass and you hear the front door shut, he lets out a sigh of relief, but you can’t say the same for yourself.

His eyes grow wide again, realizing that he’s in the shower with you, and you’re naked. He scrunches his eyes shut and quickly turns around.

“Sorrysorrysorry,” he runs his hands through his hair, a little damp now from the condensation of the shower.

Before he can continue you grab his arm and turn him around, “What the fuck Peter,” you were still absolutely stunned, “what…”

“I’m sososo sorry I didn’t mean to be a creep or anything, I didn’t know he was gonna come into the bathroom and I had to hide…” you could tell he was just as nervous as you.

“I…what…” your brain still could not form words, “you’re… you’re…”

“Spiderman, yeah, and I really need you to not tell anyone please,” his eyes were wide with worry. At a split second you had thought this was a joke, or maybe he just dresses up in his free time or something, but no. The way his hand felt on your mouth and the terror in his eyes told you this was real, too real.

You give him a nod, “of course, of course.”

“It’s my biggest secret, and I can’t afford for Flash to find out because, well, I don’t think he’s kept anything to himself his entire life.”

You laugh a little, but your body still feels rigid and your mind is still swarming with questions. “But I think I can trust you,” he says, somewhere in between a question and a statement.

“Yes, you can trust me,” you could see ease creep onto his face, the wide-eyed, fearful look was slowly melting away. “Ned knows?” Out of all the questions you had, why was this the one you asked? It just slipped out.

“Yeah, Ned knows,” It was weird that you two were still in the shower, but you were both still too shaken up to realize or care.

“And…” you start.

“And that’s it. You and Ned.”

A deep pit begins to form in your stomach, “You aren’t gonna kill me or something, are you? Cuz I promise I won’t tell anyone; I swear.”

“Nonono,” he panics, “No, I’m one of the good guys, I don’t kill people. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Sorry, I- I don’t know why I said that,” you felt bad for implying anything, you were just nervous that your newfound knowledge of Peter would change things.

“It’s okay that you’re freaked out, I’m- I’m sorry for putting you in this position.”

Without really thinking you turn around and face the water. You needed to feel something other than confusion, embarrassment, shock, and fear. You spin back around after a moment, Peter still standing there in the same state of shock and confusion as you.

“So you’re Spiderman,” you say with assurance, “wow.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll get out, I’m sorry if I’m being super weird.”

No part of you blamed him for his actions, you knew he wasn’t making up excuses to hop into a cold shower with you. And you didn’t blame him for lingering. He was just answering your questions, explaining himself. That was reasonable.

“No,” you weren’t sure what to say to get him to stay, “step into the water, it will make you feel better, I promise.”

He stared at you with a blank expression for a second, not knowing how to take your suggestion. He was also concentrating immensely on concealing the erection that was prominently poking against the material of his suit. He wanted to remove himself before you noticed before you could realize that he had been looking at you.

You had noticed. For a split second, while admiring how nice he looked in the skin tight suit your eyes wandered south and caught a glimpse of his hard on under the suit. He still looked nervous, a new kind of nervous though.

Placing your hands on his shoulders, making somewhat of a bold move, you reassure him, “It’s okay Peter, it’s just me.”

There was something lingering in the space between you. The fact that neither one of you had rushed to escape the shower at the first possible second was one thing. You hadn’t tried to cover yourself up. You looked him in the eye when speaking to him with an air of sincerity and understanding.

“How does it come off?” you ask, genuinely curious as it seemed to be air-tight against his body.

His hand slowly comes up to the center of his chest, pressing down on the spider logo. The material seems to evaporate off him, expanding and stretching until it pooled at his feet.

The wide look in your eyes had turned to something else entirely, they boy you had been stealing glances of for the past few months was naked and in the shower with you. Albeit, the circumstances that got you here were not ideal.

You take his hands and move them up to your face, encouraging his strong hands to cup your cheeks on either side. The way he was looking at you made something inside you stir. You tried to close some of the empty space between you, as he tentatively pulled your face to his.

The kiss was soft and gentile, your lips hovered over his for a moment before connecting. Your arms wrapped around his neck, a hand moving up to his damp curls. He pulls away slowly, eyes remaining closed for a moment after your lips had parted.

“This…” he whispers, “this isn’t just because you think I’m gonna kill you or something.”

“No,” you laugh, “I wanted to do that before I knew your secret identity. I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

“Me too,” he mumbles into your lips as he moves to kiss you again, this one was harder and more sure. His hands run up and down your body, wrapping around your waist and snaking up to your chest.

You couldn’t help but let out a whimper as his tongue met yours. Your hands were resting on his chest, toned and perfect.

“You’re really warm,” you comment with some concern, as his skin was burning underneath your touch.

“It’s a…spider sense thing,” he wasn’t quite sure how to go about explaining his abilities to you.

“Here, step into the cold water,” you had forgotten where you were for a second. You felt bad about his water bill, you had been in here for quite a while, and hopefully would be here for a while more.

You clenched your thighs together as you watched him step under the water and run his hands through his now wet hair. It was like a scene out of a movie, the way his muscles rippled with each movement, the way his lips remained slightly parted as the water washed over his face.

His arms wrapped around your waist to pull you under the stream of water with him. The sensation of his face pressed to yours, lips interlocking as the water rolled down your face was unreal. You shift your body towards his, pressing your chest flat to his. You could feel his hard cock pressing against your stomach, making your thighs clench again.

“Will you touch me?” you whimper into his mouth, sounding desperate and weak. You move your hand over his, showing him where you wanted him most.

“Fuck,” he groans as his fingertips make contact with your wet folds. His hands are much bigger and stronger than yours, the sensation causes your eyes to flutter shut.

You move your hands down to his already hard cock, rubbing it up and down, somehow making it harder. Your mouth falls agape as he slips a digit into you, cool water still running over your body.

He takes your lower lip in between his, sucking on it in the process. He slowly pushes you back so your body meets the tile shower wall. One hand working between your legs and the other palming at your chest has you seeing stars. Your head rolls back, giving him access to suck and nip at your neck.

Fuck, why had you not done this sooner? He had been right across the hall all summer and only now were you finally experiencing what you had been daydreaming about.

“Peter,” you moan out, continuing to stroke his erection, “I need you.”

He mumbles into your neck, now littered with red splotches. He curls his fingers up into you, making your legs buckle a little, “Fuck,” you gasp out, “please.”

“Peter I need you to fuck me,” you can feel him smile into your skin, “but I’m worried about running u your water bill.”

“You don’t want me to take you right here?” he pushes against you so your back is flat up against the wall. All you can do is moan in response, his fingers still making work inside you.

Slowly detaching his lips from your chest and removing his fingers from you, he moves back into the water to turn the shower off. While he faces away, you slowly drop down to your knees, thighs spread apart and tongue laying flat out of your mouth.

You look up at him with big blinking eyes as he turns around to face you.

“Holy shit,” he hovers above you, “You’re gonna kill me, you know that, right?”

“Can I?” you ask as your head moves towards his cock. He nods and gives you permission before you lick a long stripe up the underside. His eyes closed and his head falls back as you take his tip into your mouth, rolling your tongue around his sensitive head.

“You’re sure this isn’t just because I’m Spiderman?” he manages to ask in between deep breaths.

“Peter,” you pause your sucking and continue to stroke him, “I’ve thought about having your cock in my mouth every day this summer. Every time we rode the elevator together, or passed each other in the hallway, I’ve wanted you.”

You go back to taking his length into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, loving the noises he makes as you take him deeper.

“Do you want to go to my room?” He asks, “the bathtub floor can’t be comfortable to kneel on.”

You stand up and place a gentle kiss on his mouth, “That’s very thoughtful,” you kiss him again between thoughts, “I would love to.”

He takes you by surprise as his arms quickly lift you up, wrapping your legs around his firm torso. He carries you with ease to his small bedroom, tossing you back onto his messy comforters.

Climbing back on top of you, peppering your body with kisses as he makes his way up to your face, your lips finally meet with Peter’s again. You bite down a little onto his lower lip as his hand tangles its way into your wet hair, the other resuming its place between your legs.

You let out a low moan, only to be cut off by him whispering in your ear, “Will you sit on my face?” You pull back, a little stunned at his question, mouth parted at the way his fingers continued to twist inside you.

“All those times we were in the elevator or the hallway, and you were thinking about my cock in your mouth, I was thinking about you sitting that pretty pussy of yours on my face, riding my tongue.”

That sent a shiver down your spine that pulsed in your already soaking wet cunt. “Holy fuck” you could not even begin to explain how turned on you are. Peter easily flips you over so that you are now straddling him, his lips moving to suck down on one of your hard nipples.

You grind your crotch down onto him, missing the friction of his hand.

“Come here,” he lays flat down and guides your thighs up to either side of his head. Your mind was spinning with lust, completely fucked out and unable to concentrate as he uses his strong hands to lower you down onto his face.

His hands wrapped comfortable around your waist, fingertips diffing perfectly into your soft skin. A deep moan escapes you as he starts to lap up and down your slit. His tongue moves easily across you, lapping up and down, around your clit, into your hole, all of it. Your eyes were permanently rolled into the back of your head.

His grip on your waist started to guide your hips back and forth, rolling your core across his eager tongue. Every time your hips buckled forward and your clit made contact with his tongue waves of pleasure shot up your body. You couldn’t help but lean forward, using his headboard as support as he completely owned you with just his tongue.

“Peter,” his name comes out as a strangled moan, “I’m gonna come soon, fuck.”

He hums into you, adding vibrations to the slick wetness. “I want to come on your cock, fuck. Please, Peter, I need you to fuck me.”

Although you couldn’t get enough of his tongue, the way he was taking control over you, you were dying to feel him inside of you. You wanted to feel your walls clench around him as you came.

He laps a few more times at your sensitive clit, almost pushing you over the edge. He can tell you’re close by the way your thighs shook around his head, pressing against his ears. He starts to move, replacing his tongue with his fingers against your clit. He gracefully changes position, coming up behind you so you didn’t have to move at all.

You were already at the perfect angle, arms pressed up against the headboard and hips arched back for him. He continues to rub tight circles against you as he starts to run his tip up and down your soaking slit.

“You’re sure,” he knows you’ve already said yes, but he just wanted to make sure.

“Fuck, yes Peter please, please fuck me,” your words came out somewhere between a whine and a moan.

He pushes his tip into you slowly, and you rock back onto his cock, letting him slip deep into you. His mouth drops open for a second at the sensation of fucking you mixed with the way you looked with your head thrown back and ass bouncing against him.

“Peter, I’m gonna come please don’t stop.”

He picks up his pace, fucking into you faster while his fingers continued to rub your clit. He had only been inside you for a few moments, and he could already feel your tight walls gripping around his length, your orgasm washing over you and dripping all over his cock.

You fall forward a little, letting out gravely moans of his name and profane language. He fucks you through your orgasm, not letting up as you start to come down. He can start to feel your legs shake, so he removes his hand from your clit and takes a firm grip on either side of your ass. He kneads your flesh as he continues to bury his dick into you.

You were almost flat down on your stomach, hips still angled up for him, face buried into the pillows to muffle your loud moaning screams. He wanted to see your face as you cried out his name, so he pulls out and gently rolls you over, kissing up your thighs to give you a second to readjust.

He thought you looked incredibly beautiful, with your hair sprawled out around your head, your lips puffy and eyes fluttered shut.

He takes your chin between his thumb and his hand to angle your face up to his, kissing you passionately and deeply as he slipped back into you. You moan into the kiss, hands coming up to his hair.

He held one of your thighs back with his hand, giving him perfect access. Through fucking you he never stopped kissing you, only coming up to gasp for air when he felt you clench around him in pleasure. His thumb rubbed across your cheek, hand tucked perfectly under your jaw.

He loved the way you would whisper his name in between kisses, rolling your hips up into his.

He knew he wouldn’t last much longer, the way his dick swelled inside you as you sucked a mark onto his neck was a dead giveaway.

“You’re gonna make me cum, fuck,” he whispers to you, only encouraging you to grind your hips up more and kiss him harder.

He jolts back up onto his knees, pulling his dick out and rubbing the tip across your lower stomach as his come shoots out. You lift your hips up, collecting his come all on your stomach and dripping some down onto your inner thighs.

You can’t help but gawk at him as you watch him come undone, the way his brow furrowed and lips parted, the veins in his arm bulging as he stroked his cock.

He takes his length in his hand and rubs his red tip up and down your thighs, rubbing his come into your skin, spreading it around from your stomach to your legs. He slips back into you, slowly thrusting a few times before pulling back out.

“Holy shit,” you sigh as he lays down next to you, “that was…fucking hot.”

“You’re fucking hot,” he laughs.

He buries his head into your shoulder, leaving soft kisses across your skin.

“Um, can you get me a towel,” you laugh, gesturing to all the fluid on your lower half.

“Hmmm, no I don’t think so,” he jokes, “I think I want you right here, just like this for a while.”

“You certainly earned it,” you joke back before he hops up, grabbing a warm wet towel to wash you off with.

“Damn, well now I hope my water never comes back on,” you quip as he flops back down next to you.

“You are welcome to come use mine any time, even if yours is working fine.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course.”

[currentfandomkick]

Marinette did not sign up for this part 6

this part was broken in two for my sanity.

first part here previous part here ao3 here

--

Bruce is many things, including Batman. He is currently trying to figure out how to launch a search party for his daughter’s missing magic jewelry and to find the thieves. (god, he hasn’t even met her yet and she has so many problems. She needs him there already and he isn’t). He is a father to many children who are currently searching for her, and who only just thought to inform him of this fact. On top of that, he is Batman—Justice League, cases, and keeping up his aliases on top of managing his possibly injured son.

What he is not expecting is a call from Hal when he is mid-way through a case while keeping Red Hood down. He is not expecting for Oracle to patch him through, nor is he expecting it to include Diana and Arthur—granted they all know each other’s identities at this point, but still. He would like to be uniform when his allies call him for work. Instead, he’s in civvies, in Jason’s room on his laptop keeping his son in place by sitting at the foot of his bed and shooting him looks on occasion. The only mercy was it being audio only.

“Batman we need to have a talk,” Hal stated.

Jason decided to make a break for it while Bruce was distracted. Bruce tackled his son and dragged him back to bed. “Little busy. Someone with Pegasus’ abilities dropped Hood into the harbor and he’s on bedrest.”

“I object to this treatment! I’m fine!”

“Not until Agent A clears you.”

“Fuck you B.”

“Hood.”

Jason stuck out his tongue and relented for the moment.

“So you’re aware he pulled a gun on a kid?”

Bruce choked at that.

Jason sat up. “First of all, dart gun with knock outs thank you very much, second of all, kid clearly stole Ladybug’s whatever that lets her transform, same with the girl using the cat that clearly has a lot of anxiety and definitely should not be in the field if she’s hyperventilating!”

Bruce could feel Diana being held back by someone. Possibly Hal’s ring, or Arthur.

“That was a teammate certified by the Ladybug and Chat Noir as allowed to use their miraculous given that Ladybug was needed on another mission at the time. Mr. Bug has appeared once before when Ladybug was unable to appear, and Chatte Noire is usually for solo stealth missions but was called to handle this particular akuma.” Arthur explained. “Your son attacked Ladybug’s team and has only made them all more unwilling to allow any contact after Sandboy.”

Bruce froze. His daughter needs help, and is denying the league the right to after Jason’s (well-intentioned) actions.

“Are they—”

“Ladybug has stated that the League may not approach her team during patrol, which was our main contact point. Miss Sting has become their representative for any and all contact, save one Amazonian historian,” Diana hissed. “She is convinced your whole family is trying to kill her now. You are to keep your house out of Paris until this is handled—if it wasn’t for the team being convinced that Red Hood was one of Sandboy’s creations, we would not be allowed to contact her at all!”

Bruce froze. His daughter is terrified of his family—of her family. She thinks they are out to kill her. He need to have a family meeting, now.

“I’ll check their locations and bring them back.”

“You better!”

“It is not wise to anger the Savior and Destroyer, so do so as quickly as possible,” Arthur stressed.

“Seriously Bats, get your house in order.”

“Hey, he’s not in charge of us anymore,” Jason tried to defend, only his voice wasn’t all there. “We’re our own people here. He just makes sure we don’t bleed out at this point.”

“Might want to work on that too.” Bruce wasn’t focusing enough to tell which of them said that.

Jason was shockingly quiet after that, typing absently on his phone.

Bruce needed to fix this. He turned on his kids trackers, only to find they were already in Paris, or… moving toward it. And comms were down.

“Oracle, report.”

“Sorry B, but I think they found her and we may have pinned down Hawkmoth.”

Bruce wanted to scream. He didn’t. “Report the identity to the League and leave Paris, now.”

“… Tim isn’t responding, Cass has plans with a family, and Steph is part of those, so you’re going to have to wait a day or so.”

Jason typed harder, but said nothing. Bruce could feel the self-recrimination and knew better than to intervene just yet. When he put down the phone (and when Bruce finished his own investigation on this matter) they would talk. For now, he had to wait.

             ---

Nino is a lot of things. Amazing director (albeit a tyrant as one), a top notch dj, and a superhero. He is also smart, charming, and very good at reading people and knowing when something is up. Perks of being Carapace and having Wayzz all the time—people’s weaknesses are a lot easier to spot now, and any fronts they try to put up, he already sees right through them. Especially when its someone he’s known forever.

Marinette has been on edge, around the same time as Ladybug started acting up. Granted, finding out she has a pen knife last year by her accidently using it to draw in class that one time did give him a wakeup call on Marinette having a paranoia streak on top of her anxiety, but usually the girl calmed down during school or when she was designing during breaks.

This time, that wasn’t happening. He’s… not sure how to get her to open up on this one. Looking over her shoulder and the constant twitching meant she was probably hit hard by Sandboy last night, and hadn’t recovered yet. He really wished he got a few hits in himself on the akuma—it always messed up everyone afterwards. And Marinette didn’t need the extra stress with her new designs for the Worst Father Ever’s company and tests that week.

And yet here they are, with her on edge. Most of the class was hit, and no one was at a hundred percent and all, he got that but…

“Sandboy?” Nino started, hoping it was casual enough that Marinette didn’t catch how frustrated he was with all of this. Ladybug was missing last night so Mr. Bug was there, Chatte was filling in for Chat and had an anxiety attack, the battle took way too long and it was so painfully clear that Chatte isn’t a hitter and that Mr. Bug is no strategist. Viperion stepped into that role with ease when he managed to get there, but still. The whole situation was messed up and he couldn’t fix it. Even when its hurting his friends.

Marinette let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it or…”

“NO! I—I never wanted to, I…” Marinette was at a loss for words again, tugging at her hair.

“Its okay dudette.” He made sure to take her hands out of her hair before she knotted it like she did when they were kids. She hated getting them out after, always cried a bit from how much it hurt with how big her knots would get and how uncooperative they were. “That bad?”

Marinette nodded, curled in a bit. “I never want it to happen for real.”

Nino wasn’t sure what ‘it’ was, but it couldn’t be good. He know how bad some of Sandboy’s nightmares were—getting chased by his own fear of absolute failure being voiced by his idols still stung to this day.

“Hey, if it tries to, you got us—me, my bro, your bestie and let’s not forget Miss “I am the storm” will be there.”

“And Kagami!” Alya added with a grin as she came over with his bro. “She’s already claimed the right to destroy anyone that hurts you.”

Adrien’s grin may as well have split his face. “She has, hasn’t she.”

Marinette turned to fight with Adrien, as something was going on between those two, Adrien clearly had an idea what it was, but given the whole thing with Luka’s fans getting on her back about using him to get famous and the fall out…

Nino shook his head to banish that particular akuma—fans are the worst kind of akuma. Love akuma are really annoying in their abilities, but he can defend against all of their power-sets so far. Fan akumas are always wildcards and he’s usually not the most helpful against them.

He hopes he can keep Ladybug and Marinette safe. His job is to defend and shelter—in and out of the mask. That’s what he’s decided to do, at least.

“Aw, look at them. Now if only they were like this back when operations secret garden was a go.”

Nino raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing you need to worry about, before we got together.”

“Uh huh.” Nino could and would worry about it. Was that a ‘get them together’ operation or a ‘teach Adrien and Marinette how to be people and no run from the sight of each other’ operation?  First year ops outside of the mask were weird and he wasn’t in on them until a few months after he and Alya finally got together (at his best bro and favorite dudette’s brand of meddling).

--

Adrien is glad for many things since getting the ring. One of them is his partner and after finding out who she was (post-‘oh my god she hates me as a civilian’ episode), her brand of scheming. Which included (after he got her to conceded that his father may be bad but he is not Hawkmoth level bad) her managing to end up as his Father’s current ‘mentee’ of choice after she won the hat competition, and he showed off the scarf she made him last year. Gabriel had a rule of not working with designers that hadn’t made a name for themselves already—Marinette had by the time she was fourteen as MDC—Jagged Stone and Clara Nightengale’s joint-custody personal designers.

Father only found out MDC was Marinette from the scarf. He’d met Clara again at an event and she had the same style of embroidery and threading. Only it was after Adrien got his scarf.

Marinette plotted this--down to the fashion week event and Clara going to talk to Gabriel about his opinion on the work done to her scarf and how long he thought it would take MDC to make the same thing on a dress, roughly, since the designer does the embroidery by hand instead of letting Clara’s seamstress handle it given the intricate lace-like pattern.

Gabriel had called Marinette on the landline—the landline—that night and offered to mentor her on how to broaden her work for the masses, without taking away from her school and downtime, or interfering with MDC’s work.

So far, Marinette has gathered them a pool of seventy two people, name and contact information, that Markov, Max and Alya are co-investigating as Hawkmoth.

The trade off to all of that is “Marinette” brand consultation under the Gabriel brand, a studio with walk-in and appointed consultations, and being there on time.

Adrien managed to get them there a half hour early, and she still wasn’t relaxed. The unofficial appointment is in twenty minutes, and Marinette is shaken from Sandboy, but doesn’t want to talk about anything Miraculous, and he hasn’t had time for videogames lately, so. Distraction time.

“How did you get into fashion again?” Adrien toyed with his phone, knowing damn well how she ended up this far into fashion, but he did love watching her get worked up and go off.

“First of all, this industry doesn’t make anything for you if you’re short that  isn’t petite, and that’s a nightmare to look for as a kid. Then there was Maman having trouble finding things that fit her nicely and from there looking for women’s or girls clothes is just disappointment after disappointment.”

“How so?” Adrien hid his grin behind his phone.

“How—how so! Your father keeps wanting me to keep pockets out of designs because real pockets aren’t ‘in’ for women’s fashion. Lies! They are always in, women always want pockets and real pockets! Pockets are wonderful and the deeper the better.”

“Mh hm.” Adrien knew that from previous rant sessions.

“Then there’s the whole lack of body types and fits and don’t get me started on every white shirt being seem through, or a button up that doesn’t button right, or both. There is a reason why I make clothes for Mylene and her mom since I started doing commissions in the first place, and that is only one of them!”

Adrien leaned forward then. “So anything else?”

“Fix the sizing system already—using measurements that we already use when getting clothes online for conversion charts, only no ‘small, medium, large’ just the amount of fabric at each measurement and a rough of how it fits on different sizes where from there!”

Adrien checked the time. Ten minutes to, and this guy sounded like the early type.

“Alright, better now?”

Marinette blinked a few times, rage vanishing as she processed what happened. “… yes.”

“Good, feel ready to work out a rough?”

Marinette smirked. “They won’t know what hit them!”

--

Tim walked in and decided this candidate was high on his personal choice of who he’s like to be baby bat. The girl had cookies at the ready with coffee (real coffee, making her much better than Marie Ann) and didn’t bat an eyelash at the Wayne name. So either cool under pressure, or doesn’t care for celebrity status, either way a bonus in his books.

Then came how she just… had that same look Bruce gets when working out one of Riddler’s puzzles, only while she was working out a suit for him. She was just in charge of the design portion—Gabriel assured him he’d check over the whole thing and handle production and all. But this suit she worked out in minutes—even grumbling about making sure his pockets were at easy access level for him to grab his phone in case of emergencies and checking over his phone to shape the pocket and cut with that in mind—he likes it.

Given her features, she wouldn’t be out of place in the family—blue eyes and black hair for the win once again. And she clearly understood professionalism, even if she was being monitored by Gabriel’s son who seemed content to let her operate without asking any questions beyond asking him if he had any fabrics he didn’t want or any skin sensitivities.

Her measurement taking was faster than he was used to with tailors, and she admitted it was a double check and checking the fits he already uses to further incorporate it into the design.

No matter how this pans out, he’s decided he’s keeping her on as a designer at the very least. And that Janet’s DNA test comes back negative. This Marinette is his new favorite pick, and she wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb. Plus, she already wears her hair like Ladybug and turned that into a casual nickname, so extra bonus on secret identity keeping cred if she is.

Now he just needs to find out if she really is and then drop the bomb on her while working out if she’s undercover working Gabriel/Hawkmoth, or not. If she is, damn. If not, he’s giving her ‘spot the bad guy’ lessons, price—one cup of coffee.

--

next part is in the works, its just a lot lore-wise and detective-wise with bats talking to Baby Bat with No Idea its Baby Bat until whoops, too late. Oops

anyone knows how to add the readmore, feel free to comment or message me

@heldtogetherbysafetypins @laurcad123 @raisuke06 @chaosace @jeminiikrystal @toodaloo-kangaroo @kris-pines04

[zeoia]

I am a warm and loving person. I always have been and always will be.

Growing up, I had to be responsible very early on. I had no choice but to be mature for my age. After all, my mother wasn't there, and we needed a mom. My father was clueless, emotionally detached as an alpha male type. Currently he's not as bad as he used to be, as he finally acknowledges that when I cry, it's not to make him angry. I am crying because I am hurting. And when I am hurting I need comfort.

It used to be about his comfort. He hated seeing the tears. He'd tell us don't you dare start crying. I bottled up emotions. I withheld feelings at home. But they kept coming out during school. I'd isolate myself to cry.

One time I had an extreme outburst to the point of getting violent. I felt unheard. I'd been unheard for so long. People weren't understanding.

I had to separate from my biological mom as a child because she was incapable of taking care of us. This created a sense of longing. There was a hole in my heart and I kept wanting to fill it up somehow.

My father remarried when I was going to middle school. I told him I was fine with it. But honestly I didn't know any better. I was nine, going on ten. How was I supposed to know that I was just saying okay because that's just what I felt dad wanted to hear.

The marriage lasted throughout middle school and fell apart during high school. My stepmom was a scary person. Especially with her son around. She became very controlling. We weren't allowed in her chairs. Not allowed to watch her television. Weren't allowed to eat her foods. She made a mental note of the amount she had left. And anytime something went wrong, despite her son being the one who had always been the one to get into trouble, somehow, my brother and I were shouldering the blame for stuff we didn't do.

We were far from perfect little babies, but the worst we did was stay up past bedtime playing video games. He was a habitual liar. A thief. He was frequently breaking into houses, including our own. The first time I remember interacting with police was because of him. He broke into a girl's house. I was so nervous and I felt small. Because I was. I was so very small.

The divorce process was messy. She wanted to take our house away. Our home. The place that my brother was building bonds in. He frequently went outside spending time with neighbors. Unlike her son, we were still kids. By this time he was approaching adulthood. We couldn't be subjected to that.

We did manage to keep the house somehow. But... Maybe it would have been better to have lost it. To have moved downtown. So my father would stop acting like it was our fault that we stayed out here.

You see, my father has this habit of saying how he wanted to move downtown, closer to where everything is, but would tell us that "you guys wanted to stay here with your friends" in a mocking way. As if a teenager and a preteen know any better. Of course we wouldn't know of what opportunities existed for us downtown. We didn't live our lives in the future. We lived our lives in the moment. Looking at the future just wasn't a thing.

And the only future I COULD think of was the inevitable end. The inescapable fate that every living being shares. Because I wanted it. I wanted it to hurry up and take me so I could stop feeling sadness. the shameful feelings that would make other people uncomfortable.

I had been tired of moving. Tired of leaving people. My childhood involved way more goodbyes than I could deal with. And I continued to be desperate to fill that hole my mother left.

In this home, we finally had a permanent place. Some sort of stability. I didn't want to let go of anything. I couldn't let go of anything. After all, every time my mother visited us, I kept having to let go. I had to let go of the person who was willing to let me cry. I had to let go of the person who frequently told me I love you. this isn't to say that my father was unloving. I still remember every day when we still lived in the apartments, my brother and I would be home alone and we'd hear the door unlocking. And we'd make a mad dash to the door to jump into his arms to be hugged by him.

But this came to an end eventually. Growing up was awkward, and it made me withdraw more. My father expected me to be more ladylike. Despite telling me stuff like "do your best" I often felt like I was failing, even if I wasn't actually failing. Things were hard for me in school. On top of the stress of the divorce, my grades were getting worse. The transition from middle school to high school was uncomfortable. I told myself I was done with goodbyes, so why did I have to say goodbye to my best friends again?

I still remember people I considered my best friends, all the way from third grade. Donna. Jessica. Tina. Martha. Karen. Rae. Megan.

Graduating high school I didn't want to let go. I was tired of letting go. Despite my frequently feeling slightly out of place, I clung to Rae and Megan. We worked the same jobs for years. And then when Rae left for college, it was just me and Megan. Two weird kids with little ability to actually make new friends.

Megan and I did everything together. I went to her house frequently. We even went to the same community college. But as an adult things were getting different. She was very interested in dating, and I was getting more into self discovery. Online, I was making friends with people who liked the things I liked. I got involved with fandoms. She was too, actually.

But our interests didn't always overlap. But in my desperation to keep doing things with my only real life friend, I forced myself to enjoy the things she did. I didn't care for super heroes. Didn't care for being a "Potthead" as they called themselves. I don't know if that's still the term. She liked a lot of things that were very white, euro-centric. I liked things that were. Well they felt different. I liked webcomics and other things I found online, rather than mainstream media. Sometimes I tried to convince her to do something that I liked to do, but she wasn't really having it. If anything she just had a preference for insulting it and making me feel bad for liking things that really weren't her taste.

Honestly I don't remember what started the build up of animosity. I remember that I lost my grandmother on my dad's side and I felt terrible because I never got to really know her. My depression was absolutely awful then and I couldn't bring myself to go to work often. I remember one day when we were looking at our paychecks and she gave me this condescending "well maybe if you didn't call out so much." And I told her "hey how would you feel if your grandfather died? What would you have done huh?" And she got mad at me for making her even think about it. Me, actively in mourning about the death of a loved one, and she's the one mad because I dared to ask her to put herself in my shoes.

The rift was growing so much bigger. But we both still wanted to hold on because we both had nobody. I... Honestly couldn't tell you what it was that was the final nail in the coffin. Maybe it was all the guilt tripping she did. She told me that she was tired of having to go everywhere with me and that it cost money to drive me from place to place, ignoring the fact that I was always going the same place with her. Work. School. We planned it out so it was convenient. And I often bought things for her. I paid for food, gave her gas money, and I even sometimes would splurge on something she had her eye on. Like. A figure or a toy. She had bills and I didn't, so I had the spending money for it. Because I had to make sure that I wasn't going to say goodbye again.

But we did. It was messy. She called me a petty bitch. I don't even remember everything. I just know that I was alone again. Secluded. Isolated. I had nobody. Nine years of friendship and the void was bigger now.

I was desperate to keep finding people. I kept surrounding myself with groups. Getting deeply involved in fandoms in an attempt to connect with people. I leaned heavily on people emotionally, especially if they got closer to me and interacted with me more. People who did anything for me, I would cling to immediately. I wanted to do everything with people who spent time with me. I became addicted to attention.

And that addiction is why I'm in this mess today. It's true that I have managed to surround myself with genuine people who love me, but sometimes something bad lurks about. Especially in a place full of mentally ill people.

[jay-m3]

Death Note x Male Reader

Warning: read at your own risk. Will contain smut, manipulation, homophobia and so much more.

The class is so boring! I already know English, ugh… You sighed, watching as the teacher goes on and on about God. You look at the book in front of you and trace over the letters to keep you busy. “Listen to the voice of God then follow it and know that in time you will find your salvation.” The teacher reads the line that you're tracing. If God was real...will people change their behavior? You thought, shrugging your shoulders. You’ll find out once you're dead. “Yagami, are you still with us?” You look over your shoulder to see your best friend being called out. “Can you please translate the following sentence into English.” You cover your mouth to hide your snort and quickly look back to the book, not wanting to be called out. Light is smart, no question asked but sometimes you always see him in la-la land these past couple of months. He might be going through the stage like every teen has where they are stressed and anxious about what to do next with their lives since this is their last year here in this dump. Like you! Your anxiety has risen since you don’t know what can come next and if you can make it in this cruel twisted world but thankfully, Light has got your back and has been helping you sort out your life. 

You want to do that too with Light but...he never lets you in. Even if you were best friends since kids, it’s hard to get the boy to talk about his feelings. You know that it isn’t the ‘what’s next in life’ since you know that he wants to be like his dad in joining the police. If it’s not that then what’s bothering him? Is it about his sexuality? He came out to you three months ago that he’s bisexual. It’s hard to accept your true self and sometimes figuring out what you like and are is very difficult. Nothing is easy. Hell, when you came out to Light a year ago, you thought that you were Pan or bi. It’s been rough but you finally know that you’re gay. It’s hard when you came out to Light but you put your trust in him and now you're glad you did since he was accepting and he also came out to you! 

___

“What is that big brain of yours thinking about?” You gave your toothy smile at the tall brown-haired boy. “Huh? Oh nothing, just hungry.” Light smiles at you, his hand rubs his stomach. You nod your head and point at him. “You got it! I’ll buy us something in the cafeteria then, be right back.” You take out your wallet and start to make your way to the cafeteria. You will do anything in your power to make him happy as much as he makes you happy. Quickly getting the food you run to Light who puts something in his bag. “Hey, whatcha got there?” “That was fast, (Y/N).” He says grabbing the chips and water bottle that you got for him. “Hey, don’t distract me. I see you be sneaky and I want in! Is it money?” You both make your way out of the school gates. “Oh, I just found a notebook. Nothing special.” “Bet. Must be someone’s dairy...is it mine?” Light laughs at your joke and shakes his head. “I’ll show you when we get to my house.”

___

“You should start learning how to drive Light. I can’t be your taxi all the time.” You lock your car once Light and yourself get out. “Not my fault you turned 18 first.” ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t sweat it. It’s probably the one thing that I can beat you with, Mr. smartass.” You both walk into the Yagami household. “I’m home!” Light calls out. Both of you head to Light’s room and you shut the door and look over to Light to see him take out a notebook with ‘Death Note’ written across it. “Okay, that’s something else.” You say sitting down on his neat clean bed. “Yeah, wait till you know what it says inside of it.”

“...if someone does write a name in that book, does that make them a murderer?” You ask rereading the text carefully, flipping the pages. “No way. Either way, it’s probably a dumb prank.” You nod, giving back the cool looking notebook and grab your bag. “Welp, I gotta go home. I have to be there before my mom chews me out for not taking out the trash this morning.” You say, giving Light a hug. 

___

“Tell your family I said hi.” You called out to Light who nods and closes your car’s door. You watch him get inside and start making your way to your work. It’s nothing special but you love it since it's self employed and you love the outdoors. You get out of your car and park it and make your way to a customer’s front door. Knocking, you can hear a dog barking inside and the owner trying to shush it. You smooth down your shirt when the door opens and you see a female with a German Shepherd on a leash. “Hi, here is Lady and I’ll pay you once you return her like always.” She smiles and gives you the leash. “Like always.” You repeat and start making your way to the next house. Being a dog walker has it’s up and down like any other job. But being around the animals gives you peace and watching people go up to you to ask if they can pet them always brings a smile to your face. It’s nice having human interactions other than your family and the Yagami family. Having six dogs always overwhelms you but it gets you paid well. Stopping in front of a shop that has TV's stacked on each other with sound. You unzip your bag and pull out two water bottles and four plastic water bowls, once you get the dogs settled down, you look at the TV's to see that it was the news. 

"The same assailant who attacked 6 people at a busy shopping district in Shinjuku yesterday has struck again, taking 8 people hostage at this daycare center. His captives include both children and teachers. The police have now identified the suspect as 42-years-old Kuro Otoharada, currently unemployed. We expect negotiations to begin immediately." 

Wow, I wonder how this is going to turn out. You tune in more.

"At the present time, that’s all the police are telling us." Newscaster 1 informs.

"You can’t help but feel concerned for the safety of those hostages." Newscaster 2

"You’re absolutely right. We’ll continue to monitor the situation from here." Newscaster 1

"Thank you for that report. What do you make of this, Mr. Hashimoto?" Newscaster 2

"Well, one can only hope for a quick resolution to this situation." Mr. Hashimoto

I hope everyone turns out okay…

"Wait, we’re seeing something here! Looks like there’s movement at the front entrance!" Newscaster 2

"The hostages are coming out, and they all look to be unharmed! The Special Forces are taking action; they're moving in! We don't know if the suspect's been arrested. Huh?... Yes?... Ok, we now have confirmation. The suspect has been found dead inside! I repeat the suspect is now dead!" Newscaster 1 informs. 

“Oh, shit…” You mumbled out, watching on. The whole thing intrigued you but you snap out of it when the dogs start pulling you away. All you could think about how karma bit him back. What a coincidence, really. 

___

You quickly dodge other students from left to right. You’re sure you're not late for cram school because you set the timer on your radio earlier so you can meet up with Light but like always, you’re a little behind in time. Light wanted to talk to you, and said it’s important. ‘ASAP’ his text read which he only uses with you since your ass knows English. Finally seeing the door to your classroom, you sigh in relief and quickly get in, which was a bad idea since you bumped into one of the schools bully, Sudou. You instantly recoil in fear but kept your head held high. “Sorry.” You mumble out, not even looking at him, even if he cursed at your stupidity. One of the advantages of being best friends with the top student that’s also popular with everyone is that no one really messes with you and acts all buddy with you to get a chance to speak with Light. It’s a curse and a blessing. 

You make your way to Light’s desk since the class hasn’t started. You stood in front of it with a sheepish smile when you noticed that he watched the whole commotion. “If he dies, will anyone miss him?” Light mumbles to you which has you scrunching your face in confusion. That was a weird quest-OH! The notebook. Snorting you play along. Leaning close to his face, you whispered, “You shouldn’t kill people you know. You’ll get busted for sure.” Light doesn’t say anything. You don’t say anything. A second goes by and you both start to chuckle. Your (e/c)  eyes catch his brown eyes and there’s a glint of life in them. Oh, how you missed that special look. It’s been a while. Your face is close to his… You could feel the warmth rising on your cheeks. Your breath falters and the speed of your heart increases. You knew that you have a crush on Light. You don’t know when it started, you just embraced it. It’s stupid really, you know that Light will never see you like that so you never opened your heart to him. The crush was big but now you can easily ignore it since you trained yourself to quickly exterminate feelings for one. It’s just part of being gay. Falling for people that you shouldn’t. Finding someone else gay is an accomplishment, finding someone that’s gay and have feelings for them is amazing and rare. Especially here in Japan but hopefully it will get better. You only had one relationship with a guy and that was the hardest to maintain since your both were closeted. You’re still in the closet sadly, you want to tell your mother who you really are. 

Light Yagami, the boy that befriended you when you moved here. The boy that found you heartbroken when your ex-boyfriend dumped you. The boy that excepted you when you came out and also told you he’s bisexual. The boy that was there for you when your father and brother got murdered. The boy...Why is he getting closer? Light leans close to your ear. His hot breath tickling your exposed skin which sends a shiver down your spine. “It worked.” His voice low and raspy, which gets your blood pumping when he tries to whisper-wait. “What worked?” You stood straight, tilting your head in confusion. “Kurou Otocharada.” He says which has you reeling back in memories of today and finally connected the dots from the man that died to the conversation you two have been talking about. Your mouth instantly dropped and you look at Light wide-eyed. His eyes bore into your soul like he’s expecting something, your reaction of course. You know that he knows he reads others well by what he knows. He knew you for years and he knows how you react from stuff that he imprinted in his head. This is no different. “How...I want to see.” You slowly say. He was about to say something until the teacher walked in. “Everyone, sit down in your seats.”

You tapped twice on Light's desk with your forefinger. A sign that you both came up with as a secret code for; later, yes, be quiet and your favorite, I’m so gay. The last one, of course, is from you. Light only agreed because it amused him when you both go somewhere and get served by a hot dude when you both decide to eat out. You went to your assigned seat and glanced at Light to see him tap his own forefinger twice. You guess it's either later as conformation or to be quiet. Quickly, you turn your attention back to the front. Light already knows you, you know what Light expects from you. Of course, you will be quiet. 

___

“I’m still in a space in my mind where I can’t believe it.” You say, walking next to Light to a convenience store. “To be honest with you, I’m the same. I need to know if yesterday was a coincidence or not.” Light sighs out, slowing down his pace since your short legs can’t keep up. You can’t help but swallow a lump in your throat that just formed. Is he really thinking to use that thing to actually see if it’s real? If it is then, what’s next? You look at Light from the corner of your eyes and breathe in a shaky breath. Light trusted you by letting you know what he thinks happened yesterday. He trusts you, you should trust him also. “Same.”

“Hey, baby where are you going?” You and Light both glance at a man on his motorcycle with his peers bothering a woman. Light nudges you to the door and you quickly walk in. You split from Light to go to the chip aisle and guiltily pick out your chips. You wish you can help that lady out but the guy has his gang around him. Even if one person steps up, no one will follow. That’s how bad the world is. “Takuo look out!” You quickly look up and see a truck hitting the guy that was molesting the girl at full speed. You gasp and drop the chips and make your way to Light that was standing in front of the magazine aisle. You look over at Light to see his surprise and shocked face. His hands gripping the Death note. Your heart dropped and your breathing came out labored. 

___

“What a nice surprise! I wasn't expecting you home so early.” Light’s mom greeted her son once he stepped into their house.  Light smiles at his mom, the memory of (Y/N) having his family car for the night instead of his mother came to mind. “Yeah. Hi mom, it’s because…huh?” When his mother extended her hands, Light knew what she wanted. “Oh, the results of the nationwide exams.” Light pulls his bag in front of him to fish it out. “I’ve been waiting all day.” She says, excited to see what her brilliant son brought to the household. “Here. (Y/N) says hi by the way.” Light gives his exam scores to his mother and starts making his way to his room. “Goodness! Number one again! These are the highest scores you’ve had. Is it because you started to study with (Y/N) so much?” His mom asks, even though she knows the answer. The last couple of days (Y/N) spent so much time with Light to study and she would hear them, more like (Y/N), laugh. “Yeah. I'm going to study in my room so please don't interrupt me, ok?” Light says, heading up the stairs. “Where is (Y/N)?” Light turns to his mother and tells her, “He took the car to cram school and his mother called she was needed in the hospital for a shift so she needed the car fast.” And with that, he went inside his room and locked the door. 

He immediately grabs the Death Note, grabs a pen and starts writing names down. For a while, he stops and starts to examine the names he has written and starts to laugh. He can’t believe he holds something so surreal. “You’ve taken quite a liking to it.” Light looks behind him and instantly yells and falls down when his eyes meet with a monster. “No reason to act surprised. I am Shinigami, Ryuk. That used to be my notebook. Judging by your laughter, you've already figured out that what you have is no ordinary notebook.” Ryuk, the Shinigami says, watching the human in front of him stand to his full height. “Shinigami, God of death, huh? Well, I’m not surprised. In fact...Ryuk, I’ve been waiting for you.” Light gets up from the floor. “Oh?” Ryuk gave a surprised face, watching the human with interest. “I've already figured out that this Death Note that I've found is real. It didn't take me long. And now that I've witnessed the proof of its power, I only feel more confident in what I'm gonna do.” Light says, taking in the Shinigami in. He never has seen a God of Death. “That's interesting. I certainly wasn't expecting this. Several Death Notes have made their way into the human world in the past, but you're the first to have written this many names. Look at how many people you’ve killed in only five days. Most are reluctant to write this much.” As Ryuk says this, Light is thinking of a male that has pointed out many things about the Death Note. ”I've already prepared myself, Ryuk. I used the notebook even though I knew it belonged to a Shinigami, and now that Shinigami has come. So what will happen to me? You're here to take my soul, right?” 

“Hmm, what do you mean? Is that some fantasy you humans came up with? I'm not gonna do anything to you. The notebook becomes part of the human realm from the very moment it touches the earth. In other words, the notebook is now yours.” Ryuk explains, looking at Light Yagami's lifespan. “This...is mine?” Light asks, surprised that the Death Note is starting to get his life more interesting. “If you don't want it, just give it to someone else. But if you give it away, I'd have no choice but to erase your memories of the notebook.” Light scoffs in his head, who will give up a Death Note? Even if he did, Light knows no one to carry out his plans. (Y/N) might be a choice if Light was there to push him. He knows the other male will follow his lead. “So, then, you're saying I can use the Death Note all I want and I won't be punished?”

“Let's just say this, you will feel the fear and pain known only to humans who have used the notebook. And when it's your time to die, it will fall on me to write your name in my Death Note. Be warned, any human who's used a Death Note can neither go to heaven nor hell for eternity. That's all. Now you have something to look forward to after you die.” Ryuk laughs at the end, knowing well how humans have died. A knock sounded behind the door to his bedroom and Light let out a confirmation that he heard the other person. “Light?” His mother calls him. Light looks at Ryuk to try and figure out how to hide the 8 foot Shinigami. Apparently, Ryuk saw the annoyed look that the human had on his face. “It’ll be alright. Answer it.” Ryuk eggs on, watching as Light slowly makes it to the door. “What is it?” Light asks, making sure that the door isn’t open enough to see the death god in his room. 

“I thought you'd like some apples the neighbors brought them over for us. Why on earth is it so dark in your room? You'll ruin your eyesight.” Light looks over his shoulder in surprise. What’s going on? Mom can’t see him? He didn’t say anything, just grabbed the basket of apples from his mother and shut the door. He places the apples down and sits down on his chair by the computer while watching the shinigami examining the apples. “That notebook you found originally belonged to me, and since you're now using it, you are the only one able to see me, and of course, my voice can only be heard by you. In other words, the Death Note is the bond between Light, the human and Ryuk, the Shinigami.” Ryuk takes a big bite out of the delicious smelling fruit. “Yum.” He says, tasting the juices exploding in his mouth. Light looks at the notebook that was on his desk. 

“I just have one more question I wanna ask you. Why was I chosen for this?” Light looks back at the tall figure only to see Ryuk shoving down more apples down his throat. “Hey, are you even listening?” Light’s jaw clenches. “Apples in the human world are worth the trip. What's the best way to describe these? Juicy?” Ryuk mumbles out, more to himself. “Just answer my question.” Light asks, well more like demands. Scoffing, Ryuk looks at the human, “I didn't choose you. Don't you see? This is all just an accident. You actually thought you were chosen because you're so smart or something? Don't be so vain. It just happened to fall around here, and you just happened to pick it up. And that's all there is to it. That's why I wrote the instructions in English, the most popular language in the human world.” “Then why did you drop it in the first place? You even wrote down specific instructions, so don't try telling me this was an accident!” 

“You're asking me why? I did it 'cause I was bored.” Ryuk answers, not bothered by the human’s anger, more like amused. “You were bored?” Light deadpans, bothered by the shinigami's truth. The mind of the human racks for an answer but all in all, boredom leads to two different things. Happiness or depression. “The truth is Shinigami haven't got much to do these days. Most of the time we're either taking naps or gambling. If you take the time to write names in your Death Note, the others just laugh at you for working so hard. Even if you wrote the name of another Shinigami, it'd be pointless because they wouldn't die. And since we live in the Shinigami Realm, it brings us no amusement to kill those in the human world either. So I figured I'd have more fun if I came down here myself. Anyway, I'm surprised at how many names you've written, but I wanna know why you only wrote the cause of death for that guy who was hit by the truck.”

“If you don't write down the cause of death, the victim dies of a heart attack, and that's probably the best thing about the Death Note, Ryuk. You see, I've already exhausted the list of the world's major criminals, and eventually, I'm going to get rid of them all.” Light answers the Shinigami, not only for the guy that was hit by the truck but for all the names that he written down in the Death Note. “What's the point of doing that?” Ryuk questions, eating all this information up in his mind. “It's only a matter of time before people figure out that these criminals are being eliminated by someone. I want the world to know of my existence. That there's someone passing righteous judgement on the wicked!” Light can feel excitement pass through his body once more. The adrenaline kicking in. “Why even bother? What are you trying to achieve by passing judgement on them? I mean, why do you care?” Ryuk questions further, who knew watching a human do something passionate be so entertaining? “Because… I've been bored too. I wasn't ready to believe it at first, but it's obvious now. There's something about the Death Note itself that makes humans want to try it out at least once.” Light starts to have memories of all the times he just watched people do horrible things. How a boy by the name of (Y/n) got bullied because of his race. 

-Flash back after Taruo’s death-

He remembers how (Y/n) pulls him out of the store and into an alleyway. His mind whirling with thoughts. His body was in a state of shock of not only just the guy that was harassing the lady but also the guy that was holding hostages. “I killed them both. I really… I killed two men.” He mumbles out, leaning on (Y/n) for support. “I...it worked.” (Y/n) mumbles out, disbelief written on his face. “Those were human lives, Light! You can go to jail!” (Y/n) gasps out, letting Light lean onto the wall behind him so he can ground himself. It won't be overlooked. Besides, who am I to pass judgement on others? Uhh… no, no wait. Maybe I'm wrong. This is exactly what I've been thinking about lately. Light thinks, looking over at a shaking 18 year old. “This world is rotting, and those who are making it rot deserve to die.” Light says, getting the attention of the smaller male. “What are you talking about Light?” “Someone has to do it, so why not me?” Light straightens out, catching his breath from the adrenaline coursing through his body. “Light, this is…” He can see the other thinking it over. Can see the fear in his eyes. He doesn’t want to see that. “You're sacrificing your mind and soul!” (Y/n) whisper yells, looking at the alley's exit, in case someone hears. “It’s worth it.” Light spits out, watching the fear of the older decrease. “Because the world can't go on like this.” Light ends the conversation, watching the fear clear from his friends eyes and something new awakens Light when the fear gets replaced by amazement. 

-Flash back in the classroom-

I've wondered… what if someone else picked up this notebook. Light scans the room, watching teens his age talking to each other. Is there anyone out there, other than me, who would be willing to eliminate the vermin from the world? If I don't do it, then who will? His eyes land on his childhood friend who gets up from his seat and makes his way over to Light. The (e/c) eyed male slips a piece of paper on his desk, leaning close to Light so no one can see them. He turns over the paper to show letters that form words. Toki Kark… Realization crosses Light’s eyes and he looks over at the short male in front of him. This person is the one that killed (Y/n)’s father and younger brother.

-Flash back in Light’s room-

Both Light and (Y/n) look at the notebook. Both came in here without any conversation. Slowly, Light picks up a pen and writes down, ‘Toki Kark’. He lays down the pen and both pairs of eyes tune on to Light's watch that you gave him for his birthday. That's just it; there's no one, but I can do it. After a minute passes by, Light looks at (Y/n) who has tears running down his cheeks. The older boy gets up from Light’s bed and gets on his knees in front of Light. Hands gripping Light’s thigh, (Y/n)’s eyes met with Light’s. “Thank you, Light… I owe you my life.” The boy whispers out, bowing at the taller man’s feet. I'm the only one who can. I'll do it, using the Death Note, I'll change the world.

-Flash back ends-

“At first, I wrote the names of the worst criminals I could think of. Like I was cleaning up the world, one name at a time, so that eventually no one will ever do anything evil again. And while the truly guilty ones who deserve to be punished for their crimes die of heart attacks, the people who are less guilty but who still make trouble for others will slowly be erased through disease and accidental death. Then and only then the world will start moving in the right direction. It'll be a new world, free of injustice, and populated by people who I've judged to be honest, kind, and hardworking.” Light explains, closing the Death Note. A shiver runs down his back, remembering how good it felt to see (Y/n) on his knees, hope in his eyes looking at him. No one else, but him. “But if you did that, it would make you the only bad person left.” Ryuk counters, watching a gleam cross over the human’s face. “Huh? I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm a hard working honor student considered to be one of Japan's best and brightest. And I… I will become the God of this New World.”

It's just as I thought, humans are so interesting. Ryuk chuckles to himself. 

[drawbauchery]

The Second Session

fic by cartoons-tothemoon

“So, let’s review, last session, we broke you down to many of your core traits and neuroses.”

“Thanks for reminding me, it’s not like I have the capacity to remember last week.” Skipper muttered.

“Well, now we’re here to build you back up, and work from that onwards.” Hans said. He had his hands folded plainly in his lap, and he’d changed the lighting in the office. Skipper hated it. He hated having to sit across from a smug as shit Hans as he waited calmly and quietly for Skipper to begin talking, with that terrible, blinding light that gave off a strangely clinical feel that makes him more uneasy than anything else. He wonders if Hans would let him sleep for the hour he was meant to spend here. Sure, he’d be paying $35 for a nap, which was crazy in of itself, but he knows from experience that sometimes all you need is a good nap to be a functioning person again.

“I’m not in the position to really diagnose you with anything, and even if I was, I’d still need more time to get to know your mind before I could really prescribe anything for your current conditions.”

“Conditions?”

“Plural. Like children trying to sneak into a cineplex in a trench coat, what was once one turned out to be two or more disorders standing on top of one another’s shoulders. Bouts of aggression and insomnia tied to intense paranoia, a complex that comes from being a leader, and a fear of depending on others. Abandonment issues, repression-“

Skipper waved his hands in a forceful sort of wave, “yes, thank you. Just tell me what to do about it already.”

“What?”

“Just fix me already.” Skipper seemed frustrated. “You’re the one who thinks I’m broken in the first place, the only reason I’m here in the first place is to prevent any future surprise tea parties.”

Hans sighed. They were barely even 5 minutes in, and Hans just knew he was going to be spending the rest of the session constructing arguments for statements Skipper constructed in seconds.

“If this was only to prevent any more…surprise visits from moi, then I would’ve been fine with just the first session. And I think you know that.”

He did. He did know that. Hans suggested the idea of a second session, and so did Skipper, in the way that you do when you’re bonding with people you have a rather hostile history with. No commitment was really stated, which left the ball in Skipper’s court, but what was he supposed to do after that thorough deconstruction, let it simmer in his soul for the rest of his known life?

He couldn’t even let it simmer for a whole week at this point, after all, he was already considering asking RICO of all people if he was too arrogant a leader and intentionally pushing people away.

RICO.

It made sense at the time, Kowalski would question where he was learning such jargon and be able to draw conclusions based on his recent absence, and Private would do nothing but validate him. Because he was just that nice, he supposed.

“Second, it’s not about being “broken” or “fixed” or what have you, the fact of the matter is that you have the most high-stress job in your already high-stress career. As much as I enjoyed our battles in the fish markets of Denmark, it’s not like the experience hasn’t done something to me, or you for that matter.”

Hans sighed, he was already just so exhausted by this…session. He’d even revealed that he too shared in mental health struggles if Skipper was willing to pick up the scraps left behind for him. Skipper looked a little surprised, sure, but fell back into an understood complacency sooner than later.

Was this the closest they were ever going to get to a true understanding of the other?

He supposed he’d have to take it.

“And lastly, I can’t tell you how to “fix” yourself. I’m a therapist, not a life coach. I’m not here to give advice, I’m here to examine your trauma, and give you a better perspective on how to move forward. However, I can’t take those steps for you. You kinda have to figure out a lot of those things on your own.”

Skipper looked positively moody about this, but less in a spoiled, petulant five-year-old sort of way, and more…accepting of it. He looked tired, and less because it was barely just a quarter past 1. It was an abstract tiredness, one not born of resting or restlessness, but a thing all its own.

Skipper sighed. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“This is a timely process for a reason, Skipper. Many people can spend years in therapy trying to handle these exact issues.”

“I didn’t realize this was a life sentence in the making.” Skipper muttered.

God, this was already such a process. Hans could tell that Skipper couldn’t stand the vagueness of this all. He was an action guy, he wanted an easy solution of doing task A to accomplish thing B, and achieve reward C, and go on with his life.

No, not even an easy solution. A clear solution. Skipper was a problem solver. All of this was already so abstract, and he didn’t even know if he was so vehemently against this whole process just because it was him, or just because it was therapy at all. He even had a client who after a bad experience with a therapist in middle school decided to turn her sessions into stand-up, just because she was already so familiar and so bored with the process.

Maybe that’s what he needed to channel. Therapy in of itself was at the best of times uncomfortable and at the worst of times boring. He was already dealing with a high energy, high stress client, who was uncomfortable as all hell with being there. If he put him back into a comfortable situation, he may or may not get something out of him, and if he doesn’t, at the very least make him more comfortable with spending time with him at all, off the clock, at least.

“What do you like to do, Skipper? In your free-time?”

Skipper eyed him suspiciously. “Uh, why?”

“I’m trying something. Trust me here.”

That could’ve been phrased SO much better, from nemesis to nemesis, but Skipper seemed willing in the moment to run with that trust. “I like working on my combat capabilities, driving around, sometimes I watch TV and movies, I help Private bake when he feels like it, I nap, I gamble…”

Skipper seemed to be drawing a blank for whatever reason. Surely, he had things he did in his free time, right? It wasn’t like he was ALWAYS on the clock, he just never really thought of certain periods of time as…free. What even counted as free-time anyhow? Was it just time that wasn’t spent doing other things? Under that definition, no time was free.

“Can I say this to you as both a friend, an enemy, and somebody who’s known you for quite a few years at this point?”

Skipper nodded hesitantly.

“Jesus Christ, you need some hobbies.” Hans stated, matter of factly. “Working on your “combat capabilities,” as you put it, seems to be a literal constant considering your job as…however your job is defined, so it’s less play and more work than anything else. You mentioned helping Private bake “when he feels like it,” and I wouldn’t exactly call napping a hobby, or gambling a healthy one.”

Skipper shrugged. It’s not like “Stomp the Wombat” ever left the confines of the lair, anyhow.

“It just feels like you don’t have a lot of things you do just for yourself, you know? Driving around and watching TV are the only hobbies that feel wholly your own, something you don’t do for work or for others. Keep in mind that you can keep doing these things you enjoy, but perhaps you should find other things for yourself. Like an instrument, or a cooking class.”

“I told the boys that I joined a bowling league just to be here.”

“And did that seem believable enough for you to do to be here?”

His silence told Hans everything, but not the literal everything of Skipper “going to bed” at 8 just to climb through his window at 12:30, shimmy down the fire escape, and walk to Hans’s office.

But he probably could tell anyhow.

Of course, this kind of put a blight on Hans’s plans to make Skipper more comfortable while being here, and as he told him such, Skipper proceeded to lay down on the couch. Hans couldn’t tell the exact reason for the action, but it did seem to be a point of exasperation for him.

“Well, damn, sorry I “foiled your plot” to make myself comfortable in the den of the beast.”

“Skipper, you insult me. You really think I’d decorate my den with wooden sailboats? Absolutely criminal.”

“You seem to forget that.” He muttered. Hans ignored it.

“Although the hobby talk didn’t exactly lead where I thought it could…It did lead me elsewhere.”

“Goddamn it.”

“What skill have you always wanted to learn? What’s something that you’ve wanted to try for just, so long, and never got the chance to?”

Skipper began to pick at his lip. This whole talk already made him nervous, but now what was he supposed to say? That he figured he’d be in the back of a truck with is hand hanging out the taillight since he was 14, for whatever reason, so he didn’t even bother considering his top 3 colleges, let alone any future ambitions?

Still, if he was quiet for too long, either Hans would judge him, or he’d render his lips a bloody mess, and that’d be a whole different thing to deal with.

“…Archery sounds fun.” He said. Hans nodded.

“That’s interesting. It’s closely related to your pre-established interests but it’s closer to a sport now than something to be used in an actual combat situation, which sort of allows it to be separated from your work.”

Skipper nodded as well, allowing Hans to believe that that was his thought process from the start, and more of just curious to see if he could shoot a flame off a candle like Annie Oakley.

“You mentioned you liked baking with Private. Do you like the idea of baking itself, or just doing it with another person?”

“Food is meant to be shared?” Skipper seemed to be asking, but also stated in a very definitive way. “It’s a process. It’d be weird not to help in the process.”

Hans pulled his hand away from Skipper’s mouth, where a few small cuts were beginning to form. “If you’d like to have a session where we did a low-stress activity you wanted to do, and we talked while doing so, I think it’d put you in the best conductive environment possible to actually combat the problems that seem so visible to me. This was a good first development, though. I just don’t know if I can expect on accidental issues to identify and attack every time.”

Hans sighed and got up from his chair to stare out the window. Skipper didn’t know why he did this, outside of being a dramatic bitch, but it got him to look anyhow.

“It’s so incidental, many people struggle with balancing work and life as is, but this could easily be one of the main causes of your paranoia, as well as causing a level of detachment and depersonalization, which relates to how you relate to others.”

And well, damn. What was Skipper supposed to say to that?

“Our time’s almost up.” Hans said, checking his watch. Skipper was coming to realize how strange time in therapy was. It simultaneously felt like hours and seconds passing all at once. Perhaps it was because there were no clocks, like a casino. Or maybe it was because going to therapy at 1 in the morning didn’t exactly give you a sun to follow in terms of time. Hans handed Skipper a weird sort of rack with string on it, along with some tissues.

“It’s a loom. Fidget with something that won’t bleed for the next five minutes, if you would.”

Skipper glared at him for the snide comment, but Skipper didn’t exactly put it back where Hans had stored it originally. Picking at the strings inanely didn’t feel as satisfying as his usual fidgets, but it would work until he lost focus and the skin had time to heal.

“I’m giving you three assignments until our next session.” Skipper would’ve originally rolled his eyes at the idea of homework, but there was something that felt already strange about this session. Last session, he was so thoroughly antagonized and owned in such a way that his entire psychological history had been exposed, but this made last session feel like…a misstep. It was almost like Hans was trying to give the rug back to Skipper after it had already been so unceremoniously swept away from him.

He seemed as unsure about this as he was, he even confided about the state of his own mental health, something he probably wasn’t supposed to do. Which, honestly, made Skipper feel better about the whole thing. He didn’t like being guided, and as much as he detested having to do this whole thing with Hans in particular, the idea of having to figure out a stranger at the same time they were trying to figure out him sounded like a nightmare. More than this already was.

The whole session felt off, sure, but it wasn’t as off as it could’ve been, and he knows it could only be worse.

“I want you to begin researching archery, if you really want to pursue it as a hobby, you should try to learn what you can about it before jumping in and figuring out it isn’t what you thought it was.”

“I want you to pay a compliment to each of your team members in a casual way, this’ll strengthen your bonds with them, in a way that allows you to affirm that you appreciate them, as much as they appreciate you.”

Okay, that sounded like hippie nonsense, but who was he to judge at this point.

“And finally, I want you to pick out a recipe to prepare during our next session.”

“Wait, what?”

“A recipe. Something that’ll take less than an hour. I have a friend who’d give me access to their kitchen in the middle of the night, so we’ll be on neutral ground, and I’m sure it’ll be more believable to your “boys” that if you really are doing something in the middle of the night, that you have physical proof of it. Considering how weirdly secretive you are already, the idea you covered up secret cooking lessons with a bowling league doesn’t sound too far-fetched.” Hans was muttering at this point. All these things answered questions he figured he’d have, but nothing that helped with where he was NOW.

“I know it’s a weird idea, but the clients who have had the chance to do different, vaguely active things during our sessions tend to be more open and honest with me about things that they’re worried about, things that they struggle with, and they can make for more engaging sessions where you actually take in what I’m telling you, and makes it less of a lecture.” Hans sighed. “If you hate it, we never have to try anything like that again, but, I do really want you to give it a try. This is a two-way street, I can only give as much as I myself get. I just got lucky this week.”

Skipper stopped strumming the loom.

“Text me the address.” He said, and Hans would have burst with joy if such a thing was appropriate in present company, until he realized.

“I…don’t have your number?”

“Oh, no, session’s over! Wow, how did the time fly? Guess you’ll just have to figure that out for yourself, what a swell talk we had, doc,” Skipper yelled as he headed out the door.

“Pay at the front desk!” Hans yelled back before relaxing into his chair. Skipper was never going to be an easy client to deal with. Maybe he wouldn’t ALWAYS dance around the issues at hand, but he was never going to REALLY come clean about it. There may be things they never talk about, the same way Hans did.

And that was fine. Maybe it made what little he did learn all the more rewarding. Maybe it made what little he learned all the more meaningless if Skipper ever reached a point of complete and utter honesty with him, a fantasy he knew would never see come to light.

But who was to say, really?

It was all a matter of time.

After all, this was only the second session.

(Ahh! I can’t believe I didn’t post another fic for a whole! Month! I think it’s just because I didn’t really know what to do for the second session, and I think you can kinda tell, considering it’s not like Hans knows what to do either. Do you guys really want a whole fic series about Skipper going to therapy? I have no idea. It’s pretty fun, though. I don’t know how Hans became a therapist, either, but I guess that’s just what the dude does now. By the way, the client who turned her therapy sessions into stand-up comedy? That was just me in high school with my mandated therapist. I once gave a funeral to a squeaky toy I broke in the middle of the session. It was simultaneously so sad and so funny at the exact same time.

This fic will be up on my ao3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tadstrangerthings, as soon as @drawbauchery posts it!)