#been having the Worst day ever and all the leaving speculation was putting me in an even worse mood

[22plus15]

i'm way too emotionally fragile for this today pls do not get my hopes up 😩

[username8746489]

Sylvester Ashling Power Analysis/Speculation

Sylvie has been on the mind for a while, so here's my interpretation of how his epithet works (with evidence where I can find it)

Sleep Dust

Sylvie's sleep dust exists as a thin coat on him at all times

Evidence: "[Wonder how] your jacket is white with all this... weird orange dandruff?" (Prison of Plastic - CAST LIVESTREAM! [PART 2])

This coat is loose enough that any movement is enough to dislodge it

Evidence: Molly bumping into Sylvie (EP1 - Quiet in the Museum!)

Sylvie can release the sleep dust at will, but the speed changes depending on how spread out it is (Smaller = Faster). The largest range he can release it is at least the size of a museum room.

Evidence: Putting Indus to sleep (EP2 - Bear Trap)/Using Sleep Dust on Molly + Giovanni (EP2 - Bear Trap)

Once the sleep dust leaves Sylvie's body, it doesn't last long

Evidence: The sleep dust disappears completely after Giovanni blows it away instead of falling back down (EP2 - Bear Trap)

The sleep dust is able to put a person to sleep for several hours. However, you can still wake up from it the same way you would as if you fell asleep normally

Evidence: Molly falling asleep for at least 4 1/2 hours (EP1 - Quiet in the Museum!)/Mera waking up Indus (EP3 - The Doctor is In)

Sylvie likely has an immunity to his own sleep dust

Counting Sheep

Counting Sheep trades Sylvie's sleep dust's potency for mobility

Evidence: Molly only becomes sleepy for a few moments when a Counting Sheep hits her, rather than falling asleep for hours like before

Sylvie can summon at least 27 sheep at once

Evidence: 27 sheep onscreen for like one frame (EP2 - Bear Trap)

Nightmare Fuel

Nightmare Fuel requires the target to have a certain amount of drowsiness before it can be activated, but nightmares can still be summoned without the target being asleep

Nightmare Fuel summons a past nightmare the target has had, usually their worst one

Evidence: "That fire he summoned was from my nightmares" (EP3 - The Doctor is In)

Sylvie doesn't need to know what a person's nightmare is to summon it

Evidence: "Pyrophobia, huh?" (EP2 - Bear Trap)/Being confused when Mera's nightmare is already reality (EP4 - Reflection)

Sylvie uses his yo-yo to activate Nightmare Fuel

Evidence: An orange light travel along the string of the yo-yo whenever he activates Nightmare Fuel (EP2 - Bear Trap/EP4 - Reflection)

Sylvie can manipulate any Nightmare Fuel he summons

Evidence: "I'll keep that fire where it is" implies he can control where the fire moves (EP2 - Bear Trap)

Nightmare Fuel can be used based on any nightmare a person has ever had in their life

Evidence: Nightmare Fuel has summoned more things than the target's worst fear (Bear statues coming to life/Duck/Blue fire)

Dream Big

If Sylvie were to use Nightmare Fuel on himself, "he will be paralyzed and his heart and thoughts will race in anxiety until the spell gets dispelled"

Evidence: Majin Ask (Thank you to gayfrogstheremix for providing me the source)

Sylvie can bring dreams to life. This includes himself, but potentially also includes anyone else who is asleep

Evidence: "Can lull targets to sleep and bring their dreams to life" (Sylvie Bio)/"Sylvie can use his powers to examine his patients’ dreams up close and personal." (Epithet Erased Website)

Sylvie had to train himself to lucid dream Beefton, although he is still unable to control him completely

Evidence: "I think Sylvie had to do training, to like, specifically kind of lucid dream a Beefton into existence" (Epithet Erased QnA Stream Part 5)

Beefton was first created when Sylvie was 11

Evidence: Beefton is 4 years old (Beefton PoP Infocard)

Sylvie could bring any of his dreams to life through Wild Dream but chooses not to

Evidence: "He could probably Wild Dream about whatever he wanted, but it might not be helpful, it might be destructive." (Epithet Erased QnA Stream Part 5)

Sylvie likely uses Dream Big in his day-to-day life, even outside of battle

Evidence: Beefton's interests include "Doing Sylvie's homework after Sylvie falls asleep" (Beefton PoP Infocard)

Sylvie could theoretically use Dream Big to use another epithet, but he would have to train to do so

Evidence: "Could Sylvie like fall asleep and then dream of having a different epithet?"/"Yeah?"/"He could. It'd take a while." (Epithet Erased QnA Stream Part 5)

Miscellaneous

Sylvie can likely drop asleep at will. He may also enter the REM stage of sleep (when you have the most vivid dreams) extremely quickly

Evidence: He can dream Beefton only a few seconds after falling asleep when it usually takes ~90 minutes to enter REM sleep

All of Sylvie's summons are made of his sleep dust

Evidence: Counting Sheep explode into Sleep Dust (EP2 - Bear Trap)/Mera's Duck + Beefton is the same color as the Sleep Dust

All of Sylvie's (personal) summons have some form of sentience

Evidence: Counting Sheep have the ability to distinguish themselves from each other ("The pompadour sheep thinks it's the leader of the flock" (Sylvie Trivia 2))/Beefton has a personality and memories separate from Sylvie ("Beefton did all that!?" (EP3 - The Doctor is In))

The 'realness' of a Nightmare Fuel/Dream Big may depend on how asleep the target is

Evidence: Molly's fire leaves no trace behind (EP2 - Bear Trap) but Beefton's damage remains (EP3 - The Doctor is In)

Sylvie will most likely reach tier 2 in a decade or so

Evidence: "Sylvie's stats are currently in the high-stars, but if he continues on his current trajectory then it's very likely he'll reach the Orbit tier in Proficiency by the time he's in his late 20s to early 30s." (Star Mechanics Explanation)

[gnnosis]

i have a theory about the bear & carmy’s artistic talent and no one else (that ive seen!) seems to be talking abt this. gotta get it out there so if it happens i can say i predicted it

carmy is going to leave the restaurant industry. we see time and time again that carmy is not happy in the industry, and maybe never has been. he’s traumatized by the fancy restaurant he worked at. he wanted to work at the beef, but only to be with mikey. he took over the beef because he (felt he) owed it to michael — and because he had the skills — not out of some great love of cooking. he only got to his level of skill out of a self-professed “fuck you” to mikey! carmy’s not happy. “this shit’s not fun for me,” he says to richie. make no mistake — he’s really, really good at it. but he’s not happy. the industry brings out the worst version of him, every single time. the stress of the kitchen turns him into the bear from the 1x01 opening, into his mother.

contrast this with syd and richie, tina, even marcus. even under stress, even with everyone yelling at each other, the kitchen brings out the best in them. they’ve improved their skill levels because they feel they owe it to themselves. richie thrives under the pressure of being a concierge, he’s a new man, he wears suits now. tina is a transformed person because she’s begun to believe in herself (and knows others believe in her). marcus (although thwarted by his own hyper-focus sometimes) delights in the craft of being a pâtissier, creates spectacular, thoughtful dishes — he flourishes.

and sydney. sydney, under stress, opening night, is throwing up in the bushes, like we know carmy did in a job that was Bad for him. but it’s not the stress of the job per se that’s getting to syd, but the pressure she’s put on herself to do well enough that her dad will see the bear as she sees it — her very own place in the industry she loves above all else, a place to practice her beloved craft, to take care of people, to pour everything she has into this one thing. it’s not the job making her physically sick, like it did carmy, it’s the pressure of showing how much she loves the job, of her dad thinking she’s doing well enough to deserve to love and devote herself to it as much as she is. and in the kitchen, under pressure, with carmy locked in the fridge, syd doesn’t panic, doesn’t yell and scream — not really. she collaborates with richie, delegates as necessary, steps up — and leads. she shines.

carmy as a chef is doing what he’s good at, performing the skills he’s cultivated. it might be the only thing he feels he’s good at. it’s all he’s ever really known. but it’s not healthy. it’s killing him. it’s ruining his relationships with everyone important to him. he needs to get out.

i predict that sydney and richie will take over the bear. probably with nat’s help behind the scenes. they love it. it gives them purpose. it makes them thrive.

and carmy… will go to visual arts school. (or simply become an artist. do people still do art school these days? if so… like… he could do worse than SAIC)

i don’t think the show has been dropping all these references to carmy’s artistic talent for no reason. the pants he designed (thom browne’s!), the drawings of claire they mention and then flash during his panic attack, the speculative drawing of the bear he gifts michael in 2x06, and the menu drawings that sydney gushes over. the painting he hates that’s hung in the restaurant? could you do a better one, carm?? in the future, will that get replaced with one of yours, carm??? his artistic talent is lingered on too much to not be indicating something about what carmy really loves. a talent he innately has but doesn’t seem to realize the depth of. what he’d spend his time doing absently before he got caught up in the rat race of the restaurant industry. he talks about art like it’s something he’s compelled to do, like it’s something he loses himself in. a flow state.

carmy can flourish too. it’s just that he’s going to need to go somewhere else to do it.

[drkmgs]

Unfair

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Warning: mention of two-timing, not loyal, hurt, sad, just painful, torture, beaten, starved, dehydrated, this took too much effort...

"You're being unfair, Wednesday. I have ignored what you have been doing behind my back. Your everyday meeting with Tyler and Xavier? Worst kissing Tyler, while you have a partner who is constantly worried about you, and when were you going to tell me about your engagement? huh?! When?!" You screamed at her, it almost broke your vocal cords. This was the first time you screamed at someone, specifically someone you love.

You couldn't help it. The last month being with Wednesday was torture for you and your heart. Everything came crashing to you this week, her random rendezvous with Tyler and Xavier you have known for a while but didn't confront her about it, and the engagement was just a day ago when your mother asked if you were going to attend.

"What do you want me to do, Y/N? Cancel the engagement? You know I can't do that. Tyler and Xavier were merely my subjects for the investigation. The kiss with Tyler? I didn't regret it, because it lead me to solve the mystery." Wednesday says with her logical tone.

You could hear your heart shatter at her comment. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You gave her everything, but in return, that's all she had for you? She didn't even make an effort to cancel her engagement. Did she even love you?

"Tell me, Wednesday Addams. Did you ever love me?! All the sweet things you said to me, were they all lies? Did you just use me for your pleasure? Is that all I am to you? Cause if it is, then we should break whatever we have now and you go on with your engagement." You wiped your tears away and composed back to your confident self.

"As I told you I cannot easily break off the engagement. I need time." Wednesday argued back with ease. "How much time do you possibly need to call off an engagement? What reasons do you need to delay it? If you don't love them you won't make this hesitant decision! If you love me you would have chosen me already, but you don't! You keep procrastinating!" You fire back at her.

There was silence engulfing you both. This was the sign you were waiting for. She didn't love you as much as you love her. You sighed and turned your back to her, you gave her a glance over your shoulder.

"Then I may congratulate you on your engagement, Ms. Wednesday Addams. I wish, we never see each other again." Your tears completely stopped by now and you gave her a thin smile. You left her dorm quickly.

___

After that incident, you completely vanished from Nevermore Academy. Nobody knew where you were, and a lot of students speculated that you dropped out, because of what happened between you and Wednesday.

But that wasn't the case. You had some unfinished business back in your hometown that needed to be done before you graduate from Nevermore. You didn't drop out, Principal Weems put you on temporary leave for future purposes. When you came back, everyone was shocked at your drastic change. You didn't look like how you left. You had bruises, cuts, and healed wounds all over your body and face. It looks like you got ganged up on.

For Wednesday the bruises, cuts, and healed wounds didn't bother her, what bothered her the most is your eyes. They were soulless. They weren't like the ones before, full of life, full of sparkles, and galaxy colors. Now it's pitch black, like the color of a raven. Also, your smile was far gone. This made Wednesday's heart clench as if someone is squeezing the blood out of it.

"What happened to you?" That was her approach to you. "Hello to you too, Addams. or is it a different surname now?" You said, not looking at her. You kept your head low, hiding underneath your hoodie. "Still Addams. Answer my question." Wednesday is very determined to know. "None of your concern." You answered. You head to the office of Principal Weems, and Wednesday still follows you, which irritated you. "Look, Addams. I'm not going to tell you anything even if you follow me into the bathroom. So, stop following me and piss off." You snapped at her. She was about to say something when you turned around and walked off.

Soft knocks got the Principal out of her thoughts. "Come in" was the only thing you heard from the other side. "Oh, Y/N." She stood up as soon as she saw you enter the room. You ran up and hugged her. That's when you broke loose to any emotions you were holding. "It's okay. You did great holding on. You're safe." She soothes you by rubbing your back. Before you left, you did talk to Principal Weems about your family situation and when she lost contact with you, it was her mission to get you back safe and sound, but when she found you, you were already covered in scars and wounds.

Your family is one of the major shareholders of an assassins association, when you learned about this you didn't want to be in it. So, your family and you agreed, before you graduate from Nevermore, you'll have your first and last mission as an assassin in exchange to be set free. To hear that at a young age, it was a perfect deal but when you came to realize it was a way to get rid of you for disgracing the family name, you needed help, that's when you reached out to Principal Weems.

You were tortured, beaten, and nearly starved to death when police raided your family's mansion. They found you shackled on the wall, dehydrated, and lumped. Principal Weems saw the raid go down and couldn't believe how your own family could do this to a such wonderful child.

Now you're in her care and safe back in Nevermore. "I hear from a little bridie Ms. Addams called off an engagement." She whispered as she comforts you. "Is that little bridie as big as a person, has blonde hair with blue/pink highlights?" You snickered. "Hm. Maybe?" She moved out of your hug and looked at you. "Wednesday's mother called. She confirmed it." You looked at her confused, but then you smirked up at her. "Y/N. Don't get cocky. I am still your Principal and I was invited to the engagement party." She shrugged. "I wasn't going to say something, but okay. I don't think it's smart to get back with Wednesday." You say avoiding Principal Weems as she sits back on her swivel chair. "And why is that?" She asked eyeing you as you drift your eyes everywhere but hers. "because who would want a broken me?" You whispered but loud enough for someone to hear who just entered the room.

"Me. I want you. back." Wednesday answered standing behind you and glaring up at you. Principal Weems smiled at the sight. "Ms. Addams, would you show Mx. Y/N their new room? Mx. Y/N, I'll talk to you again after supper." Principal Weems shoo both of you out of her office. "Come with me." Wednesday leads you to your new room. She opened the door and let you in. You looked around to find all of your belongings there.

"Isn't this your Typewriter?" You stopped in front of an extra desk and chair with a black Typewriter. "Yes. I have used this room for writing my novel and it reminds me of you." Wednesday said as she stepped forward towards you. "I apologize. For everything. I wasn't considering your emotions and feelings in the past. When you stormed out of the room, I have come to realize how important you're to me. I searched for you the next day, but you were already gone." Wednesday came very close to you. "I have never considered torture as painful but when you left me that torture was unbearable." She continued. "Come back to me, amore mio." her eyes pleading. "I can't. Wednesday. I have been through hell these past months. I can't throw myself into a relationship right now. I'm broken." You say looking into her eyes.

"I'm willing to wait until you're ready, amore mio."

[ryker-writes]

Ryker's TWST OC

hello everyone! I'm here to tell you all about a TWST OC. Currently obsessed with his backstory and character so yeah. If you have any questions feel free to ask me, or you can even send questions in the inbox for him to answer!

Name: Jaxon Crowley

Personality: Loner, quiet, rebellious, aloof, observant, loyal to those he cares about, reserved

How others describe him: grumpy, dangerous, a delinquent, untrustworthy, selfish

Hobbies: listening to music, playing guitar, star gazing

Height: 189 cm (6'2)

Age: 18

Birthday: January 26th (Aquarius)

Dominant hand: Right

Pet peeves: being told what to do, bright flashing lights

Favorite food: Sushi

Least favorite food: Avocado

Dorm: Savanaclaw

Grade/Class: Third year (taking second year classes)/Class A (No. 21)

Best subject: PE (The only class he occasionally participates in)

Club: Pop music club

Talent: Memorizing things

Unique magic: Fear Raiser

Jaxon can use his unique magic to cause a rush of fear to those around him. He can focus it into the area around him, or one specific person. He can also adjust the level of fear he puts into others. However, the more area or people he tries to use it on at once, the weaker it's affects are. The most fear he's ever put into a person once caused them to pass out. There have been times when he's been known to use it on himself in order to give him an adrenaline rush for certain situations. It's speculated that this unique magic may be the reason he doesn't sleep much and has insomnia, but this isn't confirmed since he doesn't like to talk about it.

Story:

the only child of Dire Crowley, a future great mage, Jaxon Crowley

being the only child, it was just him, his dad, and his mother

the three of them were a family

Since the headmage is his dad, Jaxon grew up in and around Night Raven College

he's been taught every tradition, every activity, and every rule

and as he grew up, Crowley expected him to eventually take over Night Raven College and help him run the school

but that wasn't what Jaxon wanted

he said that he's going to do what he wants to do

Crowley didn't care what he wanted, he wanted his legacy at Night Raven College to live on

the two often argued and fought over this, and neither would give up their idea

Jaxon's mother always refused to pick a side, and often grew tired of their constant fighting

as Jaxon grew up, he began to grow more rebellious and stopped doing anything Crowley told him to do

whatever Crowley wanted, Jaxon did the opposite

this created more anger and hatred between the two, and the distance grew wider

it was shortly before Jaxon's first year at NRC that his mother left

she didn't give a single word or reason, she just left and took all of her stuff with her

Jaxon was more angry and confused than ever

Why did she leave?

Surely it must've been because of Crowley, he was insufferable

but why did she have to leave him behind with Crowley?

with her gone, the two's relationship only kept getting worse

the two fought over everything, and started to avoid each other

by the time Jaxon came to NRC, he had become a complete delinquent in the eyes of others

on his very first day, he got into a fight before he was even assigned to a dorm

and he only continued to get into more fights the longer he stayed in school

the truth was, he enjoyed the fights and took pride in how many times he's won

after each fight, he would always have a grin on his face and even start laughing

on top of that he refused to listen to any school rules, listen to anyone, participate in classes, and generally do anything in school

of course he would get scolded and receive punishment from Crowley, but all of it was ineffective and only made Jaxon more angry

some students tried to befriend him in hopes that he would protect them or even gain Crowley's favor

However, Jaxon saw through them and always pushed them away and would even threaten to fight them

the worst fight of his happened during his second year

according to some students, he was breaking a school rule when a Heartslabyul student came up to correct him

they had a bit of an exchange, before Jaxon got really mad and started attacking the student and using his unique magic on them

the other student had no chance, and ended up getting badly injured

the story spread through the school quickly about the violence Jaxon caused

most said they weren't surprised by his actions

but those who paid closer attention saw that he was unusually quiet after the fight, and his usual grin was missing

that fight was the final straw for Crowley, and Jaxon was expelled for a year

as far as students were concerned, the school was much safer because of this

and Crowley felt he had less to worry about

Whenever anyone asked about Jaxon, all Crowley would tell them was not to worry and Jaxon was being punished for his actions

a year later, Jaxon returned

now as a third year having to take second hear classes after being held back

still remembering his behavior from years ago, students naturally avoided him as much as possible

but many noticed he was much quieter and much less interested in anything or anyone around him

some students even tried to challenge him to a fight, but he acted like he didn't even see them and walked off

he didn't follow many of the smaller rules even now, but he was actually attending his classes now

However, he and Crowley still avoid each other and aren't currently on speaking terms

for the most part, he doesn't pay attention to people when they try to talk to him unless it's someone important

the staff and dorm leaders are the only one's he really listens to

most Heartslabyul students tend to avoid him or resist correcting him on the rules in fear of him fighting them

Jaxon is seen alone most of the time unless it's during classes or clubs

those in the music club have said that he talks a little more there, but mostly spends his time with his guitar

some students have said they've seen him wandering the campus at night too at various times, making them wonder when he sleeps

overall, his behavior after returning to NRC, his behavior has been less aggressive and instead more aloof

Updated look:

After returning to NRC:

Before getting expelled:

[monmuses]

NEW YEARS REVIEW

     Man... where do I even start with this? Buckle up, this is going to be a long ride to review. I’ve gone through some shit and I am going to be tagging people that I’ve met, but please beware of the following topics I mention:

Depression, Mentions of Suicide, Mental Health, Self-Deprication, Anxiety, and Mentions of Mental Illness

     Alright, now let’s get into this:

     I, so far, have experienced a friendship fallout where I almost lost my best friend, a marriage dispute where I was stuck in the center trying to resolve both sides, being the “mommy” to an emotionally desperate 25-year-old who I only friended for a friendship but was used for his emotional baggage, and witnessing my own friends suffer from callout posts that they DID NOT DESERVE. I’ve had to help myself with my own depression and figure out how to keep going without giving up, but here’s my overall review of the year.

     Around last year’s Christmas, I begun college. I moved across state to Idaho to a college town and being five minutes away walking distance. I packed up all of my things, stored the rest, and ended up there with some roommates. It was actually a pretty nice start! I had high hopes because I finally got to experience independence and I was able to get away from my mom! I was excited and I got to be able to manage things on my own. I loved the snow, I loved the cold, and it was right in the middle of winter. I was so excited and was ready to start!

     Two weeks into my new start, I ended up experiencing THE worst friend drop. A friend who I THOUGHT was close to me and loved to talk Jekyll & Hyde about dropped me. They are notorious for disappearing for two weeks to a MONTH without warning and ghosting me until they felt well enough to say hi. We had so many good talks, I stuck with them and even threw out writing ideas for them when they were stuck. I helped with some character designs and blogs, but in the end? I was the selfish person. In their eyes, I was using them and was only their for artistic talent when I was there to be friends. I shared everything with them but they NEVER told me what was wrong.

     I left on my own terms after one of my other friends was ditched by them without warning and I ended up getting the broken bottle of bitterness straight to the face. I was called a number of names, being told that “they knew I wouldn’t ever be capable of change and that I will always be stubborn”. Needless to say, I suffered. That was the start to my depression.

     @vampyrnacht​ is someone who I consider a really good friend of mine. He was one of the other people that suffered from this in January and it was a situation that started speculation around the end of October. We’ve been constantly talking together and sharing ideas, but he’s just great. I love Milan to death and he’s just really fucking cool.

     Over the course of January all the way to June/July, I experienced moments of major insomnia and self-deprication. I hated how I felt about myself and thought of me as a sponge for people’s emotions. That’s all I was to people and I kept sucking it up wherever I went. I left an awful friend group after a month of joining because the owner was an emotionally-draining piece of shit that needed a mother for a girlfriend to take care of him. He confessed his crush to me a FEW DAYS into knowing him and I felt trapped. I was exhausted and it was in the worst month of the year for me, which was February. It took me the entire month to finally figure out that I did not deserve to deal with this shit. I left and ended up hearing about the worst tantrum he ever experienced from two separate people. Needless to say, I was pretty satisfied with being able to put my foot down.

     However, with all of these situations that have happened, I still suffered from moments of anxiety where I could not eat. I didn’t want to leave my apartment and I didn’t go to half of my classes. It got to a point where I suffered from MAJOR insomnia and didn’t want to sleep because of how shitty I felt about myself. I hated me as a person and I still hate how I am. There’s things about me I hate and I psychoanalyze myself in so many ways to where I find little reason to think I am deserving of anything. I like keeping quiet about most things

     May rolls around and I met @shermphibia when I first started adding canon muses (and was after the start to my second semester of college). Through him, I got to meet a number of LOVELY people. I have to thank Fink for letting me meet so many new folks. If it wasn’t for him? I probably wouldn’t have met so many people and I wouldn’t have the attention my blog has today. Xenophanes wouldn’t be my best muse, and I wouldn’t have made so many friends.

     June hits around, and in some way, I somehow fell in between a major fight. The one in question who started all of it is long gone, but I am still friends with the other person who I think is a very sweet person. Special mention to @th0rneprincess​ for being such a trooper and a genuine sweet person to talk to. I love Zi to death and I hope I get to write with you soon!! And another mention during this is @flyatahighergame​.

     Loke is one of the BEST people I have ever met. I see them as an honest-to-god older sister and she is really, really awesome. One of the toughest and most honest friends too. I love them to death and they are some of the wisest people too. I trust her with my life. She helped me through some of the tightest spots I’ve been in this year and gave me some pretty damn good advice. They singlehandedly helped me with this situation and was the only other sweet voice I could rely on for help.

     Around the end of July, I made it home. Shit happened to where I was punished for a number of things I did due to how poor my mental health was and I managed to get into therapy around September. However, since being home, my mom has been responsible for why I am who I am. Through the Besties Against The Throne server, I also met one of my other closest friends: @resiliency-in-starlight​.

     Usa is THE reason why I got further into South Park and ACTUALLY started writing South Park muses. Years ago, I actually got into the show when I was 14-15 years old (daring and awful, but I only watched clips). She is also why I write Damien and Pip now. I previously added some other muses, but I genuinely love talking to her. I got to know her more over time and she is someone I really consider a close friend that I’ve made this year. I love her to death too.

     Here I am now: It’s after Christmas and I’m typing this, trying to include everybody I can remember before finishing it up. I have gotten better at my writing, I now have a job, and I have hobbies that I continue doing to this day. I’m hoping to go back to college again ONCE I am in a better headspace mentally and can manage things on my own. I’m looking forward to a better year and one that I can survive a little better compared to last year’s.

     Some special mentions to @boriiqua​ @pvachypessa​ @purple-paw-muses​ @smileduponyou​ @bambino-muses​ @pompedia​ @dragcns-den​ @serpentine-rogue​ @aseriouscomedian​ for new friends I’ve made this year (and a few other old friends that made a comeback too) and to everyone else I got to know that I can’t tag right now! I have met a lot of special people this year that have singlehandedly got me to be better than I was before. Thank you to all of you that I got to become moots with this year too. Here’s to a better 2023!

[euniveve]

Hiiiiiii Eun

Happy christmas! (In case you don't celebrate it-) Happy winter holidays!!! Get some well deserved rest!

The yuri on ice relaps is so painfull I feel you, Ice Adolescence feels like a myth-

And as selfproclaimed 1# fan/j of TPHD the new chapter right before christmas feels like a gift, you already know I ATE it up, there's no way to thank you enought aah

-❌📻

my dear pookie ❌📻 anon

first off, HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO YOU TOO <333333 have a great one and a merry Christmas!

second of all, (cw. 6 paragraph rant of YoI below the cut)

the Yuri on Ice relapse is a thing and the withdrawal is a thing too that anime is a fucking drug I don't know how I don't know why but it is. it legit got me spiralling on Tumblr and Twitter, just searching for ice adolescence.

after that search I came to the conclusion that iceAdo is probably selved until further notice, mainly bc there is an anon Twitter account basically saying they are a Mappa employee; tweeting that Mappa won't ever announce that they are cancelling IceAdo bc it would look bad on investors but honestly idk like... leaving fans hanging with no answer also looks bad for the investors no?

furthermore, the whole Avex & Mappa thing with YoI couldn't be ignored either but it just boiled down to money. mappa wanted more money and Avex locked them in a contract that cut Mappa very little money (allegedly). Some fans speculate that Mappa is delaying IceAdo bc they want to pressure Avex but again it is all speculation.

honestly, after all that, I just opened AO3 and read every YoI fanfic I could find bc I have little to no hope that IceAdo is coming. the worst part about all this is that YoI is an original anime, therefore there is no official continuation apart from animation. it is also unlikely that Avex or Mappa gonna hand over production to another studio bc let's be real here, YoI put Mappa on the map, there is no denying that.

But then again it is not impossible bc Wit studio (the studio that originally produced Attack on Titan and whose name was put on the map by AOT) handed over production to Mappa bc they have no time to produce the final season.

This kinda shows that to handover production is possible but then again, we are talking about mappa here... infamous for overworking their employees and underpaying them among other things (allegedly)

anyhow, I'm saying IceAdo is possible but the possibility is... less than 10% (In my humble and limited opinion)

<YOI rant end>

anyhow HDKJASHDJKAJ im glad you enjoy the chap <3333333333 it has been in writing for longer than id like to admit but i hope the wait is worth it. Have a great day!

[thelonesomequeen]

You guys seem to keep a healthy perspective on fandom. Was there ever a time it got to be too much? Did Chris’ behavior or the speculation ever get to you? Seems like we all need a Master Class on that. Today I am bummed.

Drama can really get overwhelming sometimes. It can be too much from time to time. The best tips I can honestly give is avoid places that seem to elevate your emotions for the worst and know when to take a break from fandom in general.

There are times I see certain accounts, not just here on tumblr, but on other forms of social media, that constantly post garbage that really pisses me off. I’ll just put it frankly. It elevates my blood pressure and I have to resist the urge to pop off say something. What I’ve learned over time is that trying to even reasonably talk to some people is just a waste of time because once their mind is made up and they’ve decided they’re going to paint a certain narrative, nothing I say, even with proof, will change their mind. I’ve found that what’s best for my mental health is simply blocking or not visiting the pages that ALWAYS leave me in a negative frame of mind after I’ve been there. And that’s not just with Chris gossip, it’s with politics, and other interests I have as well. Sometimes it really is just easier to block off that negativity from your life. My first worry when I started doing this is that I would miss important news, or updates, or something. But I found that I don’t. I still get all of the same information, but from spaces that are either more positive, or are at least open to hearing other opinions, even if they don’t always agree. It’s the fact that we can have a discussion instead of an argument.

The other thing for me personally is just knowing when to take a break. There’s times where the conversation gets overwhelming or redundant. That’s when you’ll sometimes see us say something like “hey, we’re going to take a break from this topic for a bit!” Sometimes that’s also me telling myself that maybe I’ll take a day or two break from checking the inbox and will instead spend time doing other things I enjoy. Or maybe I’ll check the inbox every now and then, but not tags or other pages. The idea of that also scared me at first because I never wanted to be in a place where I felt like I was going to miss something. But I’ve come to learn that even if I take a day or two away from fandom and gossip, it’s all still here when I get back. I might just learn about something a day or two later.

These are things that have just helped me personally. Hopefully they can help you, too! If others have suggestions I’d love to share them! 🦎

[incarnateirony]

Trying to sit here thinking of how my antis are negotiating events in their head to run from the truth right now. Spiral narrative. Tarot. Alchemy. The One. The Path of One. 13 tracks put together in a surprise order. Radio interference. Ticks and leeches. Queen bee. Art of Dying. Reflections. Rocky. The ego. Context. Traxxverse. Find the Queen. Magic Sex Chicken. All of it.

Like. OK. let's say they disbelieve origin stories. ok but what does that leave them as an option. am I just. So closely resonant to their brainwaves and thoughtforms and so good at this show that I knew all this shit in advance by a year or in some cases years?

Because like. even if I was lying about origins, I still have.... [points at all of the above]. So that still means I'm "speculating" correctly long before anything was ever released. Meaning my brain would be sharing the same story braincells as these authors.

So where, oh where, do they see an escape hatch where if they scream at me they can scream it away? Worst case in their own minds I've vibrated into the supernatural dimension to become a psychic attached to Robbie's mental basket. Or, realistically, I've been telling the truth the whole time.

Guys. The end is coming whether you like it or not. I told you LONG BEFORE my fellow worker bee did: Nothing can stop what's coming. Stand down, go home, and enjoy whatever life you have left. That's only a threat if you fear what's coming. And if you fear it, it's over, you lost, go home.

genuinely funny that for all of 2po's itk posing he's about to get blindsided. SPN ripping off the bandaid needed to flush the fandom liars, projection machines, conmen and more out. The authors are over your bullshit, guys. 100%. Direct. Like that context shit? 2po and those like him better take that as @ them personally, because this is in fact personal. They can't tell you that, but I can. You've attacked and fought them for years, and now, this is revenge. And some of us were more than happy to help.

Goodbye, you lying sons of bitches, you extortionists, doxxers, career liars and grifters. Goodbye, you agenda'ed bastards that think you can warp the truth however you want. Goodbye. It's time for a new empire. Long Live The GenderBending Queen.

(update he tweeted shortly after the post)

A terminal fandom disease, a plague, the lot of you. We're ripping out the rot at the root. We're opening that gay door. And you're going to cope. imagine if the fandom was as selfish seasons 10-13 for the Wayward fan pitch. Which antis like 2po also hide that Berens picked up AS a fan pitch, and nobody wailed about credits.

I don't find it a coincidence that the people that grift thousands out of fandom are obsessed with credits as proof. Well, yeah. People who believe in nothing but themselves and their material gain can't comprehend doing what's right for free simply because it is right.

Some of us actually stand for something. Believe in something. And fight for what we want instead of complaining all day. Even if it takes years. Even if it takes falling down again and again. There's a reason it's a representation battle, not a representation parkwalk, and that doesn't work if every man tries to be an island for himself. Sometimes, life is complicated, and sometimes, you Just Help whether you get benefit for it. Because it was what was the right thing to do. Because you knew the Truth. Because you listened.

You guys may understand the concept some day.

The real truth you missed is that for the last several years 2po was trying to argue with me and deny real things that came true, he was basically arguing with those same authors, because some of us don't just suddenly care when convenient. Some of us fight for years without looking for attention like the scripthunt members do.

And 2po is so set on his bad biases he convinced himself he got access, rather than for example wigglebox bitching and moaning her entire time in POLOL about never getting access, and his weird spies that fled when I nailed down 2po's doxxing attack all only having base permissions like lmfao bro. Perspective. You are years behind and clueless. The sooner you accept that the sooner you're going to understand what's happening. You didn't HAVE the context to understand the double-S tweet of Berens intentional mispellings being a silly slapfight with Meg Fitz over her giant bees and the fact that she spells Cas with two S'es, that even if they aren't credited they're all idea sharing still. And you'd know it's meg if you knew meg's interests.

Deep down even wigglebox knows that I used to prioritize speaking with the authors. She did not have access to the results, and I think she only possibly saw the one voice message from Bobo if she saw any at all, but she has to be aware that I chose a different path than they did and the potential that pass opened. She just does not want to look into that opening. Because she chose the wrong path. And it's everybody in script hunt

Amazing the things that can be done if you spend your time and years treating creatives like human beings rather than robots to abuse for demands, project intention at, or try to treat like a direct info spout. You want to know the reason you guys can't get info for crap? Every single one of you sounds like a desperate fan when you try to talk to them instead of appreciating their own work or interests. That's why you guys lost. You never wanted to listen. And that's the plot.

I do not envy the trap he's made for himself and his followers. It quite literally makes them the villains of the fandom story. And he's successfully manipulated people against the truth and the creatives for years, and now they have no choice but to deny deny deny deny until the bitter end or accept the truth I've told them for years. And it's that you guys are the problem. And you need to either grow up and accept the truth or go away and find a show you actually not just enjoy, but understand.

Wouldn't it be funny if this Cult Spiral Narrative and my Cult Mythos Alchemy Bible and Cult Cas As The Goddess shit were actually already circulating the author room by the end of season 14? Like right before Bobo wrote the confession I knew about. The year he asked for me at SDCC. Yeah. That'd be really funny. You know, the things 2po harassed us underground for while we. like. talked to writers about it.

Because he doesn't want the truth. And he's always been a leader of a cult of lies projecting his sins, ideas and fears at everyone else, telling people not to look at the truth and to only listen to his perspective and telling, and boy oh boy does this plot have surprises for him.

You'd think by now he'd give up denying the obvious of what's happening both in the plot in the metanarrative, but no. He's pinned his entire fandom conman career on his current angle and if he concedes then everyone he's been exploiting thousands out of instantly drops his ass. Congratulations dude, you played yourself. Good luck hope nobody sues you off the planet.

[episbep]

rehab days seventeen and eighteen

two really tough days. I got some bad/uncomfortable information and spiralled - taking 7 sleeping pills in 2 days didn’t help, it’s still using/abusing behaviour and I made some really unwise choices - namely arranging to buy 14 grams of ket for £140 - cracking deal but the enticement is too much. There’s too much to lose by doing it so idk why I’m tempted to go back to the dark days of addiction, idk what the appeal is in my fucked up little brain. I know logically that I do not want to be an addict, I have tried to stop so many times and it’s taken a fucking lot to get me this far (I’m only 18 days sober but it’s been a fucking mission and a half even getting to this point) and I know that using (especially a fucking half oz) will throw me back into full blown addiction and the consequences would only continue to get more severe. I’m not prepared to give anything else to this fucked up addiction despite having already lost so much, I still have so much left to lose and so much to work towards and look forward to that I do not want to jeopardise. I had a full blown meltdown after I was unable/unwilling to share in group therapy bc my little crush was told to ‘just stop talking and sit with it for a minute’ and that translated to ‘shut up’ in my mind. Couldn’t stop crying, didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to stay in treatment but didn’t want to leave either, didn’t want to die but definitely didn’t want to keep on living in pain like…it was awful. I could barely breathe and wanted to be alone but then was appreciative when Carl (the best support worker probably in the world) came and sat with and listened to me, followed by the centre manager lol the drama of it all was a bit much but I was not in a good place whatsoever. To cut a long story short I’ve been put on a risk assessing safety plan and have to - attend an online Buddhist centre meeting daily - stay with other people at pretty much all times - complete a daily diary that I submit as well as a personal daily diary - call the on-call number at 9pm each day and practice radical honesty (the last one I’ve given to myself bc I’m still chiding a lot and acting sneaky which is not healthy helpful or adhering to step one!) if I can prove my commitment to recovery and do all these over the weekend, they are going to explore charity funding to help me extend my stay in treatment and get the help that I clearly fucking need. That was my glimmer of hope. That is what’s keeping me going - that little bit of hope that just maybe I can be okay, that someone believes in me, I’ve just gotta show my dedication. There’s no guarantee, but there is hope, and right now that is enough. I thought I’d get clean and that would be that, I was not prepared for the amount of the hard hard work that I have to put in to sustain sobriety, and all the other shit that comes with it that I’ve had to deal with. The emotions are the worst of it. I’ve used ket as a crutch and a cure for so long, before that it was weed, before that it was drinking and the first addiction of them all was self harm. I’m amazed I haven’t reverted back to it, but I am both pleased and proud that I haven’t. Healing is so non-linear and I don’t ever know what the next day is going to bring. That’s why I just have to take it one day at a time.

[strawberry-nugget]

𝙈𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙘 | E.Kirishima x Reader

Pairing: Kirishima/ reader, Bakugo/ reader (mentioned)

Summary: You shouldn't want him and he shouldn't want you, it's sinful and forbidden. But he can't help coming back to you, and you can't do anything but take him in every single time. Until today that is.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Aged up characters (twenties), NSFW 18+, plot with some p//rn but it's not very detailed, unprotected sex (please use condoms everyone), cheating, casual penetrative sex, jealousy, the seggz is pretty vanilla though

↪A/N: tennis player Kirishima, tennis player Kirishima, idk how I came up with it but I can't get it out of my head, written for @doinmybesthere 's 3k event collab and based on The Hills by the Weeknd, don't be shy to tell me if you liked it, I almost wrote 4k in a day which is unusual for me

5.30pm [Missed Call: Red]

5.31pm [Missed Calls(2): Red]

The bubbling notifications are spamming your phone, each call, succeeding the other in persistence and length, making your phone crawl onto your coffee table in restless buzzing. To your salvation the device is on silent; you're just unable to bear the overwhelming sound of your ringtone echo through the empty walls of your apartment, to let it bounce between concrete like a slimy ball, only for it to hit you on the face with tremendous force.

It's one of those days that you can't answer Kirishima. Too perplexed in the wields of your mind, blaming yourself for this horrendous situation, delivering raw swears at him for simply existing.

You don't know how it came to this nor when was the exact moment things switched. Was it at the party that you met him? Or the thousandth time you took him in and let him ruin relationship after relationship. Either way it was horrible for not only you, but also him, and all the people that have been caught up in the sidelines of this rotten affair.

You shouldn't want this anymore and truly, you don't. You're tired of being the second choice, of hiding behind your little finger, crying yourself to sleep at night, only to put on a sultry face for every time he comes. Once, twice a month.

[New Messages: Red]

Babe, you there?

Read 5.38pm

[New Messages: Red]

Babe I got practice at 8.

I know you're reading those.

Read 5.39pm

[Red is typing…]

[New Messages: Red]

I'm outside btw

A fresh, tremendously sharp wave of anxiety rushes through you at the little notification -it can't be like this again, not today. The thudder in your chest is unbearable, heart too weak to stomach the weight of your decision, fingers too reluctant to type out your response.

He's probably smirking while staring at his phone, not a single care in his head. It's loathing to your mind as you confirm your speculation, shooting a glance out of your window, landing your eyes on his car.

He shouldn't be here.

His thousands dollar car doesn't belong in your urban street, not in your side of the town. And it's so dangerous that he's doing this to see you. You've played the worst scenarios in your head a thousand times, millions of headlines on sites and the news about this; Eijirou Kirishima, on his way to claiming a fifth Grand Slam, caught in affair with university student.

Atrocious, degrading, exposing. A hit to his career that would bother the media for a couple of weeks and paint your name in mud along the way.

Why can't he just be content with the model that he's with? You're nothing like her, not as pretty and you don't have her body, you don't have her face, but he still says he finds you better, says he knows you better, but he just can't be with you.

[You]

Can't do it today

Sorry

You're good to yourself, only when you deny him and only when you feel the satisfaction of being the one to do so. It's pointless to sulk over saying no. He can go fuck other girls, play with their hearts and leave you to your otherwise peaceful life. Even if it is just for today.

You don't have the chance to let a smile creep to your face when your doorbell rings. The jiggling sound bursts into your eardrums once and twice, three dreaded times and they're enough to make your stomach churn, your neck tight and your skin ache.

You contemplate on opening the door for him, subconsciously letting yourself feel like a vulnerable prey, who, after running away to save yourself, is choosing to walk into the wolf's den, so willingly that you can feel yourself drifting away with each step you're taking towards the door.

"Babe,"

The swing of your door handle, the crack of your wrist, the creaking of your door as it opens to reveal him; they're all embarrassing. You can't tell if they fall short on his ears, too caught up in the way he looks -all swollen muscles and tall legs. You're running out of courage to say no and he knows this.

He's not as innocent as this cheeky smile frames him out to be, he's not the sweetheart everyone wants him to be either.

He's Eijirou, who's selfishly standing on your door, who's barging his way in your apartment, who's grabbing your cheeks and slamming your face in his, biting your lips until he draws blood, just to punish you for standing up against him.

Your door is slammed behind him, one bend of his knee and it's falling into its rightful place. To shield the sins of your affair, to bring you comfort and privacy as he attacks parts of your neck, your chest. Places that only squeeze perfectly under his touch.

"Babe," He calls again, in between soft kisses. "What's gotten into you?"

You frown and try to look away, past his cocoa colored orbs, past the swelling that's taking over his lips -and yours- with a numbing, tingling sensation.

"Eijirou—"

"I don't have much time in between training, I got a game the day after tomorrow."

It's always like this, you know. He doesn't have to tell you twice or try to excuse his own self for what he does or how he acts. You're pushed between schedules, or slammed into his timetable like a truck when he feels like indulging with you again, hidden between the lines of his free time.

You're sure at this point that it's the thrill he's after. The sinful taste of your lips on his, how he feels in control while chasing after you, when you can't keep up with him.

His lips don't taste like sour cherry anymore, but you let them wiggle against yours with triumph, you let him want to catch his breath as he pulls back and you put the minimum effort in returning the passion you receive.

You pull back, ignoring the words he's whispering against your face, only to take in his features once again.

Soft black hair pulled into a low ponytail, spiky bangs that fly all over his face and his tips drowned in a fiery, foxy red. The only reminder for who he was before his tennis career blew up. For who he was before he turned into this cocky womanizer whom you're desperately after with a longing heart.

"I'm just not in the mood today."

"Well let's get you in the mood then huh?"

He smiles, nose scrunching and chapped lips hiding behind his gums as his hand moves to your thigh, tagging your shorts with furry. As if he's desperate to have you, right here and now. As if bending you over the couch will help put out a fire in him. That's how he always convinces you to keep this going.

He's making you feel like not having you this way is insufferable.

You're buried in the crook of his neck while being pushed onto the couch, nibbling a soft spot that you've found, rubbing his skin on the top of your tongue. You know how to do this without leaving a mark, you can hold back from wanting to take all you can get from him.

But today it's different. It's going to be the last time.

It's not like any other time you've told yourself that you are going to end this. Today you're going to leave a mark, you're going to bite your way into his skin and drink from his poison -the intimate attention he's only ever willing to give- and you'll get drunk in it.

"Fuck," He grunts against your lips. "Fuck, don't stop that feels good."

You don't stop, eager to listen to him, to breathe into his neck before you wrap your lips a little lower and closer to his collarbone. You should be asking if this will cause him problems, but gone is the guilt that veils your coinsense otherwise. You suckle on a spot and then another, stealing his groaning moans one by one as they fall from his lips, plushing them softly in a spongy part of your brain, where they can rest forever, until you've forgotten them.

"Get your shirt off Eijirou," You plea, ogling eyes watering from the pressure that's applied in the apex of your thighs and he's quick to follow your command, lips curling upwards in a sweetheart smirk.

You're going to miss the way the apples of his cheeks cover his eyes when he smiles like this. But there's no going back for you and him.

With legs that feel like burning rubber you hug around his horse, watching the way his muscles flex and fold with his snappy movements. His shirt, tousled and wrinkly, tossed in an unknown corner of your living room, only for him to guess where it is after he's gotten his fix of you.

Thick fingers probe at your sides, pulling your shirt downwards in a silent plea, take off your shirt, give him the satisfaction that he wants, indulge into this as much as he wants you to.

But today, you're not in the mood for this. So instead of pulling your shirt off, you unbuckle your pants, pulling them down at the most dreadful speed, making him bite his lip impatiently.

You won't miss this, the way he's expecting so many things of you.

And if he notices something's wrong, he doesn't say a word, presumably content with getting what he wants; the rear view of the gap between your legs, where he can bury himself and get lost for the next thirty minutes.

"Fuck baby," he moans. "Why do you smell so good?"

You grunt, averting your gaze from his as he pushes your bangs away from your face with the back of his hand. You want to miss his puppy eyes. Ghosting him won't be easier for you if you don't.

But damn if he couldn't read you this well, things would be easier.

"Not in the mood to talk?" You look even further away to avoid the question, "babe, you can tell me if you're not well, you'll feel better if you let it out"

You don't need someone to tell you how to feel. You've decided when the two of you are going to be through. It's set and done, even if he feels at the top of the world right now, you won't inflate his ego anymore.

"M fine Eijirou, put it in," You bite his lip, putting huge effort in making him forget about what he thinks it's bothering you. "Want you to put it in m'kay?"

Sultry, fake voice, he's heard it all before and he doesn't have the right to call you out for it. Whatever he does next, you're his for the moment and for the last time.

Repeating is your rightful way of convincing yourself of not giving up on your decision. If only he could have broken up before deciding to wet himself in you, if only you hadn't taken him so eagerly, if only you hadn't become just like him. Welcoming him despite availability status, afraid to lose him, saying that a little sex wouldn't hurt. If you could do this on repeat, then you could get rid of him quite as easily.

You're not better than him and he's taken your vulnerability to him for granted. He's loved the attention you've paid him from time to time, whenever he's given you so much as a mere call.

You should pretend to moan, to hurt his ego, but as he's delving into you, slowly, mellowy, his kisses feel like burning sunshine, August breeze against your skin, kissing your shoulders lightly. It hurts that this salvation is coming from his mouth, as it moves rhythmically against every inch of you.

"Fuck, fuck, ah, you feel so good, you know that?"

You don't answer, nor do you wrap your lips around him. You don't move them against his when he goes to kiss you, but you coo into his warm embrace once his hands come to cradle you in a tight embrace.

"I love you," He slips up and you contemplate on whether you have to start hating him from this very moment. "I just wanna be with you, I—" He grunts. “—this is why you don't believe him, but nonetheless you hold a moan in as well. "Fuck, I'll break up just for you.”

Now that's a new one. A new addition to the long list of red flags you have with his name on top. You can't fall for it. You absolutely can't. If you do, he'll treat you just like this, he'll fuck behind your back and kiss you goodnight before going off to sleep with someone else. Like he's slept with you, once, twice, thrice.

And you're going to hate being the one who's fooled, despite deserving it more than anyone else. And another girl, or guy, is going to be his subject of desire.

You shouldn't want him to be yours, but you're lewding your 'I love yous' out of your mouth like they're nothing, poisoning your heart until there's nothing left but dust and sucked up blood, all devoured by the greed he's made you feel.

"You love me too?"

"I do," You cry, rocked between him and the couch, neck hurting by the way he's digging his teeth in yours.

"I'll fucking leave everything for you babe,"

He shouldn't. He won't. You tell yourself he's only saying this because he wants to come, to make you feel dirty with his actions and fish out words that make him ecstatic or send him over the edge from your mouth.

Rhythms are peaking, his hips burning from his movements, foreheads are dripping in sweat, lips taste salty against each other. The perfect picture, the most tingling sensation, and you're too fucked to go back, or keep yourself content with him. It feels the same as the last time, a numbing knot in your stomach, commanding you to rip your heart out and throw it away, spooning mewls out of your mouth.

If you could, you'd mute him, not wanting to listen to how beautiful he sounds as he's coming down from his high. If you could, you'd look away, and wouldn't try to burn the image of his body as he's falling apart in your mind.

"That was—" The sigh that leaves his chest through his mouth is liberating, you can tell—"amazing. I still love you, so much babe."

His hand soothing the pain of his thrusts, does nothing to make you feel better. You want to shove it away, but you don't, unhappy with the way you're turning out to be.

"It's time for you to go, Eijirou, isn't it?" You remind him. A hand pushing him off of you and quickly smoothing your T-shirt over your legs to deprive him of the view that'd make him wear a smug of triumph.

"So quick to get me to go. Did you find someone else again sweetheart?"

You don't reply as you're putting on your underwear and pants, shoving his shirt into him with a heavy hand.

"You did, didn't you?"

"None of your business, go off to your practice, your girl, don't patronize me anymore."

He gruffs, beautiful features scowling in that stormy gaze that reeks of his authority, "Here I am pouring my heart on you and you found someone else"

"Eijirou, it's seven thirty, if I were you, I wouldn't be late for practice. You got a game the day after tomorrow."

No more dealing with his pouting, you're going to bawl your eyes out if you have to do it. The sooner he's out of your house, the sooner you'll get this over with; the tight lamp in your throat, the image of him smiling at you like this, him admitting feelings that he shouldn't have.

Hurting him isn't the role that suits you. Because you can't do it. You can't hurt that warm sunshine he has on his face. He has to be the one to hurt you like he's been the one to drive you away. It's too late for him to change or reverse your roles.

You don't want to fight and he knows it.

He knows you, so well, well enough to use you as he wishes to, letting you believe you're using him too. You're going to make him watch you slip away, and he won't do anything about this.

So he's eager to leave as you're pushing him out of the door, he doesn't cup your cheek with his hand, and doesn't kiss your forehead tenderly like he always does.

"You should come to this party Mina is throwing, let me meet your new guy."

Like hell you'd ever do this, he knows, but teasing won't hurt a bit. Eijirou can deal with you dating other men, he's claimed you well before, he'll do it again if he has to, especially now that he's decided to have you.

"Yeah yeah, and if I do, don't ever call me again, 'kay?"

You're too good to not do as he says, or not to fall back to him, and he's too good to not come back to you. To him, you're a match made in heaven, to you, you're a lost cause, burning in the fiery pits of hell as atonement for your sins.

He doesn't know that you'll fall apart before dressing up, how you'll tell yourself you're not doing this for him, but as a statement against him.

You're no better than him, in fact, you're worse.

…

The only problem is, that when Eijirou pulls up at Mina's party after practice, you're already there. Drink in your hand, flared jeans hugging your legs, layered tank tops that cover the bruising truth of this evening, laughing at whatever your friends are saying.

When he puts out his phone, calloused fingers furiously typing a text addressed to you, you're too far gone into another glass, dancing a little dance before grabbing everyone's cups to go for a refill, greeting them in that silent way of yours, drunken smile.

And then you'll pass him by and blink at him, you'll mutter a small greeting and he'll grab you by the hand and whisper in your ear just how hard he'll take you driving the night. You'll swoon, moan, forget about the drinks and follow him anywhere he leads you.

That's how everybody knows about the two of you.

This time, though, you don't cast a single eye on him. In fact, you're tainting him, walking past him while ignoring him, leaving him awestruck and hurt, like his confessions earlier in the day meant nothing to you.

It's a hit to his heart, how your jaw drops as you bump into Bakugo over the kitchen counter, eyes too wide at the sight of him. How your finger dances playfully on his chest and as you smile at him when he whispers something in your ear.

It's infuriating how you drop the cups near the sink and follow Bakugo outside, or how the blond waves at him with a pressed smile against his lips, signaling that he'll be busy for a while.

His insides churn, tummy aching in a feeling of guilt, one unlike anything he's felt before. Losing you doesn't taste in the way he thought he would, it's worse; sour and poisoning. It makes him flee the party, furious and bitter.

When he's back, his body is heavy, feet dragging him across his apartment, mind blank as he follows his basic routine before bed time, fixated on how easy it seemed for you to just ignore him and flee with one of his friends as soon as he came over to the party he invited you to, wondering how you could be so ruthless with him all of a sudden.

Sweet talking Kirishima with a smile of gold, the sweetheart of the professional Tennis scene and you're over him in the split of a second, pushing him away from you without an explanation or heart wrenching speech. Not giving him the satisfaction of some closure, just forcing the cold tempo of your sudden departure in the depths of his heart.

He pays no mind to the girl that sleeps beside him, back turned to him like she's oceans apart, despite the unspoken bound that's keeping them together. He'll leave her, make up for all the damage that he's done, in any way that he can manage to.

It all comes down to the fact that no one can love you like he does, no one can want you like he does. Someone can do it better, but you have to want him.

5.30am [Missed Call: Red]

5.31am [Missed Calls(2): Red]

[New Message: Red]

Fuck, with Bakugo out of everyone?

Delivered: 5.31am

[New Message: Red]

Did you have sex with him?

Babe answer me.

Delivered: 5.32am

[New Message: Red]

I'm breaking up with her tomorrow morning.

And I'll come over.

Babe.

Babe please.

Delivered: 5.33am

[New Message: Red]

I'll take you on a date and we can talk about us okay babe?

Let me know when you wake up.

I love you.

So much.

Delivered: 5.38am

Read: 10.23pm

[You]

(Attached Image)

Sorry 'Red' even if you sound like a total douche, cheeks forgot her phone at my place.

I bet on her answering your late night drama when she takes her phone back.

[Red is typing...]

Super thanks to @celestidarling for proofreading this and giving me the biggest pump of confidence to post

↪Up Next: Dragon King Bakugo

[whaleofatjme1920]

In a Mirror Image (Eyeless Jack X F!Reader)

🌸 In a Mirror Image

[Eyeless Jack X F!Reader]

[Warnings: blood, language, cheating (both physical but it's not like, in your face, and emotional)]

Part 1

The flowers that grow like weeds in your lungs bloom thicker and thicker every day. Your vision clouds with blue more often than not, and you can’t think about anything but the blossoms and blood that paint the bathroom with a hue you’re already much too used to. It’s a painful existence, and it’s getting worse. One of the most wretched parts? You’re deteriorating so fast that your vision no longer services you. You are blind, unrendered to see. You still choose to live in a delusion, and you are amongst the only who choose not to acknowledge it.

By now, everyone knows but only one other than you refuses to acknowledge it.

You hear Hoodie arguing with Jack more often than not. It seems the blond haired proxy is angry over what Jack has done to you and because he knows what Hanahaki does to those it takes root in.

“You’ll fucking kill her,” Hoodie seethes as he gets in Jack’s face for the fourth time this weekend. “Look at her-”

“I am!” Jack shot back, his arms crossing defensively over his chest. “Who are you to come in here and speculate on something that you’re not a part of?” He growls. Normally, Jack likes talking to Hoodie, but not when Hoodie’s on a mission to prove Jack a sinner.

“I wasn’t even aware you still had one,” Hoodie retorts through grit teeth. “I can’t believe you. Look at the flowers Ja-” and before he can continue tearing into Jack, he hears your bedroom door open.

While you still share the room with Jack, neither of you are in it at the same time. You’ve taken residence up on the living room couch with Kate and Jack more often than not stays with Leia. The room you share is usually empty, much like your heart.

“Hey there, buttercup,” Hoodie suddenly greets you as you tiredly walk into the kitchen where the two men had previously been in a standoff. “Did you sleep okay?” He asks, voice so much softer and gentler with you than what he had just been using.

You shake your head as you take a seat at the table. “I can’t sleep,” you say.

Hoodie’s brows furrow in sympathy before they knit in frustration when Jack sits next to you. He watches as Jack snakes his arm around you before he presses an empty kiss to the side of your head.

“No?” Jack says in a sickly saccharine tone. “I’ll see what I can do about that. Does that sound good to you?”

You nod slightly, the ghost of a smile on your lips. “That sounds good,” you murmur back.

“Anything for you,” he hums as he pulls you in closer to his side.

“You disgust me,” Hoodie hisses to Jack as he gets up and pushes in his chair roughly, making the table bounce. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Jack for a second as he leaves, roughly slamming the front door behind him.

“What was that about?” You ask, feigning innocence. You refuse to open your eyes to the situation you are in.

“He’s having a bad day,” Jack answers. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” he hums as he presses another kiss to the side of your head.

The butterflies in your stomach are dead, but the flowers blood evermore.

“You’re still sleeping out here?” Kate hums as she takes a seat next to you on the couch. She looks exhausted and she’s covered in blood. Her mask is cracked too.

“I guess,” you yawn as you shift slightly from your not so comfortable position. “How has your day been?” You ask as you reach for a glass of water only to see it’s not there.

“Let me,” Kate says as she gets up once more. She knows you’re getting worse. After getting you a bottle of water from the fridge, she comes back to your side. “I’ve had a busy day. Met with an independent named Nyein. They remind me of a big cat,” she finally answers as she opens the water bottle for you.

You take it and begin to slowly sip from it - it stops the flowers from blooming ever so slightly. Your airway opens just a little bit. “Do they now?”

Kate nods as she flips mindlessly through the channels. “They said they’re falling in love with a human. Bad business,” Kate winces, her dark eyes watching you carefully. “I hope they don’t…”

“It’s bad business,” you suddenly say as you feel petals fill your mouth. You cough slightly and the small little forget-me-nots fall into your lap, thankfully free of blood this time. You take one of the flowers into your fingertips and observe it gently. “I hope they’re okay.”

Kate puts her hand on your thigh, lightly squeezing before finally settling on the early evening news. “You wanna burn these blue fuckers?” She asks as the flowers in your lap remain stagnant save for the buds that unfurl at an alarmingly fast pace.

You feel the corners of your lips curl into a smile. “Yes.”

Morbid, your flowers have been springing up everywhere. They’ve infested the temporary house. So, you and Kate went around the place, plucking every single one before starting a bonfire in the backyard.

Toby, who considers himself a bit of a pyromaniac, was immediately summoned by the fire the two of you had cast in the backyard. He’d been out on a grocery run, and honestly, he had wanted to get out of the house.

The dynamics of the house had become uncomfortable to him. What with Leia and Jack sneaking off together and you coughing up a full greenhouse, he has been stressed. Toby can’t stand Jack and Hoodie arguing all the time as it reminds him of the life he tried to escape, and Masky can offer so much but ever since he renounced his love for Jay by force… It’s been hard. Toby knows it’s been hard for everyone involved.

He crosses through the house, sneers at Leia’s room, and then exits through the back to the scent of fire. He sees Kate’s arm around you as the fire blazes slightly blue.

“W-What are you g-gals up to?” He asks, coming to your other side so you remain in the middle.

“Burning stuff,” Kate nonchalantly replies. “You care to chuck anything in?”

Toby glances at you as you struggle to keep air in your lungs. “If I d-d-did, I’d be u-under c-charge for killing a-a-another under the O-Operator’s care,” he muses. He’s referring to Jack, of course. He takes in the scent of burning plant matter and blood and frowns when he remembers it’s yours. His hand reaches yours and squeezes gently.

You squeeze back.

Your experiences with Leia are lukewarm at best, and cold at worst. She’s something, she really is something. There’s moments when no one is in the temp house with you except for her alongside you, and those moments are tense, sharp, like a knife and burn colder than the depths of the sea.

The most memorable conversation you’ve ever had was the one that triggered a domino effect that would lead to a black hole in your chest.

“You’re still up?” Leia’s honeyed voice questions softly as she takes a seat across from you on the back porch at the glass table.

You find it more stifling inside so you choose to spend your time out. The weather is warm, afterall. The sun shines and fluffy clouds the size of whales swim overhead. You have a glass of pink lemonade made from a pouch Hoodie and Kate had picked up earlier. You find that the tang is enough to keep the flowers down.

“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” You say in passing before you sip from the glass. You enjoy watching the rabbits in the backyard. They hop around without a care in the world.

She begins to thread her fingers through her long silver hair, braiding it. “I just think you should be resting,” she says. “You look so tired these days-”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Touched a nerve,” she sighs. “You know you’re getting worse, right?”

You shoot her a glare, but you know she’s right. You’ve actually been holding out surprisingly longer than most people with Hanahaki Disease. Most people succumb to it within a few weeks of coughing, but you’ve managed to hold out for damn near an entire year. That’s almost unheard of. You’ve been hacking up flowers, their stems, roots and blood ever since Leia came into your life.

Everyone tells you that you’re getting worse, but you should have been dead months ago.

“Stop it,” you growl.

“You’re killing yourself,” she continues. “You could just… Let it all go, y’know?” She hums as she continues to fishtail her silver strands. “Renounce your feelings for him and save yourself.”

You grip your glass and set it back down roughly on the table. “That is literally none of your concern,” you repeat, eyes narrowing at the blue eyed beauty across from you. “Acting like you care-”

“I do, though,” she cuts you off. “I know that the Slender Man has big plans for you, but with you wasting away like this… You’ll never live long enough to see them through.” She flashes you a look of concern, but you can tell it’s fake. It shines like pyrite.

“What, so you can take my place just like that?” You bite back. “You can’t even wait until I’m fucking dead?”

Leia giggles and you hate to admit that it sounds pretty. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Daddy always did say I got what I wanted.” Her eyes drift off and you’re able to see she’s no longer thinking about you, but someone who once loved her. She finishes the braid. “Happy six years to you and Jack. Give him all my regards, won’t you?” She stands up, eyes the rabbits feasting on the clover in the grass, before she plucks your half empty glass from in front of you.

“Leia-!”

“It’s not like you need it,” she chuckles.

“It’s a special day,” you said to Masky, a small smile on your face. “It’s our six year anniversary.” Your posture changes to attention as he closes the door softly behind him. He still smells like cigarettes, but it’s a pleasant scent you’ve found comfort in where others find it a nuisance.

Masky put a smile on his face but it didn't reach his eyes. “You need me to draw a portal or something for you?” He holds his arms open to you as you fall into them, part because you’re so weak and secondly because he knows you need the affection - even if he can’t feel it.

You feel light come to your eyes as you nod after leaving a note for Jack in your shared room on his nightstand.

‘Dear Jack, happy six years! I’d wait for you to get back, but I have a surprise for you at the field you gifted to me for our first anniversary. I await you with happiness. Love, R.’

Masky drew the portal in the living room, a mess of swirling cloud-like silvers and blacks before he laid eyes upon the place you once shared only with Jack. “It’s super pretty,” he says, dark eyes scanning over all the wildflowers. There’s weeds on the path, like no one has cared for it in a while. ‘How poetic,’ he thinks. ‘It’s an allegory for your decayed relationship with Jack.’

“No it’s not,” you giggle as you bring Masky down one of the weed and chicory covered paths to the gazebo. “But it’s special to me,” you hum as you take a seat.

Masky follows beside you. He doesn’t take a seat, mostly feeling it wrong to impose on a space that is Jack’s despite his respect for him falling so far from what it used to be, but takes in the scent of dying flowers all the same. It’s summer, and instead of the sun warming the soft petals, it’s burning them. When you cough up more flowers while waiting for the man who still holds your heart (and refuses to return it) you’re less than pleased to see that they blend in with the untamed mosaic.

“Are you still tired?” Masky asks softly as he lights up a cigarette. “You can rest, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

You glance over to Masky before you rest your head in your hands, wondering where your lover is. You listen to the wind as it blows through the leaves. You listen to Masky’s hum, and eventually, you fall asleep.

You wake back up sometime during the night in your bed and not in a position you normally sleep in. It looks like whoever delivered you back here was extra careful with handling you. You only wake up because Jack has accidentally turned on the light.

“Shit, my bad,” he apologizes, quickly plunging the room back into darkness. “Did I wake you?” He knows he did.

“No,” you lie. “I couldn’t sleep anyways.” That was the most rest you’ve had in months. “Where have you been?” You ask quietly, still choosing to remain buried in the sheets.

Jack slides into bed next to you and gets comfortable. He smells like perfume you don’t wear. Through the faint light of the hallway that peeks under your door, you can see he’s got dark marks on his neck and jaw. “Leia wanted to show me her childhood home. Place isn’t run by Zalgo anymore, so we took a trip out there.”

“Did you now?” You hum as you feel tears prick your eyes.

Jack can see you in the dark. His vision at night far surpasses a human’s. He just chooses not to acknowledge it. Jack knows that his relationship with you is gone, and that you’ve been coughing up flowers for the past year. He knows, and it hurts him. Hurts him deeply that he’s the one causing you such pain, but at the same time, he’s a coward. He chooses not to let you go cleanly because his relationship with Leia is so finite.

He knows she only wants him because at the time he was unattainable. Now that she has him, it is only a matter of time until she does to him what he’s done to you. He understands that fully, but he refuses to leave the safety net that is you because he is selfish. His feelings for you aren’t nonexistent, but it’s that kind of fondness one has after the deed has been done, a love based on past memory and sentiment rather than what will and can be. It has reached his threshold, and you both are too caught up in security rather than what is healthy.

“I did,” he says as his mind rushes a mile a minute. “What did you do today?”

You wonder if you should answer that honestly or not. Would he even care? “I stayed here today, nothing special.” You feel the flowers unfurling in your lungs.

Jack hums once more, his back now facing you as he slowly succumbs to sleep.

You met Masky in the bathroom again, hacking your lungs and more of those fucking flowers up into the bathrub and the sink. Hell, you even got some in the toilet. Your body is growing weaker and weaker by the day. The fact you’ve held out for a year is astronomical, but you know you’ll be being taken from it eventually. No one survives Hanahaki when their lover’s feelings aren’t returned. It either gets returned, or you lose them all entirely.

He almost lost you. You broke the mirror when your body went limp as the vines and flowers crawled out from your lungs, through your esophagus and out of your mouth. If it was an art installation piece, Masky might’ve thought it beautiful, but the fact you went cold and limp and the flowers were blooming at a rapid pace - one he thought he couldn’t keep up with.

Masky, despite not being able to really feel anything, panicked as he took you into his arms. Did he genuinely care for you? No, but he cared to whatever extent the surgery left him with. He fretted because you are under his direct care. He cared so deeply because he too had seen many good proxies and independents lost to it. He cared because a part of him remembered what it was like to have daisies and rhododendrons fill his lungs. Normally, you only have one type of flower to clutter your lungs. Science says “just because.” An old wives’ tale says “love truly lost.” In his case? Jay’s death. Nothing was the same after that.

Masky took no hesitation in scooping you up into his arms and running out of the house to the forest to be closer to his boss’s energy. The Operator could fix this should he will it. He didn’t care that the lights in the house went on from his concerned proxies - the ones who had been sick over what befell you since you came into their care. He didn’t dare let you go as he trampled through the brush in the dead of night, using only the moon.

“Sir!” He calls out frantically. “Sir! I need your help!” He can hear your heart get slower and slower.

And just like that, the devoted father came to his child’s cry.

“My child,” he greets, instantly swooping down to look at your pained, flowery visage. “Did I not tell you to handle this?” He chides softly as he takes you into his arms. The sound of static only grows louder and louder.

“I thought she could,” he says, his tone clearly apologetic. “Please, just… Just fix this for me.” He watches the Operator closely as the tall man holds you in his arms.

While you are not exactly his child directly, you are also still under his care. Leia did not lie that the Operator sees good things for you. Without any other words, the tall man is gone, giving you to gods know who to perform a surgery that should be considered the only humane way out.

He returns to the house where Hoodie, Kate and Toby eagerly awaited him, clamoring around him and pecking like hens wondering where you are. He says that you’re in the hands of a god.

You floated in the ether, your body a galaxy. You watched as your chest was torn open - looked like by the hands of an independent that had talons to rival an eagle.

‘There’s so much,’ she says, her mouth turning into a frown as she worked on carefully removing the clusters of flowers. ‘How is she not dead?’

The Slender Man continues to observe, not offering the doctor any words.

The spirals and swirls inside of you continue to swirl before the flowers get torn out, one by one. The roots that cling to your lungs are stubborn, but with every single one removed, the lights of a different universe go out. Snuffed. Lost. The cavity in your chest grows wider until it births a black hole.

‘How much longer?’ The Slender Man asks, watching as the independent calls in another to help her rid your body of weeds.

She shakes her head as she continues to root them out. They bloom under her touch. ‘I have no idea - she must’ve felt so strongly-’

‘They just keep coming up, Sir,’ the other interjects, her four eyes scanning you rapidly.

The black hole begins to suck up the stars and nebulas that comprise your system. It feasts on you, making every part of what made you you, disappear in its depths. It grows larger as it consumes you. It grows heavier. It grows more powerful.

‘We’re almost there,’ the taloned independent says, her wings fluttering softly to emphasize her point. ‘I’ve never seen it this bad before.’

‘Fix this,’ the Slender Man seethes, his patience wearing thin. He knows your body will not be able to handle this much longer.

The black hole reaches its mass, and slowly, it begins to consume you. It overtakes you, bathes you, and leaves nothing left when it has taken all that it can. Your body is empty. You are a shell. Glimpses of blue, grey and reddish brown flash in your mind’s eye and through the eye of the black hole, but you cannot place the feelings you used to associate with them. You remember, but you do not feel.

The last of the flowers are pulled. The taloned independent is exhausted, and her partner is just as tired. ‘Good fucking lord,’ she breathes out, exhausted from the late night gardening session. ‘In all my years I have never seen that awful disease take hold of an individual that bad,’ she notes. Her bird-like eyes watch over your open chest to make sure they’ve fully cleared it out.

A single forget-me-not sprouts, and the Slender Man is the one who plucks it. Just like that, the flowers, their roots, all evidence you’d ever had life inside of you, is gone. Withered and wilted away.

The black hole takes all that you have to offer, and you are back to consciousness, no longer floating, no longer a home to the vibrancy of the universe.

What came after was a bit of a blur. The Slender Man had brought you back to the safe house you had called your home for the past year surprised to see that some of his favored children were still away, waiting for you as the light of the sun rose over the grass. It was a new dawn.

“How is she?” Hoodie asked, immediately springing up.

“Fixed,” was all the Slender Man said, his gaze shifting from you to your group’s leader. “Masky, I’m entrusting you to watch over her as you have been through something similar.”

“Of course,” the dark eyed man says as he takes you gingerly into his arms. “I wouldn’t trust her with anyone else.”

“One last thing,” the tall man in a suit hums. “I am taking Eyeless Jack from this house. Leia will stay with him.”

“It’s probably for the best. We trust your judgment,” Masky replies.

The Slender Man’s head gently cups Masky’s cheek before he leaves them with the sound of static that dissipates as fast as it appeared.

You spent the first few days after your surgery under bed rest. The Slender Man had healed you but he still worried for the state of your lungs. You needed the rest, and you were pleased to have it. Other than that, you felt… nothing. You were numb. Fleeting feelings of happiness or thankfulness, maybe something melancholic would slip through but ultimately, you were nowhere near your old self.

Jack was not allowed anywhere near you. That was one of the first instructions given to him when the Slender Man had popped into his head. While he did not have an opinion on Jack’s unfaithful behavior, he was more displeased with the fact he’d kickstarted the disease in you. The Slender Man thought that if he started it in Leia, then perhaps everything would turn out alright.

So, he sent the two out with a different group - which mostly meant Jeff, someone the Slender Man knew detested behavior that Jack had committed.

It was not easy for Jack to share the same space with Jeff after word had gotten out about you.

“You’re my best friend,” Jeff had sighed one late afternoon, refusing to even acknowledge Leia in the room. “But that? That was fucked up.”

Jack hummed and kept his gaze on Leia, who looked at him with nothing short of adoration. “Sure.”

Jeff sighed once more and stood up. “You don’t feel an inch bad, do you?”

“No.”

“You’re a shitty guy but you’re an even shittier liar.” Jeff broke the door with how hard he’d slammed it on his way out.

Jack really wasn’t the same, that much was apparent. He’d slowly been becoming more withdrawn and quicker to agitation. Of course, he’d take it out on whoever was around to deal with it. Leia included - it just came in a different form. One in which she’d never complained. But when things were rough between them, things were rough.

Jeff could hardly stand the two most days, so when he’d sneak out, it was with his dog to come pay a visit with you. And he hated how dull you had become.

“Masky used to be a lot more personable,” Jeff would say. “Life of the party when we could get him out of his pseudo-philosophical bullshit. Then he hurled flowers and we knew something was wrong.” Jeff’s hand rubs your back gently as a sign of friendship.

“And then?”

“Then he got that stupid surgery and now he’s just existing. No further purpose, just existing because some pale guy says so for his benefit.” Jeff huffed and looked up at the setting sun.

You found your gaze following his.

“What you’re doing right now,” he began. “It’s no way to live.”

“Would you have rather I’d succumbed to it?” You asked, not adding any inflection to whether you’re happy or sad, hurt or even offended.

“In all honesty?” Jeff tore his eyes from the pink and blue sky. “Yeah. This,” he gestured to you. “This isn’t you.”

Everything you’re supposed to feel feels dampened. Instead, you nodded. “Note taken.”

Jeff frowned.

The first time Jack was able to see you after your surgery was nearing halfway to what would have been seven months. It’d been a rough time without him seeing you, mostly because the guilt had been devouring every humanity he had left. Nothing could fill the void.

Like the first time you had met him, it was an accident when you crossed paths once again. You had been clearing out a house one fine winter’s evening, doing what had been asked of you before you got the faintest scent of something familiar and something you once recognized as comforting. You furrow your brows, weapon at your hip as you slowly and quietly come down the stairs.

Your lips are pressed into a thin line as you peer into the living room. Snow falls outside the window.

“Reader?” A male voice asks, turning around from the hallway. “Is that you?”

You tilt your head slightly as you register the mask you’re looking at. Eyeless Jack, mostly just known as ‘EJ’ or ‘Jack’. You’ve never really spent any time with him though outside of little jobs, so you have no idea who this is or why he sounds so happy to see you.

“Uh, hi, EJ?” You say as you walk at a leisurely pace down the stairs.

Jack freezes momentarily as he comes to greet you in the living room. He’d almost forgotten that when the flowers are removed, so too are the memories alongside feelings.”It’s… It’s good to see you,” he says as he looks down at you, wondering if he should touch you or not.

“I guess it’s nice to see you too,” you say. “What are you doing in this area?” You inquire. You vaguely remember the Slender Man not wanting you two to be in the same area.

“Just out and about,” he answers as he scratches at the back of his neck. “Leia wanted to uh, hunt down some of her sisters - I - it doesn’t matter,” he suddenly finishes, feeling much too awkward to even look at you. He knows you don’t remember, but he certainly does. Looking at you… He has a fresh slate.

“That’s nice,” you say in a tone that’s clearly disinterested. You walk towards the living room windows and look into what is now a cold winter’s night. You can see the snow still falling. If you want to make it back to Masky before he gets worried, you’ll need to head out almost immediately. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

Jack slowly comes to your side and puts his attention on you, watching as the snow continues to fall. “Yeah, the prettiest,” he says softly, desperately trying in vain to hold back on scooping you into his arms. There’s something scratching at the back of his throat.

You nod once again and zip up your coat. “They’re expecting me,” you say, gearing up to brave the snow.

“Do you need any-”

“No,” you cut him off. You’re not sure why it comes out so harshly, but you figure it must be a remnant of a memory you no longer have access to. “I can manage on my own.” You brush past him and open the front door, eyes momentarily clamping shut at how cold it is before you step onto the porch. The sound of the crunching snow is satisfying.

“Stay safe out there,” Jack says softly, not moving from his place as he continues to gaze out the window at the falling snow.

You turn your head briefly over your shoulder, “and you as well.”

Jack hears the door close and you walk off into the night, back to a group he was barred from. That tickling in the back of his throat grows more and more prevalent until he clears his throat. Feels like there’s something on his tongue. He coughs a few more times before holding his hands in front of his mouth, displeased to see the small blue petals he knows will bloom to full flowers in a time frame that is too long to be considered fair.

[kissingchoso]

Thinking of telling your closest friend Takahiro Hanamaki that you have had the worst luck when it comes to sex.

No one ever seemed to make you finish properly and you’ve always had to use whatever high you’re on to bring yourself to an orgasm. He shakes his head in disbelief, surprised that you’re confiding in him like this but also to think that no one has ever put you first. It sounds like a crime in of itself.

“I always put my partner’s first, are you fucking kidding me? Nothing is hotter than watching them cum from my fingers or my tongue, shit gets me going,” he explains, leaning back on his palms as he takes your embarrassed form in.

“Well, you sound like a dream. With you boasting like this, I’m sure your partners have been very satisfied,” you giggle, moving in the open in front of the both of you to pick a potato chip from the bag that laid innocently between the two of you on your bed.

He’s not one to think before he speaks, especially when hanging with his close ones. Friendships like these should have no filter, at all. “If you want, I can add you to that list.”

“What?”

“It’s no big deal, really. Friends do it all the time, y’know. Don’t believe me, ask Issei and Tooru.” Fucking, Matsukawa?! Tooru, understandable, yeah. But he managed to saddle in one of the most emotionally unavailabke motherfuckers you’ve ever met?

His smooth chuckle freezes you in place, staring at him with a dumbfounded expression as he removes the chip bag and laying it to rest on your nightstand table. He was serious. Beyond it, even. While his eyes read amusement from your shocked face, there’s a clear hunger hidden behind them as he zeroes in on your personal space.

Then came the warm hand lightly pressed on your exposed knee, a comforting presence but you can tell he’s restraining himself from exactly pouncing on you without any clear permission. You can feel the warmth of his fingers seep through the material of your bottoms.

There’s no shame to it, really. People have ‘with benefits’ relationships with almost anyone they can get their hands on if it meant a good fuck from the arrangement.

Even though it’s all pure speculation, Hanamaki does seem like the type to leave the both of you more than satisfied by the end.

Before you can open your mouth, he’s speaking again, warm breath fanning across your lower face. “Barely even have to lift a finger, just tell me if I’m being too rough, okay? Unless that’s what you’re into,” his wink sends a flurry of butterflies through your lower abdomen at the prospect.

All you could do was nod, completely starstruck at his lustfilled gaze. He gives you another look as if to make sure you’re properly okay with this before he gently placed his lips on youre,

A small part of you is surprised to find out that the strawberry haired boy actually has the softest lips you’ve ever felt before. A mixture of sweet and salty is how you’d describe the taste, of him, too dazed to notice that he’s pulled away slightly to gauge at your expression.

Upset by the lack of contact, you whine slightly before looping your arms around his neck and pulling him back in. Hiro chuckles at your state, complying to your wishes without an ounce of hesitation. The both of you fall back on the sheets with him on top of you, lips being pushed back and forth against each other in a heated fashion that leaves you dizzy.

When he pulls away again, he doesn’t give you the opportunity to complain before he’s shrugging off the loose sweater he chose to wear today. It struck you this is the first time you’re seeing him shirtless in a really, really long time. Despite attending every last one of his games in the past and having more than one beach day in high school, you haven’t had the chance to explore what has changed since then.

Still holding a lean form, you note the slight sunburn on the tops of his shoulders, likely from the recent trip he took to Argentina when visiting Oikawa. He marvels under your stare, allowing your eyes the chance to drink him up before he’s undoing his jeans and belt buckle, standing up off your bed so that hr can slide them down his legs.

Of course he’s hard. The imprint at the front of his briefs intrigues you, makes you want to lean over and take him in your hand, and possibly your mouth if he’ll be so kind to. But that’s for another day, clearly. It’s not long before he’s coming back onto the bed, hovering over you before he’s kissing you again, pushing himself between your spread legs.

“Doin’ so good for me baby, ‘m proud of you. Can I undress you?” He whispered against your lips. The praise makes you melt under his touch, nodding quickly without having to consider his request. That was the effect he has on you at the moment.

And so he does, sitting back on his haunches not too long after to strip you down. There’s a fire that is hidden behind his gaze as he watches the way your chest stutters with each breath you take, or the way your thighs slightly shiver in anticipation when he trails his fingers up your thighs slowly, giving the place where you need him the most the slightest of attention.

You yelp, hips lifting to search for him once more. “You want me there baby?” he asks again, voice dropping an octave as his eyes never leave your pelvic area. Dark brown eyes watch a tiny bit of the fabric darken under his touch, and his thumb is suddenly there, teasing you through the layer of cloth to watch the spot widen some more.

You nod but he can’t see you. Not when his eyes are fixated down there and his other hand is lightly caressing your hips. There’s no other choice for you but to tell him! Never mind how embarrassed you may feel or how your statement will never leave his mind for the rest of his life, you need this now!

“Please, Hiro. Just fuck me,” finally the words left your mouth. You could swear the shit eating smirk on his face grew wider, but he still complied to your request. On his terms though.

Without giving you a second warning, your underwear is off your body. It’s tossed somewhere behind him, likely next to his own pants before getting comfortable between your legs, wrists looping around your inner thighs.

“Not gonna push you too hard tonight, but I think you can cum for me twice, right darling? One from my tongue and the other from my cock,” he coos softly, planting a gentle kiss on your inner thigh. “Been good up until now, I’ll play nice with ya~”

And he does! You’re taken aback by the skills he has with his mouth, driving you to and from the edge multiple times all the while never giving up on his ministration! Your fingers mess with his shirt pink hair, pulling him closer to the place you most desire from and he allows it. He allows the desperate touches, allows you occasionally close your legs around his head and even allows you to pull your hips back if you get too overstimulated.

You need this, he reminds himself.

All he could do is deliver you to that sweet, sweet release where you’re crying out his name so prettily. A manner of which he’d never thought he’d hear from you but he fucking loves the sound of. He collects everything on his tongue, only to sit back and show you that he’s done his part and swallow right in front of you.

“How do you feel?” he talks you through any emotions you’re having, ready to pull the plug when necessary. Yet, when you smile at him and ask him for ‘one more, please?’ his cock jumps in his underwear.

“So fucking good for me, I’ll make you feel better, darling,” he starts, already rolling down his briefs. “Fucking hell, I know I’m not gonna last.”

He’s pretty, you note. Seven inches stand tall, curving to the side and a lovely head that resembles the color of a ripe strawberry. Feel free to stare all you want though! He appreciates you lustful stare, especially when he senses your gaze on him while he fishes a condom from the wallet in his jeans.

It rolls on with little to no issue and he improvises by using mixture of your of your essence and a bit of his own spit to lube himself up. There’s no way you can look at Hanamaki the same after this, not when he’s slowly inserting himself inside until he completely bottoms out inside of you.

His concentration is beautiful, the furrow of his brows, slightly parted lips, the determined look in his eyes as he watches you for any discomfort. Once he moves, both of you are goners.

His pace he sets up reminds you of a tempo of a really good song, where the pacing picks up at some point and slows down enough to the point where you can enjoy it. It steals your breath away when he hits the deepest parts of you, chest tightening as he himself staves off his impeding orgasm for you.

Then came his voice. “Bet none of them assholes made you fucking feel good like this— shit. Sucking me in so good, baby, tell me how you feel,” he tells you, a newly discovered timbre to his voice as he watches you with interest.

“S’fucking good, Hiro. I-I’m gonna ahh gonna cum soon,” you announce, desperately reaching for him once more. He leans into your touch without an issue, falling into your warmth as he presses kisses against your neck and his thrusts become sporadic.

One certain brush of his hips has you keening, thrashing underneath him as your orgasm hits you like a brick. He detaches from your bruised neck in time to witness your beautiful downfall, moaning in appreciation of how absolutely fucked out you look. It gets him off too, not too long after filling up the condom with no second thought about it.

His moans mix with yours and you swear hearing him is the best thing ever. Beautifully pitched, so raw and real, you wished you had heard more tonight.

And then he’s carefully pulling out of you, discarding the condom properly before joining your shivering form in bed. Aftercare with him is a bit different, but it’s nice. He kisses your cheeks, mumbling about how he’ll be right back before he’s jogging off to take care of you.

Hanamaki Takahiro, a good friend and an excellent fuck.

© This work was created by: @kissingchoso. Do not share, repost, or recommend on any other platform without consent from the author.

[vrishchikawrites]

Some Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian friendship please?

Like wwx was the first person to understand that Nie Huaisang was a "useless" young master only on purpose.

You can choose if :

Post cannon?

Cannon divergence?

Cannon divergence: where he's a better friend so he makes him joint he Nie clan? Or something? who knows?

You can also choose if Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang are friends.

(Imagine NHS-WWX-LWJ are buddies since cloud recesses days and go forth, lol. Canon divergence from the point of JC denouncing WWX)

“Listen to me for once!”

Nie Huaisang didn't mean to shout, not really. It is never a good idea to shout at his da-ge because it only provokes anger in return. But Wei-xiong is in danger and no one is helping. Nie Huaisang may be a useless cultivator in many people’s eyes but he refuses to be a useless friend.

The desperation in his stone catches da-ge’s attention and his older brother looks at him with a severe frown, “That boy is cultivating the ghostly path, Huaisang! Even his sect leader distrusts him!”

“Exactly! Da-ge, I’m not stupid, no matter how much you like to believe I am-”

“I don’t!”

Huaisang ignores him, “I know Wei-xiong. He may be mischievous but he’s not evil. If you don’t believe me, ask Lan Wangji! You can trust his word, yes? If you can’t trust your own brother’s.”

“Watch your tone,” Nie Mingjue growls, “You have earned every bit of my suspicion, Huaisang. Don’t pretend otherwise.” Huaisang winces, “I’m not dismissing your concerns but I need more than just your instincts to intervene. Do you have anything more than ‘i know him, da-ge’?” His brother asks and arches a brow.

Huaisang takes a deep breath and collects his thoughts. Hundreds of little observations, pieces of a puzzle too scattered, swirl around in his mind. He has held these pieces close to this heart for years, knowing that it would’ve been disastrous to reveal them during the war. But Nie Huiasang can no longer afford to be silent. Every time he hears someone spitting out his best friend’s name like a curse, something in him burns.

Wei Wuxian is so genuinely good-natured, he will accept everyone as they are. Wei Wuxian is always willing to step between an enemy and a friend, ready to take the blow of them.

There are few people in cultivation as honorable and compassionate as Wei-xiong and Nie Huaisang doesn’t want to see that light diminish.

Da-ge is silent, as though sensing Huaisang’s turmoil.

He straightens and tucks his fan away, meeting his older brother’s gaze head-on, without hesitation. That is enough for da-ge to frown and gesture towards an empty seat. Huaisang quickly goes about making tea as he speaks, “Please be patient with me, da-ge,” He begs, “Let me explain the full picture so you can see what I see. All of this may seem like speculation, but I have proof, circumstantial, but proof nonetheless.”

Nie Mingjue’s expression is now serious and placid, like he’s fully willing to listen to what his brother has to say.

“You… you don’t know, Wei-xiong. He cherished his cultivation, da-ge,” He explains, “It is no accident or act of fate that he was so good at it - good enough to even challenge Lan Wangji. He did the work to get there; he was brilliant but he was also incredibly hardworking. His cultivation was the result of years of refinement. Suibian was his constant companion and he wielded it like it was his soul.”

His brother is still because he’s not stupid.

“Is it not strange that we hear rumors of Wei Wuxian being captured by Wen Chao- by Wen Zhuliu - and see him return with a new cultivation that doesn’t require a Golden Core?”

His da-ge is definitely paying attention now.

“But is it not stranger that the Wens claim they had taken Jiang Wanyin’s core, only for Jiang-zongzhu to come back stronger? His cultivation is so refined and powerful, he is now a force to be reckoned with. Is it not strange, da-ge, that a man that couldn’t push his core even after years of diligent training managed to strengthen so significantly in a matter of months?”

“What are you saying, Huaisang?”

“I’m saying that Wei Wuxian doesn’t have a Golden Core. He hasn’t had it for the entire duration of the war. He lost it during or before those three months he was missing. I’m saying those rumors about him being tossed into the Burial Mounds are likely to be true. I’m saying that Wei-xiong is exactly the kind of person who would use word games to make people believe otherwise. He’s also the kind of person who would do everything in his power to protect his martial siblings.”

Nie Mingue looks stunned, “He walked into war without his Golden Core?”

“I am absolutely certain he did.”

Nie Mingjue stares at his brother, “But you… don’t believe Wen Zhuliu took his core.”

Huaisang hesitates, “This is where I hesitate, da-ge. My instincts tell me it's not that simple. I have known both Wei-xiong and Jiang-zongzhu for a long time. We lived in close quarters and I may not be a good cultivator, but that doesn’t mean I miss small details. Jiang Wanyin feels just as powerful as Wei-xiong did, back then.”

“And you believe that’s impossible?” Da-ge arches a skeptical brow, “You, by your own admission, don’t like him.”

“Wen Qing nearly published a paper on Golden Core transfer. Wen Ning rescued Jiang Wanyin from Wen Chao’s grasp.” He takes a deep breath, “Wei Wuxian just gave up everything to repay a debt that Jiang Wanyin admitted he owed.” Nie Huaisang doesn’t know everything, but he has had years to figure out enough.

Suddenly, all the skepticism leaves his older brother’s face.

“Let’s speak with Lan Wangji.”

---

Wangji-xiong takes it like a blow to his chest.

Huaisang sees him flinch and he sees Xichen-ge step forward in concern, “Wangji...” Xichen-ge looks like he doesn’t know what to say and how to reassure his brother.

Huaisang may consider Wei Wuxian his best friend, but he firmly believes that no one cares for him more than Lan Wangji.

The Hanguang-jun believes him. That's clear from his expression.

Wangji-xiong has likely been aware of those scattered puzzle pieces as well. He just hadn’t put them together until now.

“This is all speculation,” Xichen-ge tries to interject, “There may not be any need to worry, Wangji.”

“Wei Ying’s heart hasn’t changed.”

Xichen-ge stills and Huaisang watches as icy resolve settles on Wangji-xiong’s face, “I’ll bring him.”

“Wangji-”

“Wangji begs your pardon, xiongzhang,” The Hanguang-jun turns around and walks swiftly towards the door. He offers no other word or explanation.

“Huaisang,” Xichen-ge’s voice is displeased, “You should have come to me with this first. Wangji is… attached to Wei-gongzi.”

Surprisingly, it is da-ge who intervenes.

“If you can give Meng Yao the benefit of the doubt, you can extend the same courtesy to Huaisang and Wangji’s friend, Xichen.” Nie Mingjue is scowling, “We have more reason to fault his character than Wei-gongzi’s.”

It is probably the harshest thing da-ge has ever said to Xichen-ge and it shows. The First Jade visibly calms himself and nods graciously, but there’s a glint of displeasure in his eyes. Jin Guangyao has been a bone of contention between da-ge and Xichen-ge for several months now. Huaisang should probably look into the matter a little more but Wei-xiong’s situation demands all of his attention.

Now that Jiang Wanyin announced Wei Wuxian’s defection to the entire cultivation world, he’s a free agent with a powerful ability and an even more powerful tool. With the Jins and their successful rumor-mongering, Huaisang fears they don’t have much time. Jin Guangshan has already driven a wedge between Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian. How much more can they accomplish if Huaisang doesn’t intervene somehow?

---

Wangji-xiong doesn’t return with Wei Wuxian. He brings Wen Qing and wears an expression of outright fury on his usually stoic face.

“I transferred his Golden Core into Jiang Wanyin.” Wen Qing declares with a straight back and a steady glare. She looks right into da-ge’s eyes, “I helped Jiang Wanyin recover from his captivity and then agreed to perform the procedure.”

Huaisang sits down as his worst fear is confirmed.

He had hoped… he had desperately hoped he had been wrong but as Wen Qing goes on to describe everything, explaining how the procedure worked and what Wei-xiong had to endure for his martial brother’s sake, he becomes certain she is telling the truth.

And this is exactly what Wei Wuxian would do. It would be too far-fetched and outrageous for anyone else, but Wei-xiong- his capacity for self-sacrifice has always worried Huaisang and Lan Wangji.

“Where is he?” Nie Mingjue demands, “Did you leave him in the Burial Grounds? In his state?”

“Wei Ying refuses to come,” Lan Wangji says, his expression pale and tight, “He must keep the resentful spirits at bay and protect the Wens. There’s a child among them, barely two years old.”

Xichen-ge sucks in a breath, closing his eyes in dismay.

“He’s injured.” Wangji-xiong continues, “He was gutted by Jiang Wanyin in a staged fight.” Huaisang looks up sharply, “He hasn’t healed and yet persists to place himself at risk.”

“Wangji, we will help him,” Xichen-ge assures, “I apologize for not understanding the situation, but now we know and we will help him.”

“So they fought to spare the Jiang Sect,” Huaisang speculates with a frown, “But… why not just tell us? Surely Jiang-zongzhu knows he just had to mention his debt to you, Wen-guniang.”

“We have misunderstood Jiang Wanyin’s character greatly.” That is a big condemnation coming from the Hanguang-jun himself. Huaisang is certain that Wangji-xiong isn’t inclined to be charitable now. Jiang Wanyin did hurt Wei Wuxian seriously, after all.

“He won’t move until we do something to help the Wens.” Huaisang concludes, opening his fan in a snap and waving it furiously, “Because he’s just that stubborn. If he owes Wen-guniang and Wen-gongzi a debt, nothing is going to move him, not even Wangji-xiong.”

“I have never been able to move him.” Lan Wangji says icily and it seems like they’re feeding off each other’s ire.

Really, Wei-xiong is so frustrating to deal with sometimes. He doesn’t know how Lan Wangji handles being in love with him, Huaisang already feels nauseous. Wei Wuxian is in such a precarious position now that if they don’t act fast, he would…

He would likely be imprisoned or killed.

“Let’s offer the Wens some protection then.” Nie Huaisang says.

“Huaisang,” Da-ge warns, “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” He demands, turning towards his brother and Lan Xichen, “Will the Jins retaliate? If both Lans and Nies stand together on the matter, what will they do? The Wens don’t need to be free, they need to be safe and healthy. We can keep them contained in a small farming village, forbid cultivation and absorb any children into one of our clans. Let’s take Wei-xiong into the Nie clan and let the Wens settle in the northern reaches. The area is fairly remote and life will be hard but safe, better than the Burial Mounds at any rate!”

He doesn’t know what kind of expression he has on his face but da-ge looks faintly amused, “You’ll take on the Jins?”

“If I have to!”

“He means that much to you?”

Huaisang swallows and thinks of days spent in merriment and comfort. Of a friendly arm tossed around his shoulder and a laughing voice dragging him into all sorts of mischief. He thinks of warm silver eyes that never looked down at him and nods, “Yes, he does.”

Wei-xiong has always helped him and treated him with respect. It is time for him to return the favor.

---

It is a near miracle that everything works out as planned. Well, almost everything. No one is pleased when the Lans and Nies band together to take over the Wen remnants. Fortunately, the Jiangs don’t have any room to object. Da-ge doesn't hesitate to reveal that Jiang Wanyin owes Wen Ning his life. Jiang Wanyin's honor is called into question but he suffers no other consequence for his dishonesty. Nie Huaisang doesn’t care but he notices how it guts Wei-xiong.

Apparently, when Wei-xiong and Jiang Wanyin agreed to part ways, Jiang-zongzhu only needed to say Wei Wuxian had left the Jiangs. There was no need to outright state that his sect brother had betrayed the entire cultivation world!

Either Jiang-zonghzu is incredibly naive or he deliberately placed Wei Wuxian in a difficult position without his knowledge.

Either way, Nie Huaisang is content to see that relationship severed. In his humble opinion, he makes a much better martial brother. And Wei-xiong could certainly benefit from being under the thumb of someone as protective as da-ge. He’s entirely too willing to place himself in harm’s way!

Humming under his breath and happy that everything turned out according to plan, Nie Huaisang turns around the corner and pauses. He quickly takes a few steps back until he’s out of sight. Peeking cautiously around the corner, he hides a grin behind his fan as he sees Wei-xiong fall off a tree and right into Lan Wangji’s arms.

Huaisang bites back a laugh when Wei Wuxian stays in place, arms around Lan Wangji shoulders and eyes peering up at the Second Jade.

He had been suspicious about them since Lan Wangji all but dragged Wei Wuxian to the Unclean Realm. His best friend arrived with flushed cheeks and suspiciously red lips but everyone pointedly ignored it, too eager to avoid that particular mess.

He smiles, chuckling under his breath when Wangji-xiong pulls Wei Wuxian closer and dips his head.

Turning around, he starts walking away, leaving the lovers to their business.

Besides, da-ge would want to know about this.

[maybemingomango]

A Promise || Denki x Traitor!Reader

Words: 2.5k

Genre: HEAVY Angst

TW: Major character death, delusions, blood, gore, self blame, mentions of character death, probably mild language, mentions of suicide, implied suicide

A/N: This is the song I was listening to while I was writing and while I was inspired!! I recommend listening to it while you read if you want extra feels!

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

You and Denki had been close since you both got your acceptance letters from UA, the most prestigious hero school in Japan. Despite going to the same school, you had very different motives; Denki wanted to become a famous pro hero who saved people. You were pushed forth by the league to gain intel for them, a mere pawn in their plot, albeit a strong one.

As time went by, you convinced yourself whatever was going on between you and Denki was only acting. You swore you wouldn’t get too attached, it was something that Shigaraki made sure you knew: you could not become attached under any circumstances. You had almost convinced yourself after months of training your brain, you were almost there one day as the last bell rang, when a familiar blonde boy stopped you in the hallway to ask you a “super secret question”, as he put it.

Denki pulled you away from the building, leading you to his favorite place. It had been his favorite since you knew him, he had only ever brought you here. Butterflies of all shapes, sizes, and colors floated around the vibrant flowers as Denki led you to the big oak tree in the middle of the garden.

“So, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this for a while actually,” he took your hand, staring at the ground, then looking to the small hand in his own, and then finally meeting your eyes. Oh good, you thought. He’s finally leaving me behind and I don’t have to worry about the attachment to him anymore.

“I don’t know how to say this.”

“Denki, it’s okay.” You smiled at him reassuringly, waiting for the words to leave his mouth.

“I… you… would you, would you go out with me?” Your jaw dropped in surprise. Well, Shigaraki did tell me to get involved, so this will get me more information, won’t it? “Yes, a thousand times yes!” You threw your arms around him, pulling his chest to yours, something he’d wanted to do for months now.

“You had me worried there for a second,” he giggled out. He hugged you back tighter than before. You were all ready to walk away with him hand in hand, but he stopped you.

“I need to do one more thing before we can be official.”

“What’s that?”

“I have a promise to make.” His hands shook ever so slightly, almost as if he had rehearsed this moment and was starting to get stage fright. He shook it away. “I promise you that no matter what I will always keep you safe. I will protect you with my life.” He was so determined, you found it extremely cute. “Thank you, Denki. Ready to go?”

“Now I am.” He took your hand and let you lead him back to the dorms.

——————————————————————————

Over the next four months, a few rumors had arisen about a traitor at UA. The league had planned for someone to figure it out at some point, but not so soon. At this point you were practically biding your time to when they would find out. A few speculations as to who it was placed you and Hagakure both at the center of everyone’s theories.

Denki always stood up for you when you were being targeted as a traitor, when people were saying mean things about you in class or tormenting you because of something as simple as a theory, but even peer pressure got the worst of him. That night as you were walking to your dorm, he asked you something you could never burn out of your mind.

“So how much truth is there to the rumors going around?” He couldn’t meet your eyes. He knew if he tried to meet your eyes, he would feel guilty for what he asked.

“What?”

“You know, the traitor rumors.”

“Denki, I am not the UA traitor. I could never do something like that to you.”

“I’m sorry.” He finally met your eyes, his welling with tears, as he collapsed into you. “I’m sorry I know I need to just trust you, but sometimes they get to me and, and… and I just needed to know for myself, that’s all.” You thumbed his tears away. “Hey, shhhh, Denki it’s okay. I’m not mad. I understand.”

“You’d never lie to me, right (Y/N)?”

“Of course not.” You gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Promise?”

“I promise, Denki.” Your stomach churned at the way you could easily lie to him, it rolled off your tongue and into his ears and made his face perk up immediately. If a lie could stop his tears from falling and keep him safe from the League for long enough, you would tell all the lies in the world. You had fallen hard for this boy, how did you expect to get out of this? You had to do something, and quick.

——————————————————————————

When the lockdown alarm finally sounded, you felt a pit grow in your stomach. Denki pulled you under the desk with him, using the years of drills to finally prepare you both for whatever happened next. Who knew how powerful this traitor was? Well, you did.

You knew the League was already on campus. You could see the black smoke threading it’s way through rooms, searching for you. And this is where you made your final choice.

You see, you wouldn’t have any obligations to be helping the league, if not for the information Shigaraki had about the sudden death of your parents. You wanted to but their murderers in jail, but no one aside from Shigaraki would even give you the time of day, much less had any information on their case. Shigaraki refused to give you any sort of information until you held up your part of the deal.

Kurogiri’s smoke finally infiltrated the room, and you crawled away from Denki.

“(Y/N)! What are you doing?” You turned to look at him for just a moment as he shook his head, pleading that it wasn’t you. Realization finally struck as you stepped into the fog. Denki screamed in agony as you left, you only heard him for a split second, you didn't get to see Kirishima and Bakugou both immediately rush to him and assure him that it was probably just a misunderstanding of some sort. And that’s what he convinced himself it all was. A big misunderstanding.

——————————————————————————

A few days after you were discovered as the traitor, Denki became overly emotional. Anything that could be related to you connected immediately in his mind, and he would start crying at the drop of a hat. Kirishima noticed his behavior, and started to visit him more frequently, so he wouldn’t endure it alone. Kirishima began to take pity on the blonde boy as he watched him grow into a torn shell of the person he used to be.

Denki had convinced himself fully that there was no way you could’ve done all of that of your own accord. He saw how guilty it made you just to have to fight your own friends. Why in the hell would you betray all of them?

Izuku had noticed something was off with you about a week before you were discovered as the traitor. He noticed you getting fidgety and antsy, jumping anytime someone entered the room. He knew there was something more to it. He was the one to reach out to Denki about it.

Denki sent a reply almost immediately telling Midoriya to bring a friend and meet him in the common area in 15 minutes. Denki was able to convince Kirishima to join him out of pity. Todoroki came with Izuku, and a plan started circulating in their brains.

——————————————————————————

You stormed onto the compound, furious with Shigaraki. “I’ve kept up my end I just want to know what you know about my parents. Please, Shigaraki.”

“Fine. But let’s go up to the roof to discuss it. I don’t want anyone else hearing us.”

“Yes sir.”

Little did Shigaraki and you know that Denki and Izuku were almost to your exact location, standing just below the overhang of the roof. They were just about to split up when they heard voices from above them.

“Tell me, Shigaraki. I kept up my deal. It’s time you kept yours.”

“I don’t need you anymore. So why should I tell you.”

“Because i did what you asked! No this isn’t fair, you have to tell me!”

“You want to know how your parents died?”

“Yes. Please.”

“They died… in cold blood. Just like you will.” In a sudden rush, Shigaraki lunged at you, shoving you over the side of the awning. You couldn’t make it out from a fall this high. You knew that. So instead of trying to fight it, you let the cold air against your back swiftly guide you to your death, eyes fluttering shut and seeing denki’s smile for the last time. Your last memory of him.

Denki looks up to see you falling from the awning, and moves to try and catch you. Swiftly, he runs, just in time for his fingertips to brush against your arm as he hears the loud crunch of bones breaking. Your eyes, half lidded, fluttered open to look at his face again.

“I’m s-s-sorry for breaking my p-promise,” you slurred out. Blood rushed into your lungs, and up your throat into your mouth.

“No, you can’t be sorry. You can’t, you have to make it up to me with a lifetime of happiness and, and kisses, and- DON’T YOU DARE CLOSE YOUR EYES ON ME NOW.”

“Denki,” you spoke softly.

“I broke my promise too,” he sobbed out, holding your bloodied body in his arms.

“I love you, Den...” Your eyes fluttered shut for the last time as you trailed off, losing your breath.

“No. No no please no please! I love you, (Y/N),” he sobbed, his body shaking with every sob that overtook him. Kirishima and Izuku watched as the boy held your lifeless body, sobbing and begging for you to wake up, if even just for one more second. Todoroki made the 9-1-1 phone call to get a few paramedics to pry you away from Denki, whose clothes were now blood soaked. Denki followed after the paramedics, he refused to let those be your last words. Kirishima’s arms wrapped around him to keep him from running back to your lifeless body. “Breathe, Denki. You have to breathe.” He rubbed circles into the blonde boy’s back as he sobbed out another unintelligible sentence. You were gone, and Denki broke his promise.

——————————————————————————

Over the next week, your death was a taboo topic; everyone was afraid to mourn you because you were working with the league, but there was not a person in the cafeteria unaffected by the loss of your presence. Denki, however, sat at a table by himself, almost mumbling, muttering under his breath. He looked across from him, expecting to see nothing, ready to bawl his eyes out once again.

“Hey, Denki.” you sit across from him, smiling the most wonderful smile he’s seen since you’ve died, bloodshot eyes staring at a bloodied, white-eyed (Y/N). He almost screams out of excitement and pure happiness.

“(Y/N)! But- I didn’t save you?”

“I know. And it’s not your fault, Denki.” You reach out and touch his hand.

Bakugou smacks Kirishima’s shoulder, pointing at Denki. “What the hell is that lunatic doing?”

“I-I don’t know…” Kirishima says, immediately suspicious of what could be going on.

Denki and you continued to chat until finally Kirishima came over. “Hey Denks. Whatcha up to?”

“I’m talking to (Y/N)!” He motions to the empty seat in front of him. If Kirishima’s heart could break anymore than what it already had, it would have.

“Denki, (Y/N) isn’t…. They aren’t here anymore.”

“I know. They came to tell me it wasn’t my fault.”

Kirishima nodded at the boy, feigning his best smile. He felt so bad for the boy in front of him, everything that must be going on inside his head.

“Well, we have to get ready for the funeral now Denki. Want to walk with me?”

“Okay,” he said. The ghost of you trailed not too far behind them.

——————————————————————————

Denki stood beside Kirishima at the funeral. So far, it looked like the two of them would be the only two to show up. Denki looked at the name on the tombstone, reading it over again as he felt tears well up for what seemed like the millionth time this week.

A hand fell on his shoulder, the one further from Kirishima. He turned to see Bakugou, with Sero, Mina, Todoroki, and Izuku trailing not far behind. He smiled at Bakugou as his hand rubbed Denki’s shoulder. “I know you’re going to miss them. I don’t blame you. It’s gonna be hard for a while, but you’ve got us.” Bakugou never said things like that, so Denki knew he was serious.

Todoroki and Denki were the only two to bring flowers to your grave, and Denki’s were none other than red roses, he placed them right where he thought your heart should be inside the casket.

“Can we…leave? I don’t want to be here anymore.” Denki wiped his tears with his hand like a toddler as Kirishima comforted him. “We can go anywhere you want, love.”

——————————————————————————

That night, Denki was left alone in his room with only the thoughts of you. And as if right on cue, you appeared again, right in front of his window. “Denki, I’m serious. It really isn’t your fault.”

“Yes it is,” he says, plainly. “No, Denki. Shigaraki pushed me. It’s him.”

“But I couldn’t catch you.”

“It wasn’t your job to catch me.”

Denki paused for a moment, in thought. “Well, can I just come with you?”

“If you want to,” you chuckled. Your cheeks looked so rosy compared to the rest of your skin, which was pale as a sheet. The way you looked almost transparent, the slightly amused grin on your otherwise lifeless face, it drew him in again, he didn’t know what he was doing. He took your hand and you led him somewhere he had never seen before. Somewhere beautiful.

——————————————————————————

Bakugou awoke at 2:13 a.m. to the sound of a pained scream, immediately jolting out of bed. It came from the left side, which meant it could only be one person. Bakugou threw off his covers and raced to the door, pounding. “Denki? Denki! Please open the door for me!” Bakugou yelled. “If you don’t open the door, I’m coming in.” He banged a couple more times before slamming open the door to find blood pouring down the side of Denki’s head, a piece of simple notebook paper in his hand.

Bakugou was utterly traumatized, but felt himself drawn to read the note anyways. In almost scratches across the page, letters and words overlapping, there were the words “I kept my promise.” Written over and over and over again.

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

A/N: if this fic does NOT gain traction, I will be very angry with the tumblr algorithm. I spent 3 hours writing this, and a fourth editing, but anyways,,, this is definitely my longest fic, and I really liked writing some HEAVY angst this time.

[ridiculousn3sswrites]

Pressing Issues

*Dick Grayson x Reader

*Summary: Detective Dick Grayson has never been annoyed by another person as much as journalist Reader.

*Warnings: Swearing, talks of gun violence (relevant to a case Dick is working on), mention of robbery (case mention), cop stuff. Let me know if I missed anything.

*A/N: I made a post talking about this idea a while ago and finally wrote it.

Tip Jar

**********

When Detective Dick Grayson stepped on the scene, he didn’t expect anything different from what was told to him on the way there. He went about doing his thing - talking to the officers on the scene, chatting with CSI - when he heard his partner let out an exaggerated groan. Dick looked over, confused at the noise. His partner just rolled his eyes, nodding towards a woman with a press badge. “Man, why’d they send her?”

“Who’s that?” Dick asked. He’d never seen her before, but she was definitely attractive. He’d had a few press statements on other cases, and he never really saw the issue with the press. Maybe that was just from growing up around Bruce and all the media attention that brought, but the journalists he’d spoken to in Bludhaven had never been rude to him.

“That’s (y/n), she’s a monster.” His partner provided no further explanation as the woman walked up to them.

“I’m sorry, Miss, but you can’t be on the scene,” Dick immediately said. He was surprised the other officers didn’t stop her at the tape.

“Right, but those officers weren’t giving me any answers,” she told him. His partner let out a laugh.

“Grayson, you can deal with her, just get her out of the tape,” his partner said.

“Rodriguez, always nice to see you.” She smiled at his partner, but her tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Haven’t gotten any better at your job since the last time we spoke, have you?”

“Grayson, get her out of here.” Rodriguez lost any amusement he had with the woman, and Dick knew he should get the journalist out of there before things escalated even further. Dick led her away from the scene, right to the edge of the tape but away from the small crowd that were always nosing around scenes.

“Detective Richard Grayson, how can I help you out?”

“(Y/n) (L/n), lead crime journalist for the Bludhaven Gazette. I wanted to get a feel for the scene before we put anything out about it,” she explained. “Anything you can share about what happened?”

“Alright, well we have two males hit in a drive-by, one dead on the scene. We don’t know much about motives or anything, but we’re suspecting rival gangs based on the fact this happened in a grey-zone,” Dick told her. It would be vague enough to satisfy her readers, but didn’t put anything too speculative out there. She was shaking her head as she wrote down what he said. “Wait, what’s all that about?”

“What?”

“The head shaking? What, you don’t agree with the police statement?” Dick was trying to joke with her, but he was still confused.

“It’s not a grey-zone, but I wouldn’t expect the cops to know that,” she said, challenging him. Dick tried to think back to his nightly activities, trying to figure out if he missed anything with how the city was divided. As far as he knew, this area was unclaimed. “Right, so that’s it?”

“Well, yeah. We just got on the scene not too long ago.” She just hummed, and he wasn’t sure if it was in acknowledgement or disapproval. “Hey, what’s your beef with Rodriguez?”

“For a Detective, he’s shit at his job,” she told him, clicking her pen as she put it back in her bag.

“Care to elaborate?”

“A kid got snatched, broad daylight, and Rodriguez was the lead on the case. Gave up after a few days. I dunno where you’re from, but where I’m from, we don’t give up like that, especially on a kid,” she said. “I wrote articles talking about it, and Rodriguez doesn’t like me because I called him out on it.”

“Wow, you’re pretty cutthroat,” Dick said, whistling lowly.

“I just don’t give you guys any slack. Be good at your job and you have nothing to worry about.” She smiled at him before turning on her heel and walking away. He watched as she put her phone to her ear, probably talking to someone back at the office. She scared him a little, but he was always up for the challenge.

**********

Rodriguez was right. Dick was always down for accountability, but the way you brought it into his life was a bit much. Every time there was even the slightest hint of a development, you were there with your opinions about what he was doing wrong, and if you ever had any praise for him, it was so sparse he couldn’t even tell it was praise. He was just trying to look through some files to piece together your little cryptic ‘it’s not a grey-zone’ hint, when Rodriguez tapped on his desk.

“What’s up?” He asked, looking up at his partner.

“You got a visitor.”

“God, don’t tell me…”

“Surprise, your worst nightmare is here, Grayson.”

“Aw, I got a new nickname?” You asked Rodriguez as you dropped in the chair next to Dick’s desk. Dick had to stop the groan from escaping him, really not wanting to deal with you.

“She’s your problem now,” Rodriguez said, walking away. Dick almost wished he could go with him.

“Alright, (L/n), what is it now?” Dick asked, putting down his files.

“You have ID on one of the victims and it was a guy with no connections to anything on the Underground, but no progress on the shooter? C’mon, Grayson, I thought you’d at least be better than Rodriguez.”

“I’m working with what I have,” he huffed, fighting the way he wanted to roll his eyes.

“You’re not looking at all your options. Put away the gang files, they’re not the ones you should be looking at,” you almost ordered him. “I’m practically doing your job for you at this point. I gotta run, I have an interview.”

“You’re leaving the Gazette?” Dick was almost hopeful. That would definitely make things easier on him.

“No, smart one, I’m the one doing the interviewing.”

“Wow, who would’ve guessed with your shining personality,” Dick shot back, finally annoyed.

“I’m a ray of sunshine, just not with cops,” you said with your fake little smile before leaving him there. It took everything to not slam his head against his desk.

**********

Dick always thought he was good under pressure, but this was intense. With your little article that came out the day after you talked to him - apparently your interview was with the victim’s wife - public pressure was increasing on the department tenfold. He hated to admit it, but you were good at what you did. He was almost pissed off at himself after reading the article, and that was saying something.

He needed to close this case so he could get you off his back, and he needed to do it fast. Not only did you put pressure on the department, now his superiors were putting even more pressure on him. He knew you were cryptic with what you knew, but you wanted him to put together the pieces. When he was out for his nightly patrol, he was trying to piece together what little hints you dropped.

Dick had to admitted he was silently fuming as he sat on the rooftop across from the scene of the crime. After all, what did you know? It’s not like you had access to the databases he did, both legally and in the legally grey. What did she mean it’s not gang-related? It has to be, this is disputed territory right now. 

And of course something sketchy had to happen while he was doubting you. A black town car pulled up to the block, someone getting out of the passenger seat and scanning the area before going back to talk to someone in the back. Dick cursed as he grabbed his binoculars, trying to watch the scene closer to see if he could get any more information from the sketchy scene. He zoomed in on the man in the backseat, a guy dressed in an expensive-looking suit wearing sunglasses at night (like an asshole), silver rings adorning his fingers.

“No way,” Dick mumbled, taking a picture of the rings to send to Barbara later. One of them in particular looked familiar, but he couldn’t exactly place it. “How the hell did she…”

After whoever it was seemed satisfied with how the scene looked, the person got back into the car and it pulled off, the tires screeching in the quiet of the night. As soon as Dick finished his patrols for the night, he sent the picture off to Barbara. She called him as soon as she ran the picture. “Hey, where’d you see this guy?”

“By the scene of that drive-by a couple weeks ago,” Dick explained. “I recognize that big ring he’s wearing on his middle finger, but I have no idea where from. Can you help me out?”

“Yeah, that’s a Baglio family ring,” she told him. “I can’t get an ID on the guy, but you remember that Italian family we were having trouble with out here? Same family.”

“Damn, she was right then. Technically not gang related. Hey, does the mob count as a gang?”

“I mean, technically, but they aren’t really recognized as gangs when it comes to like popular recognition. Does that really matter, though?”

“It’s a matter of me being technically right, so yes.”

“You’re annoying, has anyone told you that lately?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Okay, good talk then.”

**********

Actually having a solid lead meant that he was able to close the case a lot sooner than he previously thought. Sure, he wasn’t able to actually bag whoever was in the back of the town car, but he was able to track down the shooters. At the press conference announcing the arrest of the shooters, he could see you right there in the front row with the other reporters. Dick caught your gaze for a second, and he almost missed the small nod of approval you gave him. For a moment, he thought he’d finally get on your good side again.

Then again, the peace could only last for so long. Every single case he was on, he could bet there was an article about it soon to follow. You’d appear at every crime scene, moving on from antagonizing Rodriguez to finding Dick and immediately bothering him. You’d drop your little cryptic hints when he was having trouble with cases, and somehow they’d actually be useful once he decoded them. The thing that probably bugged him the most was how you managed to get to his desk almost every day he was working on particularly difficult cases. You never let him get to the point of forgetting about cases, especially for the ones that involved people that stayed away from the Underground.

He could understand not wanting cases to go cold, but the fact that you were coming into the precinct every single day to bug him about developments was a bit much. Dick could handle a healthy amount of shit talking, but there was just something about your shit talking that got him on edge. Everything about you just got under his skin, and seeing you so often was really not helping that out. It got to the point where he started trying to avoid you just to keep his sanity.

“Grayson, (L/n) just got on the scene, you wanna run?” Rodriguez asked as soon as he spotted you talking to the officers at the tape. Dick quickly looked around, trying to find someplace he could disappear to. The only real option would be to go look like he was talking to the CSI team, but he didn’t want to disturb them actually doing their jobs. Before he could make a decision, you were already approaching.

“Grayson, stop running from me. You know I know where you work,” you called out to him.

“I should really get you banned from the precinct,” he shot back, a small frown on his face. 

“You know you’d get bored without me,” you said, rolling your eyes. “So, whatcha got for me?”

“Why are you talking like you’re on this case? Technically I don’t have to tell you anything more than the other officers told you.”

“So what I’m hearing is go ahead and write whatever I want.”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Ooo, that’s the first time I’ve heard you curse. I like it. So, what’s the news?”

“It’s a robbery, one injured, but we have a couple witnesses and it sounds like we have a pretty solid perp description. We’re just waiting for the witnesses to meet with the sketch artist and then we’re sending out the sketch to the papers and news outlets,” Dick told you. “There, satisfied?”

“As a matter of fact, I am. Glad this one’s an easy one, I’d hate to have to write about you again,” you told him, turning around with a small smile on your face. “See you later, Grayson.”

“I sure hope not,” he decided to call after you. He could faintly hear your laugh, but the thing that caught his attention was the fact that you decided to flip him off as you walked away. Dick froze for a second, not sure if he should be highly amused or pissed off. He settled for somewhere in the middle, leaning more towards being pissed off.

When you put out your article, it was a simple, tell the details, share the perp sketch type of article. Dick was pleasantly surprised that there were no real call outs about him; as a matter of fact, his name was only mentioned once with the request that anyone who sees or has information about the suspect contact the tip-line immediately. He smiled at his laptop, taking the lack of criticism as praise. He was even willing to take the shit talking from Rodriguez, because as far as he was concerned, Rodriguez was just jealous that he never got this type of reaction from you.

**********

Dick didn’t realize he actually somewhat enjoyed your company - if he could call it that - until you stopped bothering him. You moved on from targeting him, bugging other detectives and officers about their open cases. He would hear complaints, as well as some pretty unsavory things, about you from the people you were bothering, and he was surprised about the amount of times he almost jumped to your defense. You were the biggest pain in his ass - constantly bugging him about his cases and making sure that he didn’t forget about your existence - so why did your disappearance bother him so much?

He got used to seeing you around the precinct (just not talking to him), but then he noticed when you stopped showing up. You didn’t show up to crime scenes, you didn’t show up to the precinct, you just weren’t there anymore, and that worried him. He tried asking around about you, seeing if maybe you were there and he just didn’t happen to run into you, but he met the same response: relief that you’d stopped coming around. It got to the point where he was checking the Bludhaven Gazette’s website to see if you’d written any new articles. Nothing.

Dick figured there’d be no way to really contact you; it wasn’t like he could just call your job and be like ‘hey, why isn’t this journalist bothering me anymore?’. He tried pushing you to the back of his mind, but he found himself still looking for you. It annoyed him - even when you weren’t there, you still managed to find a way to bug him. Before he knew it, a month had passed without seeing you. Then, as he was trying to schmooze up to a DA at the Policeman’s Ball, he could hear the telltale groan of another officer. You were there.

Sure enough, there you were in a black cocktail dress, a flute of champagne in hand, talking to someone he vaguely recognized from a different precinct. He wanted to excuse himself from his conversation just to see where the hell you’d been, but he knew he couldn’t risk it. He’d just have to find you later.

Then you slipped away yet again. Dick kept seeing glimpses of you here and there, but he could never catch up to you. It wasn’t until you went to the bar that Dick finally found his opening. You were talking to someone, but he didn’t really care at the moment. He slid up beside you at the bar, ordering a drink. He could see you straighten up at the sound of his voice, knowing he had your attention. As he took a drink of the whiskey in his cup, he turned to look at you.

You were a lot more done up than you normally were when you were working, but he couldn’t say he strongly preferred either. You looked amazing either way, just in different ways. “(L/n), funny running into you here.”

“Grayson,” you greeted, taking a sip of your own drink. “I can hardly believe this is an accident considering the way you’ve been watching me all night.”

That took him off guard, just enough to make him choke on his drink for a second. As soon as he regained his composure, he tried to figure out how to come back from his blunder. “Well, yeah. I thought I was seeing a ghost considering how you just disappeared.”

Not his best work, but you gave an amused smile so he would count it as a win. “Aw, you missed me.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. It was just weird not being bothered every second of my work day.” You tipped your glass back, the last of your drink passing your lips. He watched as you swallowed before putting the glass back on the counter, leaving some bills folded under it.

“Ah, I see. Well, I guess I’ll see you around, Grayson.” You stood from your seat, giving him one last look before turning to disappear back into the crowd. Dick would have to work fast if he wanted to catch up to you before you slipped through his fingers yet again. He paid for his drink and left a tip as fast as he could, scanning through the crowd for you again. You were about to disappear down the hallway towards the bathrooms, and he still had to make his way through the crowd as politely as possible while also avoiding conversation. Damn social conventions. 

You walked down the hall, wanting to escape to the bathroom for a few minutes to compose yourself, when you felt a hand around your wrist. You whipped around, not knowing who would be daring enough in a room full of police, just to see the last person you wanted to. “Grayson, let go of me.”

“No,” his voice was firm before he realized it must’ve been a little jarring to just get grabbed. “Sorry, but no.”

“What do you want?”

“Why are you even here?”

“It’s my job. I’m reporting on this damn thing,” you practically hissed, trying again to tug your wrist free from his hold. “Why do you care so much?”

“You’ve been MIA for a month and then suddenly you just appear here of all places? What gives?” He said, stepping towards you. You took a step back, trying to keep the distance, but your back just hit the wall behind you. You were forced to look up at him, the storm in his blue eyes surprising you. Why did it matter so much?

“I got sick, alright? My editor thought this would be an easy returner,” you snapped, trying to maintain your glare with him. It was a little difficult with how close he was to not get flustered, but you did what you needed to. “Why, did you miss me?”

You could tell that pissed him off by the smallest flare of his nose, but before you could take in the victory, he hit his arm on the wall above you. He kept it there, trapping you between his body and the wall. He wasn’t pressed against you just yet, but you wouldn’t be opposed to it if it was. “Why do you like pissing me off so much?”

He really didn’t see the opportunity he presented you with. You grabbed his tie the slightest bit, giving him the chance to pull away if he wanted to. When he didn’t, you used it to pull him down to your eye level. “Have you ever considered how fun it is?”

There was a moment of pure silence between the two of you, the faint noise of the party still going on just down the hall reminding you that you weren’t actually alone. Your gaze flicked down to his lips for just a moment, and then it was over. You don’t know who closed the distance first, but it didn’t really matter. The kiss was heated from the beginning, messy with tongue and teeth but you weren’t going to complain about it. Your hold on his tie tightened, pulling him closer to you. Dick’s arm moved from pressed against the wall above you, one hand fisting in your hair and the other wrapping around your waist to pull your body against him.

“God, I hate you,” Dick panted soon after he broke the kiss.

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t?” You tried teasing, even though your voice was a lot more airy than you would care to admit.

“You annoy the hell out of me.”

“I’m a journalist that doesn’t give cops any wiggle room, of course I do.” He rolled his eyes, making you smile. You pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “But you still missed me.”

“I guess I did. Do you maybe wanna get out of here?” You raised your brow, knowing he had to know how that sounded. It took him a second, but it finally clicked. “Not like that! Get some food or something. You probably aren’t annoying all the time.”

“You underestimate me,” you joked, making him smile. He has a pretty smile. “But I’ll take you up on that. Just make sure you behave yourself.”

“You’re the one who kissed me!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” You freed yourself from his arms, making your way back down the hallway towards the exit. It took him a second, but you heard Dick following close behind. He pressed a hand to the small of your back, making sure you wouldn’t slip from his fingers again.

**********

Dress Inspiration

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