#but i was talking mostly to myself and paused for a moment bc i sounded so weird

[thefunniestguy]

i think the most important thing about me is when i’m sick i sound like i’m trying to do a . yellow guy impression

[notiddygxthgf]

4. Taste Like Nicotine

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ Go back to Himeno. ❞ ❝ No. That's not what you want. ❞

★ c.w.: suggestive themes, drinking (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: HELLO AGAIN MY POOKIE DOOKIES!! IM BACK AGAIN. bc i have nothing better to do atm and i wanted to give yall a lil sum sum before i moved away to uni. please excuse the pacing of this chapter -- this fanfic was supposed to be a oneshot and uh... now its 160 pages in google docs LMFAOOA.. things get spicy in this chapterrr! so yeah anyway, you know the drill, keep me entertained -- keep your funny little comments coming, I absolutely love reading them. You guys motivate me to keep going! Love yall

★ w.c.;4.1k

shameless ; chapter index

THE OFFICE WAS QUIET, the hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional rustling of papers the only sounds that broke the silence. You were alone, finishing up some last-minute paperwork after hours. The mission had gone surprisingly well—no casualties, a rare feat in your line of work. The team had even managed to kill a large Devil containing a piece of Gun Devil Flesh, a significant victory. Yet, instead of joining the others to celebrate, you had chosen to stay behind. Partly to avoid any awkward encounters with Himeno, but mostly because you felt restless, unable to shake off the events of the past few days.

As you finished up the last of your reports, you glanced at the new message on your phone.

HIMENO| you didn't come tonight.

Typing...

YOU

| I didn't think you'd wanna see me after the stunt I pulled.

HIMENO| I dont, but I wanted u to know that everyone is talking abt u

YOU

| ??

| wym

HIMENO

| your shadow didn't come tonight, either.

Typing...

YOU| look, himeno, ive actually been wanting to talk to you about that

| would you be able to meet up and talk it out?

HIMENO| id rather not honestly.

| ur a grown woman and i cant stop u from doing what u want

| but just know that people in pb. safety talk

| dont mess up a relationship with a perfectly good man for aki

| u should leave him for someone who can actually give him what he needs

YOU| I understand that I've hurt you, Himeno, and I'm sorry

| I have no intentions of being with Aki.

HIMENO| good

| dont get him mixed up in ur fucked up marriage

|  he doesnt deserve that.

You sighed, pocketing your phone. There were certain battles you simply couldn't win. This would undoubtedly be one of them.

It was late, and you knew you should head home. You gathered your things and made your way down the dimly lit hallways, your footsteps echoing in the emptiness.

As you passed the breakroom, you heard voices. One familiar voice, more specifically.

You slowed your pace, not wanting to intrude but curious enough to catch a snippet of the conversation. The door was slightly ajar, and you could see two figures inside.

"You look desperate, dude," the unknown person said, barely audible. "It's not attractive."

"I'm becoming ridiculous," Captain Hayakawa said, his voice low and strained. "I'm losing hope."

"Hope of what? Convincing a married woman to break her vows?" the other person retorted, a hint of incredulity in his tone.

Are they talking about me? You asked. You knew the answer. You simply did not want to confront it.

Hayakawa sighed. "I thought she would call me by now," he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice making your stomach churn uncomfortably. "I just... there was something there."

There was a pause, then the other person sighed, his voice softening. "God, you are ridiculous." After a moment, he added, almost reluctantly, "Shit, sorry, man. I know you like her."

"No, you're right," He replied, a note of resignation following his words. "She doesn't want to speak to me. I'm driving myself crazy waiting for someone who's never gonna call."

You felt a knot tighten in your stomach, guilt and confusion swirling together. You hadn't intended to eavesdrop, but now you couldn't just walk away without feeling a pang of something—regret, perhaps? The slip of paper with his number, still in your possession, weighed heavily in your mind. You had been avoiding the situation, avoiding him, and now it was clear how much it had affected him.

Aki's words echoed in your ears as you stood frozen in the hallway.

He was right; you hadn't called him. You hadn't even acknowledged the note, too caught up in your own turmoil and guilt to consider his feelings. Now, hearing him speak so openly, you felt a rush of emotions—sympathy, guilt, confusion. There had been a moment between you, an undeniable spark, but you had chosen to ignore it, to pretend it didn't exist.

When would it all come crashing down – your efforts? This whole situation?

The conversation in the breakroom continued, but you couldn't listen any longer. You turned away, your heart pounding. As you made your way to the exit, you couldn't help but replay Aki's words in your mind.

He had been waiting for you, hoping you would reach out, and now he was losing hope. Fuck.

He had been waiting for me.

The idea thrilled you, for some strange reason. Maybe because you hadn't felt desired like this in years – it made your head spin. But another part of you was terrified—of what it might mean, of the complications it would bring, of the impact on your marriage.

You couldn't help yourself. You did what you always did. You ran away from him.

You knew you couldn't avoid him forever, but for now, you needed time to think. .

7:45 PM

Typing... 

Hey. |

Typing...

Hello, |

Typing...

How are you? |

Typing...

Hey. They're taking me out for drinks tn as a sendoff party. I think you should be there.

SENT.

YOU | Hey. They're taking me out for drinks tn as a sendoff party.

I think you should be there.

| At the Sip-n-savor in downtown Tokyo

Seen 8:00 PM .

The night went on without a flaw. The atmosphere was infectious, and you had been trying to let loose, drink in hand, as you chatted and danced with the others. But as the night wore on, a sense of unease settled in. Maybe it was the drinks, maybe it was the memories of the overheard conversation in the breakroom, or maybe it was the subtle disappointment that someone hadn't shown up.

Excusing yourself, you made your way to the bathroom. The mirror reflected your flushed cheeks and slightly smudged makeup. You sighed, turning on the faucet and splashing some water on your face. As you washed your hands, you found yourself thinking about Aki.

Despite everything, a depraved part of you had hoped to see him tonight. You had been both relieved and disappointed when he hadn't shown up—relieved because it meant avoiding an awkward conversation, disappointed because you had been... well, actually looking forward to seeing him.

As you touched up your makeup, you couldn't help but reflect on your own conflicted feelings. You were married, committed, and yet, Aki had stirred something in you that you simply couldn't stand to ignore. It was confusing, disorienting. You weren't sure what you felt more strongly: guilt for being drawn to him or frustration that you couldn't just let it go.

"Ugh," You groaned, pressing your forehead against the sink. "'M g'nna be sick."

Feeling a bit lightheaded from the drinks, you decided to step outside for some fresh air. You left the bathroom and – completely drunk – maneuvered through the crowds to the nearest door.

The cool night breeze was a welcome relief against your warm skin, and you leaned against the balcony railing, taking deep breaths. The city lights twinkled below, and you watched them in a daze, trying to steady your thoughts.

That's when you saw him.

Aki was just entering the party, his sharp suit and dark hair making him stand out immediately. You felt your heart skip a beat. Then another. He was killing you.

He came, you thought, a strange mix of emotions flooding you. Relief, excitement, and that persistent undercurrent of guilt all tangled together.

He spotted you almost immediately and made his way over. As he approached, you couldn't help but think how painfully gorgeous he looked, the dim lighting casting a soft glow on his features. In that moment, he seemed almost like a knight in shining armor, a figure out of place in the lively, chaotic setting of the bar.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice smooth and warm, a balm to your nerves.

"Hey," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, a slight concern in his tone. "You're not cold?"

He always seemed to be worried about you and the weather. Still, the chill felt nice against your hot skin, oddly enough.

I missed you, you didn't say. You didn't even think about it. You knew that in a day you would be back on the train and all of this would just be a bad dream, anyway.

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "No, I just needed some air. It's a bit stuffy in there."

Aki didn't respond immediately, and when you turned your head up to look at him, his expression was unreadable. The noise from inside the bar seemed distant, the world narrowing down to just the two of you in that moment. You felt a tug in your chest, a pull towards him that you couldn't explain, couldn't deny.

"Did you pregame the bar, or something?" You laughed quietly. It felt nice, being able to pretend nothing had ever happened between the two of you and just... enjoy each other's company. "You smell like beer."

"I was having a few drinks with my roommate before you texted me," He answered. Then, looking out onto the street, he added, "He told me I shouldn't come tonight. Said you're driving me crazy."

"So, why are you here, then?" You asked.

He looked at you. "I think you know why I'm here."

There was a brief silence, comfortable yet charged with the unspoken. You glanced at him, noticing the way his eyes lingered on you, soft but searching. It was the same look he had given you in the seminar, the museum, everywhere else, and it stirred something deep inside you.

You hated the way he made you feel.

"Can I buy you a drink?" He asked you. His voice was as deep and rich as ever, and you had about half a mind to take him up on the offer.

You shivered. You knew it wasn't from the cold air. It was him – the smell of him, his cologne, the distinct scent of nicotine that let you know he had just finished smoking a cigarette. It was an aroma so unique to him that you had grown to like it.

You were looking at his lips before you knew it, giving way to a craving you couldn't explain, "I'll try a cigarette, if you have any."

He smiled softly, reaching into his pocket and flipping open a carton of cigarettes and a lighter. He placed a cancer stick between your lips, and you felt a part of you die a little. He struck the wheel of the lighter, bringing the cigarette to life.

You coughed so hard that you nearly hacked up a lung. It had been years since your last cigarette.

Hayakawa stepped behind you, cupping a hand around your elbow, sliding it up your arm, your wrist, your fingers before he plucked the cigarette from your digits.

"First time?" He asked, warm voice hot against your neck.

"Wanted to give it a try," You shrugged. You didn't know what, exactly, had gotten into you. It seemed that with every sip of liquor you took lately, you crept closer and closer back to your old self. The sort of liquid courage that made people make very bad decisions. "Sorry. I'm a little," You waved your hands around yourself, trying to gesture 'drunk' without actually saying it.

"How brave of you," He murmured, pulling a hit from your cigarette and exhaling. He was the picture of sin – face flushed with alcohol, messy bangs, pink lips wrapped around a cancer stick. He was so pretty it hurt.

"I'll try it again when I'm sober," You offered.

"When?" He asked, breathing smoke out into the air. "Where?"

As persistent as always, you thought. Still, you didn't necessarily mind the attention anymore. You told yourself that it didn't matter – you would be out of here soon anyway, and everything would be far behind you before you knew it.

"Why is it that every time I'm inebriated... God tests me by throwing you in my way?" You laughed, Truly, you wished you had considered the implications of your words a little more before you had said them. "Just as I thought your manners had improved since the party. You behaved badly, then. You know that? Very badly," you hiccuped. "You should be ashamed of yourself, throwing– hic–throwing yourself at a married woman like that."

He didn't acknowledge your drunken ramblings, and he also didn't deny the fact that he had been doing exactly that – throwing himself at a married woman.

"Hardly my fault," He breathed out. "I just can't seem to resist you."

"Don't worry," You replied, eyeing him up dubiously as he pulled another hit from what was left of your cigarette. "I'm leaving tomorrow. Won't have to worry about resisting me after that."

"I know," He answered back. "Selfishly enough, I spent the last few hours wishing your train got delayed one more day, or something like that," He exhaled, then snuffed his cigarette out on the balcony, "Still, I'm glad I could see you before you went home."

"I wish I could say the same about you," You replied before you could stop the words from coming out.

He poked his tongue through the inside of his cheek, retorting, "You're gonna sit here and act like you didn't invite me? Like your eyes didn't light up like a child when you saw me pull up?" He turned around, commanding even more of your attention, standing at least a foot and a half taller than you. "You wanted me to come tonight."

It was true. That's the worst part. Everything he said was the truth.

"So that I could say goodbye," You said with remarkable finality, "I'm leaving after this."

You hadn't originally planned on leaving so soon, of course, but you wanted to get the hell out of here before you made another bad decision.

"Already?" He asked.

"You're the one who ran late," You replied. "This ends tonight. I'm going to say bye to everyone else, then I'll be gone."

With that being said, you made your way back to the door. You would go inside, bid everyone farewell, collect your belongings, and then–

He called your name before you could go back inside. You froze in place.

"Am I misreading the signals?" He asked.

You sighed, turning around one last time to clear the air, "This has to stop, Aki. You make me feel like... like I'm guilty of something."

He implored you, "What do you want me to do?"

"Go back to Himeno," You answered, a biting undertone seeping through your words. You were undeniably bitter about the whole situation, and under any other circumstances, you would have tried to be a good sport, but...

Himeno's words were a heavy weight on your heart.

'Don't mess up a relationship with a perfectly good man for Aki.'

'You should leave him for someone who can actually give him what he needs."

You could never be what Aki wanted. He wanted all of you – not just a week of you, clearly. You were married, and you couldn't let all of that go over a guy you'd been toeing the line with for what seemed like ages.

He was a young man. The fact of the matter was that you were a grown woman. A married one.

"She's a sweet, kind woman," You continued. You felt like you were going to be sick just being near him. Unknowingly, tears began to prickle at the corners of your eyes. "Go back and beg her to forgive you. Go be with someone who wants to be with you. Who can be with you."

"No," He answered simply. There was an intensity in his eyes that frightened you, like he would die without you, as he continued, "That's not what you want. I think we both know that. I refused a mission in Hiroshima to stay here with you. I planned to let go of another one in Beijing," He swallowed, "I can change my mind, and you'll never see me again."

"If you have any consideration for me," Your voice was a shuddering whisper, like someone could walk out any minute and hear the two of you going back and forth. "Any semblance– a shrivel of compassion, you'll give me back my peace."

He shook his head, "I can't. You know I can't. You've consumed every inch of my peace, every inch of my mind. How can I give you your peace?"

Fair point.

You had nothing to say to him. So, silently, your vision blurred with tears, you glared at him. Glared and frowned like that would make you believe he was the sole contributor to this issue. Then, again, you turned on your heel and went for the door. You entered the bar quickly.

He followed not too long after you, "I'll go to Beijing, then."

"No." You said. Your teary-eyed fury caught the eyes of more than a few confused bar patrons. "I don't want you to go."

Everyone was looking at you. Seriously, everyone. Your old coworkers, the bartenders, everybody.

You swallowed down your pride, bowing down before them all. "Good night, everyone," You said. You plucked your purse and your jacket off of the barstool. "Thank you for everything. I'm leaving."

Ignoring the confused looks and hushed whispers from the patrons, you exited the bar, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. The rain had started to fall, a soft drizzle quickly turning into a steady downpour. You barely noticed, too wrapped up in the turmoil inside your head. The cold, wet sensation of the rain soaked through your clothes, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You just needed to get away, to clear your mind.

But of course, Aki followed after you. You could hear him calling your name, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. You quickened your pace, almost running, your heels splashing through puddles as you made your way down the block. His footsteps pounded behind you, matching your speed. You couldn't escape him, couldn't outrun him.

Finally, he caught up to you, grabbing your arm to stop you. "Wait, can we please talk?" he pleaded, his voice breathless and desperate.

You turned to face him, rain pouring down around you both. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his suit jacket soaked through. The intensity in his eyes matched the storm, a fierce determination that made your heart ache. You met his gaze begrudgingly, not wanting to deal with this, not wanting to deal with him.

"Have I really been imagining all of this?" He asked. He sounded broken. "Is it really all in my head? Tell me if it's a lie. Tell me to leave you alone. Tell me you mean it—all of it," he paused, taking a shuddering breath. "Or tell me the truth."

You swallowed hard, the weight of the situation crashing down on you. "I don't know how to feel, Aki," you finally admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "I'm trying to be good, but you just keep fucking—popping up everywhere. And you say these pretty things to me, and," You choked back a sob, struggling to find the right words. "I can't help myself around you."

"Running from your problems won't make me go away," he said, stepping forward to put his hands gently on your waist.

There was a long pause as you stood there in the rain, staring at each other. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you. The storm, the bar, everything else was just a blur. You were tired—tired of running, tired of the confusion, tired of pretending that everything was fine when it wasn't.

He added, "You can't run from your feelings."

This time, it was his eyes that dropped to your lips. His tongue darted out to dampen his own, and then his eyes flicked up to your face. When he spoke, his voice was huskier than before, as if it had been tainted by an emotion that hadn't been there before. Was it lust? Passion? Whatever it was, you wanted more of it.

Your eyes widened. Your mouth had run dry. You didn't know what to say. Even being like this right now -- as close as you were, -- was against your wedding vows. This was wrong, and you couldn't do that to your own husband.

Your own husband who loved you so dearly.

Your own husband who left you hanging so many nights on end.

Your own husband, who acted as if he couldn't care if you lived or died.

As if he had sensed your train of thought wandering, Aki placed two fingers beneath your chin, lifting your face up until he was the captor of all of your attention. Him and him alone. Not your husband, but him.

"I could treat you like a princess," His eyes wandered down to your lips again, but this time there was an unspoken hunger within them. "All you have to do is ask, and I'm yours. I already am."

And, God, what a fool you had been in uttering the words, "Don't toy with my emotions. You don't want me."

He paused, awaiting something, anything. His eyes pleaded with your own, luring you in with promises of pleasure and happiness. Gently, he grabbed your hand, placing it over his breast, right above his heart.

"I want you so badly it hurts," He breathed, "For a night, for a day, for a week..." Aki closed the gap between the two of you – brought your faces closer together. Closer, until you could feel the warmth of his calm breath fanning out against your cheek. Closer, until he uttered, "As long as you'll let me have you."

"Aki, I can't-...." You paused. Yet, still, you never moved. Your body betrayed your words, dilated pupils and trembling hands giving way to your internal dilemma. "This is wrong. You know I can't do this."

You were being a hypocrite. You knew you were. One spare glance down at the placement of your hands on his chest -- one over his breast and one looped around his tie -- and you knew he could tell you were only putting up a front.

"I know," he murmured softly, words practically dying beneath the volume of the rain, "But I can't stop thinking about you."

You folded. Your eyes dropped down to his lips one last time, and that's when you knew he had already won.

Fuck it.

"Fuck you," you muttered, feeling a surge of reckless abandon.

Without thinking, you reached out and pulled him towards you, crashing your lips against his in a desperate, frenzied kiss. It was messy and wet, your tears mixing with the rain, your hands tangling in his hair as his arms finally wrapped around you.

The kiss was filled with all the pent-up emotions, the longing, the frustration, the desire. It was passion, it was anger – it was tongue and teeth and lips smearing your lipstick over the lower half of your face. It was two black holes finally colliding after circling around each other far too long.

"I can't make sense of it. I want... you," you sighed, pulling away, voice trembling, "I don't know what any of this means anymore. I don't know what to think."

"Then don't," he whispered, his breath warm against your lips. He tasted like cigarette smoke, beer and mint gum – a flavor so utterly addicting that you couldn't seem to get enough of it. "Don't think. Let me take you back to your room."

You hesitated, the reality of the situation hitting you. This was crossing a line, a line you couldn't uncross. But as you looked into his eyes, saw the same turmoil reflected back at you, you felt your resolve crumble.

You were tired of pretending.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rain. It was a final, resigned acceptance, the last nail in the coffin of your restraint.

You were tired of running from the inevitable.

a/n: dont hate me. LMFAOAOAOOAOA. i had to! i absolutely loved writing this chapter and i loved writing tipsy obsessed aki. i headcannon that he's a touchy needy bf and no one can tell me otherwise. i think you all know what happens next. im not sayin nothin tho. hehe. ANYWAYYYYY LMK WHAT YALL THOUGHTTTTT i look forward to hearing it!!! lmk what yall wanna see in the next few chapters/over the course of the story. and if youve already watched anna karenina (or read, in which case... how...) shhhhhh youve seen nothing. muah! x

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found the cover pic on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

wanna join the taglist? | shameless ; chapter index

[wlwmothman]

okay so growing up I never had many supernatural occurrences that I’d witnessed first hand, my family did, it wasn’t until I moved in with my roommates that i started experiencing more shit. The reason for this? My roommate/friend/future roommate but I still just call her roommate, Lex, is very fucking haunted. So like at the first house it was just that I’d see things mostly, it was easy to ignore and tell myself I’m seeing things but then we moved in with her nana and between lex’s haunted status and like nanas house being haunted it was far scarier like I was terrified to be alone in the dark basically. One thing that happened a lot is that we’d see something, it looked like a tall man, go from in the kitchen into the hallway or from the hallway to the kitchen and then check and no one was ever there. Lex told me she saw something go from the end of her bed and crawl into my bed when I was asleep, we’d hear likes talking and scratching from rooms, my roommates nana would lock her door when she left and we’d hear noises from in there. I think the weirdest thing was that me and lex and her bf were at the house alone and lex and I were eating lunch in the kitchen (we joke that things always happen when we’re alone together, especially in the kitchen) and like we heard footsteps upstairs (the upstairs was locked so we had no way of knowing if something was up there, nothing should have been) a knocking noise that we never found the source of and finally a like music box(?) sounding children’s song, we thought for a moment it was coming from the radio outside but it was never turned on and was off when we checked and it wasn’t her bf either cause he was watching wrestling which was just yelling men. Anyways eventually we will be living with lex again so! More ghosts!!!

I always think it's really funny when like we get an outsider's perspective lol. like when I tell ppl of my experiences growing up and the stories in my family they always seem so terrified and shocked while I'm like yeah lol. meanwhile other latines are like of yeah lol we had something like that. you can't throw a rock in latin america without hitting a haunted house fr.

anyway your friend lex and I should get together and use my ouija board, see what happens 😎🤙

some stories I have of ppl that are not family members that had to go through our haunted bullshit:

one time my parents were setting up for a party in my grandparents' courtyard and one of their friends came over to help. I think it was him, my parents, and two workers while the rest of my family were running errands while us kids were left with a nanny. so everything's chill and then their friend asks if he can use the restroom and my mom's like 'yeah just go past the kitchen and turn to the right' so he goes. he comes back and he goes up to my mom and asks if my aunts had started showing up. my mom's like 'uh why' and he says that he say one of my aunts in the kitchen and that she looked kinda sick. my mom just kinda pauses, processes and says 'no one's here yet'. he pales apologizes and leaves lmao.

another time, my aunt angie who lives in mexico city and visits every few months brought a friend along. my dad's side of the family are huge party ppl, like party til the next day and no one leaves sober, so she and my aunt are having a blast and finally drop at like 4am. but my aunt's friend wakes up and starts freaking out and wakes up my aunt and my aunt's like 'what's going on' and her friend's like 'there's a woman in my room' and my aunt goes 'with long braids? she's cool, she won't do anything'. fair to say her friend sobered up after that lol.

anyway, I really enjoyed listening to your stories, like I think bc my family is so used to like huge things we forget random noises can be kinda scary too. could just be the wind tho

[moonbeamoclock]

Hange Zoë being gross but it gets worse the more you read this 🤎🤎🤎

Trigger Warnings: im so sorry, Hange being gross, shit talk, butt stuff?, gross habits,

a/n: listen i don't even know what to say for myself....you asked and you shall receive @ntitled 🤎

masterlist

doesn’t shave, tries to convince you not to shave but if you insist will help you out….including down there

listen i headcanon them as non-binary (obviously) so i feel like they wouldn’t be into the traditional acts of ‘hygiene’ like shaving

yeah…that includes down there 👇

they’re a clean person so it’s not a hygienic concern for them

they are very comfortable with their body and is also very comfortable with yours

tried to educate you on the benefits of not shaving and letting go of the unrealistic standards that society has placed on people in this generation

but if you still decide that you still want to keep up with those habits to whatever degree you want they will absolutely support you

especially by helping you shave/reach the areas that you can’t reach…

yeah they’d shave your ass for and they’d love it

unrelated but they eat hella ass

mushes all their food together + in weird combinations because “it’s all going to the same place anyways”

no no no no

because they’d put all of their food in a bowl no matter what it is

just mix it all up in that bowl and shovel it into their little raccoon mouth

“it’s just fuel what’s it matter what it looks like, it all looks the same when it comes out”

it looks disgusting eating anything with them and is actual torture

-5/10 i don’t recommend it

they would hate fancy restaurants for this exact reason

hange sitting in the bathroom with you as you shit

lounging on the couch with them as they’re telling you about their lab that day

as someone with tummy issues, i am all too familiar with that feeling of dread when your stomach starts cramping a little while after you finished eating

"I'm sorry, can we pause this conversation I just have to go to the bathroom" you eventually interrupt

"oh, but i was in the middle of telling you about the shark we got to dissect todaty!" they whined

"I'll be fast i promise" you say as you stand up and make your way over to the bathroom down the hall

unaware that they are silently following behind you

you turn to close the door and they're right behind you trying yo shuffle their way into the bathroom with you

"no Hange I'm like going to the bathroom...wait in the living room."

"why? whats the difference? if i don't finish what i was saying I'll probably forget it so let me sit on the sink while you go to the bathroom."

👁👁 < that's you

listen i get poop shy so it would be so awkward for a moment because they'd be talking about the respiratory system of a juvenile great white and you're just sat there like 👀

yeah are worried about the smell or maybe even the sound yeah so am i

but hange doesn't care bc they're a scientist that's just a thing that happens

about halfway through your....experience(?) "this is a very interesting step that we've decided to take in our relationship huh?"

"yeah but you're still hot even when you're stinking up my bathroom so,"

takes pictures of their poop mostly to track of their regular stuff like that(will try and take pictures of yours lol)

again, babes is a scientist

they have a group chat with a bunch of their fellow gross lab friends where they all send pictures of their …..emissions so they can analyze them

yeah i said it they 🗣ANALYZE 🗣THEIR 🗣SHIT🗣

this group chat is strictly for observing what the effect your diet has on your bathroom habits

it’s an interesting subject but when THEYRE STUMBLING INTO THE THE BATHROOM AS YOURE ABOUT TO FLUSH YELLING AT YOU TO WAIT SO THEY CAN TAKE A PICTURE ITS A LITTLE UPSETTING

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twelve

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: this took so long bc ive been reading chain of iron and in general agonizing over things i cant control instead of being productive 🥴 that being said, absolutely none of the events in this chapter were planned in my outline, but here we are with something new!

***

December brings more snow and bone chilling weather, to the point where Cassian has to drag Nesta out of bed, either physically or by phone call, to get her to therapy appointments on time. 

She’s in the waiting room one freezing morning when, in her utter boredom, she musters up the nerve to turn to the girl sitting next to her. “What are you in here for?”

The girl blinks her large blue eyes, taking notice of Nesta for the first time. Nesta uses the opportunity to take in her freckle-painted face, a little wan but beautiful. Reddish brown hair hangs around her face and shoulders, creating a thick curtain from the rest of the world, and Nesta’s curiosity piques like she’s just found a shiny new toy.

It probably isn’t right to compare people to toys, but then the girl says, “This isn’t prison, you know.” Her voice is deep, almost sultry— completely at odds from her huddled-in posture and sickened expression. “I didn’t commit a crime to have to be here.”

Is she insulted by Nesta’s question, or is she poking a joke? Nesta decides to play it safe by murmuring, “Sorry, never mind.”

She starts to turn away when the girl says, “We’re trying a new type of trauma therapy today. I had to get here half an hour early because I couldn’t swallow my nerves.”

Nesta might lack many social skills, but she isn’t stupid enough to ask what kind of trauma the girl is being treated for. Instead, she nods casually as if she understands the struggle. “I’ve been coming here for weeks now and I’ve barely discussed shit. That’s mostly on me, but you know…” She actually doesn’t know where she’s going with her train of thought. “It sounds brave to do whatever you're doing,” she states finally. “I don’t think I’ll be able to open up that much about myself, ever.” 

The girl gives Nesta a weird look that she immediately recognizes. Nesta uses it every time she doesn’t know how to respond to someone who takes her by surprise.

The door to Lana’s office clicks open, and the woman herself pokes her head out with a plain smile. “Ready, Nesta?”

Nesta bites down on her frown. She has a feeling today won’t be as easy as her past sessions.

She’s about to leave without another glance at the girl beside her when that low voice speaks up. “I’m Gwyn.”

Nesta looks back at her as she gets up from her chair, and says the first reply that comes to mind: “Good to know.”

***

Nesta is contemplative hours after she gets back from her therapy session, bundled up in her bed with a coloring book. The repetitive motion of filling in the mandala drawing lets her mind wander, picking up and dropping different thoughts like she’s inspecting stones. 

She keeps her wrist light as she colors in with red. She finally said Tomas’s name in therapy today, though the action left a slimy feeling in Nesta’s stomach that lingers even now. She also spoke about her sisters, which somehow ended up leading to a discussion of her uterus. 

“How have you been dealing with the endometriosis news?”

Nesta shrugged. “I’m getting treated, and my last period was more bearable than usual—”

“I mean mentally, how are you doing? With how your condition could affect your future?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. “Affect me how?”

“Have you never considered the impact it could have on your ability to bear children?”

“Not everything in life is about bearing children, you know.”

“We’re humans. It’s definitely something to consider.”

“Not for me. I’ve never wanted kids.” A mistruth at best. “I don’t care what endo does or doesn’t do to me on those grounds.”

In a way, Nesta told herself, the health risks were actually for the best. If she ever did, by some stupid loss of sanity, try to have children, then her body would act as a safety net from her decisions.

Lana only said, “You’ll never know how much you care or don’t care until you talk out your feelings.”

“Then I guess we’ll never know.”

Nesta lets the memory of that conversation drop like a stone on a shore. That’s not something she has to face for a good long while. No, right now she has to face her past. 

Her sisters, and her ex, and even her father— 

I wonder if I came off too strong with Gwyn today. 

Her hand stops drawing, and she switches out her red marker for an orange one. This thought she doesn’t mind inspecting for a little longer: she and Gwyn ended up leaving their sessions at the same time, which meant they were forced into stilted conversation on the way down to the parking lot. 

Not forced, Nesta self-corrects. She willingly initiated a conversation, and it didn’t go terribly. She wonders if making friends in therapy waiting rooms is a real thing.

Her phone vibrates beside her, breaking her hours-long mental bubble. Blinking dazedly, she answers the phone call.

“How are you?” is the first thing Cassian says to her. He makes sure to ask her that at least twice a day, like a gauging of her temperature. It makes Nesta wonder what she’s ever done in her life to call for such… attention to her well-being. 

“I’m good,” she answers honestly. “My head’s a little loud right now, but I don’t mind it.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No, I’d rather hear you talk.” She slumps back against her pillows, coloring book forgotten. “What’s up?”

“Ah...” Cassian sounds hesitant for the first time since their relationship started. “It’s just that I haven’t gotten my Christmas decorations up yet, and I was going to ask if you wanted to help.”

Nesta takes a moment to absorb his words. “It’s December fifth,” she says.

“Yeah?”

“You just seem like somebody who does their decorations the day after Thanksgiving.”

“Well, this year is a little different, with you moving out and being busy with school…” He pauses. “I was waiting to do it with you.”

When she doesn’t reply, Cassian adds, “I don’t even know if you care about Christmas. I know you and your family sort of ignored holidays. It’s fine if you don’t want to—”

“I’ll be over right now,” Nesta blurts. 

Half an hour later, Cassian swings open his door with a smug grin on his face; a vast difference from the stammering hesitance he displayed over the phone earlier. Nesta’s own lips want to pull up into a smile just at the sight of him, but she holds back and narrows her eyes instead. “What’s got you so worked up?” she questions as she steps into the warmth of the cabin and out of the freezing cold.

“The way you ran over here as soon as I asked.” He looks her up and down, still amused. “You didn’t even bother to change, did you?”

It’s true: she’s in the same sweatpants and long sleeved tee she wore around home, and her socked feet are shoved into slippers. 

“Get that smirk off your face.” Nesta flicks his nose before tossing her coat off. “If this is a competition about who’s got a bigger puppy-crush for whom, you already won when you delayed putting up your Christmas decorations for me.”

“Fair enough,” he grins. The words send an unexpected pang through Nesta, because it’s partly true, isn’t it? He cares more openly for her than she does for him. 

She looks away in guilt, not knowing how to fix the imbalance. Her eyes land on the living room coffee table, where their half-finished jigsaw puzzle sits. It’s been stored under the couch for the past few weeks, forgotten by Nesta and Cassian alike as they moved on with their lives, but now it’s sitting out again.

“Have you been working on the puzzle without me?” She raises an inquisitive brow, about to feel— hurt.

“Never,” Cassian promises, saving her from that irrational hurt. “I just brought it out because I figured we should get to finishing it one day.”

She pads over to the table, picking up a puzzle piece and turning it over in her hand. “I don’t know if you remember, but we had a terrible time working on this,” she scoffs lightly.

“Oh, I remember,” he says, coming up behind her and stealing the piece from her grasp. “I think it’s safe to say those evenings were the worst fights we’ll ever have together.”

Nesta leans back against Cassian’s chest and hums. “It made us a stronger couple, don’t you think?” She turns her head up and back to meet Cassian’s eyes, finding that he’s already looking down at her.

Hypnotized, she leans into his warmth. She only manages to land the smallest kiss against his lips when his hand squeezes her ass cheek. “You’re here for a job, remember?” He taps her butt before pulling away, gesturing to the Christmas tree in the corner of the living area with his chin. It stands bare. “You do tinsel, I’ll do lights.”

Tinsel is harder to work with than Nesta remembers. She only manages to get half the tree done before plopping onto the Persian rug, exhausted and covered in silvery material. She doesn’t mind laying there while Cassian continues working; it’s her revenge for when he napped on her bed while she moved in.

“You know the stair railings still need to be wreathed, Archeron.”

Nesta declines to respond, tilting her head on the carpet for a better view of her boyfriend’s ass instead. “All this decorating,” she starts. “Is it just for you?”

Cassian turns to her, surprised. “Well…”

She pushes up onto her elbows, catching her mistake. “Are we doing Christmas together? Or are your friends coming over?” She hasn’t bothered to celebrate Christmas in years now, and she doesn’t care much what Cassian’s plans are either way.

“I was hoping for both?” He sounds hesitant. “Christmas Eve is all the way over in Velaris, but I was thinking we could go together, open some presents, and come back and spend Christmas here.”

Nesta purses her lips. She doesn’t actually hate that plan. Both Feyre and Elain have been pestering her with the annual texts asking her to visit for Christmas, and for once, she feels like responding to them. The invitation is more of a formality than an actual request at this point; she doubts her sisters want her there after years of rejections, but… what’s the harm?

“Is that a yes?” Cassian asks at her unreadable face.

“Yes,” she states unflinchingly. She refuses to overthink the possible consequences of this choice and chooses to focus on the broad grin overtaking Cassian’s face. “Really?” he says.

“But there has to be rules.” Nesta sits up fully now. “No one can know we’re together, no matter how much you trust or love them.”

“We already agreed to that, baby.”

Yes, but Nesta knows the secret weighs on him heavier than he shows— even if he agrees with her that it's for the best. “It’ll be different when we’re together in the same room as everyone else,” she says. Cassian wears his beating heart on his sleeve, and she doesn’t think he’s ever had to hide it before.

“You’ll also be different,” she adds. “It’s a huge change of pace.”

Cassian drops the remaining strand of lights and smiles confusedly down at her. “What do you mean, I’ll be different?” He sits across from her, before the blazing fire. 

“You know how you get around your friends.” Nesta shrugs without a thought. “Like your personality readjusts to mirror the people around you. I used to find it a mix of sad and adorable, like a neglected puppy desperate for love, but now I— okay, I still feel the same way.” She waves a hand in a dismissive gesture.

By the look on Cassian’s face, he does not find her words so easily dismissed. 

Coldness curdles in the pit of Nesta’s stomach, the realization that she’s said something wrong. She can’t fix it until she knows where she fucked up, though.

“Is that what you think of me?” Cassian finally says lowly. His usually expressive mouth is drawn tight and narrow. 

“Um… What would you rather I think of you?”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “Seriously, Nesta?”

Nesta’s back stiffens, refusing to cower. “I only described what I’ve observed in the past.”

“And what you observed was a desperate puppy?” His voice is cold in a way she’s never heard before.

Okay, she’s starting to see how that might be offensive. She forges onward, “Tell me what you think about yourself in the presence of your family, then.” It’s a private victory that she says family instead of clown circus. But she’s not trying to turn this into a fight.

Cassian is silent, but his stare continues to rage at her.

“Tell me,” Nesta repeats.

His hands curl into fists on the rug. “I think I’m empathetic, easy to talk to, and easier to be around. Is it a problem if I’m likable?” Unlike you are the unsaid words.

Nesta inspects the space between them like it’s a chessboard. “And what part of yourself are you giving up to be so likable, Cassian?” she says quietly.

“Nothing.”

Nesta disagrees, if only because she’s been watching him out of the corner of her eye for years. “I think you base your personality off of those you love, and you lose a little bit of your true self every time you put others’ needs before your own.” 

She shuts her mouth, not having expected such honesty to come out of it. Cassian is taken aback, too, she can tell.

“And I guess it’s natural that you’d see all of that as a bad thing, considering your history of being closed off and self-serving to a fault,” he fires back with the flatness Nesta utilizes so often.

One for one. Fair enough. “We’re both right then,” Nesta says. “You work for your best friend because you have no ambition beyond serving your family, and I have no such family because I can’t bring myself to care about those things. Are we even now?”

Cassian furrows his brows, those defensive walls melting away as he realizes she’s completely serious. “What? No, Nes—” He shakes his head. “Okay, so maybe you’re right about me. Maybe I agree with you a little bit, but… If we see flaws in each other, then we should be working to overcome them instead of weaponizing them.”

Now Nesta’s the one shaking her head, quickly lifting a hand to stop him. “Relax there, sweetheart. I have no expectations from you or myself to go on some self-improvement journey now that we’re together. Talking about my feelings with a professional every week is hard enough.” Yes, agreeing to go to Feyre’s Christmas party is improvement. Slow, barely there improvement, but enough to wear her out for the rest of the month. For Nesta to fully let people into her life, to treat them as lovingly as she treats Cassian— that’s a long way away. She can’t envision it, doesn’t even know if she wants it.

Cassian must understand some of what she’s thinking, because he nods and backs off. He gets back up and returns to stringing lights, tossing a handful of tinsel at Nesta as if to say Get back to work. 

She stands and obeys, thinking their not-argument is officially over when Cassian says, “You’re wrong about one thing.”

She looks up from where she threads tinsel through fir leaves. He doesn’t take his eyes off his work as he says, “You do have a family. And deep, deep down, you care about them as much as I care about mine.”

***

Nesta catches Emerie’s eye as the dark-haired beauty walks into the pub. Raising a hand and waving, she gestures Emerie over to the booth she’s sitting in. 

“Look what I found,” Nesta says with a hint of pride, pointing to the redhead sitting beside her. “A third girl for girl’s night!”

“I was kidnapped,” Gwyn speaks up. “Jumped on the way to my car.” She’s out of her usual hoodie and in a tight-fitting blouse, looking stunning even while seeming out of place in the dim bar.

“She came here consensually,” Nesta retorts. “Emerie, this is Gwyn. We met at therapy.”

Gwyn offers Emerie an awkward smile.

Emerie slides into the booth across from them with raised brows. She looks between Nesta and the new girl and back again. “You invited her here? All by yourself?” she asks.

Nesta nods firmly.

Emerie breaks into a wide grin and reaches over the table to grab Nesta’s hand. “I’m so proud of you!” If Emerie were anyone else, she’d be squealing in excitement, but Emerie does not squeal.

Nesta waves off her friend’s praise, though a part of her wants to beam at it, too.

Gwyn glances between the two of them with slight amusement. “I mean, it’s not that impressive,” she says. “She came on a bit too strong, probably a five out of ten on the asking-someone-out scale.”

“‘A bit too strong’ is all you’re gonna get with Nesta,” Emerie says, lifting her hand to order drinks. “She’s all-or-nothing, and most people would pray she doesn’t give them her nothing.”

Nesta doesn’t know if that’s a compliment, but she supposes there are worse things that could be said about her.

“So, Gwyn, what do you do?” Emerie leans forward. “All our friends are law students and it’s starting to get boring.”

Gwyn goes off about her librarian job as Nesta orders their drinks, and Emerie rests her chin in her hand and listens eagerly. Christmas music plays softly in the background and snow flurries gently outside. Nesta thinks she can’t be doing that bad in life, if she’s managed to carve out this little slice of happiness for herself.

***

a/n: i promise shit actually happens next chapter! we're getting christmas with nessian and the ic in the same room for the first time

taglist: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

Baby, You’re Perfect

Pairing: BNHA Boys x reader

Warnings: Weight insecurity, negative body image/icky thoughts, body shaming from relatives, talks about skipping a meal once, general stuff like that. Kirishima’s reader is actively trying to lose weight. Cursing/language throughout (but mostly in Bakugou’s)

Characters: Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari

Author’s Note:

And here we have yet another request that is super old. I’m talking this has been chillin in my inbox for three good months. My sincere apologies, anon. And again, I’m sorry that that had to happen to you. Your grandma has no right to speak to you in that way. You’re making great progress and that’s amazing! Keep going strong, I believe in you. Anyhow, I had a lot of fun doing this request! We all need more chubby y/n on this website.

Yes, it says Hawks but I contacted the anon and we switched it to Denki bc I don’t write for Keigo (and we had a lovely conversation. they’re very nice :D). 

Also the first two insults are things that have actually been said/done to me irl (hehe tasty self projection) and the last one in Denki’s is from an episode from Tuca and Birdie (it’s a good show).

Anyway, be nice to people. Respect others and speak to them as equals. We’re all human beings here, trying to get by. We’re also like a month away from 2021, I shouldn’t have to say that >:(

Happy Thanksgiving!

-Sugar

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Bakugou:

You couldn’t take it anymore. You were tired of their faces, tired of their words. You were headed home early, and you would not be sorry.

You didn’t hate your family. They could just be a little . . . difficult sometimes.

At first, it had gone well. You’d arrived at your aunt’s house yesterday for a family gathering and met up with everyone. They’d hugged you and asked you how you were doing. They’d even asked after your pro hero boyfriend, who you had chosen not to bring along for the purpose of spending some quality alone time with your family.

But then it happened; the thing you’d been dreading, the type of comment you’d hoped against all things you wouldn’t hear this time. But there it was.

You were nearly done preparing for lunch, helping to place dishes of food out in the backyard for your family meal. Your aunt was starting to serve people food, and you happened to glance up to see one of your cousins making herself a plate.

“Do you want any more?” your aunt asked your cousin, ready with her ladle.

“No, thank you, I’ve got enough.” Your cousin flipped her long perfect hair over a perfectly narrow shoulder. “I wouldn’t want to get fat like—” her gaze wandered over to you, meeting your eyes pointedly, “—some people.”

You faltered. Had she really just said that? About you? Well, it wasn’t impossible that it would come from her, but seriously? Today?

You swallowed a lump that had started forming in your throat, setting down the new stack of paper plates. Your aunt shot you a pitying glance. Was she even going to say something? Would she call your cousin out on her words?

No. She just moved on. Moved on like you should have. But something about it stuck with you. Your cousin’s words and implications rang through your mind, making you feel sick to your stomach. You shouldn’t let it bother you this much. You were doing better, both with your habits and your confidence. So why did it hurt so bad?

The darker thoughts you’d kept at bay began to come back; you were worthless, you were ugly, you were undeserving. Why wouldn’t they stop? Why was your stomach churning and your hand shaking? Before you knew it, hints of tears began to prick at your eyes.

No.

You weren’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing you this way. But you were no longer interested in staying, any sense of hunger leaving you for sick dread.

Next thing you knew, you had said an early goodbye and put your things in the car, headed back home. Maybe driving wasn’t the best idea, since now you were alone with your thoughts. But crying wasn’t worth it. It was a bad idea, especially since now was the time to focus on the road ahead.

You couldn’t have gotten home sooner, a sense of relief washing over you once you pulled into the driveway. You unlocked your front door, pulling your bags in behind you. You heard movement coming from the kitchen as you set everything down; the sound of the faucet turning off signaling to you that Katsuki had heard you come in.

Heaving a sigh, you tried to chase the negative thoughts from your head. They shouldn’t be there, and it wasn’t something to dwell on. You were home again, and you wouldn’t have to deal with your family for another few months at least.

Bakugou’s head peeked out from around the doorframe, double checking that it was you who had walked in. “What are you doing here?” he called, ducking back to whatever he’d been doing in the kitchen.

“Hello to you too.” You tried to keep the tartness out of your voice, but some of it must have crept back in. The sounds from the other room stopped again, and the house went eerily quiet. Huffing, you dragged your luggage into your shared bedroom.

You felt drained, that was the only way to describe it. You couldn’t even bring yourself to hang your clothes in the closet. Giving up, you laid down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. You couldn’t help but hear your cousin’s words ringing over and over in your head, reminding you of the countless years of both internal and external torment you’d gone through regarding your weight.

The sound of footsteps in the doorway made you glance down, registering a spiky blond head of hair approaching you on the bed. You said nothing as the mattress dipped next to you, indicating that Bakugou had come up on your side.

The two of you were silent together for a long moment, and a stolen glance told you that Katsuki was mirroring you with his head resting on his arms as he stared at the blank ceiling.

“Are you going to tell me what’s got you in this mood?” he finally asked.

You sighed. “My cousin can just be a pain sometimes.”

“She the one you were telling me about or is it someone else?”

“Same girl.”

“Hmm.” Bakugou continued to keep his eyes trained solely up above. “What did she do this time?”

“Called me fat.” You tried to keep your voice even. You were simply stating a fact. It shouldn’t bother you like this, right? Even so, the tears you’d been forcing back once again rushed to your eyes, causing your tone to pitch. You swallowed them down again, blinking rapidly. This wasn’t something to spend time crying over.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Katsuki said, a little unhelpfully. “I don’t want to see you hating yourself.”

You frowned at this. “I don’t hate myself,” you said, thinking about your words for a moment before you spoke them. “I don’t hate my body. It’s just that . . . sometimes I wish it looked a little better, a little different. Sometimes I don’t feel like I’m enough as I am.”

“Don’t tell me you think you’d be happier looking like everyone else.” Bakugou’s gaze had shifted from a blank one to a glare.

“I don’t know,” you said, shrugging. “It’s just . . . hard sometimes. Being like this.”

Finally Bakugou rolled to face you, taking one of your hands in his. “I know you . . . struggle with your self-image or whatever, but you can’t let it take over your life, got it? You can’t just waste it worrying about what everyone thinks of you. You’re never going to be able to please everyone, but if they’ve got a problem with you, then they can go fuck themselves. You want to know the one person’s opinion who matters most? Yours. You have to be the one who’s taking care of yourself.” Katsuki paused for a moment, absentmindedly fiddling with your fingers as he considered his words.

“You want to know who’s opinion is the second most important?” he continued, his voice starting to get a little more mumbly. “Mine. I picked you because I love you. I love everything about you, from your shitty, annoying personality to your gorgeous body. You are so much more than just ‘enough’ for me, so don’t go worrying about that. You’re everything to me, and you know that, right? I love you no matter what, so don’t let this ruin your whole day.” He kissed your knuckles, signaling that he had said his peace.

You smiled at him, a tear or two finally sneaking past your defenses. “How—how do you do that?”

“What?”

“Sometimes you say something horribly stupid and I swear I hate you, and then next thing I know, you’re telling me everything I need to hear.”

“Tch, I can be eloquent whenever I want. It’s a choice.”

“Alright.” You rolled over so you could properly face him. “Can I have a hug?”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, but nevertheless held open his arms. You happily snuggled into the hard, built muscle enveloping you, offering a beautiful contrast to your own soft body.

“Do you need me to talk to your cousin?” Bakugou asked. “I’ll do it.”

“Nah, let her go.” You nuzzled your nose into his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

______________

Kirishima:

You honestly expected your family to last longer when it came to keeping from upsetting you. Nevertheless, maybe you were being a little too optimistic. But come on, did they have to ruin everything the literal second you walked through the door?

Even after the scathing comment, followed by a half-hearted, hasty brushing off, you forced yourself to spend time with them. It wasn’t often that you got to see this half of your family, so you decided to ignore it with the rest of them.

But as you sat on the couch sipping tea, you were unable to focus on the light conversation buzzing around you. The event that happened mere minutes before played over again in your mind, causing you to wince.

You’d walked into the house, prepared to greet everyone and have a nice time, when your aunt looked up from her position on her arm chair. “Hello, (Y/N),” she’d begun. “Ah, look, you’re still fat.”

Your heart had almost literally stopped beating in your chest as you froze in the threshold. Had she just said what you thought you heard? You must have been mistaken, right?

Any positive anticipation you’d had of seeing your relatives had plummeted to your feet, and you strongly considered turning around in place and leaving without another word.

But you couldn’t do that, of course not. Then your aunt had begun to babble something about how it made you look cute like a baby, but her words had already done their damage.

You tolerated the rest of your afternoon with them, but it was a great relief to you when you were finally able to leave and go home. As soon as you pulled into your driveway, you exhaled a sigh of relief. It was over with, and it hadn’t been that bad.

Eijirou wasn’t home, but you knew he wouldn’t be long after you. You went about making dinner, knowing he’d appreciate it once he got home. He was always so tired these days.

Even so, as you stirred broth in a pot, your aunt’s words rang in your head. You vaguely remembered telling her about your weight loss a month ago. You figured you’d been making considerable progress, and you knew that no one was more proud of you than Eijirou himself. But had it really made a difference?

After a moment of fretting, you turned off the stove. You walked into your shared bedroom, flicking on the light. Your eyes caught sight of your reflection in the mirror. You frowned, going up to it. Turning your body this way and that, you tried to see if you recognized a change in your appearance. You lifted your shirt, only to wince at yourself and tug it back down. You pinched at your arms, your thighs, and your cheeks, growing almost angry at the way your fingers sunk into the flesh.

Maybe you hadn’t been making as much progress as you’d thought. Or the progress you had made wasn’t enough. Without you even realizing it, your mind began to toy with ways to speed things up. Guiltily, you found yourself wondering if Eijirou would notice if you just skipped dinner that night.

You shook your head to clear away the intrusive idea. No, that wouldn’t solve anything. Eijirou had told you that he’d help you lose weight the right way, so you’d stay healthy and be able to keep it off. It would be best to listen to him.

Still, you found your eyes glued to your reflection. You wouldn’t consider yourself vain, but there was something in the way that your eyes traced over your curves, wondering just how they might look on you if only you were a little smaller . . . .

Movement behind you in the mirror caught your eye, and you were quick to recognize a head of spiky red hair. You must not have heard Kirishima come in through the front door.

“Hello,” you said with less cheer than usual.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted you, coming up from behind to give you a hug.

You leaned back into his chest as you both stared at each other’s reflections.

“Checking out my perfect girlfriend?” he teased, referring to how your eyes continued to trace down your body. “That’s my job, you know.”

You snorted, gently rubbing at his forearm.

“So how was your family?”

“Okay,” you shrugged.

“I saw you left something on the stove. Are you doing okay?”

Oh, Kirishima. How did he do it?

You shrugged. “I guess I didn’t really have a good time there. Got a little upset is all.”

Eijirou frowned. “What happened?”

You took one of his hands in yours and began to play with his fingers, now determined to keep your eyes from catching another glimpse of yourself. “My aunt told me I was fat.”

You missed the flash of genuine anger that shot through Kirishima’s eyes. He knew this was something you’d struggled with for a long time. Your aunt had no business making comments like that about your body, especially now.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, deciding to keep himself calm for your sake.

You continued to fiddle with his large hands. “I just worry sometimes that I’m not doing enough,” you mumbled. “What if it doesn’t work? What if I’m just meant to look like this?” You sniffled, hating the sudden tears that were beginning to fill your eyes.

“Honey . . .” Eijirou spun you around and held you to his chest, running a hand down the back of your head as you finally let the tears slide down your face. You nuzzled into his shirt, appreciating the warm, familiar feeling of it. “Even if you weren’t able to lose more weight, you know I’d still love you, right?” he said in a tender voice. “I’d think you’re beautiful either way.”

He tilted your chin up so he could look into your eyes, giving you one of the most loving gazes you’d ever seen. “And besides, we’re not together because of how you look. I love you for you. I love your personality, and how you always say and do the cutest things.” He bent down for a quick kiss, caressing your cheek as he pulled away. “I love your laugh, and I love looking into your beautiful eyes . . . .” He kissed you again, beginning to gently guide your bodies to the bed at the other wall.

Eijirou laid you down in the center of the mattress, hovering over you as he went in for another kiss. “I love your body too. This body, just the way it is. I love how it feels to hold you at night—” he kissed your neck. “—I love your chest, your butt, your arms, your thighs—” he nuzzled his nose against your face and neck. “—your cute tummy.” He pushed himself up and gazed down at it with such a genuine expression of love, you almost started tearing up again. “The cutest tummy in the world. And I love it because it’s yours.”

With that, he bent down again and lifted up your shirt just enough to give it a little kiss. You couldn’t help but let a giggle slip from your lips, which only made his ruby red eyes dart up to meet yours mischievously.

“You like that? What if I did it . . . again!” He placed a second kiss in a different spot, going for another and then another. You broke out into laughter, the sensation of his lips and nose brushing over your sensitive skin making you squirm in his hold.

Soon, he was laughing himself. He nuzzled into your skin one last time and blew a raspberry against your skin.

“Eiji—!” you began to protest through a laugh.

“What?” He smirked at you, moving up and settling his chin in the valley of your chest.

You smiled right back at him, bringing up your hand to brush the backs of your fingers against his cheek. “I love you.”

Kirishima took hold of your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the backs of your knuckles as he looked into your eyes. “I love you too, baby.” He held your hand in his, getting lost for a moment simply looking at your face.

Eventually he sat up, laying down next to you and pulling you into his chest. “I’m proud of you too,” he told you, tucking your head under his chin. “I know you’re actively making a change for the better, and you’re doing really well. Results won’t happen immediately, you just have to stick with it sometimes.”

You sighed through your nose, taking his hand in yours again. “I know. I just get discouraged sometimes is all.”

“And I’ll just be here to put you back on track. You’ve got this, you know.” He hugged you tight against him, rubbing your back. “Are you hungry?” he finally asked. “I’ll help you make dinner.”

“Sure,” you said, chuckling lightly.

“What? We both have to eat, and you know me. I’m a hungry shark.”

You laughed again, leaning up to kiss his jaw.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Well, there’s always more where that came from.” He kissed your forehead. “I’m here for you, okay?”

______________

Kaminari:

If there was one thing Denki hated more than anything, it was seeing you upset. 

He could tell something was off the moment you came through the front door. You were too quiet, and that bothered him. When you finally made it up to your shared room, Kaminari was already watching the doorway for you.

He noticed immediately that your eyes were puffy and a little red. Even your posture looked defeated and slumped over.

“Hey, Denks,” you said once you noticed him stretched out on the bed. His heart broke even further when he saw you try for a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Hey, hey, what’s the matter?” Kaminari got up, clearing the space between you so he could put his hands on your shoulders.

“I—I just,” you began to stammer out, feeling the flimsy dam you’d placed behind your eyes begin to falter. “I . . . don’t know if I want to talk about it right now.” You covered your burning face with your palms. “It’s stupid anyway. I shouldn’t let things like that get to me.”

Kaminari frowned, trying to figure out what might have made you so upset. But he wasn’t one to pry when it came to situations like these, and he knew you’d tell him on your own time.

Even so, he led you to where he’d once taken position on the bed, pulling you up with him. He knew that sometimes you simply wanted to be distracted from things, so he decided to do just that. Allowing you to settle in next to him, he picked his controller up from the covers again where he’d set it down.

You noticed he’d been playing Minecraft. You let yourself take a mild interest in his mining session that you caught him in the middle of. You watched him wander through a cave system; placing torches, killing the occasional zombie, and mining out various ores he happened upon.

What you didn’t see was how often he shot you glances, studying your face for any signs of you getting upset again. He saw when you finally took your eyes off his screen, frowning distantly as you twisted the material of the blanket underneath you.

Before he could ask you again what was going on, you opened your mouth to speak. “Do you think this outfit is too much?”

Denki faltered, confused. “No? What do you mean by that? I think you look really pretty.”

You pursed your lips. Clearly that wasn’t the answer you’d wanted. “I just—I don’t know.” You frowned and went back to avoiding his eyes.

“Are you going to tell me what happened today?” Denki asked. A sudden idea struck him. Before you could answer him again, he stood up on the bed and walked over to a shelf you kept just above it. He pulled down a large stuffed Pikachu he’d gotten you a few years ago, and went back to sitting next to you. “Would it be easier to tell him?”

Denki positioned the toy in his lap, grabbing hold of its little arms and letting it go through various motions, starting with a little wave at you.

You couldn’t help but snort at Kaminari’s antics, looking from the plushie to the curious but concerned expression on your boyfriend’s face.

“Your Pikachus are worried about you.” Denki lifted it up higher on his chest, continuing to fidget and wave the arms back and forth in a little dance. “You saw your family today, right? How did that go?”

Your face fell again and you shrugged. “It went well I guess. My grandma just said something dumb and it made me upset.”

Denki frowned, lifting the arms of the Pikachu so its hands were on its pink cheeks. “What did she say?”

You shrugged again. “I was messing around with my cousins and I said I looked like a snacc. And then she said that snacks were probably what made me so fat in the first place.”

Denki’s frown deepened. “That’s not very nice.”

“I don’t think she knew what I was talking about, to be fair. And maybe it’s a little funny. I mean, she’s not wrong.” You rested your chin in your hands, sighing. “It just caught me off guard. It’s a dumb thing to be upset over, like I said—”

“Hey.” Denki met your eyes. “It’s not dumb. You have every right to be upset.” He held his arms open to you. “Come here.”

You sat up, letting him embrace you.

“Do you need me to remind you how beautiful you are and how much I love you?” he asked from next to your ear. “Because I’ll do it.”

He took your shy smile as a yes, letting you settle back as he proceeded to lift up the stuffed yellow toy.

“Are you hearing this, bro?” he addressed it, throwing a serious look on his face. “The most gorgeous person on the planet is sad. We have to do something about it.”

Denki put the Pikachu’s paw on its chin, tapping it for a second before removing it again. “What’s that?” he asked it. “You have an idea?”

He lifted the toy to his ear, pretending to listen to it for a moment as he nodded along. Once he was satisfied, Denki scooched himself even closer to you. He brought Pikachu’s nose up to your cheek and made a kiss sound with his lips. Setting the toy down beside you on the bed, he motioned for you to come sit in his lap.

You obeyed, settling yourself in between his thighs and wrapping your legs around his hips.

“There you go,” he muttered, slotting his nose beside yours as he touched foreheads with you. “I love you and you’re the most important person in my life. You know that, right?” He waited for you to nod before continuing. “And I know that you can feel a little insecure sometimes with how you look. You’ve got bad days, and you have good days. It’s my job to be there for you on these bad days, and you can be there for me when I have mine. I want you to know that you’re so beautiful and I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

He connected your lips to his for a long moment, trying to convey all his feelings for you into it. “And don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re less-than. They’re not the kind of person you should be listening to. Trust me when I say that you’re perfect just being you.” Denki wiped a tear trail off your cheek with his thumb, leaning in to kiss the skin there. 

“Thanks, Denki,” you said, your voice just above a whisper.

He gave you a soft, caring smile; his fingers still lingering on your cheek. “Is there anything you want to do together to make you feel better? We could watch a movie, we could snuggle, whatever you want.”

You leaned in and hugged him tight. “I love you.”

He hugged you back. “I love you too. You’re my sunshine nugget, and it would take a heck of a lot to ever change that.”

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Taglist: @basicaegyo​ @fourteenow​ @iiminibattlehero​ @katsugay​​ @nabo39​ @onepieceask​ @pyrofanatic​​ @sendhelpimstupid​ @xoxopam4​​ 

[vegalocity]

The Tinkerer (Red Groom AU)

It took me a hot second to decide who i wanted to be Miracle Max because there was no way I WASN'T gonna put that scene in this AU

I decided on Syntax bc the other spiders haven't shown up yet and so why not

--

The house was little more than a glorified workshop; there were shelves of research notes and half finished odds and ends puled up on an open wall near the back, and Xiaojiao was unsure of whether they should be approaching the front door or coming in through the workshop area. Especially since the front door had a very clear 'No Longer In Business' sign hanging from it.

All the same it seemed like Sandy had all the confidence in the world in this 'Tinkerer' as he was known. As his usual grin didn't waver as he shifted his grip on the Not-Monkey King's body and approached the front door. Xiaojiao fell into step beside him of course, and upon Sandy's polite knock stationed herself between her friend and the question of what will be coming next.

A small peek window opened and Xiaojiao was suddenly making eye contact with a pair of very bright green eyes, nearly bioluminescent in their vibrancy, surrounded by a pale purple complexion not unlike the late Spider Queen's.

“We're closed.” The Demon stated firmly.

“Are you The Tinkerer?” She asked in reply.

The demon at the door snarled with a mouth of sharp teeth. “I was. And thank you for reminding me of what that wretched Prince did to my reputation, Why don't you throw a handful of dirt in my face while you're at it! Scram.” he shut the peek window. And Xiaojiao was far less polite when she knocked.

“I said beat it! Or I'm calling the brute squad.” The Tinkerer opened the little window again and glared her down, but Sandy leaned in at the offer.

“I'm on the brute squad.” he waved.

“You are the brute squad.” The Tinkerer agreed.

“Look, we heard you were one of the best healers in the region with your experiments and we're in desperate need.” Xiaojiao tried again.

“What part of 'was' did you not understand? Past tense. I'm Not in that business anymore. Besides-” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Why would you want a disgraced tinkerer to have a look at whoever you've got in mind anyway? I might kill them.” he said that last part in a mocking tone, clearly imitating the Prince in the false posh accent. The only thing stronger then The Tinkerer's sarcasm seemed to be his bitterness.

“He's already dead?” She tried one last time, and this time the Tinkerer seemed interested. He leaned forward a bit to peer at the Not-Monkey King.

“He is, hm?” He paused for a second, eyes flicking into nothing as he thought something over, before eventually shrugging. “Sure, bring him in. I'll take a look.”

The little home indeed was as small as the door implied, and in the living space there was in fact an extra door that lead to the outside workshop area.

Scanning the room for anything flat enough to lay the Not-Monkey King down on, Xiaojiao eventually started to clear the table of books—and there were many books in this house.

“Careful with those!” The Tinkerer chided but as she turned to hand them off instead of a more average demon aggravated and ready to take the tomes from her, she was met with a pair of metallic prongs infront of her, not dissimilar to the legs of a spider demon, and peering to the side a bit she saw that indeed, they were sprouting from The Tinkerer's back.

...Huh... Spider Queen had let on that she was the only spider demon in the area, to think there was another of her kind so nearby without her knowledge before she'd died... The Tinkerer's spider legs sprouted from his back which WAS a little odd since she'd always been told the hips were the usual area for spider legs, but he was using the other pair to better arrange the table for Sandy to put Not-Monkey King down onto it, so it didn't seem like they were a hindrance. She placed the books in the spare two prongs and said tomes were carefully deposited on an empty chair.

The Tinkerer strode over to the body and hemmed and hawed for a moment. “Well I've certainly seen worse.” He continued to prod at the body, and the running clock began to hold over Xiaojiao's head.

“Sir we're in a rush here-”

“Never rush a scientist, Miss.” The Tinkerer responded evenly. “Nothing makes an experiment go wrong quicker than rushing the scientist.” He fretted over the body a little longer, and his attention was on the corpse still as he spoke again.

“So how much is this worth to you both?”

“All we've got is Sixty-five.”

The Tinkerer scoffed. “I never work for so little.” He paused for a moment, considering. “Except for that one time, but that was a very noble cause.”

Xiaojiao thought fast “Sir this is a noble cause.” Though no one ever said she was any good at improvising. “His wife cannot leave the house after the accident, children on the brink of starvation-”

The Tinkerer was unmoved. “You're not a gifted liar, are you?”

Fine, if she couldn't make this happen with sympathy she may as well tell the truth. “I need him to help me avenge my father. Murdered these last ten years-”

“Your first story was better.” The Tinkerer cut her off with a scoff. “Probably owes you money, doesn't he?” he turned away from the body to rummage through a crate of strange looking devices. “Now where did I put the- Ah.” He pulled out a pump looking thing. “Well if you're not going to be giving me a straight answer I'll ask him myself.” Her thoughts spluttered for a moment.

“He-... He's dead he can't speak-”

The Tinkerer chuckled. “Oh, so now you're the expert, miss?” he shook his head. “No, your friend here is only mostly dead.” He began to turn a few knobs on the device before gently prying the Not-Monkey King's mouth open. “There's a very distinct difference between mostly dead and all dead you see.” He began to turn the crank on the device and slowly the Not-Monkey King's chest began to inflate. “If he were all dead there'd only be one thing to do.”

“What would that be?”

The Tinkerer smirked “Go through his pockets and see if there's anything worth selling. But Mostly Dead, is Slightly Alive. So there's far more options.”

Soon enough he stopped turning the crank and lifted the device from the Not-Monkey King's mouth. After handing the device off to Sandy, whom helpfully carefully set it back inside the box, the Tinkerer leaned in close to the body.

“Hey! Hello in there! Hey- What's so important? You got anything here worth living for?” he then placed both hands and two of his spider legs onto the Not-Monkey King's chest and pushed.

At first the wheezing noise didn't sound like much of anything, but then Xiaojiao was able to make out-

“'True Love'! You heard him!” She leaned forward to examine the body herself for a moment, but other than the faintest moving of his words, the Not-Monkey King remained still. And peeking back up at the Tinkerer he looked pale, mauve skin suddenly more of a sickly lavender. “You couldn't ask for a more noble cause than that, sir.”

“Well Miss, true love certainly would be a noble cause of all noble causes.” He agreed, before blinking once and shaking his head. “But that's not what he said! I've been hearing mostly dead groans for the better side of thirty years now, and I know 'To blave' when I hear it.” He waved a hand dismissively as he turned away from her. “And since you seem like those whom may not know 'To Blave' is an archaic way to say 'to bluff'. So here's my read on things, you lot were gambling on something or another and he was cheating so-”

“Oh for the love of- You CanNOT be serious, Syntax!” a raspy voice piped up, and emerging from one of the small rooms was another spider demon, this one looking far more traditional, with the obvious mandibles and four green eyes instead of The Tinkerer's two.

“Huntsman I am in the middle of something can you just-”

“You're in the middle of making yourself look like an obstinate fool that's what you're in the middle of!” The other spider, Huntsman, approached and grabbed The Tinkerer (Syntax apparently) by the arm. “What kind of coward has my brother turned into that he can't even say the truth when he refuses to do what he poured his life's work into?!”

“You have no idea what you're talking about-”

“You head him,You know what he said-” Huntsman turned to the two of them and were it not for the sadistic gleam in his eye Xiaojiao would have thought he was honestly trying to help them. More likely he just wanted to see his brother squirm. “He's turned into a coward ever since the prince fired him! He's been stuck in a rut for months now!”

“Hey! You said you wouldn't bring that up! You swore you'd let that drop!” The Tinkerer's voice went shrill with anger, and the smirk on Huntsman's face widened, showing off his far more pronounced fangs.

“What? That you got fired? You got fired!” and then in a routine Xiaojiao would more expect out of a play than from a pair of fully grown brothers, Huntsman began to chase Syntax around the little room, loudly crowing 'Fired' over and over again while Syntax made vague noises of distress. Eventually Huntsman got hold of his brother again, and this time he maybe actually looked concerned.

“What would mother say if she saw you puttering about like this?! You know how much she went on about 'True Love' and all that ilk! And Sure Goliath was the only one who ever believed her, but you don't even have the decency to say why you won't help?!” Syntax had his hands clapped over his ears and seemed to be trying to loudly tune Huntsman's words out. “What, one good for nothing Prince gives you the boot and you don't have a reputation anymore?! Where in the world did your Spider Pride run off to because sure as anything else it ain't here anymore!” Wait he meant THIS prince, right?

“This man is Red Son's lover!” she cut in. “If you heal him he'll stop at nothing to stop the Prince's wedding!”

That gave both spider brothers pause, and something sparked to life behind Syntax's expression, he took a step away from his brother and leaned over the Not-Monkey King's body to lean in close to Xiaojiao.

“Hold on, hold on. I heal him and the Prince suffers?”

Xiaojiao leaned in and shot him as big a smirk as she could muster. “What's more humiliating than having your groom run off on the day of your wedding? He'd be mortified.” Syntax smiled back at her, and cackled.

“Now that is a noble cause.” a pair of his spider legs rummaged through the bin again before pulling out a set of adjustable glasses. “Give me the sixty-five, I'm on the job.”

“You're welcome.” Huntsman sarcastically called out before sitting down in a nearby chair and crossing his legs.

Sandy seemed to take an interest in him, wandering over beside the spider and striking up conversation, but Xiaojiao had her eyes on the Tinkerer, and her hopes.

–

“So that's gonna heal him up?”

“Something along those lines. He'll be more alive than he is now.” By this point all three of them were leaned in watching The Tinkerer put his last touches on the cure pill.

“Huh, chocolate coating and everything” Huntsman chiming in every so often for color commentary. “Of course you're enough of a petty bastard to pull out all the stops for revenge.”

“You should wait about fifteen minutes so everything's got time to settle.” Syntax continued as though he hadn't spoken, finishing up the pill and sliding it into a leather pouch. “Oh, and don't let him go swimming for awhile, about an hour or so.” He handed the pouch to Xiaojiao whom quickly slid it into her pocket, and Sandy lifted the body beneath his arm again.

“Thank you so much for this Tinkerer.”

Syntax rolled his eyes. “Just make sure someone sees the Prince suffering so you can send me a letter detailing it.”

And then they were off.

“Don't die!” Huntsman called out as they left.

“Have fun storming the castle!” Syntax added on.

–

“Think it'll work?”

“Do I look like a miracle worker to you?”

–

But soon enough they were at the mouth of the mountain entrance. A small wall the only separating Xiaojiao, Sandy, and their only hope from what was supposed to be about 30 demons.

Key word, 'supposed to'.

“Xiaojiao there's at least sixty men there.”

“What?!” She hissed and poked her head out the side to confirm Sandy's observation. And sure enough-

“I could probably take about ten on my own, how about you my friend?”

“Twenty, assuming we're fighting to incapacitate.” Sandy added on very carefully.

“Damn it all.” She hissed. Before glancing back down at the body. “Well, no matter, we've got him. He'll think of something.”

“Has it been fifteen minutes?”

“We can't afford to wait any longer. The wedding's in half an hour!” She shuffled with the body until he was propped up against the wall and took the pill out.

It slid down his throat quickly and concisely, possibly aided by whatever swallowing reflex remained in his mostly-dead state.

“How long do we have to wait, before we know the experiment works?”

“Your guess is as good as mine-” A voice between them interrupted Xiaojiao

“I'll tear you both apart! I'll take you both together-!” Sandy covered the Not-Monkey King's mouth to cut off his desperate threats.

“I guess not very long.”

“Hey, glad to see you awake!” She went for the friendly approach, he seemed sympathetic to her plight when they were about to duel after all-

When Sandy uncovered his mouth the man remained quiet. “Why won't my arms move?” he finally settled on.

“You've been mostly dead all day, friend.” Sandy calmly explained, Xiaojiao quickly adding on that they'd taken him to The Tinkerer to heal him up before Sandy cut back in.

“You know I feel kinda bad just calling you 'The Man in Black' in my head, but now that we know you're human it feels kinda weird to call you Monkey King too, so do you happen to have a name for us to call you by?”

The man paused again glancing between the two of them. “... Who are you two? Are we still enemies?” He glanced behind him. “Why am I resting on this wall?” but the his expression hardened over. “Where's Red Son?!”

“Okay I can explain-” Wait- “...No there's too much. Let me sum it up, but Sandy's right I'm gonna need that name first.”

"Xiaotian. Now tell me.”

“Well Xiaotian, Red Son's marrying the prince in about half an hour, so what we've got to do is break in, stop the wedding, steal your fire demon back, and make our escape. After I kill the Six Eared Macaque.”

Xiaotian's expression tightened and his fingers began to twitch nervously.

“I'll admit that doesn't leave a lot of time for hesitating.”

“Oh hey Xiaotian! You just wiggled your fingers!” Sandy chirped. “That's great!”

“I've still got something resembling the immortality Monkey King loaned me I guess.” Xiaotian agreed. “What are we facing against?”

“One mountain entrance, guarded by sixty demons.” She grabbed hold of his shoulders and lifted him just enough that his head lolled back and he could see the gate.

“Okay, what do WE have?”

“Your mind, my sword, Sandy's muscle.” …. well that sounded pathetic now that she said it outloud-

“That's it? That's pathetic."... but he didn't have to SAY it-

"Maybe if I had a WEEK I could think of a plan but this?” he shook his head slightly.

“Hey! You shook your head too! You're getting better!” Sandy was clearly nervous, with how bright and sunny he was trying to be. Xiaotian tilted his head to the side just enough to turn to see him.

“Your strength, my mind, and her sword against sixty men to stop the love of my life from getting married and then assassinated by a power hungry tyrant-to-be and you think a little head jiggle is worth celebrating?” He hissed and Xiaojiao was about to throw out a hand in Sandy's deference, but as usual the implied insult did little to dampen Sandy's hard earned chill.

“I mean I'd hardly consider it asking for a lot to have a little more to work with! if we had a wheelbarrow that would be something!”

Wait...

“Sandy what did we do with that Wheelbarrow those demon twins had?”

“I think we just left it there after they ran off.”

Xiaotian's expression pinched. “Why didn't you mention that earlier?” But nonetheless she could see the gears beginning to turn in his head. “Ugh... Maybe if we had a dark cloak I could do that plan but-”

“Yeah no, sorry about that, friend.” But Sandy it seemed had other ideas.

“Will this work?” a long dark cloak was pulled from behind him.

“W-... Where did you get that?”

“At the Tinkerer's! That Huntsman guy said it was made for his brother but it was too big and it fit me, so he said I should just take it!”

“Alright alright. Long Xiaojiao was it?”

“Just Xiaojiao is fine.”

“Can you pluck one of my hairs for me and hold it up?”

“Uhhh?”

“Trust me.”

So she curled a finger around a strand of hair and plucked it from Xiaotian's head before holding it up before him.

He blew gently on the piece and directed her to toss it forward.

There was a shower of golden sparks and the hair had turned into a staff much like the one he'd been wielding when they'd met.

“Alright help me up and I'll explain things.” It was a bit of a struggle, Xiaotian had to be sandwiched between Xiaojiao and Sandy “Can one of you attach that to my back?” Sandy reached down and did so.

“You can't even lift it!” Xiaojiao huffed.

“Yeah but they don't know that.” Xiaotian countered, and... she didn't have a counterargument. “So it's going to be a mess when we start this whole thing, one problem after another-”

“I'll say.” She huffed. “I've got three off the top of my head, when we're inside how do I find the Macaque, when I'm done with him how do I find you again, and when I find you again how do we all escape?”

Sandy whom had been basically holding Xiaotian's head up for him during this exchange, tilted the man's head to rest against his chest. “Come on Xiaojiao, lay off the guy, he's had a hard day.”

“Right, Sorry.”

Sandy bobbed Xiaotian's head in an approximation of a nod.

“Hey Xiaojiao?”

“What is it?”

“I hope we win.”

[silenthillmutual]

hey for the prompts thing, maybe artemy's children and daniil? Also if you wanna stretch your utopian characters writing muscles, something with peter and grace(artemy helping him parent her, since the man was ready to feed her worms)? eva and daniil in the friendship way?? idk, something of that sort. I love your work, you have a delightful grasp of the characters and the english language itself

this isn't my best bc i've just been practicing writing to keep that skill strong, but i decided to do a little of all three :)

-----

“Please, Eva, you have to help me.”

Eva tilts her head at Daniil, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulder. Daniil knows she’s not that dense; it’s not the with what question, but the why. “Really, Daniil. I think you have a handle on things as it is.”

He absolutely does not have a handle on things. He is in way out of his depth. Over his head. However the saying goes - what’s been expected is far beyond him. Cats, he can watch over easily. They’re mostly self-sufficient, independent, but children? Daniil does not know the first thing about children.

“Humor me, then,” he says. Eva ducks her head, struggling to hide a smile. “Pretend for a moment that I don’t have a handle on things. How am I meant to keep children entertained?”

“Ah, I would think you would remember what it was like to be a child!” Daniil only scowls at the floor, shuffling his feet. “You remember how you wanted to be treated, don’t you? It’s not that different from now. You treat them with respect.”

“I know how to talk to children,” he says, and hopes he isn’t lying, “but how do I keep them entertained?”

“It’s only for a few hours. I think you’re worrying over nothing.” Daniil looks over his shoulder. They’re already seated at Eva’s piano, fingers toying with the keys. Every once in a while they will make contact, a soft plonk as a flat note plays in the open space, accompanied by a giggle. “Besides, Artemy left you in charge, not me. He trusts you.”

“He trusts everyone.” It sounds like more of a complaint than it’s really meant. The haruspex’s undying faith in others is admirable, really. Burakh’s favor is probably the only thing that’s kept the town’s inhabitants from running Daniil out into the steppe. But in this one occasion, that faith seems misplaced. “I should have said no.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Daniil has no answer. Or at least, he has no good answer. Judging by the smile creeping its way onto her face, Eva knows the only one he has. He tries to fan away her concern, and is met with her soft laughter, like the tinkling of glass. “Anyway, I’d feel much safer if you were here to help me.”

“Safer? Daniil, they’re just kids. You’ve done much more dangerous things in the time you’ve been here.” Daniil purses his lips, and Eva sighs. “I’ll help you, on one condition!”

“Name it.”

“Yulia.” Eva huffs, fiddling with her gloves. “I’ve invited her over to dinner, but she hasn’t sent her response. I think she’s nervous about seeing the Stamatins again - tell her they won’t be coming if it makes her so upset! Whatever you have to say, just make sure she agrees. I’ve been dying to see her.”

Much as he’d rather not get involved in anyone else’s affairs, he is sort of desperate here. Yulia can be difficult to convince when her mind is made up on something - impossible, even, he’d say - but he knows how fond the two women are of each other, and maybe his assurance that Andrey will be otherwise occupied will be enough. And really, all he has to do is try. “Fine,” he says, and Eva squeezes his arm in excitement before turning to the kids in the sitting room.

“I see you’ve found the piano. Would you like me to teach you a few scales?”

-

When Artemy agreed to help Peter prepare for Grace’s visit, he had no idea what it was he was signing up for. He’d thought an hour or so - enough time to leave his kids with Daniil and see how they fared together without overwhelming the other man. But it’s been two and a half hours now, and Peter doesn’t seem to be any closer to grasping the basics.

“You need milk, Peter. And eggs. Basic food items.” He stops just short of asking if the man is even aware of what constitutes food. He can’t be certain that the man even eats. He’s malnourished for someone of his height, and from what Artemy can tell his main consumption is twyrine. And that won’t be good for poor Grace.

That’s the main reason Artemy’s stayed so long. He wants to get back to his kids, to spend time with Daniil before the man returns to his work, but he worries about how Grace will fare here when Peter can’t seem to grasp the importance of a clean cooking surface and fresh ingredients. “Forgive me, old boy. It’s been so long since I have sought these things out for myself.”

Artemy tries not to groan. That’s about what he’d figured, and it’s not exactly what he’d call promising.

At least the apartment is looking marginally nicer. There’s space enough for them to walk around in, the empty bottles of twyrine have been discarded and the couch has been cleared of its debris. It’s not much, but it’s a start, and Artemy can appreciate how difficult even this was for the architect.

But it’s still not quite enough. Grace will be over within the hour, and Artemy’s not sure how much more help he can be to the man.

Before he can suggest they hold Grace’s visit off another day, a knock comes at the door and the girl herself enters. She doesn’t look quite sure of herself, her fists curled tight around the fabric of her dress, her eyes cast down; but she enters all the same, and stands just outside the door, waiting.

Artemy is the first to address her. “Grace.” He nudges Peter with his foot under the table. “It’s good to see you.”

Peter looks at Artemy, solemn, and follows his lead. “Welcome, girl.” There’s an awkward pause, and Artemy kicks his shin again. Peter stares at the table. “Come in from the door. There’s room for you by the couch.”

Grace smiles shyly and tucks her hands behind her back as she enters. Her eyes widen, taking in the apartment as if seeing it for the first time. And since Peter doesn’t seem to clean regularly, she very well could be.

“What happened to your paintings?” she asks, her voice quiet.

“I’ve moved them.” Artemy is preparing himself to nudge Peter once again, but this is something he’s more well-acquainted with. He’s slow to stand, one hand on the table to steady himself, and makes his way to what passes for a bedspace in this loft. Artemy watches from the table, chewing his lip, as Peter presents a painting to her.

At least it’s one of the more appropriate ones, though there’s something frightening about the splashes of paint. He’s no art critic, and he won’t pretend to understand, but there’s something very angry about this painting. Artemy wonders how obvious it is to Grace, who hasn’t seen much outside of the graveyard. He can’t imagine there’s much experimental art in the Saburov’s house.

A sudden pang hits him, watching the two interact. He may be frustrated with Peter, but it’s obvious the man is trying his hardest. It’s just been too long since he’s even taken care of himself, that of course it will take a while before he’s able to take care of another person. And Grace has such different needs that Artemy’s unsure the Saburovs will be able to meet. The way they talk to each other, he can sense an understanding between them, even when they’re not talking about exactly the same thing.

He’s going to wind up regretting this, for sure. He didn’t mean to leave his kids with Daniil for so long, but he can’t just give up here.

“It’s about time for lunch,” Artemy says. The two turn to look at him with matching looks of surprise. “Why don’t I show you how to cook something?”

-

Artemy dropped his children off around ten. Daniil expected him back around noon. He doesn’t mind making food for the children, except - well, he’s not the one doing it. Eva caught him attempting to make some excuses to head into the kitchen and beat him to it. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, with a look in her eyes Daniil found almost threatening, “I can handle it. You stay in here and get acquainted.”

“We’re already acquainted,” Daniil pointed out, but it didn’t matter much. Eva was determined to ignore him, making her way out of the room and leaving Daniil with two bored kids.

Murky had moved on from the piano some time ago, laying on the floor with charcoals and sketch paper Peter had left out the last time he’d come to visit. She didn’t ask for permission, but if Eva wasn’t going to tell her off then neither was Daniil. He can’t imagine Peter minding much or even remembering he’d brought the items with him, and as long as it’s keeping the girl occupied Daniil doesn’t have it in him to complain. Sticky, on the other hand, has taken to snooping around the house.

“Looking for something?” Daniil asks, watching him open up an end table drawer.

Sticky shrugs. “Not particularly.” He closes the drawer with a little more force than necessary and turns his gaze to the staircase, his eyebrows near to his hairline. “What’s up there?”

“My room.”

“Can I see it?” The sudden excitement catches him off guard. Daniil fiddles with his gloves. “You have a microscope, right? I’ve never used one. I know Rubin has one, but he won’t let me see it. Do you have slides? Can you show me something? Can you show me blood?”

“One question at a time,” Daniil says, huffing with amusement. Maybe this isn’t so bad. I was the same at his age. “I suppose you can come upstairs and see it, yes. I do have a few clean slides, yes, but I don’t have any samples lying around. I suppose I can come up with something, but…” he turns to look at Murky.

“She’ll be fine,” Sticky assures him. “It’s not like we’re going far, right?” He turns to his sister. “Murky, we’re going upstairs.”

She pauses in her drawing, looking at Sticky before her eyes turn away. “Do I have to come with you?”

“I don’t suppose you have to, no,” Daniil answers. “But if you need anything, you can come up and get us, alright, dear?” She doesn’t seem all that comfortable with the term, her mouth turning into a little scowl. She doesn’t answer, either, going back to her drawing as if no interruption had occurred.

Daniil leads Sticky up the stairs, listening to his babbling about the things he’s managed to glean from listening to Artemy and attempting to follow in his footsteps, from his discussions with Rubin when the man’s come to visit. Once they’re upstairs, he wanders around the room, picking up Daniil’s books and looking at them carefully, trying to pronounce the words aloud to himself. Daniil takes his distraction as a time to prick himself for a blood sample, readying the slide and pulling the chair back out from the table.

He clears his throat, and Sticky spins around, nearly dropping the heavy tome in his hands. “You wanted to see a blood sample, yes?” Sticky nods, scrambling his way over to the desk. Daniil has to guide him in how to use the microscope, in how to get a clearer picture of what he’s looking at. And Sticky has plenty of questions for him about what he sees, about how blood works in the body, about cells and warmth and movement.

As he’s speaking, Daniil simply forgets to be nervous. It’s not all that different to lectures - and to have someone honestly listening to him is actually quite nice. He’s so engrossed in directing Sticky that he doesn’t notice when Murky joins them. When she speaks, it startles him. “Why do you have a bunch of grass in a jar?” Sticky stifles a laugh as Daniil nearly jumps, moving around to the bookshelf where Murky is on her toes, peering at a glass jar. “They’re not even the right herbs. You can’t make anything out of that.”

“It’s not all grass. Take a closer look.” Daniil takes the jar off the shelf and holds it out for her to better see it. He watches her squint, and directs his finger about halfway up the jar. “Do you see the eyes here? This is a conehead grasshopper.”

Her eyes widen. “You keep a bug in a jar?”

“Well, I’d like to get a terrarium eventually, but you don’t seem to have any in town. I’d have to order one from the Capital.” He pauses. People usually find his collection of insects strange, but Murky seems fascinated. “I have books on insects, if you would like to…” Can she read? “Take a look?” Murky nods, and Daniil takes the jar back, looking through the bookshelf for the guide he’d brought with him.

Sticky’s not particularly interested in the bugs, but he entertains himself looking through Daniil’s medical textbooks while Daniil reads passages off of the insects Murky points to. When Eva comes to get them for lunch, he has to agree to bring the book downstairs with him to get her to go.

“Dad won’t let me keep bugs,” she mumbles around her food. “Says they don’t belong in the house.”

“My mother felt the same,” Daniil tells her. It feels strange to admit it, when it’s been so long since he’s spoken of his parents to anybody. Murky turns the pages of his field guide very carefully, silent as Sticky speaks up to ask him more questions about blood flow and circulation.

Now that he’s found ways of connecting with the kids, communication isn’t nearly as difficult as he’d thought it would be. He feels a little silly for winding himself up the way he had this morning - and these are Artemy’s kids, why had he imagined they’d be such a handful? Sure, they’re precocious, but not any worse than the other children in town.

They’ve just made their way back into the main room when the door to the Stillwater opens and Artemy appears. He looks exhausted, and Daniil can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. He knows what dealing with the Stamatins can be like, especially given how poorly Peter takes care of himself. He can’t begin to imagine what took Artemy so long, but things must have been pretty bad if it took him such a long time.

Artemy offers Daniil a small smile. “Thanks for looking after them, emshen.”

“It was my pleasure,” Daniil says, and he finds that for once it’s not simply a nicety. “They’re wonderful children, Artemy. Clearly you’re doing a fantastic job in raising them.”

“Truth be told, they raised themselves.” His smile is fond, turning from Daniil to his kids. “You guys ready to go?”

Murky looks up from her drawing - a new one, an attempt to freehand an illustration of a phasmid from Daniil’s field guide. She still has a slight frown on her face as she looks up at her father. “Now? Bachelor was going to show me how to catch insects with a net,” she tells him.

Artemy looks back at Daniil with some surprise on his face. Daniil can feel himself flushing as he tries to look anywhere but at Artemy. “Why don’t you come another day, Murky? It’ll give me time to get a second net.”

“I’ll be ready to go in a minute,” Sticky pipes up. “I just gotta finish -”

“Oh, you can borrow the book,” Daniil says, waving his hand. “Don’t mind the markings I left in it from school. And if you have any questions, well - you know where to find me.”

[ozzy-bozzy]

okayyy so heres another vent fic :))) as always w these, they get a bit specific or personal this was written in 1st person bc m goin through it tonight but this helped a bit. Also theres a lot of wasted water in this so read at u own risk

tw. depression themes, quick mention of drowning, supportive loving boyfriend Langa, lots of water was wasted in the writing of this fic bc i needed comfort

I played with my fingers, watching them make ripples in the surface of the water. The bathroom was silent aside from the slight sloshing in the tub, my clothes feeling heavy as they clung to my skin. My phone vibrated on the sink counter from the texts I’m sure Langa was sending me, but I didn’t have the energy to reach up and check to confirm my thoughts. All I could do was sink lower into the tub, my nose just about to touch the surface.

Part of me regretted getting in a full tub with all my clothes on, but another part of me didn’t care. I just couldn’t care at all tonight. My brain felt like it was stuffed full of cotton and my thoughts were heavy. I wished I could just detach my head and leave it on the counter for the night so I could be free for a mere couple of hours, but I knew I was just stuck with it. The invitation I had sent Langa was a spur of the moment and I didn’t think he would actually respond or agree. Or at least I assume he agreed, I set my phone down after that and disconnected from reality. That’s about when I got in the tub.

The water was warm and gave some semblance of comfort, but mostly just served as a reminder the world was waiting for me once it got too cold to manage. I kinda wanted to fall asleep in the tub, but I knew that would be a bad idea. Not only would I most likely drown, I would probably get sick, too.

The jiggle of the doorknob brought my attention to the door, Langa peeking through the crack in the doorway. When he saw I wasn’t naked, he stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him. He was mildly concerned from the random texts I had sent him, and seemed even more concerned seeing me sitting in the tub, fully dressed,

“Why are you wearing your clothes in the tub, are you okay..?” He kneeled down next to the tub, draping his hand over the edge and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, cupping my cheek. I just shrugged in response.

“Do you … do you want help out? Or drying off? Maybe getting ready for bed? It’s pretty late..” he trailed off, checking the time on his phone. 1:34 am…

“No, I’m okay”

“Are you?”

“No”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No”

“Okay, maybe I find something to distract you with then?” I nodded and he rolled up his sleeve, his hand finding mine in the water, holding it tightly,

“I was thinking we could maybe hang out this weekend?”

“...I guess, I don't think I have the energy to do much though. Like mentally”

“We don’t have to do anything. We can spend a whole day cuddling if that makes you happy”

“Like shower or change or anything”

“I don’t really care, I still want to spend time with you”

“I don't know why” He sighed, bringing our joined hands up and kissing the back of my hand,

“You know I don’t care how badly you may smell or how little you’ve slept, or how much you may cry, I still want to spend time with you”

“I wouldn’t even want to spend time with me, Langa. And you know that”

“I do know that, and I also think your insecurities and depression are getting to you tonight and making your brain feel empty and so, so very full. I want you to know I’m here for you though.”

I looked down away from him and felt my chest start to get heavy. He squeezed my hand and I could feel a tear start to slip down my cheek,

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you cry baby…”

“I just wish I could stop thinking. I don’t want to exist anymore but I don’t want to die. I just want to pause everything until I’m ready for life again”

“Well, we can’t… do that, exactly.. But I can help you find some solutions to your problems so you don’t have to put mental energy towards them anymore”

“I’m so tired of being given solutions. It feels like nobody feels the same even though I know you understand, everyone just immediately starts to offer solutions and I never get to feel anything” He sighed, and after a pause, he looks up with a shine in his eyes,

“Let’s feel then”

“What?”

He gestured for me to get us and helped me stand, the sound of the water dripping from my heavy, soaked clothes into the water hurting my ears as Langa started draining the tub before standing up straight and telling me to stay put while he left the bathroom. I stood in the no longer quiet bathroom, starting to lightly shiver as the water pooled at my feet started to drain away. I felt more tears fall from my eyes and some catching on my eyelashes. I can hear Langa rummaging around outside before the door softly creaks open and he slips in, holding an extra towel and my speaker,

“There’s already a towel in here you know”

“I know, I just went and put your bigger ones in the dryer for a bit so we could go get them when we finished and we won’t be super cold”

“Oh… what are we doing..?” He just smiled and turned the speaker on, finding a playlist and placing his phone on the counter next to my own with it open, ready to play. I continued to stand there, my clothes still dripping and still very heavy on my body. He turned the shower on, adjusting the water to be nice and hot before cupping my cheeks, holding the showerhead away from hitting me while the water heated up,

“You look beautiful” He whispered, and I just leaned into his touch.

Once the water was warm enough, Langa shuffled the playlist and brought the speaker closer, setting it on the edge of the tub. He stepped into the tub with me and I watched as his clothes started to get soaked from the direct contact with the water. He just had a soft smile as he continued to look at me. Pulling me against him, I felt the warm water hit my clothed skin and slowly warm me back up, Langa’s embrace helping. Langa readjusted us, pulling me down to sit with him on the floor, pulling me into his lap, and tugging the shower curtain closed. The shower was significantly darker, and as the shower water rained down on us I felt weirdly comfortable curled into his arms. The music from the speaker helped my thoughts clear up and sort my emotions out.

“Is that better?” I paused to think, and yeah, it was better. I didn’t feel so empty inside and I just felt more..sad. Which was much more manageable and strangely comforting.

I leaned my head against his chest and closed my eyes to keep water from getting in them, nodding softly,

“Good. If you need anything tell me, but in the meantime, just relax and feel what you need to feel, okay?”

We sat in the shower for who knows how long, nearly passing out multiple times. Once we felt the water start to run cold and we were tired of the feeling of wet clothes hanging on us, we turned the shower off and Langa slipped out of the bathroom to grab the towels from the dryer as I stripped myself of the soaked clothing. He helped me dry off, and I helped him. He then helped me get ready for bed and I curled back up to him in bed after he sent his mom a text so she wouldn’t worry in the morning.

I don’t know how tonight would have gone had I not texted Langa, but I know for sure it wouldn’t have ended as nicely as it did, and I wouldn’t be going to bed content with the state of my mind and feeling like I was since Langa was there.

wc. 1377

playlist i listened to while writing this

[mythiccheroacademia]

Beach Waves and Happiness

a little self-indulgent something i was hoarding in my documents and decided to share. maybe or maybe not bc i felt bad bc of all the angst i was posting. i hope you all enjoy it :)

A/N: In my mind, I imagine that Bakugo and his spouse would certainly have a bumpy marriage. I headcanon that his spouse is as headstrong as he is, if not stronger. They need to be in order to handle all that is Bakugo Katsuki lmao. But they grow with each day and are their strongest together. He’s also matured by then, so it’ll always work out in the end.

A little context. You and Katsuki have been married for a couple of years and have kids. Koji and Eva. Twins. Not much else to say but enjoy this sweet, sugary, domestic fic. 

Warnings: Mentions of intimacy, cursing

Beach Waves and Happiness (Bakugo X Reader)

When the twins were old enough to walk and (mostly) potty-trained, that’s when you started taking trips. You were so excited to spend time as a family apart from dinner and bath time. Katsuki was excited to see you in a swimsuit again.

And family time as well!

Their first international trip was to Hawaii. Your husband had been a couple times and thought it would be a good and family-friendly vacation spot. You grew up on the beach so being on the island was perfect for you. Katsuki saw how you flourished under the sun, with the salty wind tousling your braids and the white sand on your feet. As you took your children to the waves, smiling like the sun as they squealed from the water, he felt heart swell with pride.

He never wanted to take for granted what he had been given.

“It tickles!” Eva, the eldest twin, giggled.

Koji was a bit hesitant to touch the water but gained confidence when he felt his sister grab his hand. When the waves began to roll in, they screamed with excitement and ran the other way. They continued their game of chase whiles their mother watched them with a smile.

Feeling eyes on yourself, you caught your husband’s adoring gaze and goofily posed. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” you joked.

And moment ruined. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he walked by your side. Katsuki placed his hand on your waist, inviting you to lean on his shoulder. You two stood there for a moment, letting the sound of your children’s laughter and waves settle between them.

“Don’t you wish we could just stay here forever?” you suddenly said.

“All the time, but money doesn’t grow on trees. You actually have to work for stuff.”

“Imagine that.” You raised your head catching Katsuki’s eyes. He hummed for your thoughts. “Nothing. Just kind of taking in everything. I feel at peace. More than I have in a long time.”

It was meant to be happy words, but it made the blonde hero deflate just a bit. A thought had been gnawing at his heart for a while and he found he could no longer hold in his question.

“[Y/N], are you happy?”

That got you to pause. You turned to hold his waist with your arms. “The short answer is yes, but what do you mean?” you said, eyeing how contemplative he looked.

Katsuki felt himself absent-mindedly play with your hair as he stared where the sand met the waves. He was never good with his words but damn it. He needed to know. Even if it could hurt him.

“It’s just…I know being with me isn’t the easiest.”

“Katsuki, if this is about our fight, I told you—”

“No. I mean yes, but not entirely. Let me just get this out.” You sighed but nodded. “When I asked you to move in with me, I half expected you to say no. But you did. And I know being thousands of miles away from your friends and family is shitty. Especially in Japan where you might feel alone. I mean, I know you made friends with Deku, Cheeks, Pinky, and all those idiots but it’s different. It’s not your home. But you never complain. You always adjust. Even after we got married and had children, and you felt like you were suffocating under all the responsibility when I was being a shit ass husband and father, you never said anything until you were at your breaking point.”

It pained him to remember how he didn’t know you were going through postpartum depression until it got so bad, he’d wake up to find you sobbing in the living room by yourself. Or when your mother called him five months into the marriage and nearly cussed him dead for her daughter feeling like she couldn’t even tell him she was going through a hard time. Sternly reminding him that you dropped everything to move to Japan for his career. That’s when she accidentally slipped that you were pregnant.

He was still young at the time and in the midst of a stressful time in his career. When he confronted you about it, he admitted he did more yelling than he should have. You took your ring off and he felt his heartbreak for the first time. You said you’d stay at a hotel, but he begged you to stay in the house and he left for his parent’s house. It was a tough week. One of the toughest weeks in your relationship. However, you preserved. As always.

Although, Katsuki still saw how exhausted you were. Even when he gave more than 100%, you were still tired, and he had a feeling it wasn’t physical exhaustion.

Your husband tucked a braid behind your ear and the look he gave you made your chest pinch. “I just don’t want you to get to your breaking point with me and before I can help it, lose you and the twins,” he said, voice barely above the sound of the sea.

There was only a small amount of times you’d see him so open about his feelings. Sometimes you’d admit you didn’t handle it well. Thus, the fights. You and your husband weren’t good at expressing your emotions properly and learning to do so was a journey. However, you always appreciated his willingness to grow—whether it was before or after the matter.

“Baby,” you cooed, softly kissing the corner of his lips. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’d have to be the coldest, most heartless, bitch on the planet to keep you away from Eva and Koji. No matter what happens to us, you’re still their father. A good one at that, and I would never separate you three. Besides, my mom and yours would hang me before I could.”

He chuckled. He knew you were only half-joking. Your parents were alike in more ways than one. It was kind of scary, but good for family gatherings.

“And, if I’m going to be honest, it was really hard at first. Sometimes, I thought I made the wrong decision, but then you’d come home, and we’d spend hours talking and every day I was reminded why I did it. The way your eyes would light up every time you’d talk about work made my heart flutter. Then you’d turn around, look at me, and tell me how being at your side made everything better. When I couldn’t tell you how useless I felt, you’d just know and make me feel on top of the world. When I’m hard on myself, you’re there to bully the insecurities out. I see the little things you do like buy more tampons and pads, without me having to ask, when I run low, wash the dishes as soon as you come home because you know I hate doing them, or turn the fan off in the middle of the night when I shiver, even when you’re hot.

We butt heads. We fight for sure. And we kind of suck ass at dealing with our feelings. But not for one moment did I stop loving you any less. Maybe I didn’t like you all the time,” she snickered and Katsuki snorted. “But I loved you. I love you. And I know you love me all the same.”

Katsuki didn’t know why he had been blessed, especially since he wasn’t the best person in his past. However, he never questioned it. He just cherished.

With no other way to properly express his gratitude, he pulled you closer and he pressed a heart-stopping kiss to your lips. You moaned, gripping his bicep, as he tilted your head, one hand under your chin and the other on the small of your back. Katsuki pulled back, your bottom lip between his teeth, to gaze at you in a way that warmed your body.

“Till death do us part, huh?” he smiled.

“You’re kinda stuck with me even after that.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Who knew you could be so corny?” you chuckled.

A hand came down on your ass and you gasped, laughing at his antics. “Don’t ruin the moment, dumbass.”

You continued your kissing, smirking between them. “You’re lucky you have a big dic—”

A tug at your skirt brought you two out of your…conversation.

It was Koji.

“Momma! We build castle!” he cheerfully smiled. Then he dropped his smile in 0.3 seconds and frowned at his father. “N’ you! Daddy no eat momma. We talk about dis.”

You snickered behind your hands as Katsuki’s eye twitched. Your son was at the age where he was forming an Oedipus complex. He and Katsuki had a thirty-minute conversation about him trying to “eat you” and “killing you” at night. It was endearing for you and annoying for him.

“Fine, you little brat. We’re watching your dumb castle,” he grumbled.

“You dumb!” Eva retaliated for her brother. Koji hmphed in agreement before running back to his sister.

You were openly cracking up and Katsuki was steaming.

“I’m glad you find this funny, jerk,” he mumbled.

“Hilarious actually.”

There was a moment of comforting silence.

“What was that about my big—”

“Koji! Your daddy’s tryna kill me again!”

“What the—? No I’m not!”

“DADDY!”

[kittybellestark]

Straightening Things Out

Part 2

Hey everyone so this is going to be a two part fic, tumblr told me I hit my limit soooo. 

This is the long awaiting MayxSkip with Bi!Peter fic I’ve been talking about, idk how long a 2nd part will take but I already have a bit written, which is super nice. Uh, yeah, this is heavy stuff, so prepare your hearts, bc mine hurts

TW: homophobia, depression, self harm, homophobic slurs, eating disorder (?), abuse, sexual assault, thoughts of suicide, questioning sexuality, alcohol

He’s not sure how he got here.

Well, he knows, but he just doesn’t understand it.

A year ago Peter was trying to get May with Happy. It seemed logical and safe. May wanted to get back into the dating pool, and while Peter was hesitant about the idea of May being with anyone other than Ben, he felt like Happy could be a good person for her to be with. That was safe, controlled even.

Pushing for May to be with Happy seemed like the right step. Supporting May in her decision to start seeing people again also make sense. Now, Peter regrets it. He should have told her no. That he wasn’t ready or comfortable with that.

He doesn’t understand why he’s in the bathroom cleaning up his own blood. He didn’t even go out as Spider-Man. Peter hates May’s new boyfriend.

Skip wasn’t safe. He wasn’t very kind either. And there was just something about him bothered Peter. And yet when Peter tried to talk to May about it, the complaints weren’t heard or taken seriously.

May doesn’t understand that Skip is a danger, and Peter can’t really talk to people about this.

Six months ago…

“Hey Happy.” Peter smiles jumping into the black ‘inconspicuous’ Audi.

“Hi Pete.”

After a few minutes of talking the conversation finally turns.

“How’s your aunt.”

Peter snorts, rolling his eyes. “She thinks she’s doing great. Still with Skip, he lives with us now. May isn’t very happy that Skip and I aren’t getting along too well though. She thinks that I have a problem with seeing her with other men, amongst other things.”

“Sounds like you don’t like him. I didn’t even think that was possible, you’re like a lab.” Happy chuckled.

“I resent that. I don’t like a lot of people who I don’t need to disclose to you. I was just expecting her to get with someone else, someone who was less I don’t know, just less.”

“You and me both kid. You and me both.”

-

Five and a half months ago…

Peter and May were making dinner together, the radio was playing softly and Skip was sitting in the dining room, beer in hand, listening to Peter and May’s conversation.

“How was school, baby?” May asked.

Peter hums as he chops some carrots. “There’s a new transfer at school. From Tennessee, he even lives with Mr. Stark.”

May pauses mixing the stir fry they were attempting to make. She smiles at Peter an eyebrow raised, waving the spatula at him.

“Is he cute?” She asked in a song-song voice.

Peter rolls his eyes with a smile. He sticks out his tongue, flicking some water at May. Skip watches with a smirk on his face.

“Yeah, yeah he’s really cute. Blond hair, blue eyes, southern charm and he’s so smart too. And tall. May, he’s also like muscular too, his arms? He used to work in a mechanic shop where he grew up, he could probably bench press me without breaking a sweat.”

“Sounds like you have a crush!” May squealed pulling Peter into a hug.

“You have a crush on a man? Are you gay?” Skip huffed with a laugh.

“Bisexual, actually.” Peter deadpanned. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no, not at all. Just surprised.” Skip laughed.

-

Five months ago...

May was at work, it was just Peter and Skip at home. Peter was in his room, the door was closed over, and Skip in the living room watching a sports game and drinking some beer.

While this wasn’t the most common occurrence, it wasn’t necessarily uncommon either. Peter would stay in his room and do homework or play some sort of online video game with Ned, Harley and MJ, typically Minecraft but sometimes they chose something else. Skip would watch sports or the news, but never a reliable source, always the Daily Bugle or Fox News.

Today was supposed to be like every other time. Peter was supposed to be in his room and Skip in the living room. But then Skip was in his room with him. Peter felt uneasy. It just didn’t sit right with him having the older man in his room.

“I think we need to talk, Pete.” Skip said sitting on Peter’s bed, while Peter stayed sitting at his desk.

“Sure, what about?” Peter tried to sound pleasant and kind, doing this for May.

“Well, I’ve been trying to broach this subject with you gently, but May and I have spoken about how we can cure you.”

Skip had the decency to look somber. His shoulders hunched forward, frowning. His eyes held remorse and regret. It only seemed to enrage Peter.

“Cure me? As far as I was concerned I was perfectly healthy.” Peter couldn’t help but snort.

“Of your sin, Peter. You like men, and we know that we have to cure you of it.”

It felt like all of the air had been taken out of his lungs. His heart stopped and the world blurred for a moment before Peter shook himself out of it. He pushed himself up out of his chair trying to back himself up, away from Skip. This wasn’t right. This was really wrong.

“May accepts me. She said so. She’s always supported me and accepted that I’m bi.”

“She didn’t know how to tell you she didn’t. She was crying quite a bit. May just didn’t know how to tell you. So she asked me to help fix you.”

Skip got up from the bed, walking over to Peter, trapping Peter in. Skip put an arm on each side of Peter’s body, resting his hands on the wall behind Peter. Peter felt trapped, his eyes wide as he looked around unsure of what he could do. May and Skip thought he was sick.

“She can’t-“ Peter cried, tears coming to his eyes. He didn’t want to accept it. This couldn’t be happening.

Skip put a hand on his shoulder.

“She does, Einstein, but it’s okay because I’ll fix you.”

-

Peter sat at their usual lunch table, Ned next to him, MJ, kiddie-corner to him and Harley across from him. His leg was bouncing as they all ate, but he couldn’t do more then push his food around his tray.

“There’s nothing wrong with me being bisexual right? Like, I’m still normal, I’m not sick or anything for liking more than just women right?”

It used to be old-hat for MJ and Ned to have to reassure Peter that being bisexual is okay. It was just last year that Peter finally started to feel secure in his sexuality and not question whether he was normal or not. It just always felt like Peter was faking his attraction to other genders.  

The group became silent with shock. None of them were prepared for Peter to have any insecurities about his sexuality, and it certainly wasn’t something that Harley was there to witness. It had been such a long time since he voiced this doubt. Ned and MJ gave each other looks, while Harley sat there starring at Peter slack-jawed.

“Sorry. I’ve just been in my own head recently. Bisexuality is valid and so am I. I know, I’m sorry, I just- what if I’ve been lying to myself this whole time? I’m sorry, I know I’m being silly.”

There was another moment of silence before Harley grabbed Peter’s hand.

“It’s not silly to question you’re own sexuality, Peter. Being bisexual is hard because people always try to invalidate you and tell you to just choose. It’s okay to be confused. Prefaces change from day to day and it is so confusing sometimes. We’re your people, we’re here for you no matter how you identify.” Harley smiled, something sad and soft.

-

Four and a half months ago...

Peter was trying to sleep. It wasn’t coming easily anymore. Skip and May were in the next room over. He should be able to sleep. But nothing felt right. Everything was always off, never normal, almost safe. It didn’t feel good.

There was the sound of footsteps in the hall before Peter’s door opened and closed. Peter tried to pretend to sleep, but the footsteps came closer to him then Skip’s hand was on his shoulder.

“Hey Einstein. I’ve got something for you.” Skip whispered, getting Peter’s eyes to open.

Peter pushed himself up and into the top corner of his bed, knees drawn to his chest. He really hated Skip. Hated his deep voice and pointy chin and crooked nose. He hated Skip’s receding hairline and beer belly. Peter hated Skip and everything about him. But mostly Peter hated that Skip and May knew there was something wrong with him.

Skip dropped some razors onto the bed. All loose and brand new. Peter looked at Skip like he was crazy. It was too late at night to register this.

“May and I were talking again. Anytime you have a sinful thought, any homosexual thoughts or desires just give yourself a cut. Obviously don’t do it in front of anyone other than me, but this should help bleed the faggot out of you.”

Peter gasped, eyes wide and shaking his head. He didn’t want to do this. Cutting himself was not something Peter ever wanted to start doing again. He got away from it, he recovered, and now the blades are being provided to him. Peter is being expected to cut this time. 

“I can’t do that. Anything but that Skip, please.”

Peter didn’t realize the tears that were pouring down his face, or how hard it was to breath. If it wasn’t for Skip wiping the tears from Peter’s face, he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

“Hey, no, no it’s okay, Einstein, it’s not as bad as it seems okay, look,” Skip took Peter’s wrist slicing it a few times, just enough to bring up blood up before handing the razor to Peter, “See? Nice and easy. Now I’m not going to leave until I see you try okay?”

Peter nodded, bringing the razor down on his skin and breathing a sigh of release as he broke his own skin.

-

Tony dropped food in front of Peter, two burgers and fries, before sitting down beside him. They were finally watching a movie after spending time in the lab and now Harley would be joining them too.

“Kid, we’ve talked about your eating habits. You need to eat more than a regular person. I don’t like seeing you lose weight this fast. I just like to see you happy and healthy.”

Peter knew he should say something. The razor in his pocket wasn’t normal and he should tell Tony. And his need to cut every time he thought about Harley, or the need to cut when he realized he was playing into Skips hands. But Peter didn’t want to lose his little therapeutic treatment again. He could do better at hiding it this time, especially with his healing factor now. Peter could keep this.

It’s his little secret with Skip. Peter could keep it safe. It made him feel better, and that’s what everyone wants, right?

“Oh yeah, sorry, I’ve just had a smaller appetite recently, I’ll do better, promise.” Peter nodded with a smile.

At that moment Harley walked into the room, giving Peter a crooked smile, a blush painted across his cheeks.

Peter would have to cut later, for thinking about Harley like that, and for doing what Skip told him and also for scarring Tony. Peter deserved this.

-

Four months ago…

Peter and Skip were alone together again.

It seemed to become more common now. Or maybe Peter was just getting used to having Skip try and cure him. He hated himself for wanting it to work. Peter just didn’t like himself much anymore.

“Einstein,” Skip slurred, “are you still a faggot?”

Peter flushed with shame, nodding. Peter really hated Skip for making him feel like this. For feeling shame for being bisexual and wishing he were straight. Peter hated himself a lot. He just wanted to be better.

“Shame, thought I’d have you straightened out by now. May is going to be disappointed to know you’re still a homo. I’ll have to start getting more aggressive with your treatments.”

Peter shook his head. He was already so tired, and he just wanted to feel safe in his home. He just needed to do what Skip and May wanted and then they’ll like him. All Peter needed to do was be straight, no matter what. He’s doing the right thing.

“How much more?” Peter’s voice cracked.

“As much as it takes to turn you straight.” Skip smiled.

He now gripped Peter’s face in both hands, thumbs on his cheeks. Skip used the hold he had on Peter to bring him towards the bathroom doorframe- the only metal frame in the house.

Peter didn’t fight. He was doing this for May. May wants him straight and wants Skip to do it. Peter scratched at his legs, where most of the cuts were, hoping that would convince Skip from stopping whatever he was doing. But it didn’t, of course it didn’t. Why would it convince Skip, when he’s only doing what’s best for better?

With his hold on Peter’s head, Skip jerked Peter’s head into the doorframe, with enough force to make Peter forget how to stand. Peter was only being held up by Skip's grip on his head when Skip lifted up his knee, forcing it into Peter’s stomach.

Peter groaned with the impact and Skip let him go and Peter fell to the ground. He barely managed to catch himself, resting his forehead on the cool floor. There was barely a moment before an on slate of kicks were delivered to Peter.

“No,” Peter sobbed, “stop, please, stop, stop, you’re hurting me.”

It was another few moments before Skip stopped kicking him with a huff. Skip sat down on the ground, putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder to comfort the boy. Peter continued to sob, barely able to support his own weight to get himself sitting.

“Einstein, I just want you to know that I don’t like doing this. I don’t want to do this, but May and I agreed that I have to do this. I’m sorry Einstein, but it’s for your own good.”

Skip pulled Peter onto his lap, rubbing Peter’s back to bring him some comfort. Peter relaxed into Skip’s hold when he realized that there wasn’t going to be more pain. They sat there for a while before Skip finally stood up, as Peter’s sobs were finally ending, bringing Peter to his room and tucking Peter into bed.

-

“Peter I’m worried about you.” MJ said after Academic Decathlon practice.

Peter was wide eyed, holding his book bag in front of him, using it as a shield. His clothing that used to only be a little bit large on him, now swallowed him completely, his cheekbones were sharper and anytime his sweater moved a little bit, his collar bone was revealed to be protruding from his chest. Peter flinched at people who moved too fast and his skin was pale with dark bags under his eyes.

“I’m okay MJ.” Peter smiled, but his eyes were still empty.

“Are you cutting again? You’re acting like you used too. I don’t like seeing you lose your spark.”

MJ moved forward, grabbing Peter’s hands in her own. His hands were cold against hers and shaking slightly. Her head tilted just a bit as she searched for answers on Peter’s face.

“I’m not- no, I moved past that.” Peter lied.

He couldn’t tell her. He needed to cut. He needed the freedom it gave him, the relief. It was one of the only things he had anymore that he still enjoyed. By telling MJ, Peter would lose his sanity. Everything would be okay as long as he had a razor on him, as long as he got to cut his skin open.

But he should tell her. Maybe that would get everything to end. If he just told someone, maybe Skip would stop hurting him. Or maybe they’d push for Skip to continue on with trying to cure him. This was for the best, after all.

“Peter, you’re one of my best friends, okay? So if you were cutting again, hypothetically speaking, know that you can come to me, I won’t tell anyone. Not even May or my parents.”

Peter nodded, looking away from her, hating himself for lying and hating that MJ was trying so hard. It would have been so much easier if he just liked MJ instead of Harley.

���Look, look, MJ, see no cuts,” Peter rolled up his sleeves to show healed skin and no scars, “I promise, I’m just a little stressed out right now, don’t worry about me. I’m just focusing on myself for now, I’ll be okay.”

“Okay, well, when is the last time you ate?”

“Right before practice.”

It felt nice for Peter to actually tell the truth. He was eating almost as much as usual. Typically the same amount unless he had time alone with Skip. Peter was just stressed and sometimes couldn’t keep his food down, but he still ate more than enough. He should be able to keep up his weight, the weight loss just sort of happened.

-

Three and a half months ago…

May was working the overnight shift again. It was a school night so Peter was at the apartment with Skip instead of the Tower like he would be on weekends.

Peter was finally sleeping, well actually he was passed out from exhaustion, but it was still a sort of sleep, technically. Somewhere between Skip moving in and their ever-more-frequent talks “chats,” Peter started to lose sleep. He would stay awake later, slit his wrists longer, and on top of that the surprise beatings from Skip were really taking an affect on Peter. All except the desired affect.

Peter was still bisexual. He didn’t want to be bisexual anymore. He just wanted to be normal, straight. Liking men was wrong, Peter was wrong. May and Skip just wanted what was best for Peter. And this was what was best. Skip was just helping Peter. He was straightening Peter out. This was just want needed to be done.

Skip stumbled into Peter’s room. He saw that Peter was tucked in under his blankets deep in sleep and Skip couldn’t help but climbing into the bed too. He pulled the teen into his body, breathing in how Peter smells, nuzzling his nose behind Peter’s ear.

Peter woke up trapped in Skips arms. He panicked trying to get out, it was just like The Vulture dropping a building on him again. But this time it wasn’t concrete but instead a man. A man who was supposed to be in love with his aunt.

“Skip.” Peter whined trying to wriggle free.

The older man moaned, moving a hand down to feel Peter’s length.

“I didn’t realize that you’d rub off on me. You’re trying to turn me into a homo. Einstein, you’re rejecting your treatment and trying to change me instead, and I don’t tolerate this very much.”

Peter shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. His whole body shook with nerves, and he thought he was going to vibrate out of his body.

“Skip, I promise I’m taking this seriously. I should be straight, I want to be straight. Just like you Skip, I’m trying really hard to be straight. I promise, I don’t want to be a disappointment to you or May anymore.”

The older man laughed, holding onto Peter tighter. He ground his hips further into the teen, making Peter whine and squirm more trying to break free.

“Einstein,” Skip moaned, “You’re ass, I swear it’s a woman’s. Your such a fairy, Einstein. I could just imagine you as a woman, you’re hair at your shoulders, this great ass and a tight pussy, your tit’s would probably be smaller, barely a handful, but you’d be so cute. Too bad you’re just bent.”

-

Harley sat across from Peter, cheeks blushed, watching Peter carefully. Peter no longer felt that the freckles painted across Harley’s cheeks and nose were cute, and he no longer felt comforted by being in Harley’s presence. Now Peter only felt dread. There was no more warmth or the feeling of being safe. 

Peter wasn’t attracted to Harley. He didn’t want to be with Harley, he was afraid of Harley. What Skip was doing was working. Peter was going straight. He wasn’t going to be bisexual anymore, he was only going to like women now.  Peter wasn’t going to be a freak or a fag or a fairy or a homo or bent. Peter was going to be straight. Skip was fixing him.

“Peter are you okay? You’ve been really spacey recently.” Harley asked keeping his voice soft and cautious. 

Peter smiled. It didn’t feel natural and probably didn’t look all that genuine, but Peter felt like he should be happy. He was happy that he this meant that May and Skip will not be disappointed in him. Maybe then Skip will like him. Now they can be a family

This is going to fix all of his relationships. People are going to like him better if he’s straight. He’ll only like women and be normal. It’ll solve so many problems for him.

“Yeah, Harls, I think I’m actually really good. Like, for real.”

Peter laughed, not one of his soft, bubbly and contagious laughs, the ones he was known for. Instead it was hallow and empty, self deprecating even. Harley’s eyes widened, suddenly more concerned for Peter than he’d been previously.

“Peter...” Harley sighed.

He reached out to grab Peter’s hand, watching Peter flinch back hard. Harley saw the moment Peter recognized what he did and how he tried to shake himself out of it, but he also saw how Peter moved to stay farther away from him.

“I’m good, Harls, really.” Peter nodded again.

“No, you’re not. There’s something seriously wrong. I’m going to figure it out. I’m going to make sure you’re okay.”

-

Three months ago…

Peter and Skip were finally alone. May had been on a stretch of day shifts and Peter’s friends were more persistent on having Peter go out with them during evenings. They were even tracking his food intake. The group was becoming obsessive over Peter now. And Peter was sick of it.

But now Peter was home alone with Skip. He could finally tell the man the good news. It’s been well over a week since Peter had and romantic or sexual feelings for another man. There’s only been fear, with any he looked at. Peter didn’t want to be attracted to men. Skip was curing him. May and Skip will finally accept him again.

As soon as May stepped out of the apartment Peter left his bedroom and sat down on the couch beside Skip. The man smiled at the boy, licking his lips before pinning Peter onto the couch. Skip groped at Peter for a moment, before pressing sloppy kisses onto his neck.

“No, stop, Skip I don’t like this.” Peter fought. “I just wanted to tell you that it worked. I don’t- I’m straight. You cured me. It worked. You and May don’t have to be disappointed in me anymore.”

Skip laughed. Loud and boisterous, pressing his weight down onto Peter. His hands moved up and down the teens frame, removing Peter’s clothes. Peter struggled harder, tears pouring down his face, sobbing out pleas to be let go. He tried fighting it, fighting Skip to keep his clothes on.

“You see Einstein, while I’ve made you straight, you’ve made me a fag. So this is going to have to continue, just a little until I no longer view your twink-ass as jailbait.”

Peter sobbed harder, trying to use his elbows to get away. Instead, Skip just pressed a hand into a patch of fresh cuts, forcing Peter’s vision to white out for a moment, that was just long enough to take off Peter’s underwear off.

“Skip, Skip no. No. I’m not. I swear, I didn’t make you like men. I didn’t do it. I’m straight now. You fixed me, I swear. You need to stop. You don’t want to go there. You don’t want this.”

Peter tried begging. He tried pleading, but he couldn’t stop Skip. It was too late. Skip had a plan and he wasn’t going to stop.

“Real funny that you think you know what I want, Einstein. This is for the best though, I promise, I’m doing this for you.”

-

It was movie night with May. Skip was out meeting up with his old friend was college. So it was just Peter and May. In their living room.

Peter couldn’t sit on the couch. Well, sitting in general wasn’t really working. So Peter just laid down on the ground, and May took the couch.

“Peter, I’m proud of you, you know that?” May finally spoke, halfway through Tangled.

“You are?” Peter didn’t anticipate his voice cracking, but hearing that May was proud of him? It was worth everything.

“Of course, baby. Skip told me that you let him help you, and I’m so proud of you for accepting help. He said that you’re problem was resolved with his help too. I’m so glad you two are getting along.”

Peter heard the words of confirmation that what Skip has been doing is what May also wants. She’s proud of him. She’s happy that Skip fixed him. May is glad that Peter is straight and that Skip turned him. It breaks Peter’s heart to actually hear it from May.

Peter never wanted to do it anyways.

And yet here he is. Having done it for her. He did this for May. To be accepted by May. So that he isn’t a disappointment in her life. And he isn’t happy. He’s not happy with himself, or Skip or May. Peter thought this would make him happy.

Peter wishes he born properly. Born straight. Born not wanting to harm himself. He wishes that the feeling that he needs to die never existed. Peter wishes he could be himself and be loved by his family. It shouldn’t have to be one of the other.

“Thanks.”

He tried not to choke on the acid rising up his throat.

-

Two and a half months ago…

It doesn’t stop. Skip doesn’t stop. His brain doesn’t stop. The fear didn’t replace the attraction like Peter originally thought. It’s just more confusing now.

Peter just wanted this to end.

Skip wasn’t going to end this.

-

Tony and Pepper had invited Peter, May and Skip over for dinner. Tony had made loads of his famous lasagna, and Pepper made a spinach dip appetizer and they ordered cheesecake for dessert.

All the adults seemed to be having a conversation together while Harley and Peter talked among themselves.

“I have an announcement.” Skip smiled at May, bringing the attention to himself.

“I asked May to marry me yesterday and she said yes.”

Peter was sure that this would be what killed him. Skip was his life sentence for whatever Peter did wrong. Skip was going to be his step-uncle, his new guardian.

Tony, Pepper and Harley congratulated the couple, and Tony patted Peter’s shoulder. Wine was brought out Peter couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m just, I’m going to the bathroom, I’ll be back.” Peter smiled pushing himself out of his spot.

“Hurry back Einstein, we’re gonna be a family, we have to celebrate together.”

Peter was going to be sick.

He nodded and left the room, shutting himself in the bathroom and throwing up.

This isn’t what he wanted. Skip can’t be there for the rest of his life. This was wrong. Everything about this was wrong.

-

One month ago…

Peter was sure Skip was going to kill him. Or use him forever.

Peter didn’t like either option.

-

“I don’t want them to get married.” Peter confessed.

Happy pulled the car over, turning in his seat to see Peter. The kid wasn’t looking very good, he reminded Happy of 2008 era Tony. It wasn’t a very good look on a kid.

“You feel like it’s too soon after Ben? Or is it because of how fast-paced their relationship has been?”

Peter had tried not to think about Ben since Skip moved in. He didn’t want to picture the look of disappointment Ben would give him. Peter didn’t want to think that he is a failure in Ben’s eyes. Ben would believe that Peter brought this onto himself.

‘With great Power Comes Great Responsibility.’

Ben always said that. And yet Peter failed. He gave away his power, and was completely responsible for where he is now. Peter did everything wrong and Ben would know that. He took his uncles advice, his dying words, and ruined them, broke them, tossed them in the trash and set them on fire. Ben would hate this Peter, and Peter knew that like he knew how to breathe.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I just- I don’t think I’m ready for May to be married yet. It just feels like Skip is trying to replace his spot. I don’t want the to get married yet.”

Happy nodded in understanding, trying to give the teen a small smile.

“Pete, no one is ever going to replace Ben. He was your uncle, your guardian, your parent, he raised you. Skip could never live up to that.”

-

Present day…

There’s blood.

Peter is in the bathroom cleaning up his own blood and he doesn’t understand how he got here.

Well, he knows how. He just doesn’t understand it.

And he doesn’t know where to start cleaning it. Peter doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. This was all horribly wrong.

Peter knew he couldn’t stay here much longer though. Skip had gone back to his own bedroom, after a rough ‘session’ with Peter. And now Peter is alone, and bleeding and he needs to get out.

Peter picks up his phone and makes a call.

“Hey, can you uh, come pick me up, I can’t stay here, I need, uh I need to get out of here.”

“Yeah kid, you got it. I’ll be there in half.”

“Meet me, uh, two blocks up from here actually.”

“You okay, Underoos?”

Peter hung up the phone.

He hoped in the shower hoping the water would get rid of the blood, hoping the soap would wash Skip away. And when that didn’t work Peter put on an oversized sweater and large sweatpants. Peter packed untainted clothing into his book bag and left through his window and down the fire escape, putting his hood up.

This was a mistake.

Leaving was a mistake. Skip was only doing what he thought was- no. No. No. Peter can’t go back.

He won’t live through this. Peter doesn’t want to live through this.

He scratched at his arms as he made it to the spot that Tony was supposed to pick him up.

Peter was going to be sick.

How could he let it get this far? Peter shouldn’t have let this happen. This was all wrong. Why is he relying on Tony to take him away. What if Tony agrees with Skip?

Peter coughed up blood.

New plan.

Go with Tony, make sure his stomach isn’t bleeding, once he’s good, leave. Go fast. Stay away from cameras. Go to Canada. Or Florida. Get out of New York. Go far. Somewhere where May and Skip won’t think he’ll go.

Tony pulls up and Peter hops into the car quickly. Tony doesn’t start driving right away though. Instead he looks at Peter, seeing the fear in the boys eyes, as well the way he is unconsciously scratching his arms.

“What’s happening?”

Peter shakes his head, tears filling his eyes.

“Please, just drive, I can’t be here. Can’t be in the city right now.”

“Is this drugs?” Tony asks as he starts to drive, hoping that Peter won’t leave. “I don’t care if it is, I can get you help.”

“It’s not drugs. It’s probably be easier if it was drugs. Honestly, I wish it was drugs. I can’t go home though, okay? Please don’t tell May.”

“Okay. We can do that for now but I will eventually have to tell her where you are so her and Skip don’t get worried.”

“You can’t” Peter shouted jerking upright and pushing himself further away from Tony. “You can’t. Skip can’t know. He’ll kill me, I swear, he can’t know, I can’t go back.”

Tony nodded, as Peter seemed to fall apart in front of him, hoping that appearing casual while driving will keep Peter talking.

“So we don’t like Skip, alright. Is there a reason why?”

Peter sobbed and Tony was tempted to pull over right then and there, but he knows that scaring Peter would cause him to run, so he needs to keep driving.

“He said he’d help. He did the opposite.”

Tony hummed, bringing them out of the city and towards the compound. Peter was rocking himself slightly, clearly uncomfortable. He started to cough, blood splattering across his arms.

“What the hell, Parker?” Tony said stepping on the gas.

“No Skip, Tony. Promise me, we don’t get him involved even if that means keeping May in the dark. You bring Skip into this then I’m leaving. Okay?”

“Jesus, yeah, okay, promise. We’ll keep him out of this, I got you. No Skip, we don’t want him, I got it Pete.”

Peter nodded, feeling relief wash over him as he was finally in a safe spot. He was out. He was out of that god forsaken apartment. No Skip means he’s safe. Safety means he can finally sleep. So he closed his eyes.

-

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@peterbeanie @jean-and-diet-coke @dead-inside-pt2 @they-were-cloudsinmycoffee

[thelostguardianau]

The Lost Guardian- Chapter Eight

“Heed the Silenced”

(Authors note: aha.. yknow I should probably stop making promises for this fic. Months later, w/ a chapter that doesn’t have Thomas in it, three different outlines down and i’m really just at the mercy of this fic at this point xD considering midway through writing this chapter I had to cut and rewrite an entire scene i’d spent a month on bc I’d decided that Dee had a chance at redemtion that added an actual direction and a tangable end goal to this story. So. Yeah. And!! A loud Thank You!! to @bumblebeekitten for helping me bounce ideas back & forth for this au and being my beta for this chapter!!)

Character Info & Art:

Patton | Logan | Roman | Virgil | Remy | Deceit | ??? | ???

Chapter Seven | Chapter Nine

Fandom: Thomas Sanders Sides

Pairings: Eventual Polyamsanders (LAMPR/CALMR-a.k.a LAMP/CALM + Remy ‘Sleep’ Sanders)

Warnings: THIS CHAPTER IS KINDA DIALOG HEAVY!(sorry) Currently depicted as morally grey Deceit(subject to change in future chapters), though the side of Deceit from his first appearance doesnt make an appearance in this chapter and it is explained why, mentions of past betrayal and dark descriptions of bodily concepts, curses, limitations, and changes only really explained as possible through the lore of this au. Deceit speaks in riddles because he has to, ominous warnings. Virgil still isn’t okay mentally. Mentions of indifference to death, lack of selfworth or self preservation. (Let me know if I need to add anything!)

[[MORE]]

Brown eyes flutter open at the chilly breeze of a fan, and the ravenette’s mind comes to realize that he’s been moved from resting on his stomach to laying on his back. Groggy from his much too short nap, it takes a few moments to realize there are no warm bodies near him or under him, no breathing or chatter of familiar voices to sooth him.

The room, he realizes, is empty.

The room itself is, in fact, not Remy’s bedroom at all.

Shooting straight up, Virgil’s first clear thought is that he’s back at home. At his apartment, this time in his hoodie yet still roughed up from his latest ‘adventure’. The scene is eerily familiar, and yet he knows this time that work is not where he needs to be. It’s already daylight and his mind now knows this familiar scene, he should feel alone. Yet, this time he can hear the sound of honking cars and people, his loud neighbor from upstairs stomping around.

It doesn’t make sense as he walks to his window and peers out to see vague cars and people, he can’t even seem to make out any individual faces. It’s grey and raining outside, but there is no pattering sound against the foggy window. ‘What’s happening?�� Virgil wonders.

“Life seemed so simple a week ago, even months ago, did it not..?” A familiar voice drifts from behind him. Ice cold fear shoots down the ravenette’s spine as he recognizes the voice.

“I can hardly believe you were able to leave it, your routine. It was your everything, back when you came to terms with what you had left. Am I wrong, Virgil?” Whirling around to face the voice, Virgil finds the terrifying ex-Guardian sitting on his couch looking quite at home, if a little sheepish.

“What do you care?” He spat back, stepping back against his window.

“I am only looking out for you, you know. I have been protecting you all your life. Of all people I think I would know what is best for you, don't you think? We are connected after all, you and I.” The man sighed, making a surrendering motion with his hands.

“Why would I trust you?! You tried to kill me yesterday!” Virgil growled. “Why--h-how are you even here!?”

“False, my dear Virgil. I tried to warn you. Sure,” The guardian rolled his hand as he spoke, “I am forced to have a round-about way of speaking my truths, it is just part of my consequences it seems. But how else was I going to get you to listen to me after the others fed you lies about me? I do sincerely apologize for my other half being rough, though. I cannot quite.. Control.. Him.” The guardian tilted his bowler hat down to guiltily hide his eyes, regret briefly twisting his expression.

Finally the Guardian stood, dusting himself off as if his immaculate attire had acquired dust from just existing in his apartment. “I needed my physical body to reach yours and make our soul connection strong again, so that my soul could reach yours. However.. The pain I caused you was far from my intention. I am deeply regretful that it came down to.. That awful encounter.

“To answer your question though, Virgil, I am here because I created ‘here’. A realm made to form this illusion of being home, sweet home, just on the corner of the little street you had come to live on for the past year. It is all my doing. Where you stand is simply an illusion only you and I can access, a manipulation of your dreams and memories. The only place where the real me can talk to you mostly unhindered.” The guardian gestured to his surroundings.

“It takes only one person to flip your life on it’s head, a matter of hours to make the decision of a lifetime, and a matter of days to have completely changed your life’s direction,” He turned to Virgil, and looked him straight in the eyes, feeling distant and lost.

“And only a matter of years to succumb to the depression of the lonely consequences..”

Virgil blinked at that. The sad, longing tone had him thrown for a loop; it almost felt like the Guardian wasn't even quite talking to Virgil. “I-What..? I.. I don’t understand.”

The Guardian shook his head, snapping out of it and refocusing himself. "Nevermind that. It is time I talked to you for real, if you will have me?" The Guardian held out a hand politely, though there was no real expectation for Virgil to take it.

After a pause, Virgil gave a slight nod, still suspicious of the other's intent. The Guardian returned the nod, and his hand fell to his side.

“I am limited to the time that you rest and for now I will not be able to explain myself thoroughly, so, I ask you to understand that I do not expect you to trust me when I am done. I honestly do not expect you to ever trust me. With the mistakes I have made, I firmly believe I would not deserve it.”

Virgil blinked in surprise, not having expected his captor to admit to his faults straight off the bat.

“Okay.. Well, we’re here, might as well hear your side of the story. So.. Shoot.” Virgil said lightly, distrust and suspicion still evident in his tone and stance.

“I would assume at this point you are well aware of how the story you have been told paints me as the villain, a mastermind seeking power, immortality, and revenge? At least, that is what I am led to believe is still the story, it has been many years since I have heard the tale first hand… And... Well. Would that not be so lovely?” Virgil made a face, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“I am serious. Life would be so much easier if it was all black and white, true or false, good and bad, would it not? If those who meant well knew everything and those malicious few could not corrupt anything?” The Guardian frowned a bit, frustrated with his words that couldn’t seem to cooperate with him.

“Would it not be lovely if I could talk to you without fighting to keep from turning every honest thought into a question or theoretical statement just to let it be said? That my words could hold a meaning not forcibly disguised in the forms of fables and riddles?” The Guardian looked down lamely, his words tapering off in agitation. For a moment, Virgil waited as the Guardian was silent, contemplative. Then, the next moment the Guardian’s face scrunched up in sadness and his words were soft as he placed a hand over his golden wrist markings.

“My story is complicated, and twisted with shades of grey. One could say what I did was an attempt to keep you safe, another could say that what I did was outlandish and impulsive, and stupid. But no one will be able to tell you that what I did went according to the plan I had... at first. No one will tell you that my intention was to save you, to keep your fate safe. No one will tell you that my plan was ruined. Because there is no longer anyone who remembers what happened that night except for me,”

The Guardian’s eyes flicked up to meet the ravenette’s, a hurt look passing over his face as he continued. His steady voice now just barely trembled with uncertainty as he continued.

“No one but me and the soul who wants so desperately for everyone to forget. The soul who ripped my own in two to bury the secret, and ruin you and I both.”

“My final warning is this: Beware of the man who carries the world on his shoulders unflinchingly, he will be watching you closely. You have immunity to his power thanks to our connection, you might use this knowledge well to find the truth that lies in plain sight. However, your fate lies in the decisions you chose to make with this knowledge, I can only warn you of what might come.” The Guardian nodded solemnly, choosing to finish his cryptic warning there.

Virgil stood there, reeling with the information. Sure, he definitely wasn’t completely convinced he could trust this cryptic stranger, Guardian? Foe? Friend? Virgil wasn’t really sure what to call him anymore. But damn, his life was already so fucking crazy, this was all just fucking crazy! He could just be dreaming for all he knew.

But… Deep inside, he was hoping he wasn’t.

This was, well. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting to hear when facing the man whose, er, body? Had originally tried to strangle him? Now he’d heard his sob story and, well, Virgil wasn’t that easy to fool, but he’d also been told that it wasn’t expected that he’d trust the guy even in the end and he didn’t really want to.

He’d been on the path to death for so long, and then just two days ago everything had changed. So much was happening, it was frankly exhausting. What the fuck was he, some book protagonist? Couldn’t he get a little time to think about all this before he went crazy?

Still, something under all his incredulity begged to hear the guardian out. He vaguely wondered how Stockholm Syndrome worked before he gave in a little. What difference did a little more crazy make in his life at this point?

“Fine, I’ll heed your warning, or whatever the fuck. But only if you can tell me what you mean when you said that this guy ripped your, uh, soul? In two.” Virgil huffed, partially relaxing. It was odd how comforting he found it to be, floating in this weird feeling imaginary world, where he could interact with objects that weren’t real. It felt like he was really standing in his home, and yet it was just built from memory.

The guardian’s solemn expression formed into a grim smile, eyes distant once more before nodding. “I will do the best that my words will allow.” Virgil nodded, and waited for the now very familiar stranger to gather his words and take a breath. Then he began, his markings lightly flashing gold.

“You find yourself whole one day, as you have always been. To be whole of body, whole of mind, both human and guardian in nature. To have conscious thought and control over your whole physical being and soul..

“You find that yourself and others of the winged variety are capable of separating your soul from your being, though only the most Elite can do it well. You find out the family you made would soon be in danger. You then find yourself lost and alone when you once had a home to call your own.

“You find yourself knowing a truth, a perilous truth. Your home is in shambles now that you are gone, yet they do not know it. This truth is at fault, but the blame is not fully your own in a world built on lies.

“The source of truth tucks itself into blankets of grey, drawing itself further from discovery with each passing day. Now only you know the truth. The source of the truth finds you, it seeks to hide you too.

“You find yourself split one day, as you have never been before. Forced apart from the body, trapped within the mind. Guardian in nature, to have conscious thought and your dying soul trapped within, a false mind piloting the puppeteered confines of a broken body with a blind goal.”

“You find you cannot control what you used to, you are a prisoner to a body that is no longer your own, mostly unconscious to the world around it. Crazed by the false emotions that fuel it.”

“The you that used to be is no longer, and has not been for over a hundred years. The world that knew you knows not of what you’ve become. Knows not of the shackles that bind you.

“The you that used to be is no longer, and will never be again.” The Guardian finished, hesitant yellow eyes meeting Virgil’s carefully. Phantom goosebumps trail down Virgil's arms as the final sentence strikes a cord in him.

Virgil found he really wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, the rawness in the other’s tone spoke volumes of the sore spot they’d reached.

“Your body rests, but your mind also needs time to process today. I shall see you when you next rest, though only if you wish to seek me. Rest well knowing that you will not be scooped from your safety once more, as I hope I’m never to do so again. And...” The guardian paused, considering their next words very carefully.

“I know it is selfish to ask... but, I hope and wish that Thomas is alright, after all this time... Do take care of him, would you?”

Virgil paused and stared, finding only concern and longing in the guardian’s expression. And, well, fuck. What a way to pull at a guy’s heartstrings.

“Er, yes. Yeah. I’ll try my best.” Virgil gave his signature mock salute, the Guardian tipping his hat in return.

“Trying is all I could ever ask of you, Virgil. Rest well, you will need it.” And with that final sentence, the world around Virgil gently grew dark, and he sunk into the comforting arms of sleep.

Despite it all, Virgil still found his mind vaguely conscious. Sluggish at best, but awake nonetheless.

He figured it was likely some lingering effect from the Guardian’s dream realm, but didn’t dwell on it. His life had way too much else going on to be debating the side effects gained from Guardian powers.

First, he’d been pretty damn convinced two days ago that he was going to be a goner by the end of the month. Completely resigned to die believing that his very existence was scorned by the world he’d been unwillingly born into.

Then Patton had stumbled onto his shitty apartment’s roof, found him in all of his resigned and depressed glory, and changed his life forever.

They’d mostly skipped the whole ‘Human nature is a series of life, death, and rebirth’ spiel that guardians were known to give in these situations because... Well, It wasn’t like they’d really had time to address it before the truth about his soul had come out. That he wasn’t exactly human to begin with.

Virgil didn’t think that Guardians had ever had a situation like his before. There wasn’t a protocol for comforting a kidnapped guardian soul. It’d never been a possibility before!

So it wasn’t surprising then, that Virgil didn’t have any better of a time processing it.

His whole life, all that he’d known to be true, all that he’d believed in? Everything had been uprooted and turned on its head. He’d apparently been living a life that was not supposed to be.

Perhaps for the first time in two days, Virgil realized that the thought of his death at the end of the month had not been consistently worming into his brain. It had once been something he could never seem to stop thinking about.

The death indicated by his soul timer was now perhaps the farthest thing from his mind.

Perhaps the strangest thing so far was that he wasn’t alone anymore. He’d possibly had more physical contact with other people in the short two(three?) days since this adventure started then he’d had in the past 16 years.

And wasn’t it just the cherry on top that he’d also gotten nearly choked out by the very guardian accused of kidnapping his soul in the first place? And now he was considering trusting the damn guy.

Virgil hollowly wondered why he even cared.

Why did he care about staying alive now when he’s spent his whole life believing he never would? Up until two days ago, that belief had still been true. But now? Avoiding death was the goal, Logan had stated as much.

Really, would Virgil lose anything by trusting the banished guardian? Even if the guardian was trying to trick Virgil and got him killed, what difference would it make? That’d always been the goal before. What did he, Virgil, really have to lose?

If it happened that Virgil lived past his twentieth birthday, if he became a guardian like he was supposed to be in the first place. Would he want that? Did he want that?

He wasn’t sure. Didn’t know if he ever had been.

His life had been built on resignation to the inevitable. Nothing seemed to motivate him towards liking or hating that possibility. He was just that.

Indifferent.

And wasn’t that just the greatest revelation of the night? Finding out that you’re indifferent to living or dying.

Once this was all over, if Virgil lived that long, he would make a note to see a therapist. He knew very well that this kind of mindset was unhealthy to keep. It just couldn’t be helped that the nineteen years he’d lived with this particular affliction couldn’t be fixed by a few extra hugs and comforting words.

Even if he didn’t like the fact that death sounded like the more peaceful option.

His thoughts paused, mentally sighing at the downward spiral he’d caught himself in. It was tiring, and going nowhere.

‘For now,’ he decided, ‘I’m just going to see how this plays out. The Guardian said that none of the others remember the truth, or whatever. So, It’s a ‘he said-they said’ situation right now...’

‘I’ll have to keep an eye out for the guy that he warned me about, then. Who knows if he's as dangerous as The Guardian made him out to be. It’s hard to tell with the weird way he has to talk..’

Virgil paused again, a realization striking him. If he could have groaned, he would have. Not once had he been given or even remembered to ask for the name of said Guardian. What was he supposed to call the rogue Guardian now? He couldn’t just keep calling him The Guardian!

Amidst the disbelief of such a slip up, a foreign yet familiar feeling prodded questioningly at his conscious mind. Adding confusion into the mix of emotions, he returned the feeling with a questioning thought of his own.

He briefly heard the Guardian’s whispy voice once more, now acting with permission.

“You may call me Janus”

Then all at once, Virgil woke up.

.

.

.

Chapter Nine

[lovingmyselfcore]

Protect You Chapter IV

Oh my god I did it. I wrote a thing for this thing!! You guys are def getting other writing things from me this week but idk what it'll be bc apparently my brain is god and works in mysterious ways (is that offensive?)

Significant lack of Cardan today and I apologize for that but he will deffo be in the next part (if you've read the end of this then you know)

Chapter IV; Some Attempted Breaking and Entering ft. Nicasia being Nicasia and I hate her :)

“Ow,” I deadpanned.

Oriana looked up at me, mouth pinched at the edges, “Jude.” She had the way of saying my name (always has) that perfectly conveyed her distaste at my existence and scolding me for whatever I had done.

We were in Vivi and I’s apartment, Oriana had me propped on the counter while she adjusted my sling and bandages. Every time she saw the injury she grimaced in disgust, which meant that was her only current expression.

“When Vivi does this it’s much quicker,” I muttered, crossing my ankles and swinging my legs against the counter.

“Well, Vivi has had weeks of doing this for you.” Oriana pulled the bandage tighter and my ‘ow’ wasn’t deadpan anymore.

I didn’t think she was going to speak again but she did, “Training,” She scoffed. “I can’t believe you injured yourself so severely.” She looked up at me, “But at least it wasn’t a gunshot wound. At least your life isn’t as dangerous as that.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. Lying always has been my specialty.

Oriana pressed her lower body into my legs to keep me still against the counter. “Stop banging, you’re going to dent or chip it.”

I rolled my eyes and her grip tightened on my arm before she released me entirely.

“All done.”

I rolled my shoulder as best I could, “Great.”

Oriana stepped back and I hopped off the counter. Grabbing my jacket and slinging it over my available shoulder I called back to Oriana, “I’m going to work, Dain needs me.”

I was two steps from the front door when Oriana caught me by the shoulder. “Tayrn’s engagement party is tomorrow night,” She said it like I hadn’t been thinking about it since it was announced.

“Don’t worry,” I grinned at her, “I’ll be there to make everyone’s life hell.”

~~~~~~~~

“Jude,” Lilliver waved her hand in front of my face. “You’re spacing. Everything good?”

“What? Oh, yeah. It’s just…”

“The party.” Garrett said, matter of factly.

I gave him a look. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Well lucky for you, you’ll be spending the whole time on a job,” Garrett said. Van and Lilliver winced.

“What?” I asked, meeting Garrett’s eyes. He didn’t flinch away from the harsh edge to my voice, the undoubtedly even harsher look in my eyes.

“Dain wanted us to tell you,” Van said, raising his voice as the music caught a crescendo.

We were in some day club that was clearly only for rich people. Sitting at a table tucked in a dark corner, watching as Dain mingled amongst the crowd. Shadows in the shadows, I mused. Weirdly appropriate.

I wasn’t sure who it was, but someone had rented the place and filled it with the highly respected, feared, higher-ups. Dain had heard about the event and invited himself, using the situation to make connections, and further the ones he already had.

He’d dragged us with him, of course. It was 11 at night, I was supposed to be curled on the couch with Vivi, eating ice cream out of the tub and watching Criminal Minds or beating up the punching bag in my room until my knuckles had split, even through the bandages and I couldn’t feel my arms. It depended on my mood.

But Lilliver had called me, said Dain needed his shadows, and that Garrett was waiting outside my apartment building. He had been. I have no idea how he got my address, but I’d refused to let him be my ride. He was too unpredictable, I couldn’t give him that blind faith. So I’d yelled to Vivi that my bike was out of gas and I needed hers and I’d pay her back for the miles, took her keys, and trailed behind Garrett’s car. And now, here we were.

I was nursing a glass of whiskey, mostly to calm my nerves as I followed Dain with my eyes, watching everyone who got too close to him.

“You don’t think anybody would try anything?” I’d asked when I got here, sliding in next to Lilliver in the booth.

“Someone’s done it before.” Van had muttered grimly.

I arched a brow, “What happened to them?”

Van just looked at Garrett, who was eyeing everyone and everything like they all had guns and were about to start shooting people.

I got the message and hadn’t inquired further.

“What does he want me to do?” I asked now.

“Locke’s a friend of Cardan’s.”

“I’m aware.”

Garrett rolled his eyes and I glared at him.

Resting my forearms on the table and leaning forward until I was closer to Van I said, “But Dain isn’t worried about Cardan taking the power, is he?”

“No.”

“But,” Lilliver cut in. “Locke has been seen with Madoc and Balekin. Being with Madoc isn’t that weird-”

“Yes, it is.” I interrupted.

“But Locke is going to be Madoc’s son-in-law. How is that weird?” Garrett asked, tearing his gaze from Dain.

“Madoc hates Locke, he isn’t very happy about Taryn marrying him.”

“For what he did to you?” Van asked.

I snorted, “You’re overestimating him. Nah, he just thinks Locke is a stuck-up prick who doesn’t deserve everything he has.”

“Fair,” Lilliver murmured and I nodded my agreement.

“But Balekin?”

I shook my head, “You don’t know Madoc like I do. If he’s talking to Balekin and it’s not about just security stuff? It can’t be good. Throw Locke into the equation and anything could happen.”

“Great,” Van drawled with an exasperated eye roll.

“So, Jude,” Lilliver asked after a moment of silence. “You have a good outfit, right?”

~~~ A few hours later, I was sitting on my couch, crossing and uncrossing my legs, waiting for Vivi to be finished getting ready.

“Viv!” I yelled.

“Patience is a virtue!” She screeched back from the bathroom.

“Anybody that has time for patience is wasting their life,” I muttered to myself, trying to relax back into the couch unsuccessfully.

I was too stiff all over, shoulders tight, leg muscles straining as I dug the soles of my heels into the carpet as if trying to keep myself on the ground. I curled my fingers into the plush cushion of the couch.

I was wearing a gold dress and matching heels, a small handgun strapped to one thigh, a knife on the other. The slits up the legs of my dress would allow me to retrieve them but kept them hidden enough from prying eyes.

Vivi was taking too long. I rose slowly from my place on the couch and walked to the bathroom. Some Taylor Swift was playing from the Bluetooth speaker perched precariously on the windowsill and Vivi swayed to the beat, slivers of dying sunlight curling in through the window to wind around her gold curls. She was touching up her mascara so she didn’t look at me when I entered.

“I know I’m taking forever, but you should be thanking me for not making you go too early.” I rolled my eyes and leaned against the doorway, not saying anything in response.

Suddenly Taylor’s voice cut off as Vivi’s phone rang. “Can you get that?” She asked me, but I was already reaching for it. I had to twist my arm half under her upper body to get to the other side of the countertop but I eventually reached it and glanced at the caller ID.

“Heather,” I said.

Vivi looked away from the mirror to blink at me and I took that as my cue to answer.

“Hey, Heather,” I said.

“Jude?”

“Yeah. Vivi’s busy being narcissistic so you get to talk to me instead.”

Heather’s laugh sounded like a fairy. “That’s alright, you’re not bad to talk to.”

“Thanks for lying to me,” I replied, leaning against the doorway again. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I just knew the engagement party was soon and figured I’d talk to Vi now before she gets too drunk to do anything.” I snorted, “That’s a very fair assessment. We would’ve been at the party already but Vivi is taking forever.” The last word was louder and Vivi stuck her middle finger up at me without even turning to face me.

Vivi finally set down the mascara wand and turned to me with her hands on her hips before making a toddler-esque grabbing motion.

“Well Vivi’s finally done getting ready, but she wants to talk to you.”

Heather snorted, “Nice. Well, have fun at the party, Jude.”

It was my turn to snort.

Heather’s voice got softer, “It’ll all be fine. You don’t have to stay for very long, and maybe you can find something to distract yourself with.” Oh, I have something to do, alright.

“Thanks,” I muttered before handing Vivi the phone. “Hey, baby,” Vivi said immediately and I shook my head. She stuck her tongue out at me before turning away and I took that as my cue to leave the bathroom.

~~~~

I was physically unable to stay still.

Vivi and I didn’t own a real car, so we’d called an Uber, and sitting in the backseat, I was doing everything but stay still. Vivi kept side-eyeing me when she glanced away from her phone, but she hadn’t said anything.

I was bouncing my leg, tapping a rhythm on the door of the car, the seatbelt, the seat below me, my arms.

Vivi paused in her texting, probably to Heather, to clamp a hand on my knee. It didn’t do much to actually stop my movements but it got me to look at her. “Why are you so nervous?”

“I’m not,” I said stiffly and turned away.

Vivi sighed and took her hand off my knee. “You can talk to me, Jude.” She whispered.

I didn’t respond.

~~~

Locke lived in a mansion. I’d been there before but it was still impressive. What took away a bit of that was that I knew he hadn’t worked for it. He was just a rich kid, born and raised. Like all the others that had looked down on me my entire life.

He fit in with Cardan.

Vivi thanked our Uber driver as we stepped out of the car onto the winding stone pathway leading up to the front door.

As the car sped off Vivi linked her arm through mine and yanked me forward to start walking to the door.

“Stop looking at the house like it murdered your cat,” Vivi muttered, her arm tightening briefly around mine.

I tried to school my scowl into something more neutral. It wasn’t easy.

“We’re here for Taryn,” Vivi continued, “You might not even have to see him, or them together at all.”

I nodded mechanically as my eyes drifted to the window on the second floor that I knew belonged to Locke’s bedroom. Would he keep his secrets locked in there? Taryn could get in there, so maybe not, but it was worth a shot.

Some servants pushed open the door to let us inside and Vivi and I froze in the doorway. It looked like some kind of fancy 1800s ball, but with smaller dresses.

“Is that Elowyn?” Vivi whispered. I followed her gaze. It was, indeed, Elowyn Greenbriar in all her glory, perched near a huge window as if preparing to leap out and make a run for it soon. She was eyeing everyone with that look of judgment that seemed to be a Greenbriar birthright, looking more expensive than Locke’s mansion itself.

“I didn’t think she and Locke were that close.”

“It’s not just her,” I realized, as my eyes fell on Cealia, who was worming her way through the crowd of people to reach her sister.

But Vivi had noticed something else. “Nicasia’s here,” She hissed. “And she’s headed this way.”

Vivi and I’s arms were still linked so I tugged lightly and dragged us deeper into the house and crowd of people, effectively disappearing from Nicasia’s line of sight.

I wasn’t ready to deal with her quite yet.

I breathed deeply through my nose and snatched a glass of champagne off a tray nearby, scanning the room.

How could I slip away and snoop without being detected?

“Hey, Jude.” I tightened my grip on my flute of champagne and turned to face Nicasia. Her expression wasn’t pleasant, so I didn’t bother trying to act pleased to see her, either.

“Nicasia,” God. Why did she have to be so pretty, a long, flowing dress that was so many different shades of blue, I couldn’t even count them. It looked like it was tailored to fit her-it probably was, actually. It rippled as she moved, like ocean waves on the shore. Her hair was loose for the most part, aside from a few intricate braids woven in that she had curled around a single finger.

She plucked the champagne from my hand and sipped leisurely. It made my blood boil.

“I figured you’re one of the few people who hates being here as much as I do.”

I grudgingly nodded and her answering grin was sharp.

“Why are the Greenbriars here?” I blurted before I could think better of it.

Nicasia blinked at me before responding. “Because they’re Greenbriars. They do whatever they want when they want.”

It wasn’t a real answer and I had a feeling that she wasn’t just being difficult; she didn’t know, and hated that she didn’t know.

Well, Nicasia and I had something in common.

“Are they all here?” I asked.

She shook her head, “Balekin was here for a total of fifteen minutes before he vanished somewhere,” She gestured vaguely, lips turned down in disgust. “I haven’t seen Dain anywhere, but the girls are here. And Cardan,” She added, pretending like it was an afterthought.

My gaze automatically shot into the crowd, taking note of every face. But none of them were Cardan.

“Do you love Locke?” She asked scornfully.

“Do you?” I shot back, like we were third graders.

She rolled her eyes, “I’d rather crawl naked over glass.”

“Then you have my answer.”

She just looked at me for a beat

Nicasia drained the glass and thrust it back into my hand. She gave me a final judging once over before strutting off in the other direction.

~~~~~~ The next half hour was nothing but mingling; I had to make it clear I was here, that I supported this. After Nicasia had left me alone, I gritted my teeth and dove into the cage of hungry sharks.

I slipped back into the darkness, listened to aristocrats talk to each other, pretending they were all above each other and felt the weight of the gun shifting under my dress; the cold metal pulsed like it was branding me.

I pretended I was one of them; the lies felt warm and comforting on my tongue, honey on a warm summer afternoon.

The realization hit me like a truck: I couldn't entirely blame this on the Shadows' crash course training these past few weeks. I had always had the capacity for this; lying and manipulating and scheming came as effortlessly to me as breathing. I had been born for this. The thought should've been terrifying, but it settled beneath my heart, caged in my ribs with a comforting weight that couldn't be ignored.

“Excuse me,” I murmured and slipped away from the group I’d been attempting to charm.

Balekin hadn’t resurfaced and I wasn’t stupid enough to think he’d left the party entirely so as I slid along the walls of the second floor of Locke’s mansion, I kept my ears and eyes tuned to catch any and all movements.

Locke’s office.

Yes!

I glanced around, feeling like I was in some kind of cliche mafia movie before attempting to turn the door handle. Locked. Okay. Not great. I could work with it though.

Being Madoc’s daughter and Vivienne Duarte’s sister gave me access to an arsenal of weird abilities to use in a pinch.

I reached up to my hair before remembering I didn’t pull it up, so I turned my attention to my clutch, hoping there was a bobby pin or paper clip or something in there.

I’d let my guard down.

I heard his uneven steps coming towards me too late.

“My sweet nemesis,” Cardan slurred. “What do you think you’re doing?” ~~~

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@ladyofbloodandroses @cultofvamps @itsmentalbreakdownhours

[prfctparis]

Red Jell-O and A Trip to the Healers

AO3 Link

summary: in which mace windu spends part of night with two of the most stubborn kids in the jedi order. if he had any hair, they might make him go gray within the hour.

a/n: ok so basically, lately my mind has been super duper focused on my star wars au (which exists solely in my head right now) where anakin doesn’t turn to the dark side mostly bc he has a little sister (aka my oc zariza) and other factors, and instead of rambling about that for paragraphs on end i’ll just say: this is a drabble/one shot thing that takes place in that au, but years before the clone wars begins. if you’re curious, and if i did my math right, anakin is 14 here and zariza is 10. but yeah, hope u enjoy reading this!

Master Jedi Mace Windu stares at the young girl with a carefully blank expression. The youngling – an initiate, no older than ten, if he remembers correctly – stares back, almost as if she is daring him to say something, which… Doesn’t surprise him. Not in the slightest. This is Skywalker Number Two, after all, and even though she is much quieter than her older brother, she no doubt causes as much mayhem as he does.

He just wants a snack. He ran out of them in his own quarters. Looking at the young girl, something tells him he won’t be getting the snack.

Mace refrains from sighing.

This is not how he thought his night was going to go.

“Initiate Skywalker,” he begins, hoping it comes off as a greeting than a silent reprimand. “What a coincidence it is seeing you here.”

Her dark eyes narrow the slightest bit. The expression simultaneously looks like Anakin yet nothing like him at all.

Honestly, though he is loath to admit it, sometimes he forgets the two are brother and sister. After all, they hardly look anything alike – different fathers, he remembers Master Healer Che explain to him and the Council members when they were wondering if they were actually related. Anakin has blond hair that is bleached light from his years on Tatooine yet now is slowly darkening with age, and bright blue eyes and tanned, fair skin, whereas his sister has wild and wavy dark brown hair that almost looks black with eyes to match, and light brown skin. She also has abnormally sharp canines for a human – no doubt a hint at whatever type of alien race that is in her blood; they have yet been able to figure it out.

They both do that damn stubborn chin tilt thing, though.

It can be…aggravating, to say the least, when someone is trying to get them to do something and they don’t want to.

Mace gives into sighing when she doesn’t budge. “Zariza,” he tries again, “what are you doing? It is midnight.”

The stubborn chin tilt stays. Kriff. “I could ask you the same thing,” she says.

“You should be sleeping.”

“…So should you.”

“Skywalker.”

“Window.”

Mace’s brow twitches. Okay. Okay, he can deal with a ten year old. He successfully taught Depa, didn’t he?

(Then again, Depa hadn’t been a child who was hell bent on infuriating him on purpose; she had also been thirteen, and the only chaos she brought and still brings are the occasional pranks on him and the jokes about his bald head; luckily the padawan drama ended with the beginning of her Knighthood.)

If only Master Rheba Toome was available – or Kenobi. They both have somehow managed to become the designated Skywalker Wranglers, as Master Koon had once said after an incident when a slightly murderous droid with a flesh eating plant attached to it got loose in the Temple last year.

An idea comes to him suddenly. “You tell me why you are in the Temple’s kitchens so late, and I will say nothing to your crèche master. I might even let you leave with what you came for–,” he doesn’t miss the subtle yet sudden jolt of suspicious relief, “–but if you don’t, I will take you out of here myself and speak to Crèche Master Aryn the moment we get back to your clan.”

There’s a long, tense silence where Zariza debates with herself in her head. So long that Mace wonders if he will have to repeat himself. Then, “Ani’s sick.”

That…is not what Mace had been expecting. He raises a brow. “He is?”

She nods, and points to the fridge a few feet away. “And he likes the red jell-o.”

“Is he in the Halls?” Mace asks, growing slightly concerned because Obi-Wan got sent out to a solo mission just the day before and Padawan Skywalker hadn’t been allowed to go. He didn’t put up much of a fight, which shocked yet pleased everyone. Now, he knows possibly why he didn’t, and that makes the situation slightly worrying.

Zariza opens her mouth, pauses, closes it with pursed lips, and shakes her head no.

“And why isn’t he?”

She shrugs, a bit defensively. “I dunno. Probably thinks he’s fine. He went to his lessons all day – Aayla tried talking him into going to Healer Bant but it didn’t work.”

Mace frowns with furrowed brows, but quickly smooths his expression when gets a sense of guilt and shame and a vague impression of an apology, though he doesn’t know what for. He kneels down without a second thought, and hates (that’s not the Jedi way–) how her chin is tilted down, eyes casted to the side, as if expecting some harsh punishment for…what? Caring for her brother? Telling Mace that he’s sick? If he was any less of a Jedi, the ones who enslaved the Skywalkers would be six feet under.

He makes sure to release the anger into the Force before speaking again; he will need to meditate later. “I am not upset with you, little one. Not anymore, at least. I’m simply concerned about your brother’s health right now,” he assures her.

Zariza huffs, still looking away, but she’s no longer tucking her chin into her chest. “So am I,” she mumbles petulantly. “S’why I want the red jell-o. He likes it.”

“So you have said. Can you tell me how he was feeling last time you saw him? Or in your Force bond, right now?”

“Uh… Sick.” A beat; Mace refrains from spouting a heavily sarcastic remark to a ten year old. “Um. He threw up once he got back to his and Obi-Wan’s rooms. Said something ‘bout being really, really tired earlier. He’s sleeping now.”

Mace hums, and stands up. “All right. Well then, let’s go. I want to check on him, and if needed I will be taking him to the Halls of Healing.”

Zariza frowns as she finally looks at him, but then her eyes travel to the fridge. There’s a silent question there. She goes to ask it but stops herself, and nods. “Okay,” she says instead, almost a mumble, and turns to leave.

He watches her for a second, glances at the fridge that holds the red jell-o, and then moves to walk beside her. “If I was sure it would not upset his stomach, I would let you take some jell-o to him now. But… Maybe tomorrow, if he is feeling better, you can.”

As she tilts her head to look up at Mace in surprise, he makes sure to stare straight ahead. “…Really?”

Mace nods. Then, looks down at her and gives her the barest of smiles. “Really.”

Zariza’s eyes narrow once again. “You promise?”

“I promise– but only if he feels better,” he emphasizes when she starts to grin. “No other time than that.”

“What if he asks for some and he doesn’t feel better?”

Patience, he reminds himself as they walk through the sun halls of the Temple. “Then ask Master Healer Che, or one of the other Healers.”

He gets silence as a response and he glances down to make sure she hasn’t suddenly run off. It’s happened before with her crèche master and Master Rheba Toome and Knight Kenobi – one could say she has a knack for simply sneaking off at the most random times – and he would very much dislike if she snuck away from him in the dark hallways. But, she’s still at his side, clearly thinking about something. Hopefully about what Mace just said and not about putting another flesh eating plant on a half working droid of Anakin’s.

“…What if there aren’t any Healers around?”

“There will be.”

“But what if there aren’t?” she presses.

Mace sighs quietly, hopefully enough to where Zariza doesn’t notice. “Then wait for one.”

More silence. Another glance. She’s still there.

“…I guess I can do that,” she says.

That is, well, kind of concerning. But better than the girl outright disagreeing with him, that’s for sure.

The rest of the walk to Knight Kenobi’s and Padawan Skywalker’s room is done in silence. Mace acknowledges the nocturnal Jedi with a nod, and Zariza shyly waves at the ones who notice her. When they get there Zariza let’s herself in, unlocking the quarters with zero problem, and hurries inside. Mace follows at more relaxed pace. He notices as she takes one look at the living area’s couch, frowns, and makes her way to the little hallway. Mace looks as well, and notices the padawan’s abandoned holopads for a few of his lessons, as well as just a general mess of the area that one would expect from a 14 year old when left alone.

Zariza speaking tears Mace’s attention away from the mess.

“Why the kark are you lying on the bathroom floor? ”

“E chu ta, Zari! None of your business.”

Ah. Huttese cuss words. Nothing unusual, but still.

“Watch your language, young ones,” Mace reprimands lightly, and makes his way to the bathroom where Anakin, indeed, lying on the bathroom floor.

Anakin groans. “Ah, chuba, why’d you bring him?” He sounds pitiful, so much so that it comes out as a whine more than anything. He’s sweating, too, and sickly pale, with visible bags under his eyes from where Mace and Zariza stand at the bathroom entrance. By the smell, Mace and tell that he’s thrown up again. None of is visible, so he’s sincerely hoping Anakin made it to the toilet in time and flushed.

“Because you’re a sick koochoo,” Zariza says.

“Language,” Mace says almost absentmindedly.

She huffs and crosses her arms. “I only called him an idiot.”

“I’m not sick,” the teen denies. It’s a weak argument. Mace can only raise an eyebrow. “And I’m not an idiot, either!” Raising his voice defensively sends Anakin into a coughing fit that ends rather quickly. He groans and curls into a ball, all the while keeping his face on the tile flooring.

Zariza rolls her eyes. “And I’m Jabba.”

Mace sighs and enters the bathroom. He crouches down to Anakin, and places the back of his hand on the boy’s forehead. He jerks away just as quickly, though that doesn’t keep Anakin from making a pitiful sound at the loss of contact. Mace’s lips form a thin line. “I think it’s best if I take you to the Healers, Padawan Skywalker,” he says.

“Nooo, I’m not sick!”

Mace shakes his head. “You are – you have a fever, Skywalker, and it’s best we take you to the Halls of Healing since Knight Kenobi is off planet.”

He mumbles and groans something indiscernible.

Zariza walks over and nudges Anakin’s side with her foot. “Do you want some red jell-o?”

“Kriff no.”

Mace almost tells them to watch their language again, but decides that is a fight he will have with them another day. Preferably during daylight hours and not at midnight when they were all supposed to be healthy and sleeping. Preferably, it won’t be him having such conversations with them.

(Truthfully, he loves the children in the Order, the Skywalker siblings included – but right now in his exhausted, slightly hangry state, he can only spend so much time with them.)

She hums. “What about tomorrow?”

Anakin stills. “…Maybe.”

The initiate grins and looks at Mace, clearly pleased with the answer.

He nods and gives her a smile of acknowledgment, then refocuses on the task at hand. “Can you get up and walk? Or will I be carrying you?”

Anakin gives another response that might as well be in another language, and Mace closes his eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose. He breathes in slowly a few times, centers himself, and opens his eyes again a few moments later.

“Okay. Carrying, it is.”

Anakin hardly protests – well, he tries, at least, but it can hardly be counted as anything – and Mace picks up him with not too much difficulty; one arm around the boy’s shoulders, the other under his knees. As Mace leaves the rooms, Zariza follows and turns off the lights along the way, and even locks the door once they are out into the hallway.

And then she starts talking. Continuously.

It’s a vast difference from earlier, and it catches Mace by surprise. Quickly, though, it dawns on him that she’s talking for her brother’s benefit. From droids to podraces to Master Yoda’s swamp stew to the names of new plants she has learned about, and so and so forth. Something about the rambling must help, because Anakin relaxes more as the walk to the Halls of Healing goes by. So much so that he gives up on holding his head up and rests it on Mace’s shoulder, almost passing out completely by the time they make it to the Halls, Zariza tapering off about a holoshow she heard one of the older initiates talk about the other day.

“Master Windu,” one of the Master Healers, a nocturnal species, greets with a bow. Dark, large eyes focus on the brother and sister once they stand straight. “Ah, and the Skywalkers,” they say, playfully flicking their tail in Zariza’s direction to get a giggle out of her.

“Hullo,” she says, smiling up at the Healer.

“Healer Rou,” Mace returns the greeting. “I’m afraid we have a sick padawan on our hands.”

“Hm, yes I see,” Healer Rou says, and moves closer to rest a hand on Anakin’s forehead just like Mace had done before. They remove it quickly, though not as fast Mace did. “He definitely has a fever. How long has he been feeling badly?”

The question is aimed to Mace, but he looks down at Zariza for the answer.

Her eyebrows raise at the realization. “What? Oh, uh… Last night, maybe?” She shrugs, shuffling awkwardly. “I dunno, really, I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, little one,” Healer Rou assures her. They pat her head with a kind smile. “It is okay if you don’t know.”

Zariza nods, relaxing a little. “He, uh, he’s puked a couple of times.”

Healer Rou hums, and motions for them to follow them. They do. “It is most likely a stomach virus of sorts, nothing too serious and nothing we can’t handle. It has been going around this month, I’m afraid. Padawan Skywalker will be the fifth one to have gotten it. I am assuming the plan is to have him spend the time here while he gets better? Until Knight Kenobi returns, that is.”

Mace nods while they enter a medical room, and carefully sets Anakin on the bed after Zariza dashes forward to pull the covers back. “Yes, it is. And Initiate Skywalker wants to give him his favorite red jell-o tomorrow if able.”

Healer Rou smiles, amused. “Of course. Come by at lunch and if he can stomach it, whoever’s rotation it is should allow it. Now; I have got everything under control from here, Master Windu – I will be sure to keep you updated, and will send a message out to Knight Kenobi letting him now as well.”

“Thank you, Healer Rou,” Mace tells them.

“Yeah, thanks Healer Rou!” Zariza exclaims, and rushes to hug the Jedi.

Healer Rou chuckles, hugging the young girl back. “Of course. Head on off to bed, now; we don’t need two sick Skywalkers,” they tease.

“Fine, I guess,” she sighs, far too dramatically for a ten year old that has both adults stifling their laughs.

But unfortunately, it actually takes ten more minutes to leave. Master Vokara Che appears, and speaks to Mace about how long Anakin might have to stay while Healer Rou pulls up Anakin’s medical file. Mace signs what he needs to, double checks with Vokara Che and Rou what he knows about any medicinal allergies he might have, and then leaves. Zariza sticks like glue to him the entire time.

Two steps out of the Halls of Healing, Mace stops in his tracks and picks her up after she yawns three times in less than two minutes.

“Th’nks fo’ helpin’, Window,” she mumbles into his shoulder with muffled, half asleep words.

Mace sighs, but smiles despite himself. He gently pats her back. “Of course, Zariza. Let’s get you back to your clan, hm?”

The answering soft snore he gets in return has him chuckling.

He hadn’t planned on his night to go this way, but he would be lying if he said he regrets it.

[mrskurono]

Oh my gosh, how are you doing Three? I hope you, Rae and your son are alright. Aww, poor baby boy! I hope you’re resting up and taking it easy💕 Ooh that’s awesome! Sounds like you got some great stuff!

It’s okay! I started watching them in high school (10+ years ago). I appreciate that you read my self ship thoughts hehe. YES! I stan an Iwaizumi who’s a rabid fan of dramas. Aw man, watch him try to convince Oikawa to watch dramas. I think that would be so funny because I can imagine talking about dramas with Iwaizumi and Oikawa when Oikawa visits!

Ugh, this is why I love Bokuto! 😭 He’d be so cute asking me what’s going on. I can see him telling Akaashi about it and we end up getting Akaashi to watch just so he knows what Bokuto is taking about aha ha

I love Atsumu, but I agree he would shit on the drama while I’m watching it. I’d tell him he can watch something else on his laptop or in the bedroom but he’d just try to annoy me when I’m watching. Watch him not be affected when I’m crying, he’d just be like “That was dramatic right?”. Lol, he would mention a cartoon that he and Osamu are watching!

Okay, I’m spoiling Atsumu with my self ship but I have more thoughts:

I can see myself watching a romantic scene and be and he’d critique the kissing. “He’s a bad kisser babe, let me show ya how the kiss should have gone”. Then I’d be like “Nice try buddy but I actually want to watch”

I think that if there’s a “spicy” scene or if the main actor has a shower scene (very normal on kdramas lol), he’d cover my eyes or critique the scene or insult the actor by saying “Babe, my body is better than that actor. I’m better looking too.” OH ATSUMU, how I love you!

Yes! Read your your Atsumu self ship thoughts earlier and I loved it! He would be so happy because you’re so talented and amazing with cutting hair and taking care of hair. Hehe, yay for free haircuts! Jk jk! But seriously, I can see you and Atsumu helping each other with your hair (Okay mostly you Three) but it’s so cute 😭

Thank you, thank you! I’ve been feeling very soft and needed to express my thoughts. I don’t know why I never self shipped before and I’m happy I do it now. It honestly makes me enjoy my fictional spouses more! 😙 Have a good night Three!

I am well! Actually got the first chapter to an Atsum series done so...fingers crossed I can complete it!

Most actor based shows just aren't my thing. Even movies, I'm not really into movies. But damn 10+ years that's dedication! Think the only thing I've stuck that long with was Adventure Time 😂

But yes drama loving Iwa! You can't tell me he doesn't love that shit and tries to rope Oikawa into your shows too! Which is only so much funnier bc Oikawa "looks" like he'd watch that kinda thing but totally teases you and Iwa about your shows

Atsumu and the sly "I can kiss better." ASDFGHJKL YES. Then you pause it in all seriousness to look at him with a "prove it" and Atsumu has a moment of panic like "Shit I didn't think I'd get this far what do I do." 😂 Oh god I love that man. Why must he consume my daily thoughts v.v

And the telling you he's way hotter. Totally Atsumu. Already 100% have the headcanon that he's a slutty dresser when at home and this only fuels it more.

I'm glad you feel comfortable to share these! Honestly it was eye opening the first time I learned people shit on self ships bc like....why the fuck else are we watching fiction? We're all in the same boat watching little picture boxes falling in love with fake people who don't exist. Live a little and have your cute little spouses bc life is too short to not indulge! Besides if you ever feel "cringy" just know Rae and I have an entire on going headcanon about out ot4 ship between us and Oikawa and Atsumu. Kids and pet headcanons as the cherry on the top. We're all nerds here, no point in not being the nerdiest <3

Pls remember to drink water and take care of yourself! Sorry I didn't get to it sooner it momentarily got buried!

[nomstellations]

what’s your favorite trope in vore? write it ♥︎

Anon bless your soul bc I got to write something very self indulgent that only appeals to me, probably. This might be a blend of more than one favorite trope, but hey! I loved writing this! It’s pretty long, so apologies to you guys for that ; ; I love dialogue!

Inkopolis was a bustling hub of culture and activity, filled to the brim with seafolk of all kinds. Nestled in the corner of the plaza was a cafe known as the Coral Reef, which was notably quieter than the area around it. Inside it seemed as though things were slow, with only one cashier behind the counter and a handful of inklings enjoying their snacks. Artemis, the colossal inkling behind the counter, is staring off into space with a rather dreamy expression on his face. Truth be told he was waiting on a certain someone he adored to come in today, and the gentle chime of the door being opened got his attention. In strolled an ink stained inkling, one he knew very well and it caused him to grin. “Well, if it isn’t the one and only~ You look like you’ve been in a fight or two.” The small bobtail squid strides up to the counter, sighing as she tries to wipe ink off herself. “Ugh, hey Artie...ranked was a struggle today. What’s with the look, did you get a raise or something?” He shook his head and stood up to his full height, reaching under the counter and handing her a towel to dry herself off with. “No no Ace, I was just thinking about some things. Thanks for bringing me back to reality, as you tend to do berry blue~” Ace takes the towel and wipes her face, hiding the small blush Art’s baritone voice brought her. He was always a big flirt, but he always laid it on a bit thicker with her. She figured it was just how he was, but she couldn’t help but get blue in the face when he directed them at her. Setting down the towel, she yawns and stares up at the menu. “So, whatcha got today? I’m starved after all that action!” “Well~” He hummed, gesturing to the display case full of treats. “I just finished setting out some of our house specials and a few fruit cheesecakes! I’ve been working on a little secret that may be on the menu as well, buuuut it could use some taste testing to assure its quality!” Ace’s eyebrows raised in curiosity, interested in the new development. “A secret, huh? Mind telling me, your best customer??” She smiled at him, and one to match it slowly grew on Art’s face.

If he can pull this off...he’ll have her right where he wants her.

“Well...it wouldn’t be a secret if I said it during business hours, but you are my best~” He leaned down to whisper it into the much smaller squid’s ear, taking note that she smells deliciously sweet as always. “Red Velvet Cake~ How’s about you come try it for me? You’ve got good taste!” Literally. Or, so he hoped. Ace visibly perked up, that was her favorite! And Artemis made the best cakes, she almost immediately jumped on the offer but a realization gave her pause. That back room...she’s seen a few inklings go back there with him, but only he ever stepped back out. She was suspicious, but the allure of her favorite dessert was a hard one to resist...going back for just one slice shouldn’t hurt. “Alright, you got me...I’ll just have a slice, I wanna get back to turf!” Artemis can hardly contain his delight, he’s been waiting so long for this day! “Ah, so the blue beauty finally joins me for a tasting session...I must say, I’m honored~” He opens the little door that separates the two of them, beckoning for her to come back with him. “Layin’ it on kinda thick there, Artie.” She grumbles as she follows his lead, trying to ignore the blush on her cheeks. He opens the door to the back for her with a wide smile, the light glinting a bit off of his fangs. Curiously and a bit hesitantly, she peers into the room and is met with the sweet scent of things baking. There’s a tray of muffins cooling on the table, along with a covered pan. Is that it? As if he was reading her mind, the orange-hued inkling stepped forward and pulled the cover off, revealing the red dusted cake to her with a mock bow. “Ta-daaa~ A lovely cake for the lovely little lady.”  Ace gasps in delight, moving over to get a closer look. “Oh, Artie...that looks so good! Cut me a slice please!” He’s way ahead of her, slicing through the moist cake as she says this and cutting her a sizable piece. “Your wish is my command, sweetness~ Enjoy!” Ace smiles at him and wastes no time digging into the moist cake, humming in delight at its sweet flavor. It doesn’t take long for her to finish it, and she pushes the plate away with a happy sigh. “That was a perfect pre-game snack, thank you so much! This’ll be a big hit with the customers, I guarantee it!”  “Thank you for your input, but is it good enough for seconds?” He nudges another slice onto her plate as he says this, it’s slightly bigger than the last. “Well, I don’t want to get sick fighting...after this I’m going to get going, okay?” The cake was eaten so as not to disappoint her large friend, and when she was finished she stood up and prepared to leave, much to Artemis’ dismay. “You’re leaving so soon? Ace my dear, I haven’t seen you all day...why don’t we talk about how you are over a third slice of cake?” Ace stared at him a bit suspiciously, why did he want her to eat so much of it? “Third…? That’s a lot of cake and I’m just one squid, I want to stay in fighting shape!”“Oh darling, every shape of yours is flattering and ready for a fight~ I baked this with love knowing you’d see me today...won’t you eat my gift to you?” She blushed, her tentacles curling up a bit as he mixes a few flirts into his words. “It’s a lot, can’t I just take it home?” Artemis’ stomach growls impatiently, he better move fast...charming her is fun and all, but his cravings are growing stronger by the moment. “I would much rather see those cute cheeks puffed out as you finish it off...come on, it’s taking you on! The great Ace could finish off a cake just as easily as she can wipe a team!” Ace nervously eyes the cake, it was smaller than what he’d normally bake as it was for tasting purposes, but it was still a lot for her. However, it’s at his insistence, and she didn’t want to waste something he made specifically for her… “Alright, fine. You owe me if I can finish this off!” “Oh not to worry, you’ll definitely be rewarded~” He smiles, trying to keep his exterior calm as he watches his plan work beautifully. Ace drills through the cake despite her previous remarks, leaving her with a visibly stuffed stomach that Artemis eyes hungrily. He didn’t want to abuse her competitive spirit but it was worth it, it’s about time for him to eat.... The sound of a chair scraping against the floor pulled the colossal squid from his hungry thoughts, and he watches in surprise as Ace stands up to leave. “Ugh, definitely overate...I think I’m just going to head home, sorry Art.” No, she can’t leave now! He can’t, he won’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers now that he’s so close! As she makes her way to the door he quickly cuts her off, leaning against it and smiling nervously. “W-wait Ace, you can’t go quite yet…" She stares up at him, his immense size over her starting to intimidate her alongside his weird behavior. "A-art, why can't I leave…?" The look in his eyes is ravenous, and as he leans down closer to her she can hear the loud and impatient growls of his stomach. "Ace...I've wanted this for the longest time now, I'm sorry…" He opens his mouth wide, his orange, slimy tongue dragging itself up the side of her face, making it clear exactly where she'll be going. Rattled, Ace digs her hands into his large, soft belly, hoping to get him away from her. “A-ARTEMIS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” He’s undeterred, making a shaky and pleased hum as she’s sweeter than he could have possibly imagined. “I’m sorry, I just can’t hold myself back any longer...you’ll be fine, I can promise you that much.” No longer listening to her protests he clamps his mouth down over her head, sealing her in humid darkness and continuing his tasting. Though now he’s mostly driven by hunger he gently strokes her back, trying to relax her so he doesn’t accidentally hurt her. She squirms and struggles as much as she can, tapping into her battle strength even, but it’s moot as Art pulls her further into his mouth and begins swallowing. Her small size relative to him makes eating her simple, with a powerful gulp already pulling her head and chest into his throat and her belly into his maw. He takes his time here, licking all over it and savoring her flavor and its fullness, before standing up and tilting his head back to let gravity do the work for him. Ace’s struggles gave out at this point, and she let peristalsis and the occasional light glurp from the colossal inkling pull her ever deeper to the loud groaning that was his stomach. When she was finally entirely sealed in his throat he sighed, sitting down in a chair and gently rubbing his stomach as she slipped inside it. She curls up without another word, and there’s a beat of silence before Artemis speaks again. “Ace...I’m truly sorry for deceiving you like this, but...I love you. I have for so long, and I wanted you as close to me as possible...you’re safe in there, I would never bring any harm to you. I just...wanted you in my embrace.” She lays still in him, processing his words. All those flirts...he meant them? She wondered if he was telling the truth, and judging by his stomach’s harmless churning and quiet, gentle burbling, he must have meant it. She had always liked him, but didn’t quite know what to say. As if he read her thoughts, he spoke again. “I understand that it’s overwhelming...when I let you out, we can talk more. I just want to hold you for a while, if that’s fine…” She subtly shifts, which is about the best answer she can give. He sighs, settling in to give her a massage. Truth be told, it wasn’t as bad as she thought in here….will he be doing this more if they got together?

She wouldn’t mind the idea of cuddling like this, if so.