#but they did it anyway because they wanted to watch it happen

[renasomewhere]

ANALYSING THE NEW COMIC BEFORE ANYONE HAS THE CHANCE TO HAHHAHA:

It starts with mizi ontop of sua (mizi top fr) and she is calling sua adorable, crushing her with compliments. Her ten fingers her ten toes, her same breath. Memorising it all. One thing to note is that sua is wearing mizi's dress, How it was supposed to be before sua wore white

Sua looks away, And I assume she is getting flustered. She never got that many compliments from her guardian or others that sounded like them (In reference to the comic where Sua's head gets called small) She is flustered by the fact she knows its genuine. She knows that mizi means every word of her compliments. She is the only one that receives them this way.

The worst frame of the comic imo, so sad..

This shows Mizi at around 2-4 years old grappling onto her mothers unmoving, pale corpse who has been crushed by accident from somebody that I believe to be Shine.

She cries because who wouldn't in this situation. The person who provided her with life is gone. Limp in her arms like a ragdoll. If only she knew that would have happened twice.

Shine suggests that mizi comes with her, To take care of the small child and become her guardian.

Because the incident that happened to mizi when she was so young she forgot that shine isn't her mother, It is either that or It is ettiqute / the norm to call your female guardian mother as sua does the same thing in the heavenly garden comic, Both of them looking like they are the same age during this time period (credits to @sorrowcure for the translation)

ANYWAY MOVING ON!

Mizi is watching the television that shine gave her, more specifically ALIEN STAGE. THIS IS WHERE IT GETS INTERESTING.

Mizi Knew the consequences of alien stage, She knew that her or sua would have died. Her shock probably came from the heat of the moment where she was just enjoying singing with her partner until she was gone.

SHE KNEW.

I determine this as mizi going to anakt to avoid the constant attention she got from her guardian and guardians family. She wanted to be the one to crush somebody. She wanted to be in a place where she wasn't the only thing that mattered. She chose the one human she saw after her mother, She picked Sua. She became Obsessed with her, Thinking of her as high and powerful as a god. She Became the one to crush.

Repetition, Just like sua did that day with the boy.

"So adorable."

"must be nice right?"

Two sides of a coin. Jealousy and Obsession.

Sua jealous that of her perception of mizi, Her perception that she "has it easy"

Mizi's Obsession, Finding sua utterly adorable that she has to repeat herself to make her point clear.

The end.

[izzih22]

Gemme some jealous and slight possessive paige. it's kinda hot

What Happens When You Push Her

Note: This is as dirty as yall are prolly ever gonna get from me. Also your welcome😂😂

Warning: Smut

Everyone knew Paige Bueckers was in the room before she even walked in.

You felt her before you saw her like the bass dropped when the door opened. Loud music, low lights, and somehow she still cut through the chaos like gravity. She wasn’t trying to draw eyes. She never did. But they always landed on her anyway.

Paige was the kind of person who made space by standing still.

Tonight she was wearing low-waisted joggers and a tight black crop top that clung in all the right places, a backwards UConn cap tugged low over her eyes. She barely made it two steps into the house before people started calling her name, offering drinks, pulling her into conversations.

She smiled easily. Dapped people up. Gave hugs. Moved through the crowd like she was on stage.

But her eyes were already scanning the room for one person.

Azzi was here somewhere. They’d come together along with KK and Ice, who had shouted something out the window about “hot people arriving” when they pulled up but the moment they walked in, the wave of attention hit, and they got separated.

Paige hadn’t seen her in twenty minutes.

Not a problem. Yet.

Until she caught a glimpse of her.

Azzi was near the bar. Laughing. Talking to some guy with perfect teeth and a shirt two sizes too tight. Paige didn’t recognize him probably not an athlete. Just one of those party crashers who showed up for free drinks and the hope of proximity.

His hand was hovering just above Azzi’s lower back. Not touching. But close enough to make Paige’s jaw tick.

Azzi didn’t move away.

Didn’t look uncomfortable either.

She was smiling.

Paige stared, cup in hand, lips pressed into a tight line.

“Yo,” KK said, stepping up beside her, already clocking the shift in her vibe. “You good?”

“No.”

KK followed her line of sight. “Ohhh.”

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“Pretty sure that’s just one of Jana’s friends. Chill.”

“I’m chill.”

“You’re literally crushing that cup.”

Paige looked down. Her fingers had crumpled the Solo cup without her noticing.

Ice strolled by, clapped her on the shoulder, and said, “Don’t start a fight, Buckets. Not before we even hit midnight.”

Paige didn’t answer. She was too focused.

Because Azzi still hadn’t looked over.

Still hadn’t moved.

Still hadn’t given any indication that she knew exactly what she was doing.

Which, of course, meant she knew exactly what she was doing.

⸻

Azzi felt her before she saw her.

Like always.

It was second nature by now the way her body tuned itself to Paige’s presence, like her muscles leaned toward her on instinct. She didn’t even have to hear her voice to know Paige was here. Didn’t have to turn around to know she was watching.

Azzi could feel it.

She was talking to some guy whose name she already forgot, half-listening to something about pre-law internships, when her skin lit up like a live wire.

She knew that heat.

It was Paige. Watching her.

And Azzi? She didn’t look. Not yet.

She smiled at whatever the guy said. Let her hand rest a little longer than it needed to on the edge of the counter. Tucked a curl behind her ear. Tilted her head like she was so interested.

She knew Paige hated this kind of thing. Hated seeing Azzi entertained by other people. Hated it even more when Azzi did it on purpose.

But Paige had been locked in all week barely there outside of practice, quiet during their nights in, and quick kisses.

Azzi wasn’t mad. She knew the season was long. But she was tired of waiting for Paige to look at her.

So tonight?

She was going to make her.

⸻

Paige let it stew.

Didn’t storm over. Didn’t cause a scene. Just stood back and watched.

Because Azzi wanted her attention?

She had it.

She had all of it.

Paige didn’t take her eyes off her not once. She tracked every touch, every lean-in, every soft smile Azzi gave away like it didn’t belong to someone else.

And when the guy leaned just a little closer when Azzi didn’t move back?

That was it.

Paige didn’t say a word. Just handed her drink off to someone, cracked her neck once, and started walking.

The team noticed immediately.

“She’s about to wreck someone’s life,” Ice said, nudging KK.

“Should we stop her?”

KK shook her head. “Nah. Azzi knows exactly what she’s doing.”

⸻

Azzi heard her first.

Sneakers against hardwood. A steady, deliberate rhythm.

She looked up, and there she was.

Paige. Backwards hat, jaw tight, eyes burning a hole through the guy she was talking to.

Azzi almost smiled.

Almost.

Paige didn’t stop when she reached them. Just slid in between them, so smoothly it looked natural, and put her hand flat on the bar beside Azzi.

“Having fun?” she asked, eyes still on the guy.

Azzi blinked, feigning innocence. “So far.”

The guy, clearly nervous now, glanced between them. “Uh, I didn’t know y’all were…”

“We are,” Paige said. Still not looking at him. “You good?”

He blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

“Then leave.”

He did.

And then it was just them.

Azzi leaned back against the bar, slow, deliberate. “Someone’s grumpy.”

“You really want to test me right now?”

Azzi licked her lips. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You let him touch you.”

“He didn’t touch me.”

“He wanted to.”

Azzi tilted her head. “So?”

“So you’re mine.”

Azzi’s breath caught.

And Paige leaned in voice low, dark, and close. “Keep playing if you want. Just know I’m not gonna be nice about it when I finally take you home.”

⸻

Azzi thought Paige would drag her out of the party right then and there.

She was wrong.

Paige stepped back, said nothing, and just… walked away.

Azzi blinked.

“What the—”

Paige didn’t look back.

She wove through the crowd, cool and effortless, slipping into the center of it like gravity. In minutes, she was surrounded with guys she knew from the rec gym, a few upperclassmen athletes, even a couple girls who clearly didn’t mind standing too close when they laughed at whatever she was saying.

And Paige? She let them.

She smiled. She cracked jokes. She leaned against the counter like she didn’t just corner Azzi ten seconds ago and whisper threats against her skin.

Azzi stood there, drink forgotten in her hand, stomach twisted in the best and worst way possible.

Paige was ignoring her.

On purpose.

Azzi’s chest tightened.

She knew Paige. Knew her moods, her silences. Knew the calm before the storm. And this? This was Paige in full control punishing her without even touching her.

Azzi watched her work the room. The little things how people leaned in when she talked, how she laughed with her whole mouth and threw her head back when she really meant it, how she carried herself like nothing and no one could shake her.

She was magnetic.

And she wasn’t looking at Azzi once.

Azzi shifted on her feet. Her palms were damp. She’d started this game, but Paige was winning it.

Badly.

⸻

“Yo,” KK said, sidling up to her with a lopsided grin. “You alive?”

Azzi didn’t answer.

“She’s making you sit in it, huh?”

Azzi sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I thought she’d pull me out of here.”

KK whistled. “You must’ve really pissed her off.”

“She’s not mad.”

“Oh, she’s mad,” Ice said, sipping something neon green from a Gatorade bottle. “But the hot kind of mad. Like, wait-until-we’re-alone mad.”

Azzi swallowed hard.

KK gave her a sympathetic pat on the back.

⸻

Azzi tried to stay normal.

Tried to talk to people, tried to finish her drink, tried not to keep glancing over at Paige like a puppy waiting for a command.

But it didn’t work.

Because every time Paige laughed with someone else, every time someone else touched her arm or leaned in a little too long, Azzi’s stomach flipped.

And Paige still didn’t look at her.

Not once.

⸻

It took 40 minutes.

Forty minutes of Azzi pretending not to care. Of Paige pretending she didn’t notice. Of everyone else pretending they weren’t watching this slow, silent war between them unfold in real time.

And then, without a word, Paige looked over her shoulder finally and locked eyes with Azzi from across the room.

Azzi straightened instantly.

Paige lifted her chin once. Just once.

Let’s go.

Azzi moved without hesitation.

No goodbye. No hesitation. She just followed.

⸻

They didn’t speak during the walk back.

Not across the street. Not through campus. Not in the elevator. Not in the hallway of Paige’s dorm building.

Azzi was wound tight. Breathing shallow.

Paige walked in front of her, calm and slow, keys in hand.

She didn’t say a word as she pushed open the door, stepped aside, and waited for Azzi to walk in.

Azzi did.

The door closed behind them.

And then?

Silence.

Azzi turned to say something—

But Paige was already moving.

⸻

It wasn’t a kiss. Not really.

It was a claim.

Paige backed her into the nearest wall and pressed their mouths together with the kind of force that made Azzi gasp. Her hands came up to Paige’s hoodie, fisting it on instinct.

Paige didn’t let her catch her breath.

Just kissed her deeper, mouth hot and demanding, tongue sliding in like she’d waited hours for it.

Azzi moaned into it, her knees going weak instantly.

“Paige—”

“You think that was funny?” Paige growled against her mouth.

Azzi shook her head, lips parted. “No.”

“You think I like watching people look at you like that?”

Azzi swallowed hard. “No.”

Paige grabbed her jaw gently but firmly. “You liked teasing me.”

Azzi blinked, already flushed. “I wanted your attention.”

“You had it,” Paige snapped. “You always have it.”

She kissed her again harder this time until Azzi whimpered and clutched at her shirt like she might fall apart.

And then Paige pulled back just enough to let Azzi breathe.

“Strip,” she said simply. “Then sit on the bed.”

Azzi went without a word.

⸻

Azzi had never been this close to falling apart.

Her whole body trembled, flushed from her chest down to her toes, skin damp with sweat and need. Her thighs shook every time Paige so much as breathed on them. Her voice was hoarse from begging three times denied, three times brought to the edge and yanked cruelly back like a wave that never crashed.

She was flat on her back, legs spread, hands still obediently gripping the edge of the bed like Paige had told her to.

Paige knelt between her legs calm, in control, eyes dark with something dangerous and beautiful.

“You wanted attention,” she murmured, dragging her fingers up Azzi’s thigh so slowly it was unbearable. “Now you’ve got it.”

Azzi moaned, barely able to speak. “Paige…”

Paige leaned in, her mouth brushing hot against her ear. “You don’t come until I say.”

Azzi whimpered, nodding desperately. “I won’t. I won’t.”

“Good girl.”

Paige kissed her again deep and slow and let her hand slide back between Azzi’s thighs.

Azzi gasped.

It was too much. It wasn’t enough. It was everything she needed.

Paige moved her fingers with that same maddening rhythm press, curl, slow drag and Azzi’s entire body arched like a bowstring ready to snap.

She was close.

Too close.

“I—I’m gonna—”

Paige pulled back.

Again.

Azzi cried out, a broken, aching sound that cut the air in half.

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes.

She was so far gone it didn’t even feel like teasing anymore. It felt like worship and torture in the same breath.

Paige moved back up, straddling Azzi’s hips, holding her down.

“You feel that?” she whispered. “That ache?”

Azzi nodded, frantic.

“That’s mine.”

Paige leaned down, kissing the tears off her cheek.

“That desperation? That’s mine too.”

Azzi sobbed a little, still trembling. “Please. I can’t—I can’t take anymore. I need you.”

Paige stroked her cheek, finally softening. “You gonna be good?”

“Yes,” Azzi breathed. “I’ll be so good.”

“You gonna remember who you belong to?”

“I never forgot.”

Paige kissed her slow, firm, unforgiving.

“Then come for me.”

Her fingers moved again and this time, Paige didn’t stop.

Azzi’s body snapped.

She cried out Paige’s name, eyes squeezing shut, back arching as pleasure ripped through her like a flood. Her legs shook uncontrollably, and Paige held her through it kept her grounded, kept her anchored, whispered her through the high as her whole world shattered around her.

It hit her so hard she nearly sobbed.

By the time it passed, she was spent barely breathing, legs twitching, skin slick, tears on her cheeks from the sheer intensity.

Paige kissed her forehead, then her jaw, then the corner of her mouth.

“You did so good,” she whispered. “That’s my girl.”

Azzi clung to her weakly. “That was so mean.”

Paige smiled against her neck. “You started it.”

“I’m never teasing you in public again.”

Paige brushed sweaty curls from her face. “You are. And I’ll do this again.”

Azzi made a soft, exhausted sound and nuzzled into her chest.

Paige pulled the blanket up around her, tucked her close.

“Sleep,” she murmured.

“I love you,” Azzi mumbled.

“I know. I’ve got you.”

Paige kissed her temple, holding her while her breathing slowed.

And for once Azzi didn’t dream.

She didn’t have to.

Paige was already everything she wanted.

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

Puff puff pass

Katsuki, denki, kiri, izuku

(Their first time smoking weed)

Katsuki-

It was no secret that you smoked weed most nights to help with your ADHD. You weren’t loud and obnoxious about it, it didnt engulf your personality, and it definitely didn’t affect your school or hero work. You always made sure to do it far enough away from the school so it didn’t affect anyone or taint the UA name, and you never smelled of anything when youd come back, so naturally nobody batted an eye at it. One night when you were getting ready for your nightly routine, Katsuki poked his head around from behind the kitchen cupboard and asked you something you never in a million years ever expected to come from his lips.

“Oi, extra, can I….can I come with you? Wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

Your eyes widened at the question, unsure of if he was somehow taking the piss out of you, or if he genuinely wanted to try it…

“I mean, yeah, if you want? Thought you weren’t into that kinda thing though…”

“Tsk. Dont it get twisted, im not gonna turn into some fucking pot head who can’t keep his eyes open and wastes his life getting high and eating shit food all the time, i just…you seem relaxed when you come back, i kinda wanna know what thats like…”

For the first time since youd know him, Katsuki was being somewhat soft with you…he seemed embarrassed with himself as he asked, uneasy with letting some form of vulnerability out, but you smiled and nodded your head, pulling your shoes on and doing up your hoodie.

“Yeah that’s cool man, you can try a bit just, you gotta listen alright?”

“Of course I’ll listen, im not gonna go smoking the whole thing because I think I can god dammit. Im not a fucking idiot.” He scowled at you as he walked over and started putting his shoes on, grabbing his jacket and leaning against the doorframe for you to be ready to leave. You patted your pockets, double checked you had everything, then set off together.

As you ignited the joint, he watched you inhale, hands in his pockets and leaning against the side of an overgrown tree next to you both. He watched you inhale it, hold your breath for a second then exhale, the white cloud dissipating quickly above you. He stared at the joint, nervously twitching his hands in his pockets, as he glanced up to you,

“Do you wanna try smoking it yourself or did you want me to just blow it at you?”

“I, er, I dunno. What would be best?”

“Depends how high you wanna get, could just try blowing it at you so you get a residual high if you wanted? Or if you toke it a few times youll get kinda high and see how it really feels?”

“Fuck it, I never shy away from anything, give it here.” He grabbed the joint and inhaled it, his eyes widening as the thick smoke laced his lungs, it was only a small toke but it was clearly the first time he’d ever smoked anything before. He instantly started coughing, throwing he joint back at you and hunching over, clutching his stomach. You tried to stifle your laughter, tried to rub his back and encourage him that most people cough the first time anyway, and then added that it’ll probably get him a little higher anyway.

“Oh fuck, do NOT tell anyone this happened. Fuck, I can’t fucking breathe, Jesus.”

After he calmed down, you smoked the rest of the joint, as he asked to try one more time.

“The ends called a stinging cherry cause it gets really hot when you inhale it so just…take it easy okay? It gets hot like instantly.”

He inhaled it slowly, taking a tiny drag then exhaling, taking another tiny little one before handing it back to you.

“See, told you i wasnt a pussy. So…how long does it take before you feel all high and shit?” His eyes started to gloss slightly, as he started to blink slightly heavier.

“Depends, usually takes me about 10/20 mins then I start feeling it, but youll probably start feeling light headed and relaxed pretty soon. If you start feeling sick or shaky or whatever, just let me know and I’ll take care of you. You should be fine though, this is my weak shit and you only had a tiny bit. Wanna watch a movie together in my room or something? Yano, so I can keep an eye on you?”

His face softened as he looked at you, eyes slightly dropping as a faint smile traced his lips. He nodded and turned to walk back to the dorms. On the way back he barely spoke, just continued to lazily look around at the trees that laced the courtyard, then waited for you to open the door so you both could walk in.

You got to your dorm and he fell straight onto your bed, face first, and let out an exhausted sigh, something between tiredness and appreciation.

“Fuuuuck your beds so much comfier than mine. Hmmmm.” You laughed at his high over exaggeration, rolling your eyes then gabbing a few blankets and turning your tv on. You put on a comedy film, nothing too interesting but enough for him to relax too and laugh at, as you then snuggled up next to him and started to trace circles on his back. He lifted his head, opened one eye to stare at you, let out a tiny smile then rolled over so his head was on your lap.

“Fuckin nerd.” He whispered, half asleep and completely content. You gently started playing with his hair, tracing the outline of his ear as you chuckled at the jokes in the film. He started to drift off, eyes becoming too heavy to keep open and humming slowly at how content he was at your touch. You both ended up falling asleep like his, only to wake up 4 hours later in the exact same position.

Katsukis snores woke you up, you were still pretty relaxed, and looking down at him drooling on your lap only made your smile wider. You decided to wake him up gently, cooing his name softly and rubbing his back.

“Kats, you gotta wake up man, my legs gone completely dead.” He groaned at your attempt to wake him, nuzzling his head further into the pillow that was your thighs as he scrunched his face up. You decided you weren’t going to push it, you gently moved his head and scooted down so you could get him to spoon you, if he was going to sleep in your bed you at least wanted some of his warmth. He lazily wrapped his arm around you, letting it fall heavily around your waist as he pulled you closer. His snores immediately began again, and as you closed your eyes to drift back off, you couldnt help but relish in his softness. You let out a tiny giggle at the fact that youd never be smoking alone again, not that you minded anymore. ‘What a beautiful way to fall inlove.’ You said to yourself as he pulled you in tighter.

Denki-

You both got collared at an end of year UA party when Shinso offered you both a toke on his joint. You grabbed at it first, having tried it a few times previously and inhaled it like a pro, showing off the smoke rings you could do in denkis face. He laughed, nervously grabbed it off you and took a long drag, trying desperately to act like he knew what he was doing. You and shinso could see how badly he was holding his cough back as he exhaled and started glancing at you both. You laughed and took it back off him, inhaling again and holding it in your lungs as you passed it back to shinso, and waved your hand for Denki to come close to you. You cupped your hands around your mouth and his and exhaled so he could inhale your blow back. His face flustered at the close proximity, then fluttered his eyes as he inhaled as much as he could from you. Shinso looked at you both, raised an eye at brow and rolled his eyes, walking off to finish his joint alone.

Denki laughed nervously as you smiled at him, eyes wide and smile gleaming, he felt like the coolest guy at the party.

“So, guess that means we’re dating then ey? Almost kissing infront of shinso….” He flung his arm around you and pulled you close to him, almost loosing his balance as his head felt slightly lightheaded. You laughed and pushed him off,

“Easy now stoner, just because I gave you blow back doesn’t mean im inlove with you.”

“Blow….back? If you wanted to blow me you could’ve just said.” His Pervy charm never discouraged you, if anything his blatant flirting always made your stomach flutter. You rolled your eyes and smirked at him, causing him to look around frantically as the anxiety of you sucking his dick flushed his face.

“Youd be so lucky. Anyway, wanna see if shinso will roll one for us? Kinda wanna smoke s’more by the fire.” Denkis face light up, you wanted to spend more time with him? Even after his stupid joke? Damn maybe you were inlove with him.

“Fucking yesssss! I got chu, he’ll definitely let me roll it for us.” You rolled your eyes again, laughing gently at him.

“Think we should let him roll it for now, i dont wanna be chomping down bud whilst smoking. Wouldnt be too sexy.”

“Anything you do is sexy.” He didnt mean to say it quite so loudly, and as soon as he did, his face flushed pink as he tried to overcorrect himself with rambles. You couldnt help but giggle, pulling him by the arm and link yours in his.

“Cmon dummy, let’s go get some more. Maybe then we can talk more about blowing backs out…”

He really did try to contain his excitement, he really did, but the thought you arching over infront of him as he fucked you from the back was too much…he straight up nearly came in his pants that second.

As shinso handed you both a joint, he jokingly said that you had to kiss him as payment for it. He stared down at you with his darkened eyes, smirk slapping his face and eyes dancing up and down your body. Before you couldnt even retaliate, denki jumped in and kissed him quickly on the mouth, thanking him frantically and pulling you away as you giggled at his sheer speed. You both sat down next to the fire and smoked the joint together, passing it between the two of you as you recited the funniest memes you knew to each other. Denkis laugh filled you with excitement, his sweet face buzzing as the high set in. He wasn’t overly excitable as usual, he was calmer but more smiley, if that was at all possible, as he then took your hand in his.

“You’re so fucking cool, Yano that? Like….who else loves memes, smokes like a boss and can appreciate a good set of boobs…I think you’re my soulmate for real.” You threw your head back and laughed, only furthering his growing love towards you.

“Very sweet of you denks but, I don’t think you can call me your soul mate. Not yet anyway, Weve never even kissed….what if it’s shit? What if we end up clashing teeth and laughing too much? Would be a terrible soulmate if I didn’t even know how to do that with you let alone….” You stopped yourself, your cheeks flushing at the idea of spending the night with him. This only made his false confidence grow as he pulled you closer to him and embraced you in a sweet, Smokey kiss. His lips were soft, warm and wet, leaving you almost instantly breathless as a tiny spark zapped at the corners of your mouth. You giggled at the shock,breaking the kiss, but he kept his lips close to yours as he spoke,

“God fucking damn, you definitely are my soulmate now….chat, clip this. Gonna be playing at our wedding.” Who knew that smoking weed would suddenly mean youd gained a soulmate, and a husband at that.

Kirishima-

Kiri always wanted to try smoking, he didn’t like to admit it, but he always thought that a man smoking looked cool as hell. He knew you smoked, and when he saw you in the smoking area of the club, he couldnt help but let his Dutch courage get the better of him.

“Hey cutie how’s it going? Can I ask a weird question please?” He was always so full of smiles and laughter, so when he was drunk he was even more so, almost falling into you as he spoke.

“Yeah of course man what’s up? Having fun? Can’t believe minas dancing her ass off so much, Shes gonna be dehydrated to fuck by the time we all get home.” You both laughed as he nervously glanced down at your weird smelling cigarette.

“Yeah she’ll be alright, I’ll get her some water in a minute just to make sure, Yano me, always keeping an eye on everyone. Anywho….can I maybe, eh, try some?” He pointed his hand towards your joint as you looked down at it and then back up at him.

“Errr, it’s not, um, how do I say this? It’s not a real cigarette. It’s a spicy one.”

“Oh spice? Think I can’t handle it? I love spicy stuff cmon! “He reached for your joint, clearly misunderstanding what you meant. You retracted your hand quickly from him,

“No Kiri, it’s a joint. Yano..weed.” His eyes furrowed slightly at your confession, not aggressive, just inquisitive.

“Oh….does that mean you can’t share it between people or? I don’t really know much about it so..” you giggled at him and pointed it slightly towards him, offering it to him slightly without forcing it outright infront of him.

“You can try some if you want, it just might make you feel a little more chilled out, Yano, less tipsy and more relaxed, more tired.” He looked down at it and smiled, appreciating the fact you hadn’t forced it upon him, or hid the fact it wasnt a normal cigarette.

“I got this cutie, I just wanna try a tiny bit of it anyway.” He inhaled slightly, held it then exhaled, looking as if he was a nature born smoking, “think I did it right…right? If I nearly die will you take care of me? “ His eyes beamed down at you as he handed it back, laughing slightly.

“Of course Kiri, I’ll take good care you of my new little stoner.” You laughed at him as he activated his quirk quickly,

“Boulder babe.” His wink took you by surprise, causing your laugh to catch in your throat as you tried to inhale more of your joint. Was he always this attractive or did seeing him smoke that joint stir something in you…men who smoke weed did always seem pretty cool to you after all.

Izuku-

This bundle of joy didnt mean to inhale as much as he did, he didn’t even mean to be in the way of your exhale at all infact. You were waiting outside the shop as he ran in to get you guys some snacks for the group movie night tonight, and accidently walked straight into the cloud you let go from your lungs. He immediately started coughing, waving his hand and trying to disperse it, and bent down clutching his lungs. It wasnt as if it was a small exhale either, you were trying to smoke your joint as fast as you could so you didn’t have to smoke it near him, and subject him to a secondhand high.

“Oh fuck zuku im so sorry! Stop coughing it makes it worse! Just try get away from it!” It was a stronger weed than you usually got, a new strain monoma had got in for you to try, so if izuku was breathing it in so desperately, there was no way in hell he wasn’t getting at least a little high from it. You rubbed his back as he tried to stop, his face bright red from coughing too hard, as you used your other hand to fan the smoke away.

“It’s okay it’s okay….does this mean im a stoner now? Like….do I have to say i do drugs now?! I have to tell all might. I need to ask him something.” He very quickly ran off, and before you could catch him he started shouting for all might in a panicked tone. You couldnt help but laugh slightly, then the realisation that all might would now be told about you smoking weed set in. Fuck. You suddenly became increasingly more nervous at the thought of getting kicked out of UA over a tiny little joint. You eventually caught up to izuku, tackling him to the ground as he squirmed under you.

“Dude chill! I am NOT getting kicked out because all might finds out I smoke weed sometimes. Please zuku! I can’t let this ruin my chances at my dream!” He stopped squirming and contemplated the aftermath of him telling all might, at all the complications that could come your way. Suddenly, you were both interrupted by the soft sound of all mights footsteps as he was searching for where izukus voice had come from. He smiled sweetly at the sight of you two, his eyes then widening and spinning himself around as he clocked that you were straddling young izuku. You looked down at your stance and jolted off him, walking over to all might as you tried to explain.

“It’s okay young y/n, you don’t have to explain young love to me. I was going once, I get it, just….maybe not in the middle of the path next time okay? Not a good look for up and coming pro heros.” He giggled and rubbed the back of his neck, as izuku scrambled to his feet and stood no more than two inches away from all might.

“Sir, I need to ask you something. What would happen to…Yano…if someone were subjected to weed. Would they….feel it too. Im freaking out.” Izukus stature was dead straight, his eyes wide as he spoke, your own body recoiling back into itself as he confessed your antics to the number one hero.

“They would be fine young izuku, please don’t worry, just don’t make it a regular thing okay? It’s not…good for you or your body. Okay?” He looked at both of you, slight concern in his eyes as he smiled softly at you two. You both nodded and bowed, thanking him for keeping your secret and assuring him it was a one time thing (for one of you anyway), as you then grabbed his arm and ran you both back towards the UA dorms.

Izuku panicked the whole time, frantically glancing his eyes at everyone as if they knew his dirty little secret, and were about to expose him to everyone. You laughed at his expression, rubbing your hand over his in an effort to comfort him. You leant over and whispered to him,

“Chill zuku, no one knows, and the more you freak out the less relaxed youll be. Just chill….do you wanna go lay down for a bit?” He looked over to you and shook his head yes frantically, standing up and squeezing your hand as he dragged you towards his dorm.

You sat him down in his bed and got him one of his all might blankets, telling him lay down and get comfy. You laid next to him and cuddled him into your chest, rubbing his back as you hummed some songs from your childhood to try to relax him. He eventually nodded off, far too anxious about the fact hed done drugs to even be anxious about being close to your chest. You lay your head ontop of his and smiled, relishing in the comfort of the soft, sweet cuddles. You eventually nodded off and ended up spending the night in this exact position with him. In the morning you woke up to him standing dead straight facing his door, shaking slightly. You laughed lowly as you noticed him,

“Drugs are bad. Look, we spent the night together and i didnt want my first time to be under the influence. I don’t even remember it. Im so sorry y/n, im ashamed of myself. Please forgive me.” You could hear the tears welling in his eyes as he spoke, terrified youd had sex together. You patted the bed and smiled at him,

“Zuku, we didn’t have sex, we literally just cuddled. Trust me, drugs or not, I think we’d remember loosing our virginities together. Look, we’re both still fully clothed and there’s no condom in sight, okay? Chill dude i got you, no more drugs for you.” He looked around the room, confirming what you said before letting out an exhausting sigh and sitting down next to you again on the bed.

“Thank god, I didn’t want our first time to be like that, I wanted it to be….yano…romantic and amazing and, I actually have a plan written down on how I want to go..” He reached down to grab his notebook, suddenly freezing as hed just openly admitted to you that he wanted to lose his virginity to you. His body froze, almost looking like an anime still.

“Thats very sweet of you zuku, but I think we need to go on a date first before we think about having sex Yano? Maybe try a kiss first or something?” Your laughter filled the room, as he fell back, embarrassment filling his face, as he covered the entirety of it with his hands. Not only had he done drugs, but he had a girl spend the night in his bed then confessed he wanted to have sex with her. This was a whole new level of embarrassment for him, and he swore to never go near drugs ever again.

[belowablue]

Not Boyfriend Material - James Potter x Reader

Who is she, posting frequently? I'm actually pretty proud of this one guys, over 2k words and everything!

MDNI

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“How could he ever think I’d want to go out with him?” Lily exclaimed from your right side. You snorted. 

James Potter had once again tried his luck with the supposed ‘girl of his dreams’ and it had, once again, resulted in his public humiliation as she turned him down. You were beginning to wonder if it was some sort of weird kink he had. 

“I mean,” she continued, “I can’t make it much more obvious that I don’t want him, not like that.”

“I know Lils” you said, half-focused on the white flowers in the hedge you were walking alongside. The two of you had fled the Great Hall after Lily’s latest outburst and were wondering the grounds whilst Lily let it all out. 

“For goodness sake I don’t know how many different ways I can turn him down,” she babbled, “I’m running out of ideas here I can’t-“ 

You cut her off, “you shouldn’t have to, he should have it in his big head by now that the two of you are never going to happen.”

Lily sighed, flicking her hair over one shoulder, “but that would mean the end to his childhood dream.” You snorted again, “you’re not responsible for keeping that alive, its in his own head.” Lily hummed next to you, watching you trail your fingers across the leaves of the hedge. 

You two had done this song and dance a million times before, each time she rejected James you would put your heads together to try and figure out why he insisted on pursing her. You pretty much always came to the same answer; because it’s all he’d ever known. 

“Ugh” she began again, “it’s not like he’s ever shown any signs that he’d be a good boyfriend anyway.” 

Your brow furrowed but you let her continue. 

“He’s never dated anyone because he’s been holding out for me whatever that means”, she used her fingers as air quotes to say this, which made you giggle.  “But I think he’s slept with about half the girls in our year” 

“Oh but he’s just practising for you Lils” you said mischievously as Lily immediately began making loud vomiting sounds. “But I agree” you said “sex does not equal romantic experience.” 

Lily nodded. “Anything else?” She prompted. You thought for a moment or two, fingers encircling a delicate white blossom you’d plucked off the hedge. 

“I think he’d be a good lay, with all his practice and Black as his best friend,” You pondered before announcing “I’d shag him.” 

Lily nodded subduedly beside you, “but?”

“But he’s not boyfriend material” you concluded. “Just because he can find the clit does not mean he can plan a good date.” Lily laughed beside you, evidently relieved that you were backing her up, though you always did. She went quiet and you turned to look at her, flower still in-between your fingers. 

“I’m so tired of watching my back in case of another spontaneous proposal” she grumbled, “He just doesn’t get it I won’t ever want to go out-“ 

You cut her off gently. “You don’t need to justify yourself to me,” you took her hand and squeezed it gently. “I know why.” 

She smiled gratefully back at you, green eyes glistening. “Yeah” she murmured, “yeah.”

You both walked along in silence for a bit, thinking. “Come on,” you turned to her. “Let’s go back or we’ll miss dinner.” 

As you turned back to the castle you discarded the flower thoughtlessly on the ground.

It wasn’t until you had moved away that James Potter appeared from the other side of the hedge, rubbing his jaw ruefully. Noticing the discarded bloom, he bent down and picked it up, twirling it from hand to hand.

“Not boyfriend material huh” he said to himself. He glanced up at your retreating figure and spoke to your back “we’ll see about that.”

———————————————————————————————————————-

“Oh fuck, James!”

James Potter smirked as his hips met yours, balls deep in you pussy. He had managed to persuade you into having a little soiree, egged on by your own words bouncing around in his head, ‘I’d shag him.’ 

But he was also a man with a plan. Once he’d fucked you senseless, proving all the gossip true, then he was going to introduce a new side of him; one that was absolutely boyfriend material. 

He hummed, “you like that baby?” Flushed face staring down at your own as he kept up a quick deep pace. You were babbling nonsense, feeling your second orgasm approaching, “fuck yes, Jamie I, - shit, please, harder!” 

Who was he to deny you? Picking up his pace, silently thanking all that quidditch practice for giving him excellent stamina, he began to rub your clit as well, eagerly watching your face, delighted to see it crumple in pleasure as your orgasm built. 

He was panting hard and you were moaning like a pornstar when you came on his cock. Fuck he was done for, you got so tight around him and you looked so pretty when you came just for him that “Shit shit shit”, he moaned your name loudly as he came in you, filling you up.  

You both relaxed, panting, enjoying your post-orgasm buzz. James slowly pulled out, savouring the feeling, and leaned back to watch his cum drip out of you. You huffed, watching him watching you, resisting the urge to roll your eyes, was this some sort of primal thing boys had? 

You were just about to kick him away, already having mixed thoughts about what you were going to tell Lily, when you felt his finger on your clit again. You jumped. 

“Sensitive?” He asked. This time, you did roll your eyes “no shit.”

He grinned at you and there was some mischief in there you didn’t quite like. 

“Got one more for me?” 

“I-“ you were speechless. Again, he wanted you to cum again? The other girls had said nothing about stuff happening after he came. 

Taking your silence as permission he stretched out between your legs and it was then you saw what he was planning to do.

“James there is definitely still-“ He cut you off, “don’t care, I’ll be able to taste how good I fucked you, now come here.”

Well, you didn’t have any complaints. James’ head was legendary. 

You left your legs nice and open for him as he continued to thumb your clit and brought his tongue down to your entrance, plunging it in, tasting the combination of your two releases. He groaned into you, sending delicious vibrations through your body. You gasped. 

“Fuck, we taste so good together baby” you were only half-listening, your third orgasm building embarrassingly quickly. With his quick, enthusiastic stimulation you were coming in two minutes flat, moaning so loudly, and, to your mild horror, squirting on his tongue. 

You weren’t sure what he would think, but his noises of surprised delight and the gyrations of his hips into the mattress relaxed you. You had to push his head gently away to get him to stop. 

He pulled back, male pride written all over his shiny face. “Alright?”

You lazily glared at him from your fucked-out state, “yeah yeah.”

He grinned and disappeared into the bathroom. This was the perfect time to make your quiet escape. Nobody really stuck around afterwards. Just as you were trying to get your twitchy legs to move, he reappeared, was cloth in hand. 

His grin dropped slightly as he saw you trying to wriggle off the bed. “Hey” he called softly, “hang on.”

You had no choice but to do as he asked. It was that or have the full embarrassment of having him watch you drop to the floor with jelly legs. So you stayed where you were and watched with surprise as he brought the damp cloth in-between your legs, gently and reverently cleaning up the mess he made. 

You stayed very still, unsure where this was going.  No other girls had said anything about receiving this kind of aftercare. It was normally a slap on the arse and a “same time next week?” 

Once James had finished, he stepped back, still naked, and began wringing the cloth in his hands, as if he was nervous. You almost couldn’t believe yourself, James Potter was never nervous. 

“Um” he began, “you don’t want to, to stay, do you?” 

You froze. Definitely uncharted territory. And the worst part was you couldn’t figure out his motivation. Why on earth was he suddenly being so nice about his hookups? But the more you thought about it, the more you were sure you wouldn’t make it back to your own dorm in your current state, so you nodded silently. 

Clear relief flooded his face as he tossed the cloth aside. “Good, I mean great, I mean fine” He said, sidling in next to you, fixing the duvet from its crumpled state so you were both covered and warm. You refrained from getting too close to him, you still had no idea what the fuck this was, until you glanced over and saw him lying on his back, the arm nearest you outstretched, giving you an in to lie on his chest. 

You thought about it for all of two seconds, weirder things had happened tonight than you cuddling with James Potter. So you came over, head lying on his warm chest and he brought his arm up to encircle you, holing you there.

You sighed contentedly, eyes already drooping closed. This was nice. It had been a while since you cuddled with anyone like this. You very quickly fell asleep, tired out, leaving James wide awake. 

His head was buzzing. You’d agreed.  You’d actually agreed to stay with him. To sleep in his bed and cuddle him. This was perfect.  This was all he wanted. He’d not been dissatisfied with his previous hookups by any means, but,  but it was nice to feel anchored down. Phase two of his plan was going splendidly. By the next morning, if he successfully completed it, you would have no choice but to see him as the best boyfriend ever. 

With this comforting thought in his head, he closed his eyes, squeezed you a little closer and fell asleep.

Sunlight fell onto your eyes, waking you up. You pried your eyes blearily open and peered around. The warmth was gone. You sat up a little. No James. ‘Typical’ you thought, angrily tugging at your hair, ‘he’s the one who borderlines begs me to stay the night yet disappears first thing.’ You began to look around the room for you clothes, ‘probably scared of the commitment’ you decided.

Just as you were about to get up, the door flung open. In breezed one Potter holding a tray adorned with all the breakfast food you could want. You stared, what else was there to do? 

“Oh you’re awake” he said cheerfully. “I’ve brought breakfast” It was like he had sunshine injected into his voice. “Sorry lovie, I wasn’t sure what you like, so I got a bit of everything.” He chuckled, “the house elves are so helpful.” He set the tray down at the foot of the bed and stepped back, looking at you expectantly, smiling from ear to ear. 

Dazed, you murmured something unintelligible, reaching for a piece of toast and honey. Once he saw you were eating, he plopped down on the side of the bed and took an apple out of his pocket. 

“Did you sleep well?” 

You blinked. What alternate universe had you woken up in. You nodded slowly at him and he rewarded you with a dazzling smile 

“Excellent, I did too incase you were wondering, you’re very comfortable.” No one had ever said that about you before. You had to credit James for originality there. 

His eyes fell on your naked torso and widened slightly. Looking down, you suddenly had the urge to tug the duvet up to cover yourself as if he hadn’t had his face there hours ago, but James had silently turned away, apple abandoned and went around the room gathering up your discarded clothes. 

You watched him, chewing your toast, lost for words. This never happened. This actually never happened. No one stayed the night. No one cuddled. No one was treated to breakfast in bed. What was he doing. You decided he must have sustained a head injury at some point. Only rational explanation. 

You reached up to push your hair away, only find your fingers sticky with honey. James noticed, because of course he did, and cleared his throat. You looked at him. 

“You could go” he offered, “or you could, y’know, have a shower, get cleaned up.”

Words finally found you, which was great because you decided to make the most of this very domestic situation. “Would you join me?” 

James beamed, “what ever you want baby.” 

Getting up, you also took note of the frequent use of endearing pet names. It was almost like he was your boyfriend.  

AN: guys I saw the most heartwrenching marauders edit on TikTok to that one Alex Warren sound, fuckass app. I also wanted to put this picture in at the top but I couldn't format it right so it's going here xxx

[kandyscorner]

Do I Know You? Part 30

Synopsis: Jason’s back and you both talk somethings out.

Note: There is definitely some form of communication in this chapter. People are learning and changing but there is still miscommunication. They’re as affectionate as ever too. Enjoy!

Side Note: I wrote a little snippet from earlier in the series to celebrate chapter 30. Here's the link to Part 8.5. Thank you to all the wonderful people that read and comment and reblog. 😘😘

Masterlist

Your bed was empty when your alarm went off in the morning. Had you hallucinated Jason? You bury your face into “Jason’s” pillow and get a deep breath of him. No, he had to have been here. You had washed the sheets.

You roll back on your back and listen for the tell-tell scuffling of him in the kitchen. It was still quiet; you didn’t hear him around the apartment. Did he leave?

You pull yourself out of bed and pull-on Jasons red hoodie that he had left there (one you may or may not have been sleeping in in his absents). You trudge out into the living room and find the window open.

You go through a rollercoaster of emotions in less than a minute. A spike of fear because someone may have broken in, a spike a of anger when you spot the silhouette of a man you haven’t seen in months, and then confusion because the man wasn’t red hood or a thief. It was just Jason sitting on the fire escape.

You knock on the frame of the window and he finches, limbs moving in a rush before settling down. You climb out the window, something you suddenly realize you’ve never done. You get a whiff of what you think is cigarette smoke as you settle down next to him, thighs pressing into each other.

“Hey,” you whisper not wanting to break the mostly quiet atmosphere of the city morning. You swing your feet as you look down at the alley below you and then up at the rooftop across the street. You finally turn your head to look at Jason and find him staring at you already. Staring at you like he used to, the way that used to bother you, like he’s analyzing you.

“What?” you ask, less felling self-conscious and more wanting him to speak.

“Nothing, you’re just pretty,” he tells you still staring. You drop gaze back down to the alley with a mumbled thanks. You tug at the sleeves of his sweater to calm your flustered nerves. His hand curls into your own to stop your fidgeting.

“I shouldn’t have left the way I did.” He says after a moment of silence. You tilt your head to watch him out of the corner of your eye. He stares across the way at the roof.

 The very same roof that Red Hood used to watch you from. You shake the thought from your head; it doesn’t have anything to do with the conversation.

“Work happens, I get it,” you shrug him off mostly because you don’t want him to know how much of a wreck you had suddenly become without him. You’re sure he already knows anyway, based on the state of your apartment, and the fact that you very likely told him you liked him when you were drunk.

“It’s not that, sweetheart,” he turns where he sits to face you straighter, “you were confused with no memory, and I just left you to figure it out on your own. It wasn’t fair to you.”

There’s a vulnerability to Jason’s words, a heavy remorse in them like he’s been beating himself up for it the entire week. You try to scoot closer to him, your hand turning to hold his tightly.

“You’re right,” his brows jump at your agreement, “it wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right and all that, but you came back. Jason, that means more to me than anything else.”

You shift your leg under you and raise up to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him. His arm curls around your back and he holds you as you press your face into his neck. Your nose wrinkles at the smell you find, something so not Jason it has you pulling back to meet his eyes.

“Do you smoke?”

“What?” he blinks up at you clearly startled by the question. Then his features shift into a sheepish look.

“I- yea, sometimes.” He mumbles. A mocked gasp escapes you.

“Jason Todd,” you whisper scold, “cigarettes kill, you know.”

He smiles at you, a near flustered thing and ducks his head under your chin, pressing his face against your chest. You hear him mumble something along the lines of “I know.” He tugs you closer and you nearly fall over into his lap. He steadies you with his hands on your back, one creeping up your spine in a way that almost makes you shiver. An annoying screeching noise filters its way out the window from your apartment and you pull from Jason. His hands press into you, willing you to stay out without saying anything.

“I have to go to work,” you mumble, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. You pause to run your fingers through his hair, the white in his roots more prominent again.

“You should grow your hair out,” you add, not intent on actually leaving for work. He finally shifts back to look at you.

“What for?” he seems confused and almost offend, “Dick had a mullet once, I’m not doing that.”

You bite your tongue to stop the near slip of ‘yeah, I looked at all his past Nightwing suits, the disco one was terrible.’ You had reminded yourself that that wasn’t information for you to share.

“I don’t mean grow it long. I mean you should stop dying it. I think this little white section would be cute,” you tell him, reaching up to twist the hairs around fingers. He frowns at your words, and a hand leaves your back to pat at the hair now sticking up.

“Didn’t realize it grew out enough for you to see it.” He murmurs as he presses the hair down. You settle back on your bum as you watch him pick at his hair.

“It’s not the first time I’ve seen it. I saw it once when we were in bed and the first time you stayed for…. dinner?” you drop your gaze at the end of the sentence a sudden confusion breaching your mind. That wasn’t right. The first time Jason stayed for dinner, you were entirely out of it from being kidnapped and killing a man and whatnot. Why did you say that? Why did you think that?

You try to swim through your early morning sense to grasp at why you thought you had seen that shock of white when you and Jason had dinner, when your JarTM suddenly rattles. You blink at the suddenness of it. You hadn’t thought about the dumb comparisons you had made between Red Hood and Jason in months. You look up at Jason to find him staring at you in a searching manner, like he’s waiting for you to connect a dot somewhere. It suddenly makes you antsy. Your alarm blares through the window again.

“I really have to go to work,” you tell Jason slowly, staring at him with wide eyes. You blink before leaning forward to press a kiss to his scarred cheek. It makes your rattling jar worse, and you have to swallow around the sudden lump in your throat.

You pull away from him without you looking and climb back in through the window. You think he may have called out to you, said something, but your head is swimming. You lock yourself in the bathroom. You strip and turn the shower to nearly scalding and scrub at your skin, perhaps a little too harsh.

Jason could not be Red Hood. It would mean that he’s lied to you for the entirety of your relationship. It would mean that he abandoned you, but not really? It would just make everything so much more complicated and confusing. Especially your feelings in regard to the separate men because you had an array of emotions when it came to Red Hood, ones you didn’t want associated with Jason. You liked Jason a lot. Enough so that in a less then sober state, you probably told him

Your hot shower wasn’t helping with your overthinking, so you turn it to ice cold and fight every nerve in your body to press yourself against the shower wall and away from the cold stream. You last less than a minute before a shiver works up your spine and you remember last night. you shut off the water and begin to towel off as you think about.

Jason had been crying before you fell asleep. You wondered if it had to do with him being hurt. You want a closer look at his chest too. You’re sure you saw bruises there and if that was the case you wanted him to tell you what happened and maybe let you rub some of that bruise cream on it for him.

You press the towel against your hair and look around the bathroom. In your panic you forgot to grab clothes. Jason had practically seen you naked before, it’ll be fine. You wrap the towel around your chest and tug at the bottom. You wish you had longer towels, like the Waynes.

The thought gives you pause. Like the Waynes? Had you used their towels? You must have. You focus on the thought, the memory. You had showered, you think. You knew it had rained. You must have stood out in the rain and showered after.

“Axe body wash?” you question under your breath at the weird connection. You’ll have to ask Jason if someone’s shower at the manner had axe products in it.

You tug at the bottom of the towel again before finally unlocking the door and stepping out.

****

Jason felt stuck and confused, which is something he hadn’t felt quite like sense his days in the league. Now that he knew you had some inclination that he was Red Hood he was watching for slip ups, signs of what you’re thinking.

This morning had been one of them, he thinks. The first time Jason Todd had stayed at your apartment for dinner, the white streak had been freshly dyed, and you were a crying mess. The first time Red Hood had stayed for dinner, a new dye box was sitting on his safe house counter waiting for use. It was when you had stared at him while he ate. You would’ve seen it then.

You didn’t say anything now, just ran away to the bathroom. He had called out to you both not wanting you to leave and to ask about it. He wouldn’t ask when you came out of the shower though. All he would do is put you on the trail to prove he was Red Hood (even though you clearly had enough evidence anyways).

So, he sat on the couch, literally twiddling his thumbs, waiting for you. He had been half tempted to ask if he could sit in the bathroom while you showered, just to be in your presence. He had meant what he said last night. He had missed you far more than he probably should have.

He missed you so much he felt it in his bones, and he couldn’t help but kick himself for leaving in the first place. It made him slopy on the mission. Roy had to pull him to cover before he got shot by someone he should have noticed. Years of training down the drain because he missed you, his little liability.

But your drunken words had rang in his ears the entire mission. I hate you. It made him sick, and it made him miss you more for the affectionate way you hugged him anyways. After the mission, Roy scolded and questioned him. Roy had! That’s how he knew he was a total mess. He talked about it with Roy. How he felt and what had happened. Roy had teased, a light thing, “the great Jason Todd finally caught by a pretty little thing.”

Then Roy had offered his two cents. That Jason should be honest with you about everything not just being Red Hood but about his feelings too. All of it sounded good in theory and when you had texted him, Roy sent him off with the support of a full cheerleading squad.

And there you were in a too big t-shirt that he was sure was his, looking utterly exhausted and sad. So unbelievably sad that all his confessions died in his chest. He hugged you, carried you and your reminder to change into more comfortable clothes made him think of all the times you’ve taken care of each other. It made his heart ache.

Laying on your chest listening to your heart, Jason remembered how much of a coward he was when it came to you. The affectionate touch of your hands on him made him realize just how starved he was for you after a week and how if you ever told him to leave he might die again. So, he cried, something he hadn’t down in years because despite the insane life he’s lead, everything suddenly felt so entirely hopeless with you.

You had touched him with the affection of a thousand suns, like you always do, wiping at his tears. No fear, no trembling hand, or hesitation. You just comforted him without thought. He was so in love with you, it was ruining his life and you were not helping.

You step out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel that could be longer. Jason’s brain blanks for a moment as his eyes track up your bare legs, more primal urges filtering into his mind at the sight of them.

“Jason?” your voice is a small quiet thing, and it snaps his eyes from your legs to your face. He can feel the warmth on his cheeks at being caught but you don’t seem bothered by his staring. You wave him over with your hand and he shifts forward on the couch slightly.

“What?”

You repeat the hand motion with more emphasis, “come on,” you say like your mildly annoyed with him even though your grinning. You don’t wait for another response from him, just disappear down the hallway to the bedroom.

Were you seducing him? Is that what this is? He knows when he waltzed out of the bathroom in just a towel, he was trying to distract you (and maybe seduce you a bit but you hadn’t taken the bait). He hesitates on the couch, a little unsure due to emotional turmoil and physical reactions. He wills himself to calm down when you call out for him again in a more curious tone.

When he breaches the doorway, he finds you still in the short towel rifling through the top drawer of the dresser. Underwear, he thinks, pick the pink ones. He kicks himself for the sudden thought and the heat traveling southward. Jason wasn’t a perv, but he had seen most of your underwear due to helping you with your laundry. You had been embarrassed the first couple of times, but it stopped bothering you once he started using your clean undies as slingshots. He continued doing every laundry day because of the way you fell into cackling mess when one would hit you in the face, calling him “such a boy.”

“Did you need something, sweetheart?” he tries to keep his voice level as he asks but he doesn’t entire stop himself from staring at your bare shoulder or legs. You glance at him over your shoulder, hair sticking to the exposed skin.

“Just wanted you close. Promise to keep your eyes closed?” you ask, and Jason is suddenly hit in the gut with how much trust you have in him.

“Promise.” His voice cracks slightly and he clears his throat. He’s happy to know that he’s not the only one wanting to skip out on propriety just to be near each other. He steps over to the unmade bed flops on his back, staring at the ceiling before he closes his eyes. He hears your towel drop to the ground and he tries to think of anything but you being naked in the same room as him.

“Are you okay, Jay?” he hears you ask as you shuffle around, “last night, well, last night you were crying, and I don’t think I’ve seen you cry before. Not that there’s anything wrong with crying, it’s like a good release of emotions or something. I’ve just never seen you cry, and I hoped that it didn’t have anything to do with me, you know? I would hope you would tell me if I did something that had upset you that much.”

You’re rambling, an anxious tick that didn’t show up very often. You usually forgot to breathe when you did that. Apparently, dressing yourself didn’t help either. You huff as you try to catch your breath at the end of your words. It makes Jason smile at your quiet wheezing before he catches up with your words.

He takes a moment to think. What could he say?  ‘Oh, yeah, I cried because I realized the only way to keep you in my life is to continue to lie to you.’ He’s sure that would go over well. Apparently, he sat in thought long enough. He feels the bed dip and he assume you’re lying by him.

“Still naked, sweetheart?” he teasingly asks instead of offering you an explanation.

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” the words and near sensual teasing tone has Jason’s eyes opening wide in surprise. He finds you leaning your head against your propped hand. Before Jason can stop himself his eye flickered down to your clothed chest. You must catch him and are entirely too delighted by it, a full chested laughter leaving you.

What happened to the startled girl who ran away to the shower? Your laughter dies but you still smile at him. It drops slightly when he watches your eyes move up on his face and he suddenly remembers the cut he got (a dumb fight he dealt with after he took his helmet off, like an idiot).

Your hand not propping up your head settles on his chest over his heart, and he wonders if you can feel it beating as loud as he can hear it. The hand travels down and then slips under the hem of his t-shirt. His muscles twitch at your touch and his hand wraps around your wrist, stilling your movements.

“What’re you doing?” he mumbles in pure confusion because when did you decide you were going to touch him like this?

“You’re hurt, aren’t you?” the concern in your voice throws him off. He thought you were trying to cope a feel. What is happening? Your hand moves higher despite the way he holds your wrist, and he flinches when your fingers press into the bruise on his ribs.

You sit up and push his shirt up to see and it makes him think about the night in the manor, the way you had sat on him and pushed his shirt up only to tell him you hated him.

“Oh my god! Jason, what happened?” your voice shrills slightly, and it makes him flinch again. He glances at the dark purpling on his chest. Nothing was broken and the bruise was already healing, turning yellow around the edges. He didn’t know why you were freaking out until he remembered that a bruise like that wasn’t normal. It wasn’t something a civilian would just have.

He pushes your hands out of the way pulls shirt back down, “Nothing sweetheart. Just had a little accident.”

“Accident?” you ask as he sits up and he can hear the disbelief in your voice, “is this from your job? How- did someone do that? Did you get into a fight?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jason snaps and he wished he had just bit his tongue with the way you look at him, suddenly put off, “I’m sorry, sorry,” he rushes out taking your hands. You don’t pull away, thank god, but you still have this look to your eyes.

“It really was an accident from work. It’s embarrassing, honestly,” he tells you rubbing soothing at your knuckles. Embarrassing was an understatement. Roy had already saved from getting shot and he missed the guy sneaking up on him. He would’ve been toast if Kori hadn’t gotten there as fast as she had. That’s why Roy had started scolding him.

You seem to take his word for it, tense shoulders relaxing down. You nod and stand without a word disappearing into the hallway. Why was communicating with you so hard sometimes? Oh yeah, you didn’t know about half of his life, and he was still actively choosing to lie to you about it.

“I don’t think it expires,” your voice startles him from his self-loathing as you step back into the room holding a small jar, “I can’t find a date on it but it’s only a few months old so I can’t imagine it would be too old.”

You settle back on the bed, crisscross and face him. Your eyes meet his and you smile, a sudden teasing thing and Jason wishes he could read your mind.

“Take your shirt off.” You say plainly and Jason hands make it to tugging at the hem of his shirt before pausing.

“What for?” you turn the bottle in your hand and show him the bruise cream you two had gotten months ago for your wrist.

“It’ll help wont it?” you ask.

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Yes, it does. You flinched.”

“You shoved your hand up my shirt,” he argues, “it surprised me, okay?”

“Please,” you roll your eyes, “it’s not the first time I’ve pulled your shirt up… like… that?”

There you go again. That concentrated pinch of your brow shows itself, like you’re confused about your own words. Knowledge existing at the edges of your memory. You shake your head of what ever thought may have been connecting in your mind.

“Just let me put it on and then you can take me to work.”

“Oh, this is a bargaining chip then,” he teases and pulls his shirt off over his head. He lays back down on his back, hands behind his head with cocky grin as he watches you suddenly fluster at the sight of his chest. It makes him want to laugh. You had asked him to take his shirt off.

“Bargaining chip,” you mutter under your breath, “like you weren’t planning to take me to work anyways.” You say it matter-of-factly while you open the bottle and lightly press some of the cream to his bruise. His breathe hitches at the cold feeling, at your fingers to his bare chest. He watches your eyes flicker to his face then down to his chest. You stare at one spot longer than the others and he’s sure you’re going to ask about the autopsy scar again but then your gaze averts to stare at the bruise.

Jason thinks that maybe he isn’t the only problem in this relationship. You didn’t ask questions, or you would but only once. Even if you never got an answer. You should both be better about that. You finish rubbing the cream into the bruise and then wipe the left-over residue on your hand against the sheets. You were right about it helping, a cooling feeling seeping into his ribs, easing pains he hadn’t been totally aware of.

“Why don’t you drink?” he asks a question he had been wondering about since the brunch, when he could see past his own emotional turmoil. Jason drank socially but he knew that alcohol was just another drug to drag people into the abyss of addiction. That was from his life experience, but he got the feeling that you didn’t even drink socially. You tip your head with a thoughtful expression.

“I was in a car accident,” you start slowly, “with my sister, Natalie.” That was the first time you’ve said a name when mentioning your sister. Jason listens intently at the new information about you proffered in a single sentence, “we were hit by a drunk driver. It- Natalie-” You pause with a heavy sigh, “I promised myself that I would never cause that type of pain. There was never going to be a guarantee that I would be able to stop myself from climbing into a car even if I was tipsy. So, my solution was to just never drink until the brunch, of course.” You sound pained, a heaviness to your words as you spoke about your past concerned Jason.

“I’m sorry,” Jason replies, and it feels flat, like it’s not enough. You shrug and slide off the bed.

“I’m going to get my shoes on,” you say quietly, not meeting his eye.

After you leave, Jason drags his shirt back onto his body. With a moment not distracted by you, he thinks he’s heard you say Natalie once before, but it wasn’t as Jason. You hadn’t told him about her. No, it had been as Red Hood when he saved you the first time you had been kidnapped.

Taken by Scarecrow and experimented on for his new fear toxin. When he found you, you had been crying and calling out Natalie’s name mixed with apologies. That paired with the way you shared your information made him think Natalie maybe got more than just hurt in that car accident.

He wanted to pry at you about this new information about your life before Gotham, but he didn’t like how sad you looked when you talked about it, the overshadow of grief that followed you. He would leave it alone for now, grateful that you shared anything at all.

“I’m so serious about your driving me to work, Jason. You made me late.” your worried tone makes him smile. Of course, you’d blame him for being the distraction and not the way you very intentionally (at least he thought so) attempted to flirt with him.

Additional note: Jason’s learning! Part of loving someone is knowing their past so you can understand the way they think. Neither of them just offers up information so they gotta ask. Jason's figured that out. Reader has too but Jason’s too touchy about some subjects (because he’s already lying in the first place) so she just doesn’t ask again. She’s going to get some more Brunch information in the next chapter and understand why everyone is being standoffish (i.e. its not because she told Jason she liked him). Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think!!

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369,  @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @penguimlover23, @herodedicatedblog, @dearghostling, @automaticplant, @alma-ru3, @13fresh, @anuttellaa, @nekotaetae, @redsakura101, @sleepy-head1, @aejabba, @asteria33, @princessbl0ss0m, @sinnamon-bunn, @wholelottalove05

[witchesoven]

Can you do a scenario where Shadow Milk Cookie catches a mentally exhausted reader about to fall off the ledge of the spire but he catches them because he loves them?

Pairing: Shadow Milk Cookie x Mentally Exhuasted!Reader

Contents: SFW, Angst, Implied mental illness + passive suicidal ideation? I think?

Word Count: 615

A/N: Please forgive me, this is kind of ass, I’m so sorry 😭😭

Content under the cut!

Shadow Milk’s twisting and warping domain did little to aid your broken mind. You’d often find yourself wandering the halls, only to find yourself in free fall, just to face plant onto a carpet a second later.

You’ve lost track of how long you’ve been trapped here. Peering through the windows of the Spire gave you no indication, as everything is controlled by the Beast himself.

You’re not even sure how you originally wound up in the Spire of Shadows. All you can recall is ditching your horrid life behind and seeking solace in a forest to have a mental breakdown. You’ve been having a lot of those lately. It doesn’t help that you feel like you’re being watched every time it happens, too.

As you’re pondering your life choices, wondering where it all went downhill, you felt the ground shift beneath you. You were casually strolling down a secluded hallway when, mid-step, the Spire warped again, and the ground that was meant to meet your foot never came.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you felt the pull of gravity drag you downwards. You wanted to scream, but all the air had already rushed out of your lungs. All that was left was to accept your fate. Remembering you had no control of your life, that everything was forced and put upon you, made it a little easier. You closed your eyes and felt a flicker of peace well up in your soul. If you were going to go out, this wasn’t too bad a way.

The domain blurred past you as you fell. You could see part of the Spire in all its glory, gleaming in the faux light that bathed the place. This was it, you thought, the peace of the end of it all settling in your mind.

Only for a pair of arms to catch you and hoist you upward. Two mismatched eyes met yours, a wide grin plastered on the sly bastard’s face.

“Ah ah ah…I can’t have you going and exiting the stage so soon! Our tale has just begun!” Shadow Milk’s lilting voice gave up its usual flare, betraying a hint of softness underneath. The beast clung to you as hard as you clung to him, as if you were his lifeline, despite the fact you were the one freefalling to your death. You could feel the cold of his hands seeping through your clothes and into your skin.

Shadow Milk carried you to an open window and dropped you onto the floor unceremoniously, hovering just above the windowsill. You huff and dusted yourself off, standing and staring him in the face.

“Y’know, I was just fine plummeting to my death. Why’d you have to go and ruin it?” You say. Shadow Milk’s grinning face wavered just barely, but he covers it well.

“Oh my darling, you shouldn’t be going off script like that! Like I said, I need you with me for the climax of this play~” He says, giggling. You cross your arms at his cryptic talk.

“Now now. You be careful around here, mkay? There are sooo many dangers around here, I’d absolutely hate it for you to get hurt!” He says, as if he didn’t magic the damn place to his own liking. He pats your head as he talks, then summons a swirling portal.

Shadow Milk bows to you right before he disappears through the portal, the sound of his laughter echoing in the halls.

You sigh and sag against the wall, the exhaustion of almost dying hitting you like a brick. You were never really strong, anyways.

You don’t notice, but after the incident, you haven’t tripped in his domain ever since.

[kiththecat]

this is going to sound so ubnoxious, but i saw a lifesteal confession and immediately realised that im probably guilty of the exact thing it was talking about (people mostly caring about branzy when it comes to lifesteal and clownzy). but after a minute of thinking (🤔<- like this) i could kiiiinda pinpoint why and i thought it'd be interesting enough to vocalise, at least.

in my head, there's a very clear line between "the guy whose vidoes i watch while eating lunch" and "the guy i make fanworks of." even though its technically the same guy. i love watching branzy's videos. he's extremely entertaining and talented. but i also have a separate version of him that's based on the character he plays. the guy who in many cases has a story that ends up being very tied to clowns. being the most important person to the deadliest guy is a compelling character and i find that very fun to explore in writing. admittedly the bit they've got going on where they flirt unprompted is still kinda peak and that is definitely something i'd want to see more of.  very chill about it though. *wink*

however, and this is where i wholeheartedly agree with everything in the confession. i really dislike it when the comment section on branzy's videos mention clown in a video clown's barely in. cc!branzy could spend five hundred hours working on a minecraft project and if clownpierce happens to be eluded to, then that's what a lot of the comments will be about. now i LOVE clownzy crumbs because i'm a pathetic individual, but there are so many other things to talk about in branzy's non-lifesteal content than the gay bit he did two years ago. 

anyway here are some elements of branzy's character that i really appriciate bout him

he is like a jack of all trades. sure he's not the very very best in any field, but he's a great builder, great redstoner, great at survival things, great at the game in general. i think his strongest trait is just how dedicated he is to whatever he decides to do. he loves a challenge, he loves overkill and theatrics, he needs mental stimulation and work or else he dies.

in after hours smp he commited so many crimes... so many. one thing i loved is that for that video he had to research these crimes and come up with a minecraft equivalent. he's extremely creative and his brain works in weird, sort of morbid and somehow also cutesy ways.

or in the video where he's building a computer in minecraft with rek. one moment he doesn't get what's happening and he asks rek to "explain it to me like im a puppy" or something. and it's such a silly little moment but i like that he just found no shame in asking. in general he's just very down to earth and shameless.

he is not in any way morally upstanding. if he saw a big read button that said "press this to kill one hundred random children" he'd not hesitate. if the button was protected with top security measures he'd do whatever it takes to get past them. he does not care about good and bad. please never give him morals.

his love language is killing his friends for fun

okay here's a personal preference but he needs to have some wacky job. if you're writing this man he needs to be money laundering. or running a pyramid scheme. why would anyone put him in a school, or a cafe. he's a palm reader who sucks but takes money before readings and runs away. he's running a sweatshop and all the worker uniforms are weird costumes. he's a janitor but he uses special access to steal things. he has one hundred different identities. why am i describing stanley pines.

moving on.

there is so much love in him. he loves the craft (insert trademark mark here), he loves the people around him, he finds joy in pretty flowers, he finds joy in setting pretty flowers on fire.

many more things to say but the gist is. bramzycraft....

he's a dad now and i think that's beautiful. buuuuuuuuut the baby doesnt have anything to do with toxic yaoi (that we know of... 👁️👁️) so how important is it REALLY.

clownzy jesus out.

[strawbairicake]

5 random headcanons about even more hsr characters- various x reader

warnings: mentions of death in Moze’s part! poor attempts at humor in anaxa’s part (pls laugh) but other than that, none! 

word count: 749

author’s note: series comeback: hsr edition, wahoo! also no beta, we die like my hopes and dreams AND the Chrysos Heirs/j (surely they’re alive /cope)! anyway, hope you enjoy! :D

hsr taglist: @axolotsofluv, @strwbrydreamz, @sqgeism, @vyyper, @your-sleeparalysisdem0n, @cmiru, @unriding, @sheyfu, @chokifandom, + @m1ckeyb3rry! lmk if you’d like to be added! 

part 1 here and part 2 here!

Anaxa:

he doesn’t hesitate to explain certain concepts in a slightly different way if it helps you understand said concepts. despite his rough and maybe callous exterior, he wants to see you succeed.

your biggest fan as well as biggest hater. if he wakes up grumpy, he hates you until you bring him lunch. he’s your biggest fan when he’s in a good mood. just bring him lunch or be nice to him, he’ll be putty in your hands soon enough.

his students hide behind you when they’re in trouble with him and you’re around (it happens more often than you’d think and he’d like to admit). he has to get through you first (you won’t let him do such a thing). he uses this as an intimidation tactic with new students.

the other chrysos heirs ask about you just to piss him off. he wants his life private and them knowing you does not allow for that to happen. he never speaks ill of you, though. it astounds phainon and hyacine in particular.

can actually make pretty decent meals. if you’re sick, he makes really good soups that have you feeling better in no time. you wonder if it’s laced with something— who said that!

Moze:

brings you little trinkets and gifts just like a crow does when they spot a human with good intentions. 

has the cutest and prettiest blush. good luck getting him to blush, though. he’s so stoke faced that it’s really hard to make him blush. makeup blush and or a slight sunburn that makes him look flushed both look really pretty on him, it’s criminal.

a scary dog. like literally. anytime you walk out in public, he glares at anyone who even DARES to give you a dirty look or worse, stare. 

sleeps closest to the door in your shared home so if anyone comes in, they’re getting to him first. he’s a light sleeper and will do anything to protect you. not like they’ll be successful in killing him anyway. he’s an assassin, let’s be real now.

he cares so so much more than he lets on. it’s really endearing and sweet. he seems like the type to endlessly listen to a rant of your favorite things one time and remembers and buys you something related to that ramble (ex a figurine you mentioned liking the series of). he seems like an acts of service and gift giving guy. he’s thoughtful and loving.

Jiaoqiu:

caters to your food needs, no questions asked. if you hate spice, he tends to leave it out. but he does experiment a little bit to see if you like it.

lets you touch his ears and tail. the areas are probably sensitive, so please be careful and take good care of him! :((

also lets you fidget with his fingers if you get nervous. he may not be able to see, but he can easily tell when people (more specifically, you) get nervous. but he doesn’t mind lending you his hands for a few minutes. 

originally had trouble accepting your help after he became blind, but after about a month or so, he finally gave in because he realized he did need help.

has a very soothing voice. if you ask nicely, he might sing or hum a lullaby for you to go to sleep. works every time.

Jing Yuan:

have fun with a child, Yanqing, hope you like him! he’s not leaving your or Jing Yuan’s side! but Jing Yuan lets you watch him and Yanqing train and duel it out. you sometimes get to participate too, and Jing Yuan gets all smiley when you beat Yanqing (Yanqing claims he lets you win but it’s all in good fun).

you both take naps together, and Yanqing uses your nap time to wreak havoc. not actually, but he takes photos and tries to get blackmail of the general, but it always fails.

he lets you paint his nails if that’s something you’re interested in. and he knows a lot about nail care. probably because he’s lived through a millenia, but whatever. any color and design you want, babes, he’ll wear it proudly.

he runs a nice and comfortable warm at night. not too hot, not too cold, he’s the perfect temperature all year round. it’s almost infuriating. and he’s so smug about it too! >:((

he teaches you self-defense should you ever need it. and he tells you how proud he is. he’s a great teacher and after a training session, you cuddle.

©2025 strawbairicake. do not repost, copy, translate, modify, or use for AI.

[dakusan]

Hi!! I happened to stumble across your page and the vampire!SKZ is literally my new obsession. I love your writing style and every lore update has me checking your page like clockwork! I love it so bad!! That being said I have delusions/questions I would love to share and ask!! Totally self-indulgent but what if Chan/other boys stumbled across his soulmate while they were working as a resident in one of the luxe facilities? What would that mean for any current blood dolls that may or may not be bonded? What about some soulmate blood dolls drama? Maybe some cat fighting that results in the boys humbling the ex blood dolls? (I live for the drama) With the soulmate knowing? Without? Maybe keep it a secret? Back on track here, how does Chan go about telling soulmate? What’s the courting process look like? What’s Chan doing about a chronically overworked resident? Would he want soulmate to eventually stop working and just let him take care of them? Maybe works out a way for them to have reduced hours? What does it look like when soulmate finally gives in and really becomes his? Is there a period where no one sees soulmate except for Chan/very few trusted bodyguards? Maybe too afraid to let soulmate out of sight? Anyways, as you can see I’m quite literally obsessed and this is now from my favorite distraction from the nonsense of constant 24 hr shifts. Please never stop and I hope you’re having a beautiful day!

-sincerely a tired resident

🩺( I think this is a fitting, no?)

hello 🩺 anon —

first off: you have no idea how much your message means to me. your energy? divine. your vision? feral. your brain? an all-you-can-eat buffet of delicious vampire drama and mate-bond angst.

also — from one exhausted soul to another: if you’re working constant 24-hour shifts, then this little chaotic universe now belongs to you.

so. let’s talk: bang chan x overworked soulmate working as a Luxe Health resident. with some bloody doll drama.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🩸 YOU, THE RESIDENT.

You're three years into residency at LUXE HEALTH’s Seoul campus, the most prestigious medical facility for vampire-human trauma and hybrid births. You’re exhausted, brilliant, and perpetually underestimated — mostly because you’re human in a building run by monsters with PhDs.

You work long shifts. You skip meals. You treat vampire mothers mid-rage-state while nursing a wrist injury. And you're still better than half the born-vamps on your floor.

So you don’t notice the black-suited executive watching you from the Level V glass corridor.

Not at first.

🩸 BANG CHAN – CEO. BORN ABNORMAL. SOULMATCHED. DOOMED.

When Chan smells you for the first time in OR 3, it almost brings him to his knees. Not just because you smell right — like blood that was made for him, stitched to his soul. No, it’s the shock of it.

You're human.

And you’re in his hospital. His territory. Wearing another vampire’s blood tag. He recognizes it instantly: the copper bite mark, the healed-over scar near your shoulder. You belong to someone — or you did.

That’s when the rage starts.

🩸 THE DRAMA: BLOOD DOLL, MEET SOULMATE.

The moment your scent hits Chan, any existing blood doll is done. There’s no discussion. No slow weaning off. He snaps their feeding contract and has security escort them out by nightfall.

“They tasted like ash the second you walked into my world.” Cue the ex blood doll throwing a tantrum in the Luxe atrium, claiming “he’s mine, he promised,” while Chan watches from the mezzanine with a death stare and a hand twitching near his watch.

There are rumours. They say the CEO found his match. They say the new resident has no idea.

🩸 DOES HE TELL YOU?

Not at first.

You’re a human, sleep-deprived, overachieving perfectionist who doesn’t believe in fate. He watches you down caffeine pills and cry over charts in a dark breakroom.

So he decides to protect you first.

He reroutes your shifts to day-only. Installs another trauma attending on your floor. Silently upgrades your blood filtration access. Adds a panic button to your watch.

You don’t even know he’s doing it. He just starts appearing more. In elevators. In early conference debriefs. In your favourite tea shop near the hospital.

You ask, confused:

“Do you know who keeps upgrading my credentials?” “Hm,” he says, sipping his americano. “Must be someone who wants you alive.”

🩸 THE COURTING – VAMPIRE CEO STYLE.

It’s subtle at first.

Luxury-grade stethoscope shows up in your locker. A new lab coat in your exact size. Someone anonymously orders your favourite noodles on post-call nights.

One day, a single silver envelope appears under your door:

“I’d like to take care of you. You don’t have to say yes. But you’ve been mine since the moment you walked into my hospital.”

You think it’s a joke.

Then you look up and see him, waiting at the end of the corridor like a wolf in Dior.

🩸 WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU GIVE IN.

The day you finally give in is the day you collapse after assisting a 7-hour hybrid C-section.

You pass out. You wake up… in his penthouse. Hooked to an IV, tucked into satin sheets, wearing one of his shirts. You try to argue. He doesn’t raise his voice. He just sits on the edge of the bed, eyes glowing faintly.

“I will never stop you from doing what you love. But I draw the line at watching you bleed yourself dry for a system that doesn't love you back.” “You’re mine now,” he whispers, brushing hair from your cheek. “And I protect what's mine. Even from themselves.”

🩸 THE ERA OF DISAPPEARANCE.

No one sees you for days. Weeks, maybe. You’re officially “on sabbatical.”

But the truth? You’re in his private estate outside Seoul. Recovering. Feeding. Healing. Getting used to the bond. He feeds only from you now — reverent, controlled, obsessive. You sleep in his bed, wear his scent. The staff know not to enter the upper wing without permission.

There are whispers:

“The new soulmatch doesn’t leave the compound.” “He’s afraid someone will hurt them.” “He would burn down the entire blood network if they asked.”

🩸 LATER: NEGOTIATED FREEDOM.

Eventually, he lets you return to Luxe. Part-time. With your own bodyguard.

You’re still a doctor. He respects that.

But you now live in his world, wear his mark, and sleep in a bed guarded by silver-spelled walls.

He still lets you work. But you’re not allowed to break yourself anymore. And if anyone so much as mentions the ex blood doll’s name again? He’ll smile. Softly.

“She thought she was a chapter. You’re the whole story.”

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🩸 anon, you are the soulmatch of my lore. also please eat, rest, and know you’re already ten times stronger than any vamp i’ve written 🥀

[ihopesocomicask]

Do you think it's possible to make a main protagonist of a story, who was an abusive person just like Vicious was, be likable? like, keeping the fact that they won't be forgiven by their victim, but at the same time exploring them actually evolving and becoming a better person and creating new healthy relationships. Not to pat abusers on the head, but yk, something like "You can choose to CHANGE". Because ngl I keep thinking about Vicious' future. I know she won't die and thankfully she will get out of Jasper's abuse, but what then? Would she go on a journey to realize her mistakes and act differently? Who knows.

I see a lot of people talking about Bojack Horseman, but I don't know if it's a good example because apparently the point of his character is to be a hypocrite who acts like the victim for everything that happens while continuing to ruin his relationships (I've never watched it so sorry if I might be saying shit lol 😭). I even know that there is a moment where he almost takes advantage of an underage girl, and while I do believe in change and growth, there are things that have limits for me ofc

There's likeable and then there's sympathetic and/or relatable.

Bojack Horseman as a character is relatable to a lot of folks but there has certainly been a crossroads when it comes to people who relate to him excusing his behaviour because x, y or z happened to him and completely missing the point of Todd blowing up on him and then there's people who still relate to him but feel he needs to be held accountable for his actions in order to improve himself.

And they're absolutely correct. A main reason why Bojack failed to improve is because he was stuck in an endless cycle of victimisation and feeling like he was not responsible for his actions for whatever reason. Namely the abuse he suffered at the hands of his parents. Only he's not that child anymore. He's an adult and he's very much responsible for his actions.

Like I will openly admit that I was an utter asshole to people online years ago because I didn't have a very nice home life and I was dealing with undiagnosed autism and mental health issues. I felt powerless and being a confrontational prick online gave me power. Bojack certainly works in a similar manner. His celebrity status gives him the power to act out in ways he never could as a child and whatever regret he feels is purely a sense of apprehension that his celebrity status and the power/respect it grants will be taken away from him. It's very selfish and it's why he didn't grow at all until his actions were exposed. And he certainly would've been doomed to keep things going had he not gone for that second interview. Especially as a college professor, given his history.

I can't speak for everybody who says they wish that second interview hadn't happened and Bojack may or may not have improved on his own but - from my perspective - he would've just used his newfound confidence and power as an 'advocate' for addiction to harm others, especially indirectly. The indirectness already happens with audience members of the show who feel Bojack justifies their problematic behaviour.

And this is something you have to be especially wary of if you wish to pursue this kind of topic: your character being used to validate the negative behaviour of others. Bojack's writers did a great job of making it clear that - while sympathetic - Bojack needed to be held accountable for his actions and needed to improve. People can view that as a negative thing all they want but they are not the kind of people the writers wanted the approval of anyway and they're not really worthy of anybody else's approval either imho.

And we also have to recognise that change doesn't automatically come with forgiveness either. Going back to Bojack again, I feel Herb would've absolutely entertained having a friendship with him once more if Bojack had accepted he was not entitled to forgiveness. It's just the kind of character Herb is. Charlotte, on the other hand, would've been 110% right to have Bojack tossed in jail as a mother. It all depends on the character and the nature of the deed. Like you've already pointed out, there are limitations. And it's also why Vicious will never have access to Hope or Adamant again. - RJ

[overbaked-tkls]

hello, I like your works so much!! You make awesome fanfics and despite the fact that I have to use a translator because I don’t speak English I can read your fanfics every day!

I have ask for you, can you write a fanfic about Lee!Jason and Ler!Guest1337 (or anyone who you want)?

I hope I didn’t make too many mistakes while I was writing. And by the way, have a nice day!

hi, i'm super glad you like my writing! it's good that it translates nicely.

anyways LEE!JASON FOR FRIDAY THE 13TH BABYYYY YEAA!!

also WHAT. never speak again /j (i laughed for a solid minute)

(this is a sfw tickle fic! if you don't like it don't read it)

"Maybe you've got something underneath that jacket.”

words: 2,984

ler!guest1337, lee!jason

summary: rip jason's machete ????-2025 you wont be missed

---

The hum of various appliances and LED lights in the extensive horror hotel map droned on, as quick footsteps thumped against the floor. The tapping against kitchen tile, the slight creak on wooden floors, and the soft padding against brightly patterned carpet were just natural for any chase. Even more so for Jason, who was used to hunting people down to the last of their stamina, given the absence of ranged attacks in his arsenal.

His first target, Noob, hadn’t really gotten much of a head start as they were taken by surprise while doing a generator. As a result, the masked killer had made quick work of the poor survivalist. Just one more hit, and they were done for. 

He was about to finish them off, lunging to swing through one of the doorways, when someone from the side of his vision quickly invaded his space. An armored hand reeled back, before throwing itself forward. Guest 1337 had caught him halfway through a machete swing with a powerful strike, effectively stunning the killer. Noob looked back slightly to give a desperate thankful look, before booking it away. Hopefully to get a medkit.

However, Guest’s hand hadn’t only collided with Jason’s head, but it also smashed against his machete on the way. Notable for a couple reasons, one being it was a complete accident, something that would be pretty hard to replicate on purpose. Two being that despite the death grip on the weapon, the action violently ripped the blade out of the killer’s hand, sending it flying straight into Jason’s face. The machete ended up ricocheting off the top of his plastic mask, flinging surprisingly far away from the two of them up into the air.

Unrealistically far. 

Strangely.. Far?

… Is it going to come back down??

Even Guest paused for a moment to watch the weapon disappear over one of the tall rock walls while Jason was stunned. “What the hell..?” Certainly not the strangest thing that’s happened here, though. He quickly recovered as an active chainsaw was swung at him, to which he dodged and promptly ditched the scene.

It took a bit for Guest to lose chase, but a lot less than normal for some reason– Jason seemed much less confident without his main blade. However, when the killer left to go find a different victim, 1337 returned to stalk a bit behind. He did that on the norm, because it made it simpler to assist others when they started getting chased. Now though, the soldier was thinking a bit ahead. The chainsaw was all the mute killer had left as a weapon… aside from their hands, theoretically. But still, it would be a lot easier for the other survivors to, well… survive, if Jason was completely disarmed. And he was carrying the chainsaw on his back, so he could probably just… take it? 

1337 wasn’t the type to act on impulse, but once he committed to something, he didn’t back out. So after constructing a rather simple plan, he crept up behind the killer and yanked at the weapon. Jason quickly swiveled around, swinging an empty hand on instinct. Without the blade in it though, Guest just caught it and finished the job of taking the chainsaw off, tossing it to the side before harshly shoving Jason forward.

The veteran didn’t pay attention to the way the killer stumbled back into a wall, slightly cowering for a second. Guest didn’t really know anything about chainsaws, but he figured if he stomped on the chain and landed a good kick on the entire handle area, it would do something. So he did, and… somehow, it actually worked? The chain came off around where he struck, rendering the weapon practically useless. If Guest had been given any more time, he might have considered how strange that was. But he only looked back at Jason to see what the next move was. The killer showed clear hesitation, before stepping forward and trying to attack with his bare hands. Guest swore he could see fear, even with the mask covering Jason’s entire face. Nonetheless, he struck back significantly harder, throwing Jason onto the floor. 

The killer didn’t get up.

Were sentinels.. always this scary? Not having a weapon in his hand gave Jason a strange, unnerving sense of clarity, like Guest’s expression actually registered in his head. It was a determined, yet apprehensive look that made him feel uneasy. Something tugged at the back of his mind to get up and fight again, but every time the killer shifted on the floor, the sentinel tensed and his fists rose. It frightened him, enough so that he moved back, away from the sentinel. 

Looking down upon the unusual sight, Guest was torn between running away again, and staying to reason. He didn’t even feel like he was looking at a killer anymore. Though, it could be a trick to get him to come closer. Maybe the killer had a spare blade somewhere in that coat. Then again, if he did get stabbed once or twice, he could probably take it.

He wasn’t even sure yet what the whole deal with the killers was, even less about Jason himself, but as far as he knew they were probably experiencing a similar situation. Most of them gave ‘free rounds’ every once in a while, or seemed awfully disconnected from reality for actively participating in murder. Like the killers weren’t willingly there half the time– with some exceptions, of course. 

Being forced to kill people when you didn’t really want to was something Guest hadn’t quite come to experience himself, but he certainly wasn’t foreign to the idea, and couldn’t help but feel a little bad.

But his mind was mostly on helping the team. If he could convince Jason to stop completely, that would be the best for the survivors…

“H-hey. Just…” 1337 exhaled, taking a step closer. “Calm it, would you? You know, we… Don’t have to fight, since you don’t have a weapon. And I won’t punch you anymore, if you stop. I mean… wouldn’t a break be nice?”

Silence. It was expected, obviously. Although, Jason did look up at the soldier hearing the offer. Was that.. always a choice? The majority of his decisions during rounds– well, he thought they were his, but still– they were more about ‘go this way’ or ‘cut them off there’. But now he saw himself thinking a lot farther than he was used to. Clearer.

Just as the veteran was coming to terms with how hard a one-sided negotiation was going to be, Jason slightly nodded.

“.. Oh. Really?” The simplicity of the bargain caught Guest slightly off-guard. If only the people in his past had surrendered like that– or maybe even the other killers. But that was just plain unlikely– this probably only happened because he managed to disarm the other. Well, hopefully disarmed, anyway. He’d have to check.

“Okay then. You… are just going to stay here. And we’re going to wait out the timer.” Guest hesitated for another second, before fully approaching and going on one knee in front of the killer. “Hold still for a second.”

The masked killer moved back again at the sudden movement, ignoring the request.

“Hey, hey. Just need to frisk you real quick. Gotta make sure you’re not going to pull another blade on me while I’m not paying attention. Oh, and keep your hands up where I can see them?” Although Guest was a soldier, not a police officer, he wasn’t foolish enough to take easily avoidable risks. So he waited for Jason to do what he asked.

Again in the back of Jason’s head, something angrily yelled at him to not do it, to not listen to a ‘pathetic’ survivor's request. Something other than the normal encouraging voice that normally followed him around anytime he was in a round.

… But he complied with Guest anyway, and after that, the nagging disappeared. Like ‘it’ gave up, or something. Talk about pathetic.

1337 hummed in approval, before beginning to move his hands along the killer's jacket. He was quick to realize it was pretty thick, and by extension heavy. Even though he knew he wouldn’t receive a response, Guest still remarked his thoughts out loud. 

“How you carry a chainsaw and a heavy jacket around while still managing to be so fast is beyond me.. It’s impressive, to say the least.”

Both the amount of pockets Jason had and the thickness of the jacket made it inconvenient to search the killer, especially since Guest hadn’t ever searched someone before. He ended up having to roughly double check a few of the outside pockets because he wasn't sure of his work, although that didn’t end up being the main problem. The entire process wouldn't have taken more than twenty seconds if Jason didn't shift away every five, bringing his hands to where Guest was searching and making the soldier flinch back. 

The veteran’s hands were invasive, although not necessarily unwelcome. Jason wasn’t trying to interrupt him on purpose, but it just felt strange– familiar in a way, yet completely foreign to how he was used to being touched nowadays. Without the intent to hurt, but with enough roughness to earn something other than the knowledge his pockets were empty; he felt himself smile slightly underneath the plastic mask. And then immediately fought to remove it, wondering why it was there.

After giving a prolonged glare, 1337 moved the killer’s hands away to resume his search, completely unaware of what he had just caused. “.. Don’t really appreciate you spooking me like that. So if you could just. Not do that…”

Jason ended up repeating the same action only ten seconds later, but this time Guest didn't jolt away. Instead, he instinctively closed his fists like he would to prepare for a punch, significantly tightening his grip around Jason’s waist pockets.. and also his torso. Guest removed himself from Jason’s side right after, standing up and grunting out an annoyed response. 

“acK- Can you no-” The soldier was going to complain again, but quieted right after looking at the killer. His eyebrows raised at the sight.

Jason had brought his knees closer to his chest, and held the area around where Guest had been frisking him. Confusedly rubbing at the spot.

Ah.

By then, he had finally figured Jason’s pockets were empty, but another question– well, more of a rhetorical excuse– had made itself clear. This was quite the opportunity, one even 1337 knew not to pass up. He wasn't really a boastful person, but the other sentinels would definitely be jealous if he pulled something like this off without getting stabbed. Well.. most of them, anyway.

Looking off to the side for a second, Guest briefly smiled before dropping the look and facing Jason once more. He kneeled back down, reaching out his arms and leaning over a bit. “... Move, I’m not done.” It was a lie, and despite requesting it, he didn’t wait for Jason to move his hands before running his own around the killer’s waist. And this time, he kneaded into his sides a lot more intentionally so it would still have the desired effect despite the jacket. “You know, this is taking a lot longer than it needs to, since you seem so insistent on squirming away from me.”

Only then did Jason finally recognize what that feeling was. However, he was a step behind, just a little too late to stop the soldier before he started. 

The most of the noise in the killer’s response was the shifting sound of coarse fabric, because once he was aware the sentinel was no longer just searching him, he didn’t stop himself from writhing. While only evident from his shoulders, Jason was definitely laughing, and although practically silent, it occasionally caught in his mouth and turned into a quiet snicker. The sensation didn’t feel natural whatsoever, but somehow reminded him of something that was. Or used to be. At least this was different– better, than the last time he remembered being handled so roughly. Anyways, what was he even supposed to do? Fight back?

Jason tried. Emphasis on tried, because Guest just took one of his hands and pinned it to the ground.

The veteran couldn’t help but smile again, strategically squeezing around the other’s midriff with his free hand. Score. “I’m just searching your pockets. What, got something to hide?”

Jason shook his head as his other arm waved around. The ‘no’ gesture was to both discredit Guest’s claim and deny the question, but it didn’t really matter. One thing he had learned about the sentinels is that they were extremely stubborn, even in death.

“No? Hm.. not sure I believe that.” Guest thought for a second, searching for an excuse. “Oh! Maybe you've got something underneath the coat.” 1337 brought his hands back around to the killer’s front, dipping them into where Jason’s jacket was open and repeating the same kneading motion directly on his shirt, just a bit gentler. He didn’t even try to hide the fact that the only thing he was ‘searching for’ at this point was a reaction. Guest didn’t even consider that revenge was an option, but it honestly serves Jason right. Always using heavy attacks whenever he missed his block…

The masked killer froze up for a split second, before practically losing it. Not used to this, at all. He tilted his head back, but still no real noise came out. His breathing was a little more obvious though.

The sentinel chuckled, casually speaking as he unpredictably alternated between soft and rough prodding. “... Alright, let’s be ‘serious’. You are… a little ticklish, for a ruthless murderer.” He was interrupted as Jason unsuccessfully tried to throw him off. “And squirmy.” 1337 took Jason’s other hand, and without being able to use it to balance himself upright, the killer fell on his back. It made Guest let go, but the veteran just quietly sighed and adjusted forward a bit.

Jason’s chest heaved. “Hey, look at me.” Guest brought his hands near the killer’s stomach to catch Jason’s attention, who looked at his hands instead. He didn’t even try to push at the veteran, in ‘fear’ he would be pinned again. “Actually, that works even better.” 1337 suddenly poised his hands, making the other jump, and then did nothing.

“This is how I feel trying to predict your attacks, by the way.” Halfway through the sentence, the soldier resumed poking and scribbling somewhere around the killer’s lower stomach and hips. He wasn’t paying attention exactly where, his eyes too busy attempting to glimpse at Jason’s through the small eye holes in his mask.

Jason did not think it would get worse, to say the least. The survivor kept stopping at random intervals and faking him out, both annoying him and making him jump every time 1337 actually resumed. So the screeching and laughter he heard the other day in limbo wasn’t over exaggerated...

“Difficult, right?” To the sentinel’s surprise, Jason nodded on top of his wriggling. Guest’s smile widened– he was actually listening. This would be quite the story, and he was thankful it would be him telling it. Anyone else in the cabin wouldn’t have a chance to be believed for this type of thing.

But of course, good things don't typically last forever. 1337 was almost too focused on the moment to notice the glint of metal that suddenly appeared in his vision. He quickly withdrew his hands, and then moved back– the machete had reappeared, resting on the killer like a twisted invitation. Jason’s hand instinctively twitched, feeling the metal against him, and he sat up. Since Guest had stopped, he picked the weapon up even though his hands were a bit shaky.

And then he realized he didn’t actually want to do anything with it. His mind finally felt clear for once, and he didn’t feel like losing that, as temporary as it probably was. Unsure of what to do with the blade, he carefully turned it in his hand and handed it to the survivor on the handle side. 

That was single-handedly the most surprising thing that had happened to Guest ever since he got put into this realm. But while he still had the chance, he quickly snatched the blade. Jason regretted it halfway through the motion, because he realized he just handed a weapon to someone he’d been stabbing in rounds for months. Nothing bad happened though, and he tilted his head curiously as 1337 turned and stood up, walking to an entryway to one of the more open spaces.

“Thanks.” Guest said simply, before chucking the weapon. Whatever caused the blade to spawn back would probably be a little mad about that one. “Sooo.” He did a 180, walking back. Jason had gotten up during that time, but didn’t run away. He crumbled slightly just looking at the sentinel. Still intimidating.

“Let’s wrap this up, yeah? We’ve got about… three minutes, I think.” Advancing quicker than the killer was ready for, the soldier quickly found where he’d left off. Although, he didn’t do any more squeezing, just soft, erratic little scribbles wherever he felt like. Each twist Jason did in attempts to get away made him feel just a little bit better about getting slashed at so many times.

After another minute or two, he stopped. “Not even sure if you understand how much this matters, by the way.”

And even through the aftermath, Jason most certainly did understand. Unfortunately.

. . .

It took a while to coax an answer out of Jason, but the two who noticed the strange nature of his return got it eventually. Neither made fun of him.

“Hah. Really hope they don’t attempt something like that on me. Would not end well.” Doe remarked, before jokingly nudging 1x.

Thousand-yard stare.

[sevarchive]

half of everything ༄.°

a isagi yoichi story. 2.5k words

a/n: please don’t come for me after you read this. i’m just the messenger. blame the feelings, not the writer. 🕊️

synopsis: in which isagi yoichi fell in love with someone else, and you helped him. because loving him meant staying, even if it meant guiding him into someone else's arms.

the call was already running past midnight,

 isagi’s voice had softened, now slurred by sleep, his words curling at the edges with exhaustion. his eyes were half-lidded on the screen, blinking slower with every passing second.

the overhead light in his room cast a soft golden hue over his features, bathing the curve of his cheekbones, his messy hair, the slope of his nose. he looked peaceful. vulnerable, even. hair tousled, lips parted like he was mid-dream.

you should’ve hung up by now. you should’ve let him rest. it wasn’t like he asked you to stay.

but you didn’t hang up.

instead, you watched him, your thumb grazing your screen, like the motion could somehow keep the moment alive a little longer.

“still there?” he murmured, his voice no more than a whisper now.

you nodded instinctively, then remembered he couldn’t see you. “yeah,” you said softly. “still here.”

he smiled faintly, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes but felt like it mattered anyway. “you’re always here.”

it was a throwaway line. something said in the haze of exhaustion and comfort. but it stuck to you like a thorn under the skin, subtle and aching.

you wanted to say, of course i’m here. i’ve always been here. but you didn’t.

instead, you whispered, “sleep. i’ll keep you on, just in case.”

he didn’t argue. he never did. within minutes, his breathing slowed into that quiet, rhythmic rise and fall you knew too well.

you stayed. just like always.

you met isagi in the early days, before blue lock swallowed him whole and before the stadiums began to roar his name. back then, he was just yoichi. ambitious, unsure, and a little too polite for his own good.

you were paired for a group project neither of you cared about. it was awkward at first. he was soft-spoken, always trying to keep things fair, and you didn’t know how to talk to someone who looked at the world like it was a problem he could solve.

but he made you laugh, genuinely, and unexpectedly. and slowly, you made him open up.

one afternoon working at the library turned into coffee at a dingy café. coffee turned into more late-night calls. one day became two, then ten, then months of uncounted hours shared between football rants and quiet silences.

he talked about dreams like they were real, like he was already chasing them with everything he had.

you listened.

always listening. like his words were sacred. like his voice was the only one that mattered.

you watched him climb. watched the way the world started to notice him, the way his shoulders grew broader under the weight of his own potential. you cheered for him from the sidelines, biting down your fears, swallowing every inch of doubt just so he wouldn’t have to.

and somewhere along the way, you fell in love.

it was quiet. slow. a steady ache that made a home in your chest.

but you never told him.

what was the point?

you didn’t want to ruin the friendship—didn’t want to risk the one thing you had.

and maybe, deep down, you were hoping he’d say it first.

the shift didn’t happen in a thunderclap. it came like a soft wind, like a curtain slowly pulling back.

at first, it was a name you didn’t recognize.

airi.

he said it during a call, offhanded, while sipping from a convenience store bottle of iced tea.

“she made fun of my tie,” he chuckled, holding the bottle to his lips. “said it looked like a high schooler’s.”

you laughed along. “was she wrong?”

“i mean… maybe not.” he grinned, cheeks slightly flushed. “god, you know, she’s funny. laughs at everything too. and her smile’s… i don’t know, it just kind of sticks with you. it’s nice.”

he said it so casually. like it wasn’t something that would echo in your head for days.

you froze, just for a second. a beat too long. but you smiled, too. of course you did. that was what you were good at, smiling when it hurt.

you wondered if he ever noticed the way your smile always came a little slower when he talked about her.

he never did.

after that, her name began to slip into conversations more and more.

“she recommended this ramen place. said their tonkotsu’s insane.” “she texted me this stupid meme and i actually laughed out loud.” “she told me i should grow my hair out. think i’d look good?”

you said yes. you always said yes.

even when it started to feel like each ‘yes’ was carving a little more of you away.

it was past eleven when the message came. his name flashed across your screen, your heart leaping even before you saw the words:

yoichi: i want to confess. but i’m freaking out. can i… try it out with you? like practice? idk

you stared at it. the little bubble. the blinking cursor. the heartbeat in your ears.

every instinct you had screamed no.

but your fingers moved on their own:

you: sure. call me.

the screen lit up within seconds. he looked nervous, eyes wide, hair a mess, like he’d been pacing before dialing.

“okay,” he exhaled, fingers raking through his hair. “just pretend to be her, yeah?”

you nodded before you could think. bit your lip so hard you swore it’d bruise.

“hi, yoichi,” you whispered.

it felt wrong coming out of your mouth. like a version of a dream where you were playing someone else’s part.

he laughed nervously, shifting in his seat. “man, this is dumb, huh? practicing like this.”

“no, it’s not,” you said. “it’s sweet. you care enough to want to get it right.”

“yeah, i guess,” he murmured. “i just… i don’t want to mess this up.”

you wanted to tell him he wouldn’t. that he never could. that any girl would be lucky to have him.

you wanted to tell him you were already in pieces just sitting here, pretending.

he didn’t give you the chance.

“i think…” his voice faltered. then steadied, like he was gathering courage. “i think i started falling for you when you teased me about my shooting form.”

your breath caught.

you remembered that day, how your words were playful, teasing. how he’d laughed, rubbed the back of his neck, eyes sparkling in that soft, bashful way of his. you hadn’t known it mattered to him.

and yet, it didn’t matter for the reason you hoped.

“i was frustrated that day,” he said. “i didn’t want to hear criticism. but you didn’t sugarcoat it. you said i was too rigid. that i wasn’t trusting myself. and i remember thinking… she sees right through me. even when i’m trying to pretend i’m okay.”

you swallowed hard, throat thick.

“you’re always honest,” he said, voice growing quieter, more thoughtful. “and not in a mean way. you’re just… real. you don’t let me spiral. you pull me back. i don’t even think you notice how often you save me.”

your eyes stung.

“you believe in me when i can’t,” he said, and it shattered something inside you. “and i don’t even know when that started meaning so much to me. but it does. you matter. so much.”

say her name, you wanted to scream. say her name so i can stop pretending.

but he didn’t. he kept going. and it was worse this way, because he was looking right at you, and still, it wasn’t you he saw.

“i think about you more than i should,” he confessed. “like when something funny happens, you’re the first person i want to tell. or when i’m nervous. or when something good happens and i want to celebrate. it’s always you.”

you clutched the edge of your desk, your knuckles white.

why can’t i be that person too? why can’t it be me you want to tell things to—when i’ve always been here, knowing you better than anyone?

“i don’t want to keep it in anymore,” he said. “so… i like you. i really like you. would you… want to go out sometime?”

you froze.

you listened to him, staring at his hopeful eyes, his smile, the way he tilted his head slightly like he was already picturing a future.

not with you.

with her.

and yet he was practicing on you. like you were just… warm-up. rehearsal.

you smiled. somehow.

“i’d say yes,” you replied, barely above a whisper.

his face lit up, eyes going wide. “seriously?”

you nodded. “she’d be lucky to hear it like that.”

he laughed, rubbing his nape. “god, you’re just saying that.”

“i’m not,” you said. “you sound perfect.”

he looked genuinely relieved. “i really needed this. i was going crazy overthinking it. but saying it out loud helped. and, like… if you think i’ll be okay, i feel better.”

“of course you’ll be okay,” you said, the words slicing your tongue as you let them go. “you always are.”

he smiled at you, so soft, so boyish. “god, what would i do without you?”

you nearly broke.

you nearly screamed that he’d never needed you. that he only ever came to you when he needed comfort, clarity, support, but never love. never the kind you gave without asking for anything in return.

you wanted to say: fall in love with me instead. just once. just look at me and see me.

but you didn’t.

because you knew it wasn’t your place.

because this wasn’t your love story.

he sent her the message right after.

you stayed on the call, watching the small green dot next to his name blink steadily. the typing bubble appeared. disappeared. appeared again.

and then, finally:

i’d love to.

that was it.

three words. just that.

his whole face lit up.

“she said yes,” he whispered, breathless, eyes glowing with something so painfully soft that it shattered whatever was left of you.

you smiled. because what else could you do?

“told you she would.”

he beamed. that rare, unguarded smile that made everything inside you ache.

“i’m really lucky, aren’t i?”

you nodded, swallowing back everything that screamed inside your chest. “yeah,” you said. “you are.”

but it burned.

not because she said yes.

but because that was all she said.

“i’d love to.” that was all it took.

you bit down hard on your tongue.

because if it had been you—if it had been you—you would’ve said everything. you would’ve told him that he wasn’t just someone you liked. he was the only constant in your storm. the voice that pulled you back from the edge every night. the dream you never let yourself have too loudly.

you would’ve said,

i love you. i love you in the way i laughed at your jokes even when they weren’t funny, in the way i watched your matches like they were sacred, holding my breath with every kick, praying the world would see you like i always did. i love you in the nights i stayed on call until the sun came up, fighting sleep just to hear your breathing slow into something peaceful. i love you in the silence, in the waiting, in the ache. in every moment you chose someone else and i smiled anyway. in every word i swallowed just to keep what little we had. in every dream i buried because it didn’t fit into yours. i love you in the way i never said it, because i was afraid. afraid it would ruin what we had. afraid you’d pull away. afraid you’d never feel the same. but most of all, i loved you in the hope that maybe you’d see it first. that maybe, just maybe, you’d choose me without needing to be told. i love you in quiet offerings, in unsent messages, in every second i stayed just to hear you breathe. i love you in the spaces where you’ll never look, and in all the ways you’ll never see. and still, you never had to ask. because i was already yours—even when you were never mine.

all she gave him was a line. neat. effortless. three little words that got her everything.

and you?

you gave him your heart, your time, your pieces, and all you got to say was yeah, you are.

you could’ve given him the world.

but he never asked you for it.

he was already giving his to someone else.

the call ended not long after. he promised to tell you everything tomorrow. you told him goodnight, then sat in the dark, unmoving, unblinking.

the silence around you felt like a scream no one could hear.

your phone lit up again:

yoichi: thank you. i couldn’t have done it without you. ur the best. fr.

you didn’t reply.

you just stared at the screen until it dimmed and faded to black. and still, you sat there, in the quiet ruins of something that was never yours. the role you played was over now; the best friend, the practice run, the warm-up act.

the one who helped him fall in love, just not with you.

you were all he’d ever needed. never what he wanted. and god, wasn’t that the most painful kind of almost?

you remembered the nights you stayed on call with him until morning, when your eyes ached for sleep, but you stayed anyway, just to hear the soft rhythm of his breathing. the way his voice would drop, quiet and warm, when it was just the two of you and the world had stilled.

you remembered dropping everything when he fell sick, racing across the city with medicine and soup, sitting by his side as he shivered and tried to make you laugh through chattering teeth.

you remembered his parents, the way they welcomed you into their home like you belonged there, his mother once taking your hand and saying, “thank you for taking care of our boy.”

you thought those things meant something. maybe they did. just not in the way you'd hoped.

because in the end, it only took one girl. one name that wasn’t yours. she didn’t know how he liked his coffee. she hadn’t heard his voice crack from exhaustion at 3 a.m., or seen the way he curled into himself when he felt like a failure. she hadn’t been there in the beginning, hadn’t listened to the earliest versions of his dreams before they were beautiful.

but she didn’t have to.

she was the one he wanted.

and the worst part was knowing it wasn’t her fault. she hadn’t done anything cruel. she hadn’t stolen anything that was ever truly promised to you. she just appeared, and he chose her. simple as that.

you couldn’t hate her for it. not really.

she was simply the ending he was always meant to have.

and you… you were just the girl who got him there. the one who made it easier for him to love someone else.

oh, you were my everything. i'm just your second best.

and still, you clung to the scraps, because even borrowed affection felt real when it was his.

because part of you believed before— foolishly and desperately—that maybe he’d look back.

but he only ever looked forward.

and it was never at you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ© sevarchive ✦ masterlist

[antispopausandstuff]

thoughts on this post?

i mean, i agree that adora's protectiveness was a result of her trauma.

but "catra as the protector, adora's light in shining armor"? really? 💀

even in the final season, adora had to constantly protect catra from the CONSEQUENCES OF HER OWN ACTIONS and defend her in front of the princesses. while all catra did was whine about adora not paying enough attention to her and abandoning adora when she needed love and support.

also do you agree that catra is masc/butch? because i always saw her as femme. maybe not the pink, bubbly kind but more of a dark femme vibe. wearing a suit ONCE does not make her butch 😭

.

should go without saying, y'all, but don't harass this person if you happen to know who they are, please and thanks!

to start, this is a side tangent, but Adora does not have a martyr complex, but an Atlas complex. similar origins, but different results.

the martyr complex is described as: "a psychological pattern where individuals repeatedly prioritize the needs of others above their own, often to their detriment, while simultaneously expecting recognition or praise for their sacrifices".

the Atlas complex is described as: "a psychological concept describing a feeling of having to carry the weight of the world on one's shoulders, often stemming from childhood experiences of taking on responsibility".

obviously, Adora does not suffer from martyrdom.

anyway, moving on!

while it's ironic this person is talking about mischaracterization of Catra and Adora, when they clearly are doing the same thing, it's not the first time and it definitely won't be the last.

however, i think this is the first time i've seen an SPOP fan be actively annoyed that Catra is more or less baby-ified. first time for everything, i guess.

first off, one should not be solely dependent on another to be able to take proper care of themselves, physically and mentally. it's extremely unhealthy, isolating, and counterproductive. so, right off the bat, OP is already putting them in a shipping dynamic lens while simultaneously being annoyed at others for doing so just because it's not how they do it. at least, that's what i'm seeing.

second off, Catra hates being protected? not really. the only reason Catra would hate that is if Adora wasn't in the position she wants her to be, i.e, in the Horde as a Force Captain.

it's only when she's on her own, when Adora leaves, that Catra actively goes for independence. not because there was no chance otherwise, but because Adora isn't her doll anymore and she has to pick up the slack. Catra becoming a Force Captain instead was incredibly forced and to justify further drama.

basically, if Adora is on her side, Catra is all for being protected. if not, then that's when she's angry and throwing accusations.

third off, yeah, the knight in shining armor comment is laughable. for four seasons ( and beyond ), we've seen Catra go full sadist on Adora. dragging, shoving, mauling, mocking, degrading, and overall just being a complete piece of shit to Adora for *checks notes* leaving an abusive fascist military and asking her to come with.

and if that's not enough, she actively shits on Adora to other characters, too. so, even if fans wanna argue it's purely for battle ( like that makes it any better ), that's straight up not true.

even in s5, this is a problem, because Catra's unnecessarily distant and callous with Adora ( and Scorpia, but nobody cares about that, i guess ), but she's never properly called out for it. it's just Adora being sensitive and unrealistic, even though she literally almost died lol!

Catra protecting the BFS from Melog was weird, forced, and insulting, since she kept just being a dick to the people who saved her life, but whatever. sure. that's one moment, though.

as for the Failsafe, that was barely even protecting. Catra's been watching Shadow Weaver, yet doesn't say anything to Adora until she's about to get in. totally doesn't look like a show-off case. and, up until that point, Adora is the one comforting and reassuring her.

when it's not possible to throw Shadow Weaver into the fire, Catra suddenly doesn't have any other alternative solutions. so much for her being the "smartest" of the BFS. it doesn't even cross her mind to try it out herself. probably wouldn't have worked, but it would at least show that Catra cared enough to try.

otherwise, this "knight in shining armor" nonsense doesn't apply anywhere else. Adora is the one constantly trying to make Catra feel better, safer, and away from anything that could harm her. she's protecting her from the Princesses, when they have every single right to throw her ass into a fighting ring, she's comforting Catra when she gets nausea from Glimmer's teleporting, she's reasoning with Catra that all they have is Shadow Weaver's plan, etc., etc., etc.

it's Adora catering to Catra at almost every single turn, when Catra should be bending over backwards at the fact she's been given an undeserving second chance.

( btw, it annoys me that Catra suddenly has an issue with water and teleportation in s5 to make her more "cat-like" // baby-ified. )

like, she is nowhere near the protector the fandom thinks she is, let alone one at all.

and, finally, i didn't think too heavily on it, buuut...

she does have a similar "style" to Catwoman. sleek, form-fitting clothing with cleavage and other exposure ( like the thigh highs? i think that's what they are? ). if people consider Catwoman feminine, which she is, then, yeah, Catra is, too.

which is funny, 'cause she ( and the show ) bashes on femininity for no reason other than just because.

i personally don't hc Adora as masc // butch and more of an open wardrobe kinda person, and i don't know where OP is getting that the fandom doesn't largely view her as the feminine one, anyway? like, there's exceptions, obviously, but the fandom is obsessed with Adora being in that white dress.

anyway, yes, someone wearing a suit once doesn't automatically make them butch, just like someone wearing a dress once doesn't automatically make them femme.

( lol at the "inherent nurturing and protectiveness" comment )

[onlyangel4]

held. cody rhodes. part two.

cody rhodes x chronically ill!reader

synopsis: chronic illness teaches you how to disappear, quietly, politely, without complaint. but when a painful fall at a crowded bar leaves you stranded, it’s cody rhodes who stops. not because of fame. not out of obligation. because he noticed. and he stayed.

faceclaim: dakota johnson

author's note: in this the reader suffers from elhers danlos syndrome, i have elhers danlos so i find it easier to write but if you have a different chronic pain condition please do imagine it as that. for storyline purposes cody didn't have a match.

part one

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the café he picked wasn’t far from your hotel. small, tucked between a used bookstore and a boutique guitar shop, with foggy windows and only one person working the counter.

no fan mobs. no cameras.

just two chairs in the back by a chipped brick wall.

you spotted him before he saw you, sitting with one leg crossed over the other, a black hoodie pulled up halfway, baseball cap tugged low. casual. comfortable. but his knee bounced like he wasn’t sure what to expect.

you hesitated at the door. it felt ridiculous, how nervous you were. like this was a date. like it mattered.

(like it wasn’t the first time someone had really looked at you and stayed.)

then he saw you and stood instantly.

"hey", he said, smile already soft.

"hi", you breathed.

the hug wasn’t planned, but it happened anyway. he pulled you in gently, careful of your shoulder, his arms warm and solid and too real for the way your stomach flipped.

"you okay?" he asked as he pulled back, his eyes scanning your face like it held answers.

you nodded. "bruised, mostly."

"you wear it well", he said, grinning.

you sat across from him, heart thudding louder than it should have. there was a drink waiting for you already, hot tea, perfectly steeped.

you blinked. "how’d you know?"

"i asked your friend on Instagram", he said, completely unapologetic. "bribed her with tickets."

you laughed, half surprise, half amusement. "that’s cheating."

"absolutely", he said, sipping his coffee. "zero shame."

there was a pause. comfortable, but full.

and then you were brave and broke it.

"i was on twitter earlier, people think we’re a thing", you said quietly.

he looked at you for a long beat. "do you want us to be a thing?"

your breath caught.

you didn’t answer. not yet.

instead, you looked down at your tea, fingers curling around the warmth.

"i didn’t think you’d actually text", you admitted.

"why not?"

"because people usually don’t."

"i’m not people."

that line, said so simply, lodged itself somewhere deep in your chest.

the moment hovered. still light. but no longer weightless.

he leaned forward a little, elbows on the table.

"i know you didn’t ask for all this attention. i just wanted to check in. to make sure you were still you under all the noise."

you looked up at him. really looked.

and there he was, not the guy from the posters or the ring or the viral photos.

just him.

"i am", you said. "still me."

he smiled, and you thought:

god, i hope this isn’t just kindness.

because something about the way he looked at you made it feel like it wasn’t.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

wrestlingupdates posted a story

written: the girl cody was with last night was spotted out in vegas this morning. sources state she was seen going into a coffee shop to meet cody

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the café emptied out slowly, but neither of you moved.

outside, the light had shifted, golden, low. late afternoon creeping toward evening. the kind of hour that always felt like an ending.

he glanced at his watch. then at you. "i’ve gotta be at the airport in a couple hours."

you nodded like you hadn’t already known that.

of course he did. he was cody rhodes, wrestlemania main-eventer, weekly flyer, human brand. you didn’t know where he was headed next, but you were pretty sure it involved pyrotechnics.

still, it felt different to hear it out loud. it made everything feel smaller. less permanent.

"don’t feel like you have to say you’ll keep in touch", you said quietly, fingers tracing the edge of your mug. "i’ve done the part where people mean well. i don’t need..."

"i’m not people", he said again, soft but certain.

you looked up. met his eyes. he wasn’t smiling now.

"i’m not saying anything i don’t mean", he added.

something in your chest ached, hopeful and guarded at the same time.

"i just" you hesitated. "i don’t really date. i don’t do casual. and i'm not great at chasing people who are half-here."

he didn’t flinch. just nodded slowly, like he was weighing that truth with care.

"then let’s not be casual", he said. "let’s be intentional. even if it’s weird. even if it’s long-distance. even if we’re figuring it out in fragments."

you blinked. "you make that sound so easy."

he grinned. "i'm a wrestler. my whole job is making hard things look easy."

you huffed out a laugh. "that was a terrible line."

"i know", he said proudly.

the silence after that was warm, but stretching, like something was about to end, or change. he reached for his wallet, then paused.

"can i get a photo with you?", he asked.

you tilted your head. "why?"

"because if i don’t, the internet’s going to start ai generating couple pictures, and they’ll be terrifying."

You laughed, then leaned in.

he pulled out his phone, snapped a quick one. then, at the last second, turned and kissed your cheek before the shutter clicked again.

the camera caught the moment, blurry, close, real.

you didn’t even know he posted it until hours later, on his instagram story:

americannightmarecody posted a story

written: great company

and just like that, the rumour mill started again.

but you didn’t care.

because when he said he’d call you when he landed,

he meant it.

and you already knew you’d answer.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you never set rules. you never defined it.

but somehow, the distance didn’t make it disappear.

he called you the night he landed in chicago. the sound of his voice over the phone made your breath catch, warmer than you remembered, somehow.

he didn’t say much. just:

"tired. cold. thinking about you."

"sleep", you whispered.

"call you tomorrow."

and he did.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

some nights, it was only a text.

Cody [1:14 AM]:

full arena tonight. my ribs hate me. you’d hate this hotel mattress more.

You [1:15 AM]:

i believe in you. you will survive that mattress

he sent a selfie the next morning, outside the arena, hoddie pulled up, smiling like a jester. you screenshotted it before you could think twice.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

other nights, you facetimed.

once, he was backstage in his gear, stretching on a crate while crew members yelled in the background.

you were in bed, oversized hoodie, your heating pad glowing beside you.

"i look like a lump", you muttered.

"you look like someone i'd rather be next to than in this sweaty locker room."

you tried not to let it mean too much.

(it did anyway.)

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the first time you cried on the phone, it wasn’t about him.

it was your body, breaking down, again. a flare-up that had been building for days. the dull ache behind your eyes had bloomed into a full-body fire, every joint screaming in its own rhythm. your fingers had gone stiff, curled into reluctant claws, and your back had locked up so badly you couldn’t sit or lie down without something giving way.

it felt like you were shrinking inside yourself, like your own skin didn’t know how to hold you anymore. you felt ancient and helpless and impossibly tired.

you didn’t want to call. you stared at his contact for five whole minutes, debating whether the pain was real enough, bad enough, worthy enough to warrant his attention.

it wasn’t about him.

but it was about the fear that he’d hear you like this and disappear.

still, your hands hurt too much to text. so you called.

he answered on the second ring.

"hey", he said, voice quiet, softer than usual, like he could hear the hesitation before you even spoke.

you tried to sound normal. you failed.

"my hands", you swallowed. "they’re bad today. i can’t even my back’s gone too. i feel like i’m ninety."

there was a silence on the line. not the uncomfortable kind, just space. room to exist.

then:

"where are you right now?" he asked.

"couch."

"you’re okay. you’re okay", he said, like a mantra. "can you breathe for me?"

you did. shaky, shallow breaths at first. then deeper. then steadier.

"i didn’t want to ruin your night", you whispered eventually, voice breaking under the weight of it.

"you didn't ruin anything" he said. "you’re not a problem. you’re not a burden. you’re a human being. call me, even when you think i won’t pick up."

your eyes blurred again.

he didn’t fill the silence after that. He just stayed on the line, breathing with you. quiet, solid, present.

and when you finally started to fall asleep, phone still clutched in your good hand, he was still there, not saying anything, but not leaving either.

he picked up every time after that.

even when you didn’t say anything at all.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

he sent merch to your apartment with a note that just said,

"so you stop stealing my jacket."

you wore the hoodie on a grocery run and someone recognized it.

later, you found a fan instagram with a blurry photo.

wrestlingnews posted a story

written: pretty sure cody’s mystery girl just picked up oat milk in la

you sent him the link.

you: do i need a disguise now

cody: yes

cody: but don’t cover your face. i like that part.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you didn’t talk every day. but it always picked up like you had.

the thread between you never went slack. it stretched across time zones, bruises, cities, and nights when you couldn’t sleep. it wove itself into your days, a comfort, a maybe, a presence that felt less and less like a crush and more like gravity.

somewhere between month three and four, you realised:

you were in something.

you just didn’t know if you were in it alone.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the arena in austin buzzed like a living thing, loud even from the back halls, the walls humming with the low rumble of fans, the thud of music, the electric air of something about to happen.

you held your pass tight in your palm, your other hand clenched around the handle of your bag like it might float away if you let go. you hadn’t told him you were coming. not when you booked the flight. not when your friend from production pulled a string for a backstage pass. not even when you landed that morning and felt your nerves crawl all the way to your throat.

you didn’t want to make it a big thing.

you just wanted to see him.

you waited until after his match, until the shouting gave way to music, then to static, then to nothing but footsteps and radio calls. you stood tucked into a hallway near the locker rooms, trying to stay out of sight, your heart beating like it was trying to outrun you.

then you saw him.

hair damp, gear still on, his jacket slung over one shoulder. He was talking to someone, laughing a little, but distracted, like his brain was already somewhere else. maybe already on the flight out. maybe already out of reach.

you almost turned around.

but then he looked up.

and everything stopped.

he blinked like he wasn’t sure he was really seeing you, like his brain was taking a second to catch up to his eyes.

"you’re", he started, his voice catching. "you’re here?"

you nodded. "i figured i owed you a surprise."

for a moment, he didn’t move.

then he was in front of you, fast, like something finally snapped loose and his arms were around you, tight and warm and solid, lifting you slightly off the ground like he couldn’t help it.

you laughed into his neck. "you’re sweaty."

"you’re real", he murmured. "that’s more important."

he set you down gently, but didn’t let go.

"tell me you’re not just passing through", he said, breath still shallow. "tell me i don’t have to watch you walk away in fifteen minutes."

you shook your head, smiling. "couple days. i figured we deserved something."

his hand cupped your cheek before you could say anything else. thumb brushing your skin, eyes searching yours like he was waiting for you to change your mind.

you didn’t.

you leaned in first.

the kiss wasn’t dramatic. it wasn’t fireworks or perfect timing or anything that would look good on a big screen.

it was slow.

honest.

like something built, not rushed.

when you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

"so..." you said softly, "does this mean we’re official now?"

he smiled, wide and a little dazed. "we were official the second i saw you in that hallway."

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americannightmarecody

liked by samizayn, juceyucey, y/ninsta and 729,384 others

tagged: y/ninsta

americannightmarecody: you never fail to amaze me

view all 23,485 comments

y/ninsta: i love you so much

americannightmarecody: that's my girl

user5: she’s so soft and comfy coded I’m gonna cry

user6: chronic illness girlies winning again

user7: she looks like she makes playlists and remembers everyone's drink order

user8: i’m obsessed. i’m emotionally attached. i’m in this relationship too now, thanks.

[mytherapyisreading14]

Through the Dark to You

Summary: When Spencer gets kidnapped, all you can do is watch. After his rescue, you stay by his side, unable to let go. But will you find the courage to finally tell him how you feel?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: kidnapping, violence/torture mentioned (similar to what happens in the episode), slight spoilers for S2 E15

Word Count: 1,8k

Author��s Note: I've been wanting to write something inspired by the episode for a while now and I finally did it. It turned out different than I planned and I'm not sure if I like it yet. Anyway, enjoy!! :)

The room is silent, except for Garcia's occasional typing. Everyone stares at the screen, where a shaky video is being broadcasted live from a basement. In the center of the video is Spencer. Bound, pale, exhausted. Tobias Hankel moves like a predator in the background. He makes sudden, aggressive movements while murmuring religious verses.

You keep standing in front of the screen, your fingers tightly intertwined. The lump in your throat grows larger with every passing second, while the shock in your chest slowly turns to pain. When Tobias suddenly stracks, a nasty blow right in the middle of Spencer's face, you flinch. Your lips tremble. And then the tears start to stream down your face.

You blink hard, forcing yourself not to take your eyes off the screen. You can’t break down now. Not while he is there. You see the shadows in Reid's gaze, the ones he so carefully hides from the others - the insecurities, the fears he masked with scientific logic and intelligence. And now, in this moment, all those fears are reflected in his face and it breaks your heart.

Suddenly, Garcia‘s face lights up. "I found him! The IP comes from an old farm. We're sending the team out immediately!" The tension in the room eased a little, a collective sigh of relief. Your fingers dig into the back of the chair in front of you. Hope - like a light in the darkness - stirs in your chest.

You look up at the screen again. Spencer raises his head weakly, his lips are moving and you wonder what he is saying. But you know one thing for sure: You are going to find him and get him out of there. And no matter what happens after that - you’ll stay by his side.

-

The interior of the ambulance is brightly lit, the sound of the siren dimly audible from outside. Paramedics work dimly on Spencer, checking his vitals and tending his wounds. But your gaze is fixed on him - on Spencer, lying on the stretcher with a blood stained shirt and tired eyes.

You sit down next to him, your hand tightly grips his as if it‘s the only thing anchoring you. Your tears flow uncontrollably. The fear and tension of the last few hours are now overwhelming you but you are happy that he is still alive. "Spence..." you whisper, your voice almost breaking, "I... I was so scared for you." His gaze turns to you, his lips move slowly. "Hey... I'm still here..." he says and smiles, despite his exhaustion. "You don't have to cry anymore."

"I'm crying because you're here. Because you made it. And because I don't know what I would have done if... if—" He raises the hand that isn’t connected to tubes and brushes your cheek with his fingertips. "I'm okay... honestly. It's over." You shake your head slightly, a sob rising within you. "I can't lose you, Spencer. I'll stay with you. I'll go with you, I... I won't leave you alone for a second."

He looks at you for a long time. A silent understanding that he wants you by his side. That knowing you are there helps him. "Thank you," he murmurs. You lean forward, briefly pressing your forehead against his shoulder. You can’t stop crying but this time the are tears filled with hope. And love. And the deep knowledge that you are now exactly where you are meant to be - with him.

-

Paramedics escort Spencer on a stretcher into the examination room and you follow close behind, your hand still firmly in his. The doctors and nurses move quickly, giving instructions and performing initial examinations. You aren’t allowed to come inside, so you keep waiting just a few meters away in the small waiting area. Your heart races as you look at every door where Spencer might be. Your hands tremble, you’re exhausted.

After a while, the door opens and a doctor steps out. Shortly afterward, Spencer comes out of the exam room. Your eyes immediately seek his, and when he sees you, a small, tired smile plays on his lips. You run to him, hugging him gently, as if you never want to let go.

"I'm here, and I'm staying with you," you whisper. He places his hand on your cheek, his voice calm and warm. ”Thank you for being with me. This means more to me than you know." And as you stand there, finally drying your tears, you know that you would help him get through this together.

The light in the hospital corridor seems almost too bright as the doctor approaches you, his expression serious. "Dr. Reid will need to stay here for at least one night for observation," the doctor begins. "His condition requires us to monitor him closely to ensure no complications arise. This is purely a precautionary measure, but it's important."

Spencer raises his head and frowns. "I appreciate it, but I'm feeling okay so far. I'd really rather go home." His voice sounds determined, but you can tell that the exhaustion is taking its toll on him.

You look at him briefly, see the tiredness in his eyes, the slight trembling in his hands and sense that he's not quite back to full strength yet. Then you turn back to the doctor. "I think it's really better if he stays here. And... um... would it perhaps be possible for me to spend the night with him?" A slight, understanding expression flits across the doctor's face.

He nods. "Of course. As long as it's good for the patient and he feels comfortable, you're welcome to stay with him." You feel a weight lifted from your heart, but at the same time, you suddenly feel warm and your cheeks turn pink. You turn to Spencer, feeling your heart almost jump out of your chest. "I... I don't have to do this. But if it's okay with you, I'd really like to stay with you... I've been so worried about you, and I just want to make sure you're okay."

Spencer looks at you, his gaze softens and his cheeks also show a slight blush. "That's... okay for me. Thanks for staying with me." You didn’t realise that the rest of the team entered the room. They stand in the doorway, watching the small, intimate scene and can't help but grin.

Morgan winks at you with a mischievous grin. “Well, someone was pretty daring." JJ laughs softly. Rossi, who usually seems very serious, chuckles and says, "You don't see this much care all at once every day. This is going to be a long night for you." You feel your face getting even hotter, but this time you can't help but laugh quietly.

Spencer looks a little embarrassed, but also happy, as he says, "Well, at least I know I'm not alone here." Hotch, who's just entered the room, clears his throat slightly before he says, "It's good to know at least one of you is watching. We'll be nearby. If you need anything don’t hesitate to call." The mood in the room noticeably lightens, the tension falls a little from your shoulders.

You squeeze Spencer's hand, lean briefly against his shoulder, and feel a little more at home despite all the uncertainty.

-

The room is silent, only the faint beeping of the devices and the occasional breathing can be heard. You sir in the chair next to Spencer, who is lying in bed. For a while, you both remain silent. The closeness is comforting and after a while, you break the silence with a small smile.

"By the way... you missed our last movie night." Spencer raises an eyebrow and grins slightly. "That's right. Tobias ruined it." You smile weakly. "Well, as soon as you're out of here, we'll definitely repeat it. No kidnappings and extra popcorn."

He nods and his smile brightens a little. "That sounds good. I'm looking forward to it." You look at him, your voice softening. "Do you actually want to... talk about what happened?" Spencer shakes his head slightly, his eyes tired but honest. "Not yet. It's all still so close. I need some more time."

You nod understandingly. "It's okay. But eventually... you have to process this. I'll be here for you when you're ready." You are silent for a few moments, then you break the tension. Your voice trembles slightly as you admit how overwhelmed you were: "I was so scared for you... I was so relieved when you were finally here."

Spencer places his hand on yours and squeezes it gently. "I'm glad you're here. That you didn't leave." After his last sentence, there is silence in the room. You look at Spencer and suddenly, you realize how close you'd been to losing him. How deep the fear and worry for him runs inside you - and that you hadn't told him any of this for far too long.

Your heart is pounding, and your voice is quiet at first, almost hesitant, as you begin to speak. "Spencer... I... I think I've had this inside me for so long... but I didn't say it out loud because I was afraid... afraid that it might destroy our friendship... or that you wouldn't see me that way..."

You swallow hard, your hands shaking slightly. "I... I love you. Not just as a friend. Not just like that. I mean... you're always on my mind, no matter what I do. And it's not just because you're so smart or funny - although this are all true, too." You laugh nervously, your words coming out faster. "It's just... you are you. And I've asked myself so many times why I never said that, why I was so scared, because what if I lose you, and... I can't do this anymore... I can't stay silent anymore."

Your breathing quickened, your voice almost cracked. "And now that I almost lost you, I know that I don't just miss you when you're not here, but... that I love you. Really love you." You break off, look at the floor, then back at him, your cheeks warm and red. You are nervous, uncertain, and yet more open than ever before.

Spencer looks at you for a long time, his eyes shining. Then he smiles gently - a warm, reassuring smile. He places a hand gently on your cheek, interrupting you lovingly, and says, "I love you too." You look at him, surprised and overwhelmed by his words. Slowly, you pull him closer until your lips touch - a soft, tender kiss. Full of relief, warmth, and all the feelings you carried unspoken for so long.

When you pull apart, you look deep into each other's eyes, and you whisper, "I want you to know, no matter what happens, I'll stay with you." Spencer smiles, takes your hand and says, "And I'll stay with you. Always." In that moment you are simply there, connected by love, trust and the knowledge that together you can achieve anything.

[milk-is-stable]

Toby's Secret Pocket

Sickday rewatch requested by @apolloisbored I'm sick! send me a longform to watch and I'll make a commentary/headcanon post about it! (using the tag #sfth liveblog, so that's what to blacklist if you don't want your dash taken up by this)

Pre-watch thoughts: I don't rewatch this one enough, even though from what I recall it has some of my favorite things: a strong Luke character, Tom creating an instantly classic character by being absolutely ridiculous, AJ being a police chief (why is he so badly good at it every time XD), and Sam somehow bringing the most insane characters to life in the most loveable way.

Liveblogging:

Luke: "Sam coming on as the evil make a wish kid is the fastest a main character's ever been chosen." Really? Because he JUMPED to be Toby in this, he's up and miming sewing before AJ's even sat down from the intro.

Sam: this is gonna be in the US because my accent choice said so. (these are....not their best us accents, not gonna lie XD)

Sam and Luke jump to fucking with each other very quickly in this scene, and it's very funny.

COMPTROLLERS!

Half of Toby and Meth-wife's flirting is very sincere and the other half is....you guessed it, them fucking with each other.

Sam: allow me to set up some potential stakes and plot threads for this story, otherwise it'll just be the two of us yapping at each other about tailoring all day

Tom: I'm gonna join this scene as the Don now. Sam & Luke: *even more intense flirting* Tom: I SAID- Sam: okay, okay, fine.

AJ: time to insert myself into this scene. Tom: whoa! where'd you come from?

Ah, a SFTH police department...one of the most chaotic places you can take a scene.

JIMMY!

Tom keeps assuming that editing will happen and then it Does Not (it's okay, we'll bleep it, we'll bleep it!)

So for the UK readers here, Arkansas to New York is gonna be over a 20 hour drive with rest stops included, and there are pretty much no major cities down there. Like, their biggest city only has 200k people in it. I truly don't know why A) the Don is going that deep into the midwest for his tailoring or B) why Toby, who wants to work in New York, is still running a tailoring shop out of Arkansas when he's apparently so good that a New York mob boss has heard of and wants his merchandise. I question why his ability is somehow so recognized that the Don heard about it, and yet he's still not got enough money to set up a boutique somewhere else. Unless he's running the shop closer to Branson and gets all of the showgirl contracts (Even though Branson is in Missouri not Arkansas) and the Branson performers who are lucky enough to be moving UP in the entertainment world go to New York and spread the word of how good Toby and his tailoring is and those rumors reached the Don somehow, but even then, if that's what's happening he'd probably get an offer from a broadway designer before a mob boss, and let's be real how many Branson performers are actually moving up a good chunk of them are actually moving down/retiring or otherwise are going to end up staying in the midwest forever and- I'm sorry, my hyperspecific "lived in this part of the country for ten years" knowledge is taking over, isn't it? 😅 (you really shouldn't have picked Arkansas sam, I wouldn't be doing this otherwise.....then again, there is a LOT of meth cooking down there in the Ozarks, so maybe it was an accurate setting choice after all.)

Anyway, this whole scene is just the four of them fucking with one another and it's great. "Are you sure you know about comptrollers, cuz you don't know about the letters B and N" "Maybe make HIM the main character, he seems to be a fan favorite" "his name is DON CICCICIO, I really feel like I should be in this room..." "You want us three, including HIM, to go talk to the tailor? You sure?" "Yeah, I really want a face-to-face with Don Ciccicio myself..."

"Actually, theres only space for two!" "I'll leave." "NO!"

CHIEF WAIT why did you come with us??

This whole longform is a mess, tbh, and that's what makes it so good. Love that AJ and Tom just kinda let Luke flounder about during this scene without much help/plot-forwarding.

Sam: what if I move this plot along by being a comptroller? *the scene quickly dissolves back into making fun of one another*

TOM WHY DID YOU DO THAT

"why do you have hair product in" dude it's probably his soap or shaving cream, it's not like bald people don't have to wash their heads

"Toby." *cheers* "HOW LOW IS THE FUCKING BAR??" Honestly Luke, in this one? Pretty frickin low XD

The mirroring while in the secret trousers is a great bit of stagecraft.

AJ: I should have never come with you. Sam: Yeah, that really didn't further the plot much, did it boss.

The audience booing for AJ kicking Jimmy out of the force and then immediately cheering when he "slams the window shut" and flips them off is great

"We're leaving. It'll make the scene much easier."

AAAAAAAH!!!! MITOSIS! *confused-J* Helpful-Luke: it's the process of cell division!

"son..." "Dad?" "Wha- yeah, just don't let anyone know-" "DAD??? :D :D :D I DIDN'T KNOW!!!"

I cannot emphasize enough that this play is a trainwreck plot wise, but the jokes are so strong that it doesn't really feel that way.

Jimmy having a much more realistic response to shooting meth than Meth-wife (meth does not mellow you out)

Oscar to Tom for this scene XD (and to the caption writers)

Luke: Ok, this is great and all, but I think it's time we wrap this up.

Iconic Jimmy finishing monologue!

And scene! Honestly, this is such a good one for showcasing how the four of them mess with each other on stage, and the ways that they can turn fuck-ups into great comedic moments, not to mention an iconic Sam/Luke pairing. So much fun!