#especially the way the chose to make his final words a (well deserved) apology to ed

[mikimeiko]

Our Flag Means Death Season 2 - one gif per episode (with the first gif from their first scene and the last gif from their last scene) | Izzy Hands

[andreafmn]

Collision | Chapter 24

Word Count: 3.2K Warnings: death

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life is at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

A/N: slowly but surely finishing up some WIP chapters for every story and a couple of oneshots and requests 😊

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The last place (Y/N) wanted to be in was a funeral. Especially when guilt clung to her like a dark cloud. It didn’t matter how many people told her it wasn’t her fault or that there was nothing more she could have done. She couldn’t help it.

Harry’s heart had taken its last beat under her hands, it had stopped while she was the one caring for him. And even if it had flatlined, she felt like there was more she could have done. Maybe if she had kept going, he would have magically come back. Stranger things than that had happened. To her, it didn’t matter if he’d had heart problems or that the pressure on the organ had been too much for recovery. She simply felt there was something else she could do. Anything else.

Clad in a dark dress, (Y/N) made her way to the Clearwater house. But once there, she could not make it past the first step. Tears flooded her eyes as she stared at the front door, the murmurs from the inside rushing to her ears. How could she face them? How could she face all the people who loved Harry and tell them there may have been more to do?

“(Y/N)?” a voice broke her out of her trance. The girl turned to find a worried Paul walking toward her, and fight or not, she found herself crashing into his arms. They fell to the ground as he cradled her in his arms, allowing her to crumble. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay.”

“It’s my fault, Paul,” she cried. “It’s my fault he’s gone.”

“It is absolutely not your fault, (Y/N),” he whispered. “You did all you could. Sam told us how hard you fought to keep him alive. There was nothing else you could do, (Y/N). It was just his time.”

“No. I could have saved him,” she continued. “I should have saved him.”

“He was a man with pre-existing heart conditions that had the scare of a lifetime, (Y/N). There was no way he would have survived this. There was nothing more to do,” he said. “Unburden yourself of his death because it was not, and never will be your fault.”

With teary eyes, (Y/N) finally allowed herself to look up at her friend, feeling her chest lighten at his words. Even if the knot was still there, she could feel herself growing used to the feeling, and others started to come to the surface. “I thought you were mad at me,” she sniffled, sitting on the ground as her breathing steadied. “Why are you here comforting me?”

“Just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’d walk past you when you’re crying,” he said, sitting next to her. “You’re still my best friend, (Y/N).”

“So, does that mean you’re still mad at me?”

“Not as much as before,” he teasingly shrugged, shoving her softly. “I will admit, in the time that we’ve been apart, I’ve had a chance to think about my actions, and I have to say I may have overreacted a little bit. I knew you didn’t feel the same way I did, but I still let myself think that we’d one day be more. Then I got mad at you when you didn’t act the way I thought you should. I got my feelings hurt and I took it out on you. I’m sorry for that, (Y/N).”

“Well, if we’re airing out our grievances, I should apologize for using you like I did,” she admitted. “I knew how you felt about me, and I still asked you to do something almost impossible. I should never have asked you to get involved with my moving on in the way I did. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m sorry.”

“I’m the one that said yes, (Y/N). I knew what I was getting into, and I still said yes,” he refuted. “I had every chance to say no, but I chose to stay. So, I’m sorry.”

“No, Paul. If I hadn’t…”

“Look, we’re not gonna spend the rest of the morning saying sorry back and forth, (Y/N),” he chuckled. “Let’s just agree we both fucked up and go back to being friends. I’ve missed you for far too long.”

“I’ve missed you too, Paul,” she sniffled once more. “I have so much to tell you.”

“Let’s get through this first, okay? Then we have all the time in the world to catch up.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

With Paul by her side, the funeral was easier to bear. Though the pitiful stares and the sorrys were getting to her, having her best friend helped appease her guilt and her sadness. She was able to face the heartbroken Clearwater family and offer them condolences, embracing a terrified Seth and a heartbroken and detached Leah. There were no words she could tell them that could make the moment better. No amount of condolences or blessings would assuage the pain of losing their father in such a tragic way.   And telling them she felt guilty about his passing would never compare to the guilt she was sure his daughter already felt.

Leah’s face was stoic, plastered with anger and despair. But (Y/N) knew what she was hiding. She could sense the girl’s self-reproach; it was the same she was feeling. To her, it was unmistakable. That hidden darkness in her eyes, the staggering in her breath, the closed-off posture. The Uley girl knew the signs all too well. They had been etched into her skin like an infected tattoo for years, making her skin itch and swell, but nevertheless remaining, staining. A mark that she would carry for the rest of her life. And now, so would poor Leah.

(Y/N) wanted to show her support in any way she could, but she knew her words did not mean anything yet. The last thing the girl needed was to hear from the sister of the guy who had broken her heart. No. What she needed for the moment was space—time to grieve and process the trauma she had just gone through.

So, instead of badgering the girl with empty words and sentiments like most people were doing, she let her be.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Seth startled her as he sat down beside her on the front porch. “Sorry. I just wanted to thank you for what you did for my dad. Mom told us how hard you tried to save him.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Seth,” she smiled sadly. “I was simply doing my job.”

“I know it was more than that,” he chuckled softly. “He cared about you, you know? He always knew you’d be going far, and he was right. A doctor at only 19? I’d say that’s pretty far. I mean, I’m only fifteen and the most impressive thing I’ve done is become a wolf, and I didn’t even do it on purpose.”

“Well, I’m still a student,” she said, but noting his annoyance, she chuckled. “But I get what you’re saying. I cared about him a lot too. I just wish I hadn’t been so busy these few months and got to spend more time with him. He always treated Sam and me with so much love and kindness, I can’t help but regret not giving as much as I received from him.”

“Nah, he knew how much you loved him,” Seth shrugged. “Honestly, we almost made you a forbidden name in our house because of how much he talked about you. When Leah got angry and would bring up that you hadn’t been in the rez for years, he always shut her down and told us you were putting us on the map. The more time you spent away, the prouder he was. I’m sure he knows how hard you fought for him and how much you loved him.”

“You’re too smart, kid,” (Y/N) hid a sniffle with a chuckle as she messed with his hair. “But don’t worry about me. How are you?”

“Honestly, I think I’m still in shock,” he sighed. “I woke up today hoping to find him on his chair, reading the newspaper, just waiting to talk to us about being wolves. Instead, I woke up to people rearranging the living room to fit his casket for the showing. It’s weird and confusing, and I think it hasn’t hit me quite yet. But, honestly, it’s Leah that I’m most worried about. She’s taking it really hard.”

“That’s to be expected, unfortunately. It was no easy thing what she went through—what you both went through,” the girl said. “It’s gonna take some time for her to feel normal again. At least a new version of normal. She’s gonna need us all, even if she thinks she wants to push us away.”

“I just wish she knew it wasn’t her fault. That no one blames her for what happened.”

“It’s gonna take some time, kid,” (Y/N) said as she hugged his side. “But we’ll be here. Every step of the way.”

Three hours felt like an eternity as the veil of grief draped itself over the Clearwater house. Even as they celebrated the life of Harry, the sadness was inevitable in the moment. It clung to the walls, to the floor, the very air they breathed. It was everywhere they went, even if no one had invited it in.  Three hours was far too long for (Y/N). Three hours had been enough for her.

With a final walk around of condolences and sad smiles, (Y/N) decided she had reached her grief limit. As much as she wanted to spend more time with the family, she needed to be able to breathe. If she stayed any longer in that house, she was afraid she’d never be okay again.

But her day did not end once she left the funeral. She had promised Bella she would see her right after, and a part of her regretted agreeing to go all the way to Forks. There was nothing she could think of that could warrant Bella’s insistence that she visit her. (Y/N) knew it couldn’t be about Victoria because Jacob wouldn’t have left the girl’s side for a second. It couldn’t have been about Harry since she hadn’t gone to the funeral. The only thing that she could imagine was impossible and downright infuriating.

And yet, as she rounded the corner to Bella’s street, a car made her breath hitch in her throat. The black Mercedes was unmistakable, and just the sight of it made the girl’s heart hammer against her chest. Not only was it surprising that it was there, but that it was the first time she had heard about it.

Mixed feelings rushed through (Y/N)’s body as she got closer to the house. Just the idea of seeing him unnerved her. But she couldn’t quiet the part of her that hoped it was him behind the door, waiting, expecting her. She couldn’t stop the thought that he had come back for her, to tell her that he had made the biggest mistake of his life by letting her go. Still, that wasn’t the part that was winning in her mind.

Anger quickly surged to the top as she made her way to the front door. Words of ire and disappointment rapidly formed on her tongue, ready to be spat the second she saw golden eyes staring back at her. Because he shouldn’t have been there. He had no right.

“Bells?” (Y/N) called out, finding the door unlocked. “I’m here.” 

Suddenly, a face she had seen one too many times appeared, worry splattered across her face like a stain. It wasn’t the one she was expecting, but it was a surprise, nonetheless.

Before she could say anything, Alice Cullen had her arms around (Y/N) as though no time had passed. It was borderline the softest touch and a bone-crushing hug all at the same time. There was only love and happiness coming from the vampire. But it was something (Y/N) couldn’t reciprocate.

“Alice,” she found herself whispering. Her voice came out in a hush, a tone so low only the supernatural would be able to hear it. “W-what’s going on? Why are you here?”

“Well, I thought Bella had died,” she said. “I had this vision that after the whole cliff diving fiasco, she didn’t make it out of the water. It wasn’t until I got here that I found out a wolf had saved her.”

“And you couldn’t have called?” (Y/N) asked, sounding colder than she intended. “One phone call could have cleared everything up.”

“I wasn’t really thinking,” Alice continued. “And then Rose told Edward what happened before I could confirm anything, and now he’s about to commit the dumbest mistake of his life.”  

“Again, a phone call would work.”

“Oh, you know Edward won’t believe me until he sets eyes on her,” the girl dismissed, pa omg as her head raced with thought, oblivious to (Y/N)’s coldness. “Regardless, he’s not picking up his phone. Goodness, first, Carlisle goes missing as soon as we’re out of Forks, and now Edward wants to get killed. What is happening to this family?”

(Y/N) couldn’t hear anything after the mention of Carlisle’s name. I’m her head, he was thriving in life being a big shot head doctor at some other hospital, he was with his family being the mysterious Cullens somewhere else. But Alice had said he had disappeared. Over half a year had passed, and none of them had heard from their father figure. Not even Alice’s visions had seemed to help the situation.

“W-what do you mean Carlisle is missing?” (Y/N)’s voice broke Alice’s incessant rambling. “I thought he was with you.” 

“Oh, no, (Y/N),” she brought her hands to her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t…”

“How could he just disappear, Alice? Where could he have gone to that none of you know where he is?”

“I don’t…”

“Oh, (Y/N)!” Bella called out as she rushed down her stairs, a backpack hanging from her shoulder. “I’m sorry, but we have to cut this visit short. I don’t know if Alice told you…”

“No,” she spat. “Alice hasn’t said much of anything. At least not anything of much importance.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, not only do I come here to find Alice after over six months of radio silence, but now I find out that no one in the family knows where Carlisle has gone.” His name rolling out of her tongue felt bittersweet. It made her heart flutter with the intensity of the bat of a million butterfly wings, but it made her stomach churn as though she’d been stuck at sea for too much time. It was refuge and terror all wrapped up in a beautiful word. “But I guess what interests you more is the fact that Edward thinks you’re dead.”

“I didn’t…,” Bella stammered before turning to the vampire. “You didn’t say Carlisle was missing. All you said was that it wasn’t him on the phone. Carlisle’s missing?”

“Look, I’m sorry. But he’s the least of my worries right now,” Alice exhaled. “Esme has been looking for him and has some good leads. Right now, I care about the fact that Edward is going to get himself killed by the Volturi in Italy. I wish this could have been a beautiful reunion, but it is what it is.”

“Bella, you know you don’t have to do this, right?” (Y/N) blurted. “You are not under the obligation of saving him after what he did to you.” 

“I know,” the girl sighed. “But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try to help him live. As much as he hurt me, the love I have for him is far greater than our past. Wouldn’t you do the same for Carlisle?”

It should have been an easy answer. Yes. If it meant that Carlisle was alive and well, of course, she would have jumped on a plane and traveled around the world to save him. Yes. Three letters. One confirmation. That should have been easy to say.

But a voice inside her yelled no. As much as she loved and yearned for him, (Y/N) couldn’t say yes. Not when he had ripped her heart to shreds purposefully. Not when he had said things he’d never be able to take back. She should have said no. Just no.

“I don’t know,” she said instead. “Maybe I’m not as strong as you.”

“No,” Bella smiled softly, taking (Y/N)’s hands in hers. “You’re stronger.”

“Just be careful out there, Bells. Even if they don’t return, come home.”

“I promise,” she said. “And I’m sure Carlisle is okay. Esme will find him soon enough.”

“He can take care of himself. I’m more worried about you,” (Y/N) said, squeezing Bella’s hands comfortingly before turning to Alice. “You better make sure nothing happens to her. Leaving us is one thing. But if anything else happens to Bella under your watch, that’s gonna be unforgivable.”

“She’ll be safe, I promise,” the vampire peeped, a shake in her voice that almost sounded like she was terrified. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

Turning back around, (Y/N) continued. “Be safe, Bella,” she said as she took the girl in for a tight hug. “And I’ll make sure your dad is safe and doesn’t get too angry about your impromptu trip.”

“Thank you, (Y/N),” she chuckled softly. “Whatever happens, we’ll always have the Cullen Discard Club.”

“Best club to be in,” (Y/N) laughed. “Now, go. And be safe.”

(Y/N) wanted to stop Bella. Shake the girl until she finally saw reason. But she couldn’t lie, she understood. As she watched the black car disappear down the road, she couldn’t help the worry that overtook her body as she thought back to Carlisle. She couldn’t help but wonder where he had gone to hide, if he was safe, if he had fed.

It took everything in her to close the Swan door behind her and go back to her home. There was nothing she could do for him anymore, that much she knew. But there was an itch inside her that begged to find him, that called on her to make sure he was okay. It was the same voice she shared with Bella. The love you could only have for someone that had infected your soul.

When she got back, her house was quiet, and it was just what she needed—silence. It allowed her to just be, to just feel—no judgment or anger—just silence. It was so quiet that as she removed her coat, a piece of paper fell from the pocket and clattered softly against the ground.

With genuine interest, (Y/N) picked it up and wondered how it had gotten there until she read it.

This is Esme’s number. Just in case you wanted it.

I truly am sorry for everything.

-Alice

(Y/N) didn’t know when the vampire had written the letter—not that, with her speed, she would have ever noticed—but a small part of her was grateful for it.

That night, she went to bed staring at the piece of paper, wondering what she would do with it. She could have picked it up and called Esme, gathered as much information as she could to help in her search, joined her in New York, and turned it upside down until they could find him. Then again, she could have done absolutely nothing at all.

Next ->

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[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

This is my first time ever requesting SMTH OML IM SWEATIN 😟 BUT I WANTED TO HAVE MY FIRST REQUEST BE TOWARDS YOU CAUSE UR WRITING IS SO GOOD AND BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN LIKE THE EMOTION UR ABLE TO CONVEY JUST THROUGH WORDS IS CRAZY N ADDICTIVELY DELICIOUS NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES IT HURTS MY SOUL ANYWAY MOVING ON (i love ur writing sm its so artistic)

this is so akward but like a reader who grew up around family members who'd get RLLY drunk n made her home super uncomfortable for her so like it's like a sensitive thing when she's around intoxicated people yk like n one day bill shows up late from a party pretty messed up n is kinda acting like an asshole lowkey aggressive LIKE ANGSTY YK UR AMAZING AT THAT n then the next morning bill wakes up hung over without reader in bed next to him confused n finally remembers n how royally fucked he is n hes like super apologetic

THATS ALL I GOT BUT UM IF U DONT FEEL COMFY WRITING IT I TOTALLY GET IT LIKE IGNORE THIS DELETE THIS DW, BUT IF YOU DO THANK YOU IN ADVANCE IYLSM

(this Lowkey sucks ass and I'm so sorry for making you wait this long for this piece of shit writing I wrote, jut I still hope you enjoy it and I'm so glad you like my works and my writing!)

Drunk & Sober Mistakes

Bill woke up with a pounding in his head, groaning as he flipped over onto his stomach. He reached for the nightstand, grabbing a bottle of water.

He drank from it like he was dehydrated for ten years, feeling like he was as he savored the feeling of it pouring down his throat.

"(Name)...?" Bill called out, his voice raspy and scratchy as he woke up, trying to see you.

Bill looked up confused when he got no response, looking around from the bed as best he could.

Bill groaned as he got up, almost stumbling as he made it to his feet and to the bathroom, desperately trying to get the taste out his mouth.

He brushed his teeth, almost gagging at the taste of the toothpaste with throw up in his mouth.

Bill finally has time to mull over everything, everything in small blurs except that he knew that he got drunk.

He came home, and for some reason felt in a bad mood, and unfortunately you were there as well, so you got some backlash.

Bill felt like hitting himself, especially as it came back in an almost tidal wave that he remembered everything.

Your family has problems with drinking, getting so drunk to the point of making you uncomfortable.

Bill promised to never do that to you, but now?

Bill felt the throw up coming back up as he realized he had broken that promise, and your trust.

Something Bill vowed to never do to you

As he did so, he heard the front door open and shut as soon as he heard it. Bill sighed, knowing it was you just from the sound of your footsteps.

Knowing he has to face you, and full of shame, he walks out of the bathroom to see you collecting stuff off the floor he had either knocked down, or dropped.

Watching you do so as he leaned against the doorframe only made him even more guilty.

You knew he was there from the burning and the feeling all over your body, but you chose to ignore him, feeling as he deserves it for what he has done last night.

At your silence and watching you trying to fix the bed, Bill sighed.

"I'm sorry, babe." Bill finally spoke up, looking as you stopped your movement, listening as he stepped closer, staying a little ways away as he didn't want to make you even more uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry for getting drunk. I…I didn't think I would get that bad." Bill sighed once more, walking closer to you as he heard you sigh as well, about to shrug him off.

"It's fine-"

"No, it's not. I fucked up. I'm sorry." Bill apologized once more, looking as you shook your head as he stood right behind you. Bill wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning down to put his chin on your shoulders.

"I'm sorry…" Bill repeated, kissing your cheek in light kisses as he heard you sigh, moving the hands to softly sit on his, so soft and quiet it was like you wouldn't notice your hands unless you spoke up about them.

"Just- just don't do it again…" you mumbled, looking over your shoulder slightly to see his face close to yours, a frown almost permanent on his.

"I promise you, I won't ever do it again." Bill reassured, pecking your lips softly once as he rubbed his thumb over your waist.

"...You were being a real asshole." You said, actually meaning it and thinking he deserves to hear it. Bill sighed, nodding softly as he knew he was.

Bill thought about something for a moment, to at least try and make it a little more better before he finally found it.

"...wanna smack me?" Bill offered quickly, getting a pause from you as you finally turned around to look at him.

"What?" You couldn't help but laugh at the suggestion, Bill smiling as he finally got a smile out of you.

"To make it better!" Bill laughed along, smiling as he put his hands on your hips.

"No!" You shook your head, objecting like he was crazy but he was smiling at the sound of your laughter.

"Come on, just one smack." Bill tried once more, tickling your sides softly as you playfully scoffed and moved his hands.

"Is this a new kink you're trying out?" You joked, Bill falling silent as he gave you a funny look.

You both gave each other little smirks, amused before you both bursted out laughing.

Bill chuckled, grabbing your arm and bringing you into a hug as you kept on giggling.

He rubbed your back, your arms and kissed your head.

"I'm sorry, again."

"It's fine…just promise to not do it again?" You mumbled out, smiling up at him from his chest as he chuckled, immediately nodding.

"I promise I won't ever do it again. Sticking to soda from now on, huh?" Bill asked, his hands on your waist now with yours around his.

"You most definitely are." You smiled back, scrunching up your nose as he leaned down and almost touched his nose with yours, still smiling.

"Well, got a soda cop here now, huh?"

"Yup, ass."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[gubler-me-up]

No Holds Barred

Request: First off I wanna say that I love your stories SO MUCH they really get me thru Request: MGG (or Spencer Reid if this is too intense) x female reader (she’s relatively inexperienced but down for anything) with super degrading oral (male receiving), spitting, cockwarming (that the reader initiates to torture him a lil) and then sex after?? If you can’t I completely understand; I would love anything you do tbh. Tysm!

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! I chose to do Spencer because I highkey forgot MGG was your first choice and in the poll I already said it was an SR fic, so my bad there! I hope that's okay with you 💛I included everything you wanted and a few lil ✨sprinkles✨ of sumn extra 😏Happy reading!

Couple: Experienced!Spencer Reid/Inexperienced Fem!reader

Category: Smut (18+ EXPLICIT)

Content warning: Swearing, penetrative sex, degrading oral (male receiving), degradation, spitting, rough sex, rough groping, spanking, slapping, cockwarming, creampie

Word count: 3.1k

——————–

You dried yourself off in the bathroom after hopping out of a well-deserved hot shower. You had gone to a yoga class you had been putting off for weeks, but you had no regret finally going. It felt as if every muscle in your body finally knew what relaxation was.

You wish you could experience your newfound relaxation with Spencer. You had been so tense and irritated for the past few days that you two hadn’t really gotten to spend quality time together. You knew how much of a pain you were in the last few weeks due to stress and wished you could make it up to him. The newfound energy you had needed someone to let it loose on.

You looked at your nude body in the mirror, thinking of how if Spencer was home you’d have somewhere to put your energy. Hell, you would even dip your toes into dangerous territory if he came around. Your yoga instructor did leave everyone with a tidbit to open up their horizons. In your case, you’d be opening up a lot more than just horizons.

You then wrapped your towel around your body to step out into your bedroom. You had forgotten to turn up the heat before you took a shower, so you dreaded walking into a cold room. You opened the door to leave the bathroom and even from the little crack of the door, you could feel the heat. You narrowed your eyes in confusion as to how that was possible since it was only you home.

You opened the door all the way to see the man of the hour sitting on your bed, facing you with a warm smile. You immediately walked up to Spencer with a pep in your step. You grasped his head in your hands and greeted him with a long, needy kiss. As you pulled away, you couldn’t stop smiling at him. Especially since the feeling of him caressing your lower back was sending every sort of tingle down your spine.

“I didn’t expect you to be home so early, but I’m not complaining at all,” you said.

“Yeah, the case wrapped up pretty quick. I’m glad it did because it seems as if I caught you in an amazing mood,” he said.

You sighed, feeling bad about your behaviour the week prior. Who knew tensed muscles and long nights working would have made you so grumpy? Well, your handsome grey matter of a boyfriend would know the technical reason for your behaviour.

“Sorry, I know I’ve been such a downer lately,” you said.

“No need to apologize; we all have our days,” he said.

“Or weeks,” you giggled.

“Doesn’t matter now though. Now that we know yoga’s the cure, all is right in the world again,” he chuckled.

You leaned in to kiss him again. You loved how understanding he was. It was refreshing to be with someone who had so much compassion for such a tumultuous soul like yours. It made you feel as if it was the right time to show him how loose you could get.

For months, you two have stuck to pretty tame sex, but from the way he’d tug on your hair whenever you two made out and how he grabbed your thighs with such a mighty grip, it was clear he was a rough one. Even if he never explicitly said it. You had never explored those territories before and always desperately wanted to even just for a learning experience. You knew how much Spencer loved to teach after all.

“You know, my yoga instructor suggested that we all open up our horizons,” you said through the kiss.

He chuckled. “And what does that entail?”

You stopped kissing him to look at him in his big, beautiful hazel eyes. You could see the curiosity growing in them the more he saw how seductive your eyes were getting. You caressed your hands down his neck to his chest before slipping them further down his torso until you touched the brim of his pants.

“That all my horizons are open for you,” you said.

He smirked. “Is that so?”

You bit your bottom lip, nodding to let him know you were more than willing. With one swift pull on the back of your towel, he undid it and let it drop to the flower, showing off your freshly washed body. He wasted no time lingering in the moment as he spanked your ass and squeezed it tight in his large hands. You let out a strong yelp from the adrenaline rush throughout your body. It felt like a new high you had never experienced before, but you definitely craved more of it.

“On your knees then,” he demanded.

You dropped to your knees before he even ended his sentence. You wanted to feel his dick in your mouth again. You were never able to put the whole thing in your mouth before, but you wanted to change that. You wanted to choke, gag, and drool all over it. You wanted it to hit the back of your throat as you looked up at him as if he owned you. It was quite easy opening up your horizons for him with such a commanding tone in his voice and how handsome he looked looking down at you as if you were his favourite whore. You just knew you were in for a practical lesson tonight.

“Don’t go easy on me. I’ve been so bad this week,” you said as you undid his pants.

“Oh, I wasn’t planning on it, but if you feel overwhelmed just say ‘jello,’” he said.

You giggled as you pulled his pants along with his underwear. His dick immediately popped out in front of your face. You licked your lips, feeling your mouth getting wet as if it was getting ready to lubricate for his dick. He tangled his hand in your hair and you instantly opened your mouth, piecing together what he was going to do next.

He slowly eased his dick into your mouth. You were surprised he was easing you in so gently. He gently rocked his hips back and forth, inching his dick closer and closer into your mouth. You inched your head forward to get even more inches into your mouth. He yanked your head back and slapped your cheek.

“Don’t be an eager whore. Be a patient one,” he demanded.

“Or else what? You’re going to fuck my mouth?” You asked.

He slapped your face and then cupped it, putting his thumb in your mouth. You looked up at him, hungry for whatever he had in store for you. You had no idea how in control he could be of you and it felt freeing. It made you feel like a sex kitten waiting for its master's next move. You know your yoga instructor never meant for you to explore these horizons but you were glad you chose to.

“Your disgusting whore mouth would love that, huh?” He asked.

You nodded enthusiastically. “Fuck my whore mouth.”

He removed his hand from your face. He didn’t give you a moment to prepare your mouth before he shoved your head as far as it would go on his dick. You severely gagged as you felt the tip of his dick touch the back of your throat.

“Yeah, that’s right. Fucking choke on it if you want it so bad, whore,” he said.

He then pulled your head off his dick. You coughed as a little drool escaped your mouth. You couldn’t catch your breath for long before he stuffed his dick back in your mouth. He rocked his hips back and forth faster this time. You assumed he was only testing the waters the first time around. Now he was letting you have everything he had to offer you.

“Never knew you were such a filthy whore. I would have fucked your mouth a long time ago,” he said.

He continued to do just that. You gagged every time he shoved his dick to the back of your throat and your mouth was overproducing saliva to the point it was dripping down your face. He pulled your head off his dick and slapped you on your cheek again.

“You fucking love choking on my dick, don’t you?” He asked as he slapped you again.

“Yes, I do,” you said.

“Why?” He asked.

“Because I’m a filthy whore,” you responded.

He slapped you on your cheek again and then used his thumb to open your mouth. You looked up at him as he spat on your top lip. You quickly used your tongue to clean it up. That’s what you thought a good whore would do anyway. He gently slapped your cheek before sliding his thumb into your mouth. If the slap didn’t give it away then the look of satisfaction on his face let you know you were doing an amazing job.

“Open your whore mouth if you want more dick,” he demanded.

You immediately opened your mouth for him to insert his dick again. He moved his hand from your face and leaned his head back as he shoved his dick into your mouth. He went even faster and rougher this time. You felt tears stinging your eyes from the sheer force of the tip of his dick hitting the back of your throat. A few even escaped as even more drool escaped from your mouth.

He eased his head up to look down at you. You could only imagine what a mess you looked like. It kind of felt liberated to let yourself go and not worry about looking perfect while giving oral. The only thing you cared about was the feeling of his huge cock deep in your mouth.

“Fuck, you look like such a desperate whore,” he said.

You moaned in agreement. He yanked your head away from his dick as soon as he heard you. You caught your breath as you looked up at him, waiting for his next move. It sent major anticipation down your spine which excited you beyond words.

“What did you say? I didn’t quite hear you,” he said.

“I am a desperate whore,” you said.

He let go of your hair. You didn’t realize what a grip he had on it until he let go and you felt a huge weight lifted off. You kind of missed it already. He then grabbed you by your jaw and pulled your head up. You got onto your feet to get up from the ground, so you could be closer to his face.

You bit your bottom lip before opening it wide with your tongue out. He looked deep into your eyes as he spat into your mouth before pulling you into a long, feverish kiss. You took that as you were doing a good job and he even wanted more of what you two had started.

He pulled you away from his lips. “Get on my dick and show me how a novice whore rides dick.”

You smirked. Novice? He would regret those words as soon as you got on top of him. He might have been in ultimate control while you were on your knees, but he had another thing coming once you crawled over him. You’d show him that you could really show out.

He let go of you and stepped out of his pants and underwear fully before laying on the bed. You slowly crawled on top of him. You didn’t hesitate to grab onto his dick from underneath you. You rarely took his whole dick inside of you because sometimes it was too much for you to handle. Not tonight, however.

You looked at him with determination in your eyes. You could see in his eyes he was expecting you to take as much as you could usually handle. You slowly slipped yourself down his dick, moaning with every inch you took in you. His eyes started to widen the more you slid down until you reached the bottom. You had never felt so filled before, but it felt unbelievably good. Especially knowing what you had in mind.

“Didn’t think you had it in you,” he said.

“Why? Because you think I’m a novice whore?” You said as you started to unbutton his shirt.

“I don’t think so, but you go about like one,” he said.

You smirked as you reached the last button on his shirt. You opened it up and gently traced your fingers around his chest. He looked at you, slightly confused, probably as to why you didn’t obey his orders to ride. Even though you were okay with being his sex kitten, you liked moving to the beat of your own drum sometimes.

“I guess. I also guess novice whores don’t know how to ride dick,” you said with a shrug of your shoulder.

He chuckled. “Is that what you’re doing? Not riding me on purpose, so I can eat my words.”

“Shh,” you hushed.

You placed your fingers on his mouth, sliding two of them into his mouth. He opened it for you with ease. It was so much fun being on the other end of the dominating spectrum. You had to do it more often in the future.

“Sometimes lessons have to be taught the hard way, baby,” you said as you took your fingers out of his mouth.

“Really?” He said.

You placed those same fingers in your mouth. You sucked on them to get his saliva off as you looked at him with nothing but hot seduction in your eyes. You smirked as you nodded your head.

“Really,” you said.

He then caught you off guard as he raised himself up, so he was sitting up on the bed with you still on top of him. You braced your hands on his chest as you gasped from the feeling of his dick moving inside of you as he did that. It seemed as if your rain of power had come to a sudden end.

He gripped onto your ass as he kissed down your left breast. You moaned as you nearly lost your complete senses in his grasp. As he reached your nipple, he looked up at you and gently bit it which caused you to gasp with an amused smile on your face.

“Show me how an experienced whore rides,” he demanded.

You took the challenge he put down. You were willing to show him how much power you held on top of him. Even though he was giving you the commands, he let you take the reins of making him cum.

You placed your hands around his neck to give you some stability as you started to slide yourself up and down your dick slowly. He stopped you mid-stroke by gripping your thighs to stay in place. You looked at him confused as he shook his head.

“You can do better. An experienced whore would take my whole dick in her like she did not too long ago,” he said.

He was right. If you could take his dick in whole while sitting on him then you could do it while riding him. He eased his grip on your thighs and let you show him what you could do. You slid all the way down his dick until every inch was in you.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned.

“Keeping going,” he demanded.

You slid up and down his dick, increasing your pace the more you got used to the feeling of his whole dick inside of you. He placed his hands on your waist to hold you tight to him as you kept riding him. He kissed you all over your neck as he listened to your loud moans.

“That’s how an experienced whore takes dick,” he said.

Those words encouraged you to pick up your pace to show him just how much of an experienced whore you were. You grabbed his face and laid down a sloppy kiss on his lips as you moaned into his mouth as you took every inch of him over and over again.

You could tell you were doing great from the sound of his own moans in your mouth. You pulled away from him as you focused all your attention back on riding him. He watched you intently. From your breasts bouncing to the look of utter pleasure on your face.

“You look as if you’re about to cum,” you moaned.

“How could I not when you’re doing such a great job,” he moaned.

“Cum in me if I’m doing such a great job then,” you moaned.

He grasped your face and pulled you in for another sloppy kiss. You kissed back with great intensity, wrapped your arms around his neck to get deeper into his mouth. He then let out a few groans into your mouth. You soon felt him cum inside of you, but you didn’t stop riding him. You kept riding him until his whole orgasm was finished and you could feel every drop of cum inside of you.

Once he was done, you both pulled away from each other's mouths. A huge smile spread across his face which you couldn’t help reflecting. Sex with him before was good, but something about being so loose made it phenomenal.

“Guess you’re more experienced than I thought,” he joked.

You chuckled. “Not experienced, just taking some useful yoga advice.”

“Did your instructor also teach you how to take such control over someone? You should do that more often,” he said.

You laughed and pecked him on the lips. “And you should choke me with your dick more often.”

“I can do that for you,” he chuckled.

You pecked him on the lips again before getting off of him. As you stood up on the floor, you could feel gravity working as you felt some of his cum drip out of you. It seemed as if it was time for shower number two for you.

“How about you do that for me in the shower?” You asked as you reached out your hand.

He looked at you questionably as he took your hand. You turned around as he got up and followed close behind you. He stopped you right in front of the bathroom doorway and wrapped his arm around your waist, kissing you on your temple.

“But doesn’t that defeat the purpose of a shower?” He asked.

“I’m taking a shower, not brushing my teeth, babe. I think we should be fine,” you giggled as you stepped into the washroom with him and he closed the door behind him.

—–

MASTERLIST

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[ilalos]

Worth it (Anthony Bridgerton x reader) Part 2/2

Summary: Your arranged marriage to Anthony seems fine, until it doesn’t.

Warnings: marriage, implied sex, angst-ish, fluff, pregnancy, crying, if you notice anything else let me know :)

Word count: 2.5k

The season passed in a blur with countless flowers and conversations that filled you with expectations about your marriage to the Viscount, you truly felt like love was around the corner for both of you and it was a matter of time for that corner to be turned. He was everything you had expected and more, you could tell he was wary about letting you in but didn’t want to push him so you let him open himself to you at his own pace. The had been some stolen looks, kisses on your knuckles that had lasted a little longer than they should and hand a bit lower than what was acceptable when you danced. To say the courting had been successful was the understatement of the season in your opinion, by the time the wedding day came you were counting down the minutes before you finally became Lady (y/n) Bridgeton.

Your wedding ceremony was short and the carriage ride to Anthony’s bachelor townhouse was even shorter. The wedding night had come with a surprisingly low amount of events, your virginity had been taken the sweetest of ways, with many kisses and whispered promises of pleasure that came true. By the end of the day, you were as happy as can be, laying on your husband's chest, feeling his heartbeat slowing down and smelling the sweet vanilla scent of his skin.

When you woke up the next morning the bed was empty and he had already left to work in his study back in the main Bridgerton home. He didn’t return until late in the evening and you were waiting for him so you could have dinner together.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” he said while taking a sip of his wine.

“It’s nothing, I like that we are finally spending some time together”

Anthony just nodded and continued eating in silence.

“How was your day?” You pushed for conversation, you had been alone all day and could really use some conversation with someone different than your maid, who was terrified of speaking freely.

“It was busy” he answered simply “how was your day?” He asked after seeing the face you made at his short answer.

“It was also very busy, I reorganized the books in the library, had the kitchen staff do an inventory on the pantry, and send the maids to the market to get some flowers for the table tops” you narrated proudly, hoping he might appreciate the way you ran the home.

“Good to see you’re settling in, darling” his small praise made you smile a little.

“You don’t mind that I changed some things?” You asked somewhat concerned by his silence.

“It is your home, you’re free to do whatever you please with it,” he said dismissively.

“It’s our home, Anthony, I want to make it perfect for you too”

After dinner, he walked you to the bedroom and after a couple of heated kisses you fell in his arms once again, the pleasure he gave you was addictive. Despite his cold attitude towards you in other aspects of your life, it was in the bedroom where you felt hopeful for a future where you both might learn to truly love each other, and then he would sneak out every morning making you feel like a worthless whore.

And so your days continued like this, every night was filled with passion and every day was lonely. You couldn’t even go to the Bridgerton home, you had been taught that a married lady was not to go out without her husband, so your heart slowly filled with sadness as you spent day after day alone in the townhouse. Anthony was none the wiser because he simply thought you enjoyed being by yourself, so it never occurred to him to invite you to his family’s home or anywhere else.

A month into your marriage you found out you were with child. You were extremely happy and Anthony had shown himself to be happy as well, but then that night he didn’t come home for dinner and didn’t make an appearance in your bedroom. He was more and more distant until four months had passed and he disappeared for two full weeks before you saw him again.

It was on the day of your birthday, and he had only gone to your room because the butler told him you had been very sick that day. When he entered the room he found you seating on the bed hugging your knees close to your chest, your eyes puffy from crying and silent tears still streaming down your face. You weren’t upset he had forgotten your birthday, you had never celebrated it so it didn’t matter he didn’t remember it.

“What happened? Is everything well? Is the baby-“

“Your child is quite well, Lord Bridgerton” you interrupted in the coldest tone he had ever heard from you “to what do I owe this joyous visit?”

“I apologize for my absence, I have been very busy” he answered measly.

“I figured out that much, husband” the word was said with venom.

“Are you upset with me?” He asked offended, you had never treated him so coldly.

“I am upset with myself” you started with a pained chuckle “I don’t need you to try and comfort me because you did nothing wrong, that is the reason for my anger” a small sob escaped your lips “I was taught to be a good wife, that my only job was to give my husband heirs and to keep the house running and I understood that and I didn’t fight it because at least I would have children to fill my life with love and a husband who at the very least would acknowledge me and my efforts”

“I-“

“I don’t want you to feel like you should change or apologize, this is not your fault, I feel miserable because I filled my heart with hopes and dreams of love but that’s just not how life is, at least not mine” you harshly wiped your eyes before finishing “I understand my place now, I’m nothing but a child-bearer for you and that’s fine because you didn’t even pick me in the first place” you got up from bed and opened the door for him “please leave me alone, I will be fine”

“I can’t just leave you here alone, have you even eaten today? In your condition-“

“Your child is perfectly well, my lord” your tone had turned icy once again “please go, I am tired and want to rest”

Unable to do anything else, Anthony left the room and went back to his family’s home. His mother had insisted for him to take you there that night, but seeing your state he didn’t even bother asking if you wanted to go. When he got there he was surprised to see the dining room fully decorated, his whole family dressed in their best clothes, even Daphne and Simon had paid a visit.

“Where is (y/n)?” Asked Violet.

“She’s not feeling very well” answered Anthony looking at the table that was filled with all his wife’s favorite food “What is happening? Why are you all here dressed as if you are attending a ball?”

“Anthony, please for the love of God almighty, tell me you didn’t forget your wife’s birthday!” Violet couldn’t keep his composure, how could Anthony be so clueless.

“I-I’ve been so busy lately supervising the building of the new house, it didn’t even occur to me that it was her birthday” Anthony felt terrible, as he should.

“It’s bad enough she doesn’t like us, son” Violet sighed, seating on the table “And now she thinks we don’t care for her birthday”

“Where did you get that idea, mother?” Daphne couldn’t help but ask “When she writes to us she says wonderful things about our family”

“Then why hasn’t she visited since the wedding?” This time it was Colin asking “Mother sent a tea invitation shortly after they got married and she never showed up, sent a poor letter apologizing but did not explain why she didn’t show”

“I might have an explanation for that” Simon spoke up “My aunt was a terribly strict mother, taught her that a wife was nothing more than a child-bearer and had no liberties like men do, for example: going out unaccompanied”

“Has she been out of the house since you married, brother?” asked Eloise, turning to face Anthony who was still frozen at the doorstep.

“I don’t believe so” he entered the room and sat defeated “I just thought she enjoyed being at home by herself, god!” he rubbed his hands down his face.

“I can’t believe it, the poor thing” lamented Violet.

“She hasn’t left the house in almost half a year” concluded Benedict.

“And here we were, refusing to visit thinking she had rejected mother,” said Colin.

“I would like to clarify, I never agreed with losing contact with her over one missed invitation” added Eloise, gaining the glares of everyone present.

“It matters not what we thought nor does it matter what has happened in the past” began Violet “right now I want you to go pick her up and bring her here, she deserves to be celebrated, especially after everything we put her through,” she told her eldest child, pushing him to stand and go to the door.

Anthony mounted the carriage and urged the coachman to hurry home and as soon as he got there he ran up the stairs to your room and burst through the door, jolting you awake.

“I am so sorry, love,” ha said kneeling on your bedside “I never knew you didn’t leave the house because you thought you couldn’t, you are free to do as you please, darling” he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles “I didn’t mean to make you feel trapped in your own home, and I am sorry if you felt like I abandoned you” he caressed your face and wiped some tears that had fallen without your notice.

“You did abandon us,” you said, trying to pull your hand from his grasp with your other hand protecting your belly.

“I was merely supervising the building of our new home, I was hoping I could surprise you before the baby arrived” he explained, now seating by your side “I can’t possibly ask my family to leave their home but I know how much you love that house, and so I chose to build a similar one not too far from here”

“You are building me a house?” You asked incredulously, hardly anything could justify his absence but this was in fact a reasonable explanation.

“Yes, love” he once again caressed your face “A home for our family” at that your eyes filled with tears, this time from happiness.

You sat up and wrapped your arms around his neck, crying with your face buried in his shirt. He wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head and shushing you softly to calm down your cries. You spent a while holding each other until he suddenly broke you two apart, remembering his family that was still waiting for you both to show up.

“My beautiful wife, I must take you out of the comforts of your bed” he began, apologetic “My family is expecting you in their home to celebrate your birthday with a lavish dinner”

“Heavens! You should’ve started with that” you ran to your door and called out for your maid “I don’t think I have a dress for such occasion, non that would fit me now, that’s certain”

You opened your trunk and began taking out your chemise and all other items you had to wear under your dress in such cold weather. You took off your nightgown not caring Anthony was there, he had seen it all before, after you had put on your chemise your maid ran in and help you put on the rest of your garments and helped you squeeze your small baby bump in the dress you had worn for one of the first balls you attended when Anthony was courting you. She put your hair in a quick updo and even managed to coerce Anthony into putting on your stockings and your shoes while she did your hair. With all that rush and hard work, you managed to be ready in under an hour and still made it to the dinner at a reasonable hour (half past 9 is reasonable, right?).

At the Bridgerton home, you were welcomed with warm embraces and merry wishes on your special day. You all sat around the table and ate the feast that had sadly grown cold. Colin didn’t seem to mind as he devoured everything in sight, prompting Violet to chastise him softly. You, however, ate small bites because the pregnancy had caused your stomach to be upset easily and you didn’t wish to offend anyone by running out of the room to empty your stomach. Anthony watched you eat and held your hand atop the table, smiling as he watched you laugh and converse with his family.

“Is the food not good enough?” Asked Violet seeing your plate almost full.

“It is just perfect, my stomach has just been iffy since the start of the pregnancy” you answered smiling apologetically, Anthony choked on his wine because he realized at that very moment that he had forgotten to tell his family about your condition.

“You’re with child? Those are wonderful news!” Exclaimed Violet with a large smile “When did you found out?”

“Four months ago” you turned to glare at Anthony “I assumed your son had told you”

“How could you conceal such joyous information from your mother?” Violet then noticed her eldest daughter had become quiet, as well as her husband “Did you know, Daphne?”

“I was aware of it, yes” Daphne admitted ashamed “I too assumed Anthony had told you”

“You assumed my eldest son had told me about his wife’s pregnancy and I had decided not to mention any of it in our letters?”

“I-I’m, yes?” Benedict and Colin snorted with laughter hearing their sister’s answer.

Violet only shook her head with a small smile, her children were truly a wonder. Anthony was nervous that you’d get mad at him for not telling them, but one look at your laughing face told him he didn’t need to worry.

Later that evening you both laid in bed after yet another passion-filled encounter, your breathing slow and even making Anthony think you were asleep. He was caressing your naked back with feather-like touches, kissing your sweaty forehead every few minutes.

“I love you” you sighed, kissing his chest “You need not feel the same, I just want you to know how I feel”

He took a shaky breath before answering.

“I also am in love with you, darling” he placed a finger under your chin and tilted your head so you’d look at him “sometimes I’m scared of just how much I love you” he kissed you slow and deep, pouring all his love into the action.

The kiss was unlike any other you had shared before, this one was full of promise and hope. It filled you with love and certainty, you were now sure that no matter how difficult the road to Anthony’s heart had been, even if you didn’t want it at first, it had all been worth it.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Hi! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. If you like it let me know.

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[amistytown]

The Brothers Comfort MC During a Panic Attack

This is my first attempt at writing down my headcanons for the brothers, so I apologize if anything is out of character. I meant it to be short and sweet, but it grew out of my control after a while. I’m a perfectionist and wanted to rewrite everything. I made minor edits and am posting it anyway or it’ll sit in my drafts forever; I admit I put the most effort into Lucifer’s, forgive me. Also sorry for the repetitiveness and any typos you may find. I decided to write how the brothers would comfort MC during a panic attack, especially as someone who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks themselves. Honestly, I wrote this as a way to comfort myself since I’ve been dealing with terrible anxiety lately. Of course, everyone experiences anxiety differently, so I can only speak from my own experiences. I didn’t go into detail when it comes to the symptoms themselves because it’s from the point of view of the brothers and only so many are visible to the eye. Trigger warning for depictions of anxiety and panic attacks. Thank you for reading!

LUCIFER

Lucifer is troubled. Following lunch, you disappeared, currently absent from class. This is unlike you, his worry intensifying every minute you’re out of his sight. Yet he maintains his composure, resigning himself to scouring the academy grounds. Time passes at a torturous pace, his thoughts beginning to take a turn for the worst. He contemplates whether to involve his brothers and Lord Diavolo himself at this rate, however the sound of his D.D.D diverts his attention. A wave of relief washes over him at the sight of your name lighting up his screen, chased by frustration at you, your silence, and himself for losing track of you so easily; he couldn’t bear living if anything happened to you under his watch. He expects this behavior from his brothers, not you. Though his heart sinks, the Avatar of Pride uncharacteristically overcome with guilt while he reads your message. Of course, you are not his brothers. He should not have doubted you.

Your texts are apprehensive, a weighty pause between them as you hesitate to lay bare the darkest depths of your soul. He approaches you cautiously, to avoid upsetting you further. Your words alone convey the sheer panic taking possession of you, the last of your strength used to press send. Outside he discovers you, huddled miserably in an isolated corner of the building, swathed in shadow. The desire to shelter you from the world burns within him, but your eyes widen fearfully in his presence, wounding his pride. Immediately, you apologize. Sorry you’re missing class, that you left without telling anyone, and upset him—especially when you’re aware of his busy schedule. You’re sorry for not having the courage to pull yourself together, succumbing to your anxiety, your shame palpable. The hand clutching your D.D.D is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. He aches for you, each tear shed hurting more than the last, your pain managing to touch the very core of his being and set him alight.

If anyone is sorry, it’s him, pride be damned. Kneeling in front of you, he assures you an apology isn’t necessary—your wellbeing of great importance to him. He wants you to rely on him, grateful you confided in him despite your doubts. Hopefully, he can eventually put your mind at ease. His voice low, soothing, he continues to console you, making sure you’re aware he’s not upset, and your feelings are valid. Although he’s not familiar with the inner workings of anxiety itself, he’s willing to listen, learning how to support you to the best of his ability—starting today, providing you’re comfortable accepting his offer. Initially, he prioritized your safety for the sake of the exchange program and Lord Diavolo’s wish to unite the three realms, now it’s merely out of adoration for you, his beloved. Once you’re ready, he’ll let you know you’re not alone. He’s never too busy on your behalf. 

Offering you his hand, a smile graces his features as you accept. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. He notes the way you relax at his touch, shoulders sagging and head coming to rest on his chest. Only you exist in this moment, his gaze not leaving you, not even for a second. Standing in silence until your breathing settles and you regain your balance, he sees you through the height of your attack before escorting you back to the House of Lamentation. He’ll personally excuse you from the remainder of your classes, understanding you need a quiet place to recover. Classical music plays softly in the background of his room, and he’s content to have you in his embrace, drawing you onto his lap after you finish the tea he brewed to calm your nerves. Lucifer pays you special attention, massaging your tired body and kissing you tenderly, his breath fanning across your lips as he reminds you how special you truly are—brave, compassionate, and incredibly loved.

MAMMON

Mammon mourns his loss, wondering how he let them gain the upper hand; admittedly, a foolish mistake on his part. He dreads breaking the news to Lucifer, and the resentment that shows on his brothers’ faces once he confesses does little to ease his mind. Still, he worries about your reaction most of all, knowing his stupidity has put you in a precarious position. In that moment he believes their words—only a greedy scumbag like himself dares to place his human’s happiness on the line. Although certain of his win at the time, he should consider how his actions affect you more often; otherwise, how can he claim he’s the Great Mammon? His confidence is his downfall in the end. Now you’ll suffer along with him. Yet you feign optimism, attempting to soothe everything over despite your innocence. His guilt only grows, a heavy weight on his shoulders. One he deserves.

Three days of waiting on and performing for large crowds at The Fall proves hectic for everyone. He can tell you’re struggling beneath the façade of a composed and hospitable server, going above and beyond to ensure the patrons leave satisfied. Furthermore, you lend him and his brothers a hand, coming to their rescue; it should be him making it as easy on you as possible. His concern for you runs deep, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his usual air of indifference, but you have the nerve to reassure him—it’s meant to be the opposite, dammit. Each night he goes out of his way to check on you, frustrated that you continue to dance around the subject. He can see the exhaustion on your face, hear the slight tremor in your voice, the toll his stupid decision is taking on you, and it stung. You comfort him, even when he’s undeserving, so why won’t you allow him to hold you and kiss the pain away? Not that he’s asked. You should realize by now you can rely on him, right?

Watching you suffer in silence tortures him. He can’t deny it regardless of his best effort to make light of the situation. You barely eat or spend time outside your room, saying you’re tired, which isn’t a lie—working is exhausting, no doubt about it—but he understands you well enough to notice the subtle signs of your anxiety, your smile unable to trick him into believing otherwise. Perhaps you find him as insufferable as his brothers do, or worse, and don’t want to see his face after what he’s done. That doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, hoping he can offer some form of comfort. However, you keep up appearances, supporting the seven of them during the longest weekend of their lives. You work hard too, his chest swelling with pride as he watches you care for his brothers and customers alike. How can you like an idiot like him? You’re selfless and loving, looking past his flaws to see what lay beneath his sin. His human. His angel. He wants—no needs—you to be okay.

The last day comes and goes in a blur. Finally, he can toss these ridiculous clothes and rabbit ears in the trash and never perform that dance again. Better yet, you’re free of his burden, though the guilt remains. He can’t relax until he’s positive you’re okay, knowing he’s genuinely sorry. Standing outside your room, he tries to muster up the courage to open his heart to you—apologies not his strong suit—when he hears you crying. They’re small, muffled sobs that manage to shake him to his core, blood running cold. Yeah, he should knock, but he can’t control himself, throwing the door open without hesitation and rushing to your side. The sight of your tears is almost too much to bear, and he draws you into his embrace, face heating up at his own moment of vulnerability, but this is about you, not him. He can be strong for you too, telling you everything’s going to be okay, that the Great Mammon is here to help.

After his stupidity, you tell him you were afraid to bother him? He can hardly suppress the shock at your confession, the sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. You wanted to make sure it went smoothly for his sake? You suffer through Hell alone because you chose to put his feelings first? Crazy. Though he thanks you, not completely ashamed to admit he’s touched. However, he tells you that you don’t have to put aside your feelings for his benefit; he prefers to be by your side then know you’re having a rough time on your own. He is your first. Taking the initiative, he asks what he can do to make it up to you, no matter how big or small the request is because he’ll do it in a heartbeat. You opt to stay in his arms, burying your face into his chest, and he wipes away your remaining tears, being as gentle as he possibly can. He can feel how tense your body is, your skin unnaturally warm, and it takes a while until you stop shaking. It’s moments like these he’ll tell you how much you mean to him—that he loves you, okay—and he wants you to come to him for everything. He’ll hold you, taking your hand in his, and kiss you with all the adoration in the world because you’re incredibly important to him. Mammon can attest to that.

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan invites you to his room to play video games, a daily routine the two of you have comfortably fallen into. He loves gaming with you, though on occasion you opt to watch instead, thoroughly enthralled by whatever is on the screen. Miraculously, you enjoy listening to him ramble—whether it’s about the game he’s playing, anime he’s watching, or TSL among other things—genuinely showing interest in his passions; he’s incapable of expressing how truly grateful he is for your company. His heart nearly bursts whenever you compliment him on his gaming prowess, encourage him during a particularly intense battle, or merely tell him how you enjoy hanging out. How in the Devildom did a gross otaku like him get so incredibly lucky? He can hardly believe you love him of all demons. The thought alone sounds crazy lmao. 

Unable to contain his excitement, he awaits your arrival that night, ensuring everything is perfect when he hears a knock on the door. However, his smile fades the moment he lays eyes on you, mind beginning to race as he wonders why you look miserable, your gaze trained on your hands. Before he can speak, you apologize, dissolving into tears while you return the game he let you borrow. You’re stuttering, completely winded, and he can barely hear you confess to accidentally corrupting his data in your panic. In fact, he loses track of the number of times you choke out a sorry. He treasures his games, his collection extensive, but he cherishes you most of all. The loss is a minor annoyance, nothing that lessens the feelings he harbors for you. Although difficult, he overcomes his insecurities to show you it’s okay—you’re loved.

Not only are you sad, but you’re also terrified, a part of him wanting to destroy the game itself if it means you never have to experience the pain that torments you now. Regarding you carefully, afraid to make matters worse, he reassures you that he’s not upset—far from it, honestly—and that he cares about you more than any game. No stranger to your panic attacks, he reaches out to take your hand in his, hoping you find comfort in what he has to offer. And when you finally glance up, hope shining in your tear-filled eyes, he can’t help but wrap you in his arms. A warmth spreads across his face, heart pounding in his ears, but he knows you need him, allowing his body to relax around yours.

Holding you against him, he tells you everything’s all right, stuttering out how he loves you and, most importantly, wants to you to feel better. Your arms circle around his waist, causing his heart to jump into his throat, but he only pulls you closer. You’re his Henry, and what friend is he if you can’t rely on him? Leviathan is understanding, wanting you to come to him for support at your most vulnerable. Now he puts his knowledge to the test, easing you into his room with continuous words of affirmation. You always know how to console him at his lowest, and he hopes he can return the favor. If anyone deserves to feel loved it’s you, who brought joy into his otherwise bleak world, and he’ll sit with you every day and night if you need him to. 

SATAN

Satan knows he shouldn’t be awake, though he finds it difficult to satiate his curiosity as he peruses the books lining his shelves. He barely registers the sound of his D.D.D, reluctant to put the book aside to see who’s messaging him at this ungodly hour; Asmodeus most likely. His tune changes after he sees your name lighting up his screen, his annoyance replaced with worry. He knows you struggle, especially at night, but he can tell you’re hesitant to reach out. Nevertheless, you gradually begin to confide in him, his patience limitless if you’re concerned, and he feels a sense of relief that you choose to trust him at your most vulnerable instead of suffering on your own. Pouring over every book he can locate on anxiety, he studies it religiously, engraining each page into his memory. Not by giving unsolicited advice—he doesn’t want to make that mistake twice—but by comforting you the best he can, even if it simply means to stay by your side, waiting for the panic to pass.

A second later, he appears at your door, gaze softening as your eyes meet. In the darkness of your room, he can tell how exhausted you are. You apologize for bothering him, particularly this late, but he dismisses you with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile, sitting beside you on the bed. It saddens him that you feel the need to, but he’s familiar enough with anxiety by now that he understands how much of a manipulative monster it truly is; if only he can destroy it with his own two hands, strangling the life out of it so it no longer taints that innocent soul of yours. To watch you struggle fills him with a rage that he forces deep within himself, fully aware anger isn’t the answer no matter how great his desire to protect you is. So, he cups your face in his hands, your skin warm beneath his fingers as he strokes your flushed cheeks and presses your foreheads together. 

Focus on him, he tells you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his voice while he whispers words of love and encouragement. He never tires of letting you know how beautiful and strong you are, that he’s always here for you and loves you—all of you. You unravel in his arms, opening your heart up to him, and he listens intently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips the moment you look uncertain. You’re not a burden he promises, hoping one day you’ll believe it yourself, but he’ll remind you every chance he gets; forever if he must. It’s worth it in the end, when you relax against him and smile, kissing him in return. Slowly, the anxiety leaves your body, Satan thankful that the waves of panic have receded enough to let you rest your weary mind. He remains next to you, pulling you down to lay your head on his chest and closing your hand in his, entwining your fingers. He’s content here with you, watching you fall asleep and chasing away the nightmares.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus loves shopping, but he loves shopping with you most of all. The day is bright with you by his side, and he can’t help but buy you clothes and matching accessories to bring out your inherent charm. Your potential is endless, and he gushes over how gorgeous you are, unable to contain his excitement when your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink in return. He can hardly control himself around you, gaze fixated on your every movement and heart racing each time you flash him one of the sweetest smiles he’s ever seen; your very soul seeming to shine through and blind him. Nothing prepares him for the love he feels for you, but he considers it a welcome surprise, his desire to grow closer to you intensifying day after day. You captivate him, the Avatar of Lust of all demons. What an exciting turn of events!

Of course, he attracts attention wherever he goes, posing for pictures with adoring fans and basking in the compliments constantly thrown his way; nothing new, but he enjoys it, nonetheless. Who can resist the allure of his very presence? However, anger wells within him at the sight of you being shoved to the side, falling to the ground and lost to the crowd that has gathered. Their words of flattery fall on deaf ears as he rushes to you, throwing a heated glance at the lowly demon who dares to touch his darling human. He desires nothing more than to punish them for such an injustice, but the fear in your eyes tells him otherwise. By the time he scoops you up into his arms you’re trembling from head to toe, and he can feel your heart pounding against him. A part of him places the blame on himself, an unfamiliar feeling, but he chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on getting you home in your worsening state.

In the peace and quiet of his room, he sits you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he affectionately runs his fingers through your hair. He can tell you’re upset—in an absolute state of panic by the looks of it—and all he can do is hold you through it, quietly asking what you need and willing to answer your every beck and call if it means that adorable smile graces your features once more. For a moment he considers seeking out Lucifer, worried something has gone terribly wrong, but thankfully you find your voice, mumbling into his chest about anxiety and panic attacks, that you’ll be fine—eventually—and are sorry for ruining your date. He doesn’t understand completely, though he knows you need him, promising to stay by your side for as long as you want. Kissing your cheek, he assures you there’s no need to apologize to him, your safety more important than anything else; the demon who laid his hands on you won’t go without punishment either.

Admitting a bath helps calm you down, he prepares one for you, steam rising from the surface and the heady scent of roses filling the air. Together you slip into the water, enveloped by its warmth, and he hums in contentment as you lean into him, his arms coming to rest around your waist. He watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to relax and preparing himself in case you call on him; he’ll do anything for you if it brings you the happiness you deserve. Your eyes flutter close, Asmodeus showering you with delicate kisses, comforted by the fact your breathing has levelled out and you appear a lot calmer than before. The day didn’t go as planned, and he hopes to make it up to you, vowing that no one else will hurt you on his watch. He loves himself. He loves his brothers. But loves you most of all.

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub notices you haven’t touched your dinner and is beyond happy the moment you offer your plate to him. Yet he can’t bring himself to enjoy the food in front of him while you excuse yourself from the table, eyes downcast and voice quiet, the usual smile gone from your face and leaving behind an emptiness that rivals his own hunger. His mouth waters at the thought of seconds, but his concern for you grows, and he decides to follow you without question, disregarding the ravenous growl of his stomach. He catches you in the hallway, calling out your name. You turn to him, his brow furrowing in unease at the sight of your tears and the slight tremble of your lip. It hurts him to see you in obvious distress, and he earnestly offers his support.

The only sound is that of your sobbing. He desperately wishes to hold you tightly and rid you of your pain. However, he falters, studying you. Your gaze is trained on the floor, shoulders stiff with tension, and the color drains from your cheeks. When you speak, he’s surprised by how helpless you sound and the fact you’re trying to reassure him, putting his needs above your own although you’re struggling to hold yourself together. Fear flickers across your features at the echo of the brothers’ voices travelling up the stairs, and he mumbles out an apology as he carefully lifts you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. 

Before the others can round the corner, he hurries down the hall and slips into your room, determined to protect his vulnerable human. He notices you relax against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he can’t help but want to keep you close, relieved after you lean in closer to wrap your arms around his neck. Stroking your hair, he allows you to cry, his patience and love for you endless. Eventually, you mutter an embarrassed sorry, thanking him profusely, but he’s merely relieved you’re beginning to feel a bit better, reassuring you that you can always depend on him. 

Listening to you intently, he never breaks eye contact. You open up to him about your anxiety, his stomach twisting as you describe what you call a panic attack and how it wrecks you both mentally and physically. Beelzebub knows he has a lot to learn, but he expresses interest in understanding anxiety and, most importantly, how he can help you, so you don’t suffer alone. For the rest of the night, he keeps you company and eases you through the remainder of your attack, giving you plenty of hugs and rubbing your back in soothing circles until you no longer shake, and your heartbeat returns to its usual pace.

BELPHEGOR

Belphegor enjoys the time you spend together, especially when the two of you are alone. He asks you to accompany him in the attic, and it’s not long before he curls around you, falling into a peaceful sleep as he listens to the steady beat of your heart. However, when he awakes it’s to the sound of your soft cries in the dark, which fill him with a fear he can’t seem to shake. Without hesitation he’s at your side, sitting up to softly place a hand on your shoulder and ask you what’s wrong. The sadness in your eyes as you glance up at him, tears staining your cheeks, tugs at his heartstrings. He can’t bear to see you upset.

Once he realizes you’re having a panic attack, he’s attentive to your needs, cradling you in his arms as you cry into his chest. You confided in him about your struggles with anxiety after you fell to pieces in front of him months ago. A part of him understands, the loss of Lilith haunting him throughout the years and instilling a similar feeling of unease within him, especially when his nightmares seem to blur the line between reality and the painful memories of his past. You always came to his rescue and now it’s his turn to comfort you in your time of need. Sleep can wait.

With you in his embrace, he brings you down to relax against the pillows, pulling the blanket around your shivering form. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he gently brushes the remaining tears from your face, whispering words of love and reassurance. He listens to you when you’re comfortable to talk, the slight tremble of your voice causing him to draw you closer and press a kiss to your forehead. Belphegor tells you he’s here for you—forever—and although he’s still learning about anxiety and finding the best ways to comfort you during an attack, he wants you to depend on him no matter what. Even if that means you wake him up in the middle of the night. He won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, and you’re peacefully sleeping in his arms.

[after-witch]

Title: Holding Time [Yandere Fyodor Dostoevsky x Reader]

Title: Holding Time [Yandere Fyodor Dostoevsky x Reader]

Synopsis: How long have you been in the basement? How long would it take to starve to death? How long does it take for your lover’s corpse to decompose? 

Word Count: 1960

Notes: Yandere, kidnapped reader, graphic description of corpses, abuse, violence, injuries, starvation 

Dripping. Something is dripping from somewhere--or some thing. The sound is too regular, too maddening, and your eyes dart around the basement to find the source. Not that you could do anything to stop it, with your hands chained to the wall.

It would normally be hard to see in the darkness of the basement, but Fyodor has kindly provided you with a light, hanging above the alcove against the wall just opposite where your chains were lodged. The light is warm and not over-whelming; the type of lighting you might read a book or have dinner under, if the circumstances were different.

Right now, that light is hanging just above the corpse of your boyfriend, a corpse artfully propped up against the wall in a mockery of a sitting stance.

Fyodor didn’t kill him in front of you. Which, you suppose, was meant to be a mercy. But your lover’s body was fresh when Fyodor dragged it down the basement, thumping thudding sounds which still echo in your ears, and you’ll never forget the sight of his lifeless corpse laid out in full view. You screamed and screamed and Fyodor simply watched, before pushing his corpse into a sitting position, right across from you.

“You can have a nice conversation with him now, just like you wanted.”

That was weeks ago. You think. And no, you didn’t have conversations with your lover’s decomposing corpse. But you sometimes talked to yourself. Just to hear something, anything, other than the skittering of mice and buzzing of insects (thanks to the shortness of your chains, you can’t even swat away the flies that land on you, crawling and itching) and the emptiness of the space around you.

You asked yourself if you did something to deserve all this.

You asked yourself if you should have done something different.

You ask yourself if it was stupid not to give in, not to force yourself to accept Fyodor’s advances, physical and otherwise, instead of screaming and biting and telling him you’d rather be dead than around him another second.

That’s when you first ended up in the basement, but that wasn’t the end of it--no, no. The end of it (maybe the end, you think, is there more? Is there more that he can do to you?) was a dead body thrust in front of you. The end of it was realizing that the person you loved most in the world, the person you imagined spending the rest of your life with, was no more. Their hopes and dreams and wishes and wants and needs? All gone. All nothing.

Just like you.

You still can’t decide if it was part of your punishment or if Fyodor would have killed him regardless of how you behaved. Maybe he would have stashed his body in a warehouse somewhere, sealing it with cement, never telling you the details but instead resting easy knowing that there was no real competition for your affection.

You’re not sure which would be worse--giving in to Fyodor’s sick demands and never knowing that your boyfriend had been murdered, or refusing and spending the weeks here, watching his body go from warm and red to stiff then big and bloating and now--now this, wasting away.

You wish your chains were longer. Then you could at least cover his face, so you didn’t have to see him staring at you, eyes white and glassy and unseeing, or his mouth gaping wide, flies and maggots sometimes making their presence known inside. Sometimes the mass of insects makes it look like his jaw, unhinged and slack, is moving--and you spend hours with your eyes closed, peeking only to see if the inhuman effect has ceased.

You can’t escape the smell of decay. Your chains aren’t even long enough to let you cover your mouth, your nose, and your forced to breathe it in every second. Disgustingly sweet and sour and strong, something you’ve never smelled before in your life but you know you will never forget it. All tinged with the smell of your waste which is, at least, mercifully contained in a wooden pail shoved up against the wall. Your legs are weaker and it’s harder to push yourself up using the backs of your elbows, but you manage.

There are few mercies in this basement, but the bucket is one of them, and you dare not complain about the odor lest it be taken away from you, too. Besides, it’s not as if you do more than piddle a meager amount most of the time, anyway. You haven’t had food in--you don’t know. Long enough that you don’t have regular bowel movements anymore. Long enough that the sharp piercing ache of hunger has turned into something altogether new, a deep, dull carving ache--starvation. He stopped bringing food once he brought your boyfriend, once he left you alone with a dead body and your thoughts.

Your water supply is low and inconsistent. Fyodor doesn’t come down into the basement at all anymore, actually, and you’re not even sure that he’s the one tossing the water bottles down the basement stairs.

Sometimes they reach your grasp, sometimes they don’t. On good days, the three bottles thrown down at regular intervals all get close enough that you can pull them to you using your legs or feet. On bad days, your tongue swells up and you swallow nothing but spit.

You don’t have a mirror or any way of seeing yourself, but you can guess that you’re not in the best shape. Your muscles feel weak and cramped. Your wrists are sore, stinging, and you can see the slightest hints of red underneath the cuffs attached to the chains on the wall. Probably an infection, from pulling on them until your wrists bled. Your side hurts all the time, a dull ache that won’t go away.

You haven’t bathed, of course, but the stink of your own unwashed body--the smell of staleness and sweat and body oil--is nothing compared to decay. The smell. The sight.

Does his family know he’s dead? Does your family think you’re dead? Nothing outside the basement feels real, nothing outside the basement feels important. Your world has shrunk down to the grim reality that you’re starving in an isolated space with only the company of pests and a corpse.

And your thoughts, which are sometimes the worst companion of all.

You think about lots of things. You think about your life before all this, how you took it all for granted, how Fyodor ruined everything. You think about your life before the basement, even, the uncertain anxiety of what he was going to do next as you cycled through being handcuffed to Fyodor’s bed, to the dining room table, to the side table next to the sofa.

You think about your hunger. God, you didn’t know hunger could feel like this. You didn’t know it was possible to be so empty, so desperate for the smallest amount of nourishment that sometimes you lick your skin for the salt, the sweat, for the taste of something in your mouth.

You think about your choices. You think about how you threatened him, how you promised him that he was going to get caught and your friends at the agency were going to severely fuck-him-up. You think about how he took all of this with a grim smile, how he smacked you across the face, how he wiped up the blood on your lip and kissed you afterwards.

You think about how he gave you chances, after each time, until finally you'd crossed some line and he dragged you unceremoniously to the basement and clicked on the too-tight cuffs.

Maybe leaving his body behind wasn’t a punishment. Maybe it was a lesson. Maybe it was a forewarning of your own fate: you’re going to die down here. Like him. And then you’ll be nothing but a corpse, a sack of flesh animated by the wiggling of insects infesting your insides.

The thought of dying like this brings a low, throbbing horror into your body. Your chest aches. Your throat aches. Everything aches. All the time. But especially when your thoughts race to the future, a future you won’t actually be alive to acknowledge.

But you don’t want to die. You don’t want to die like this, especially, slowly starving and withering and sitting a few inches away from a bucket of your waste.

But that’s what’s going to happen if this goes on much longer.

Fyodor didn’t say he was going to leave you here to die. You thought he’d keep you in the basement until you begged to be let out. And, truth be told, you would have done so already, if he kept coming to see you--but he stopped, and the only face you’ve seen in the past few weeks has been rotting away. He didn’t even give you the opportunity to fix yourself, to apologize, to beg for mercy. Or whatever it is he wanted out of you. Obedience? Amusement?

It doesn’t matter that it wouldn’t be genuine, it doesn’t matter that you hate him more than anything in the world. What matters is that he kidnapped you and killed people in the name of keeping you and destroyed your life in every way imaginable… and now he’s just leaving you to die without giving you a chance to fix it.

Like you’re nothing.

He probably wouldn’t want you now, anyway. You’re a shell of yourself, aren’t you? Your arms are weak and your muscles weaker; and your skin looks sallow and you’re sure, you’re sure, that if he saw your eyes, they would be as glassy and dead as the corpse across the way.

You’d messed up, you’d let yourself become a shadow, a slip, a wraith of a thing stuck in the basement until it finally dies and frees up his time to find someone new. Someone full of life and beauty and anything but the stubbornness you couldn’t let go of, the pride that refused to let you see it was a life or death situation. Life--with Fyodor, sitting on his lap and letting him kiss you and touch you and possess you. Death--well, you see what that is now, an unceremonious bloating and wasting away. Maggots and shit and stink.

And you chose death--didn’t you? Unwittingly, unknowingly, but you chose it all the same.

If you had a do-ever, you know you would choose life. You would grin and bear it. You would throw yourself into it, you would do everything in your power to stay in his good graces, to stay upstairs--where you would be clean and fed and sleep on sheets and never have to understand what it’s like for your lips to be so dry that they crack open and bleed. 

Maybe... maybe he didn’t even wait for your death to get someone new. You can hear sounds from upstairs, sometimes, undefined but surely there. Maybe he’s already got someone upstairs and they were smart enough to keep their mouth shut and their expressions neutral, pretending they weren’t horrified and disgusted by the person who ripped their life into pieces.

Maybe it was too late to beg on your hands and knees for forgiveness, for another chance. Too late to tell him that you were wrong and stupid and you want to be with him, upstairs, please, please, please.

And that’s what you say now, what your thoughts propel you to whisper into the stagnant basement air: Please. Please. Please. You say it so much that your throat hurts, you say it so much that you don’t know how much time has passed before there’s a sudden sound--a sudden light.

You jerk your head towards the light, the opening of the basement door at the top of the steps. The light hovers, murky, shimmering, like the sun viewed from underneath the water. The only sound now is the jingling of your chains, and then--

Footsteps, on the stairs descending.

One.

Two.

Three.

You hardly recognize your own voice when you cry out, wistful and hopeful and above all things, desperate.

“Fyodor?”

[teawithkpop]

[M] - PhysCom - Pt 7

pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - bc 1 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6 - pt 7

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 5.4k words

Genre: PhysCom AU - smut with dashes of angst, and a shitload of romance and complicated feelings,, uhuhu (porn with plot??)

Warnings: swearing, a lot of emotional turmoil, talk of pregnancy scares (birth control, contraceptives, etc.), implied discrimination towards sex workers (not by any of the boys dw), mentions of sexual acts

slowly hands you a cake that says "I haven't updated this fic in 14 months and I don't know when the next part is coming but here's an update thanks for being patient" in comic sans

-------

The rush to the hospital goes by in a blur of tears and shouting and panic and questions that you can't bring yourself to answer. The only constant is Min Yoongi's hand, firmly locked in your own throughout the ordeal, tethering you to reality.

You now sit in a private room on a sterile medical table and wait to be seen, too numb inside to feel the sting of the cold metal as it cuts into the backs of your thighs. Yoongi stands beside you, still holding your hand, his fingers are laced through yours and squeezing as if it could sap away the fear that eats away your insides, leaving you hollow and empty.

"It'll be alright. Don't worry about a damn thing, okay?" He shifts his weight anxiously, betraying his own underlying worries.

You barely remember him throwing his jacket over you before being rushed out of the house, and you don't feel deserving of the modest coverage. Though the leather is worn and soft against your skin, all you can feel is the harsh metallic zipper, scratching at your chest as though reminding you of your wrongdoings.

"Yoongi…" you start to say, but he cuts you off, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"Don't you fucking dare. Don't apologize."

You feel tears well up in your eyes. Your chest grows tight with the words he's forbidden you to say.

"I've already called Namjoon, it'll all be fine. Don't worry." He works his jaw and rubs your hand with surprising tenderness, glancing to the little window in the door every other second.

He's been assuring you with those same words for the past half hour, but it feels like it's been an eternity. As you glance at the clock on the wall, watching the hands tick by, you imagine a scene like that of a health documentary. Tiny sperm, swimming up your insides… fertilizing your previously dormant eggs.

Fuck. You've fucked up.

You might be pregnant with Min Yoongi's child. Your Opticon birth control implant could send you into toxic shock at any moment.

You don't see how things can get much worse than this.

The door finally opens, and what appears to be a nurse steps inside. She holds a clipboard, and examines it while she lets the door close behind her. "Let's see now, Miss..." Her shoulders slump marginally as her eyes reach your name. "Oh, right. The PhysCom."

You don't have the energy to ignore the change in her tone from friendly to disinterested, and simply nod. However, you feel Yoongi stiffen beside you.

The nurse lets out a brief sigh and dons a professional expression. "So, what appears to be the problem?" She directs the question to Yoongi.

"We think her birth control implant isn't working." Yoongi explains, his eyes darting furtively between you and the nurse. "She, um… she reached orgasm."

You flush at the memory, ashamed of your failure to adhere to even the most basic of rules set before you.

The nurse makes a noncommittal noise and jots something down. "Says here it’s an Opticon. And you didn't turn it off, sir?"

He shakes his head.

The nurse touches the end of her pen to her mouth, a note of sympathy forming in her eyes. Not for you, but for Yoongi. "How long have you had her?"

"Excuse me?" Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

The nurse tucks the clipboard under her arm, giving him a weary, patient smile. “With PhysComs, we have a list of probable scenarios we’re supposed to check for, to better inform the doctor of the situation, and speed along the treatment process.”

She barely spares you a glance before returning her attention to Yoongi, her voice lowered just a fraction. “It’s not uncommon for newly hired female PhysComs to try and… well, intentionally get pregnant from their clients. Especially if those clients have any amount of wealth or status.”

Yoongi seems lost for words.

She nods as if to agree with his surprise. “It’s some psychosis associated with the job,” she says with a shrug, then straightens her posture once more. “So has she been acting strangely at all? What are her symptoms?”

Your ears burn a bit at being talked about like you’re not in the room, but this isn’t the first time you’ve been in such a position. Oftentimes checkups during training were the same way, the physicians would speak exclusively among themselves and Madame while they examined every inch of you, inside and out.

Yoongi, however, is not used to such an experience.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” He says, in a voice much calmer than you would have expected. But one glance at his face tells you all you need to know. His eyes are burning like hot coals. Molten and dangerous.

The nurse doesn’t pick up on his irritation, and busily flips through the pages on her clipboard. “I need reliable information, sir. If you please,” she prompts him.

You can feel Yoongi’s hand clench around yours, and you turn to quiet him.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, hoping to reassure him enough so he’ll talk to her, but he stands his ground, his eyes glued on the nurse.

“Get out,” Yoongi says.

The nurse does a double take. “Excuse me, sir?”

“I said get the fuck out of here.” He points to the door. “Send us someone who will actually help.”

She fumes silently for a moment, but decides not to argue with him, and heads for the door in a huff.

Yoongi scoffs as you two are left alone once more. “What the fuck kind of bedside manner was that supposed to be?” He mutters, staring at the door.

“It’s okay.” You place a hand on his arm.

“No, it’s not.” He’s adamant, and you sigh wearily. How do you explain that this is only what can be expected?

You pick out a few haphazard words from the maelstrom in your brain, too tired to find the best phrasing. “Medical personnel… they don’t really get it.”

“Get what?” He asks, turning to you in outrage. “Being a fucking decent human being?”

You flinch, withdrawing your hand. You’re too tired to try and get your point across. But he notices you wilt and immediately comes closer, lowering his voice and placing both his hands on your arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, the edge of anger fading away to gentleness. Kindness. “What do you mean?”

You sigh, looking off to the side. You don’t deserve to have him look at you like that.

You carefully remove his hands, trying to maintain some semblance of a professional distance, even in the face of disaster. “Most hospitals don’t look favorably at PhysComs. We were given a few lectures about it in training. We use up their resources and time that could instead be given to patients who didn’t willingly put themselves at risk.”

You remember how your fellow trainees had reacted after those discussions. Many of them found the treatment to be unfair, but you yourself felt that, in a way, the medical field’s viewpoint was reasonable. Your choices are what landed you here.

“What the- what are you talking about?” He huffs, still seemingly in the dark. “You didn’t ask for this… this scare. It wasn’t your fault.” He tries to meet your eyes, but your gaze is fixed firmly to the linoleum floor.

A mirthless smile paints your lips. “But I chose this life. And these risks along with it.”

Before he can question you further, the door bursts open and Kim Namjoon enters the room, both his dress shirt and his hair are rumpled, and his eyes are frantic. “Sweetheart?” He rushes to your side and crushes you in a hug. “Are you alright?”

You hear Yoongi let out a breath of relief. “She’s okay, for the moment.”

Something about the way Namjoon holds you feels like a lamp being held against your cold skin. You’re too damp inside to light a flame yourself, but his own body warms you from the outside in the meantime. You want to let yourself enjoy it, but the memory of your unresolved questions leaves you limp in his arms, filled with nothing but misery and confusion.

He pulls back after a moment, checking you over for signs of injury. His eyes are wide with concern. “What happened? Tell me everything.”

A flare of shame rises up in you at the notion of telling Namjoon about your rule-breaking and everything that occured since this morning.

Thankfully, Yoongi seems to sense your hesitance, and he fills in most of the pieces for Namjoon. Namjoon’s expression remains stoic as Yoongi recounts what happened - you being brought home unconcious, seducing Yoongi - up until the mention of your orgasm. Namjoon’s jaw slackens slightly at this, and his eyes scan your face, searching for something.

It’s at this moment that the doctor walks in, a different nurse at his side. He’s a slightly older man, a few wrinkles creasing his brow, and a smile that appears kind until it lands on you. His face is then tinged with that same indifference that most medical professionals give you.

You wish it was your usual physician, but since this was an emergency, you didn’t have time to take the trip to your usual practice. Whatever hospital is nearest, that’s what Yoongi had told the driver.

The man turns to Namjoon, who arguably commands more presence than Yoongi, and the kindness returns. “Sorry for the delay. Busy night. From what I understand, your PhysCom has malfunctioned, is that correct?”

“Her Opticon malfunctioned, yes.” Namjoon corrects him. His diplomatic tendencies are a blessing right now. You just want to know if you’re pregnant or not. You want to know if you’re losing your job. You want to go home.

The doctor runs a few physical tests on you, feeling your breasts, peering down your throat, and examining your vaginal canal, checking for any other symptoms of malfunction from your Opticon. “All’s well so far.” He says, pulling his forefingers out of you, snapping off his gloves, and disposing of them. “May I take a look at the ComGear?”

You feel a flash of panic, waking you out of your stupor. Fuck, was it still in the group chat? You pull out the slim device, heart hammering as you check. Nope. Just settings. Thank god.

You hand it over, and then remember with a looming feeling of dread exactly why it might have been left on the settings page...

“You do so much for us, jagiya.” Taehyung keeps his hands braced on your arms, his thumb rubbing gently against your skin. “You’re always there for us. Always giving… Now it’s time for you to receive.”

“I’m sorry! It’s my fault-” Jimin’s eyes fall to your compromising position, Yoongi’s dick still out, your leaking core exposed, and claps a hand over his mouth. He looks like he might cry. “Oh no...”

The pieces fall into place, and there’s no doubt in your mind. They must have switched it off.

But why? Why, why, why…?

The doctor - you’re too frazzled to read his nametag - pulls out a pair of reading glasses and takes a look at your ComGear, poking around the device with his pointer finger. “Hm. Strange.” He squints. “The Opticon does appear to be switched off.”

Namjoon blinks. “That’s impossible.”

“I’m afraid that’s the case.” The doctor shows him the setting, the toggle very much in the off position. Namjoon takes the device and looks at it in shock.

The doctor coughs. “I know that, um… for some individuals, the temptation and the… risk associated with no protection during intercourse can be sexually arousing. It’s not the first time we’ve gotten a case like this.”

He removes his glasses, folding them back into his pocket. “However, I would remind you and anyone else who uses this one’s services that although Physical Companions may be virtually expendable, it can become quite expensive for your own sake to impregnate them on a whim, using and discarding them, what with the standard fees for breaching their contract and-”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Namjoon interrupts him, and you notice the iron grip he now has on Yoongi’s arm. Likely the only thing restraining him from throwing a punch. “We’ll be more careful.” Namjoon glances at you, confusion making a little crease between his brows. “Is there some sort of morning after pill she can take, or…?”

“I’m afraid the lingering effects of the Opticon implant render any outside hormone blockers ineffective.” The doctor says, his smile turning thin. “It’s a bit of a blessing and a curse. The hormone production and ovulation suppressant in the Opticon normally make the chance of fertilization zero percent while in use. After it’s switched off, chances are still fairly low at 30 percent, for up to 24 hours. But the chances of fertilization after taking a morning after pill are significantly lower than that, at only five percent.”

He shrugs. “We’ll just have to wait and see. Chances are, your PhysCom will be right as rain and ready to pleasure clients again in about a week.”

A week.

First a week of suspension on Namjoon’s terms… Now it’s on medical advisement.

“A week? What should we do until then?” Namjoon voices your very thoughts, Yoongi seething silently beside him.

“Well, we won’t have any results until three to five days from now.” The man clarifies. “But I highly recommend you leave the implant switched off and keep her on traditional contraceptives until we know for sure. I strongly recommend utilizing other PhysComs in the meantime, just to be safe.”

You’re finished.

The doctor hands Namjoon a paper bag, most likely containing birth control pills and condoms. “She may be somewhat volatile for the next few days. You can bring her in for another checkup in a week.”

You’re weak.

“Thank you.”

You’re numb.

-------

It was a silent car ride back to the house, and as Namjoon helps you step out of the vehicle, one hand holding yours for stability while the other rests on your lower back, you can’t help feeling utterly useless. Detached from your surroundings.

What’s the point of any of this now? There’s no way they’ll want to use you until this is resolved. You’re of no use to them as a sex toy until at least a week from now, and by then it’ll be far too late to earn their favor back.

“We need to have a meeting. Call the others into the living room.” Namjoon speaks to Yoongi in an undertone, and you feel a small ache of hope. Maybe things will work out if everyone just talks to each other.

But when you enter the house and Namjoon begins to steer you upstairs, you finally find your voice.

“No.” You resist against him, turning around at the base of the stairs. “No, I want to be part of the meeting.”

The surprise quickly fades from his face, instead turning to concern. “You need to rest."

Something about the look on his face, about being told yet again through his actions that this doesn’t concern you, it causes something inside you to snap, your apathy vanishing in the wake of this new beast beginning to rear its ugly head within you.

Your throat closes up and a scream erupts from your aching chest. "You don't know what I need!"

Namjoon matches your desperation with an infuriatingly patient look of sympathy. He approaches you, his hand outstretched, but you stagger back away from him. He smiles sadly and drops his hand. "Stay here. It's what's best for you."

What's best for you.

The words throb in your mind, like the memory of an old wound. They bounce listlessly off the walls of your grandiose prison long after Namjoon shuts the door, sealing you away again.

You don't know what comes over you as you see visions of launching yourself at the door, pounding and scratching at the wood like a wild animal.

You could just open the door and follow him downstairs. Some part of you does register that.

But you want them to hear you. You want them to hear you rip your throat raw as you exorcise your demons.

You blink and you're standing still.

You haven't moved.

Your spacious room feels stifling. Like the walls are closing in on you, suffocating you.

Silken ropes sway in the dusk, catching your eye from beyond the balcony window. Your escape route from earlier that day.

You don't think twice before stuffing a few meager belongings into the long forgotten backpack kicked beneath your bed.

You need to leave this place.

You can't stay here.

-------

It had started drizzling not long after you left the house, and even now as you sit on the damp curbside, waiting for the next bus to take you far away from this place, it strikes you as funny, in a way, that the weather is crying for you, since you can't muster any tears of your own.

It's cold and misty, a foreboding atmosphere, by all accounts. It makes you question if what you're about to do is the right call.

But you shut down the arguments in your head as quickly as they appear.

Second guessing was what had gotten you into this situation. You need to follow your instincts.

And your instincts are telling you to flee.

It won't be so bad, you try to convince yourself. After the first night on the road, you'll eventually find a new town, a new home, a new place for yourself in this fucked up world. You've done it before, you can do it again.

You're considering suitable aliases for your new persona, when you sense another person approaching, their shoes tramping through the wet grass.

You don't look up at them, hoping they'll pass by and leave you alone. But they come to a stop beside you.

You keep your gaze on the road, droplets rippling the puddled potholes.

Then the stranger goes to sit on the curb too, and you can't help but look at them.

You'd recognize those lips anywhere, even beneath a baggy hooded sweatshirt.

"It's a bit late to run errands, don't you think?" Seokjin says, pulling his sleeves down to keep out the chill as he perches beside you.

He glances at you, then looks ahead at the road, the same way you were. You return your gaze forward, too exhausted to make a run for it. Though you don't get the sense that he would chase after you, even if you tried to escape.

Maybe that's exactly why you decide to stay put, but you don't give the suspicion any more thought.

"What do you want?" You finally ask, your voice croaky from being silent for so long.

"Nothing."

"Liar," you mutter, hugging your knees to your chest. "Everyone wants something."

He chuckles. Rests back on his hands. "I guess you're right about that."

Damn right you are. You didn't study the human condition through your years of training to be fooled so easily by pretty words.

"So?" You prompt him, still staring at the dreary horizon.

He takes a moment to respond. The silence is punctuated by the distant noises of traffic, an occasional car passing by, its headlights shimmering in the mist before disappearing down the road.

“The others are all out looking for you, you know,” he says simply. “Why do you think that is?”

If it were anyone else that had run away - their manager, a friend - you know what the answer would be. Because they care about that person. But how can you believe that about yourself, when you know you can never amount to anyone with that level of importance to them?

Ironic, since you’re the person with which they can be most intimate and vulnerable.

“I’m a liability,” you reply halfheartedly.

His silence serves to confirm your suspicions. A runaway PhysCom? Far too risky for a group at their level. You could become one of those anonymous sources like you saw in the news. A firsthand account of the BTS members’ secret sexual urges. Unacceptable. Snatches of words from the NDA you signed buzz around the edges of your mind like stray flies.

But since you're no longer connected to your network, then your tracker is probably disconnected. If the bus had come just a little earlier, you might already have escaped without a trace.

“You really think that’s the only reason?” Seokjin’s voice pulls you back to the moment.

His abysmal attempt to divert from the problem gets a hollow laugh out of you.

“Any other reason has ulterior motives. It’s just business.” You check the time on your ComGear. The bus should be here any minute. “I’m leaving, and I won’t let you stop me.”

“I don’t intend to,” he agrees, to your surprise. “God knows you’ve been put through enough.” He then leans forward, resting his forearms across his legs. “But for what it’s worth, you deserve to know the truth.”

Your ears perk up at this.

Seokjin seems to take your silence as permission to continue. “The reason we decided to suspend you. It wasn’t… entirely selfless.”

You purse your lips in irritation and fix your gaze upon the horizon, settling your chin beneath your crossed arms. “Right. Ulterior motives, like I said.”

He clicks his tongue. “Touche.”

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn't.

Your curiosity gets the better of you.

“So, what… were you planning to replace me?” You ask, trying to sound contemptuous. “I heard you all having your little group meeting in the kitchen. There are plenty of shiny new whores at your disposal, take your pick.”

He still makes no noise.

You wait, preparing to accept a bitter confirmation of all your fears.

But then he finds his voice. “We could never replace you, dear.”

You stop. Look over at him. His eyes are half lidded, his smile bittersweet as he stares off into the distance. After a few moments, he fishes around in his pocket and pulls something out, then hands it to you.

His smartphone.

“Here,” he murmurs, sympathy in the quirk of his lips. “In case you need to call anyone. Those devices they give you don’t have a cell plan, I assume.”

He seems to sense your wariness, and waves the phone a bit in a gesture of insistence. “I can buy a dozen new ones. It’s no trouble.”

You very hesitantly take it. “Thanks.”

Of course, he has no way to know that your ComGear is now jailbroken, for all intents and purposes. But… is this a trap? What if there’s a tracker in the phone? But why would he need to put a tracker in it if he doesn’t know your ComGear is off the grid?

The rumble of an approaching motor pulls you out of your cyclical thoughts, and you get on your feet, slowly coming out of your dissociative sulk.

But you still feel numb. Nothing matters anymore.

Nothing at all.

Jin gets up along with you, slipping his hands into his hoodie pocket. “Stay safe, alright?”

You give a brief nod of acknowledgment, only half in his direction as you shrug your bag onto your shoulder more securely. The hydraulics of the bus screech as the vehicle comes to a stop and lowers slightly, allowing you to step onboard.

You glance back, fully expecting Jin to stop you. But he doesn’t. He blinks raindrops out of his eyes while you board, and gives you a small smile once the doors close behind you. He lifts a hand in farewell, then turns and starts to walk away down the street.

He’s really letting you go.

You pay your fare and find a seat towards the back of the nearly empty bus. Rain pelts at the windows, picking up in earnest, and it feels like yet another layer, another barrier, separating yourself and creating an ever-growing chasm from the life you knew up until yesterday.

You pull out Jin’s phone, staring at the dark screen and wiping away stray raindrops from the surface with your sleeve. Why had he come to find you, if not to stop you?

“But for what it’s worth, you deserve to know the truth.”

Maybe he felt guilty. Or remorseful for the hell you’ve been put through recently. You would normally have felt immense satisfaction at such a thought.

But you can’t feel much of anything right now.

You don’t think you’ll be able to feel properly again. At least not for a long, long time…

Hm? The screen lit up. You must have pressed a button by accident. You swipe at it again, and to your surprise it unlocks. Who doesn’t put a passcode on their phone?

Is it possible… he disabled it before he gave it to you? Maybe. Whatever. You’re so tired of thinking, playing investigator and second guessing people’s motivations.

You scroll over to the phone icon, and tap on it, briefly considering calling your parents. But the wetness on your fingers messes with the touchscreen and you open the messages app instead.

You’re about to wipe the screen and try again, but… the most recent messages are… all about you. You tap on the group chat among the seven of them, currently bustling with activity.

[ Kim Namjoon ]: has anyone found her [ Park Jimin ]: hyung I’m so sorry [ Park Jimin ]: it’s all my fault [ Min Yoongi ]: she’s not at the studio [ Kim Namjoon ]: we’ll talk about it later Jimin [ Kim Namjoon ]: everyone keep looking [Jeon Jungkook]: manager said they can call her network to track her down [Kim Taehyung ]: should we do that? [ Jung Hoseok ]: no! she could get in trouble :( [ Min Yoongi ]: she’s not a stray pet [ Kim Namjoon ]: exactly [ Kim Namjoon ]: we need to keep this quiet for her sake [Kim Taehyung ]: she hasn’t replied to my texts or calls [ Min Yoongi ]: me neither [Jeon Jungkook]: hyung... will she be okay? [ Kim Namjoon ]: everything will be fine don’t worry [ Kim Namjoon ]: we’re going to fix this somehow [ Min Yoongi ]: whatever it takes [ Jung Hoseok ]: where could she have gone... [ Park Jimin ]: what if she doesn’t come back?

You scroll further up, past days and weeks and months of texts between them… not even a day between mentions of you. Wondering if you’re alright. Hoping you’ve eaten enough. Wanting to do more with you.

The thread of texts Jimin sent to Seokjin just yesterday.

Hyung I wish things were different I want to hold her I want to tell her she’s enough I wish I could kiss her… I think I love her Do you ever feel that way?

And Seokjin’s reply.

I do I know just what you mean Why do you think I turned those secondaries away last night, hm? No one can compare She really is special…

He didn’t… fuck the secondaries? After you broke at dinner, he… didn’t...?

You switch to his thread with Namjoon from a few days ago.

I know you’re our leader but I don’t think this is the way to go You need to be more cautious

Namjoon’s reply.

What we need is action, hyung If we work together on this, we could get rid of these unnecessary rules We could all have what we want Including her It’s what’s best for everyone

Seokjin took several minutes to reply.

You’re going to lose her.

Jin knew. He tried to talk Namjoon out of writing that stupid essay, or maybe it was about your suspension.

Either way, he defended you.

You open his thread with Hoseok. Dimly, you recognize that you shouldn’t be snooping, but you’re too absorbed to stop.

Hyung, I think she really wants this All of us ♡ I don’t know how, but we need to show her that it’s okay That we want it just as much

How do you know that’s what she wants?

I can’t say ♡ But I know now She wouldn’t reject us Our feelings She feels something too

The date and time lines up with this morning. The morning after he made love to you.

He didn’t tell them. He kept your secret.

“Our feelings”? What does he mean? Him, Jimin, Taehyung… Seokjin? Do they all…?

Your head spins, the hollowness of your heart filling with a rush of jumbled emotions, like a tide crashing in. All your numbness is washed out with light, just a pinprick at first, that grows rapidly into a ray of warmth as you consider what all this could mean. The chasm starts to narrow, and you get the urge to jump ship, to turn back and figure this shit out. To know once and for all what they want from you. What you mean to them.

But how can you trust this isn’t a trap? How can you be sure?

The answer is as simple as they come.

You can’t.

You can’t be absolutely certain that their intentions are pure… that this is the right thing to do… that you won’t be hurt again.

But maybe... trust isn’t about being infallible. Being right. Being sure.

Maybe it’s built on what ifs. On trying again, even with no guarantees.

Guarantees are only as good as their word, and talk is cheap. Lies are easy. Your Opticon had a 100% guarantee, and look where that got you.

But you remember the way Hoseok held you that night, and made love to you like you’ve never felt in your life... When Jimin kissed his way down your body, with only the best of intentions. Namjoon’s strong arms embracing you when you felt powerless. Yoongi’s hand never leaving yours, even while you waited in the hospital. Jungkook carrying you home after you fainted, breaking your door to make sure you were safe in bed. The look in Taehyung’s eyes when he finally kissed you, breaking the ice you’d been growing around your heart.

How Seokjin let you go.

Maybe...

You get up with a start, rush to the front of the bus, and hastily ask the driver to let you off, much to the old man’s disgruntlement, but the moment the doors whoosh open, you take off at a run.

You want to go home.

You want to try again.

No matter how much you try to bury it, to forget the way they make you feel, you care about them. All of them. On a much deeper level than that of a PhysCom and client. And it scares you.

But you’re done running from fear. From uncertainty.

Now you’re running towards it willingly, as you give chase down the torrential streets, searching for that familiar hooded figure and hoping you’re not too late. You’re embracing the doubt, the fear, the uncertainty, the paranoia... letting their shadowy claws sink into you until they can’t hurt you anymore. Until they fade away, cowering under the glow of your determination.

You’re setting some new rules for yourself, no longer letting fear control your thoughts and actions, barring you from any chance of happiness.

You see Seokjin in the distance, trudging home through the pouring rain. You run faster.

You’re fucking terrified. But you’ve never felt so free in your life.

“Jin!” You shout to get his attention, still a block away. He turns around, and shakes his head, seemingly confused, but a smile starts to appear. You smile too.

Finally, you catch up to him, and without warning, you throw your arms around his shoulders. Damn, he’s always taller than you remember.

He laughs, shocked by your change of heart. “What are you doing?”

“I want to hear you say it.” You reply, looking up at him as rain dashes down your face. You don’t know when you started crying, but you’re grateful to the weather for masking your tears.

“Say what?” He asks, his hands resting on your waist to support you. Thunder rumbles in the distance, rain sliding down his perfect face.

“How you feel about me.” You reply, studying his eyes. “Be honest.”

He seems to sense the gravity in your words. He holds you closer. His eyes soften.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

For the first time since all of this started, you sense no deception in his words, no double meaning, no hidden agenda.

Because you aren’t searching for reasons to doubt this time.

You’re searching for reasons to trust, and you find them.

You want to kiss him. So you do.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Scandal Ch. 5 - Loki x Reader

Summary: Loki returns to claim what is his - willing to kill everyone in his way.

Warnings: Angst.

Words: ~1800

I Story Masterlist I General Masterlist I

Taglist: @catlover092402152, @hi-there-x, @haloangel391, @misssilencewritewell, @babayaga67, @accioremuslupinn, @mochimommy2002, @just-someone-who-likes-to-write, @damalseer, @bethanystan, @loser-alert, @star017, @nina1800, @queenariesofnarnia, @n1fangirlsblog, @vengefulsokovian, @lunamoonbby, @freyagallileaevans, @emmojoy, @literate-lamb, @aninnai​, @justsomerandompersonintheworld​

A/N: Sweet little Feedback Anon, I took your suggestion. You know which one I mean if you see it. (:

Btw guys I have like 60+ Drafts I need to finish so pls be patient with me.

Word sure spreads fast among the folk of Asgard, about Odin’s shame and your innocence.

Since his lies had weakened the favor among his subjects, the Allfather was desperate to clean his name and reputation, ultimatively inviting you to come back.

But you declined, stating that this wasn’t your homeland anymore ever since they betrayed you to fullfill their selfish ambitions.

However, Asgard’s hypocrisy wasn’t the only reason you chose to stay on Midgard - you just knew that it would break your heart every day you’d spend on a place with so many memories connected to your deceased husband.

Earthlings, the people of S.H.I.E.L.D and especially Thor’s friends Jane and Erik Selvic had basically become like family to you. Even though they could never fill the void Loki had left in your heart, things being like this was more than you could wish for.

“Lady Y/N!” a familiar voice greeted you, yet his worried tone startled you. Thor was already standing in your room, practically kicking in your door as he was visibly upset.

Immediately, you put Liam into his crib and rushed to his side. “What’s the matter?!”

A strange mix of horror and excitement was stretched across his face, making your heart sink to your stomach.

Actually, you didn’t want to involve yourself with the Asgardians any further. All you ever wanted was for your child to be healthy and happy, no matter where this was possible.

But Thor was still your cherished brother-in-law, as well as a wonderful uncle, never ceasing to provide for you and Liam, even when everyone else had forsaken you.

Yet what he was about to tell you let your blood run cold: 

“Loki is back.”

Immediately, all the walls you had built up over those past months were crumbling as you collapsed to the floor, crying out of anger and relief.

“H-How? How is this even possible?! He’s dead! Loki died!”

“Pull yourself together, Lady Y/N!” Thor has always been a rather touchy-feely kind of person, in opposite to his raw and bulky appearance.

But right now, he wouldn’t dare to hug or console you, like he’d usually do. Instead, he was offering you a hand to help you get back up - which you wouldn’t be able to take just yet. “There’s no use in overthinking this! We need to hurry!”

“What do you even want me to do?” you wondered, because if your husband was really alive, you’d doubt him wanting to see you. “He’s changed...killed a lot of people before he disappeared. And still, I don’t wanna fight him. How can I be of any help at all?!?”

“We know he’s probably after you and the child” the God of Thunder stated coldly. “So you need to be transferred to a safe location.”

What can be more safe than a base of S.H.I.E.L.D? If only you knew he had already demolished a whole, giant outpost of them with ease...

“I’ll explain everything to you on the way.” “Let me quickly get the baby.”

“What, did you forget the name of your nephew already?” you chuckled awkwardly, but seeming to have struck a nerve.

Thor was only slowly approaching the crib in which your lovely baby was resting, staring at it with awe while his trembling hand caressed Liam’s cheek.

“Incredible...” he whispered mainly to himself,  as if this wasn’t the thousandth time he would lay eyes upon him. “He’s just like I remember him.”

Something was off.

Of course Thor had a spare key to your flat, but you had never heared him unlock it - he had just kind of appeared in the middle of the room. Could as well be that you had been to invested with something, or buried in thought to notice him, and yet...

“Wait” you stated, making him flinch away from the child and turn around. “My knees are still weak. Help me up first.”

With heavy steps, Thor would force himself away from the crib and towards you again, lending you another hand and easily pulling you up - just for you to point a sharp dagger to his throat.

“Lady Y/N, when did you summo-”

“Shut up!” you hissed, and the god held his hands into the air to assure his goodwill. "Drop the disguse. Now!”

The man let out an amused huff, a taint of green covering his body to revert it back to normal - revealing your husband.

His hair had become longer, and dark rings showed how devastating those past months went by for him. Yet still, he was unmistakingly your husband.

Yet a faint, mad spark in his eyes was what worried you the most.

Now he was holding a knife as well, both circling around the crib with a knife at each other’s throat, as if to dance with each other.

“So it’s really you, Loki?”

“The one and only” he declared, chest swelling with pride at his performance and completely ignoring your hostile undertone. “I missed you painfully, my sweetling.”

He looked to the side where your son was still sleeping soundly, regret clearly visible on his face. “Wha- what name did you give our child?”

“Liam it is.”

The smallest of smiles tugged on his lips, swallowing harshly to surpress the sobs wanting to break free. “Beautiful name. Very well chosen.”

Pain was stretching across your features, desperately trying for the dam of emotions to not break. The dagger in your hand vanished, rather choosing to reluctantly caress his cheek - to make sure this was really him, and not one of his illusions.

And it was really him, leaning into your touch with a content purr. “Yes, my love, just like tha-”

A loud noise drang to his ear, effectively cutting him off. He needed a second to understand that it was in fact you slapping him what caused the interruption.

“Dear, wait, I-” Another hit, this time it was your knee digging into his groin, making him gasp in pain.

With his current power, it would be a piece of cake to block you - yet he knew that after everything that had happened to you, and everything he had done...

...it was what he deserved. So he would allow you to let off some steam.

Yet much to his surprise, you were done already - now grabbing desperately on his cloak and pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

He immediately reciprocated, dropping his weapon as well to embrace you fully, lips mingling with each other over and over again.

Oh, how long had both of you craved for each other?

“Sorry” you panted as your lips finally parted, “Just needed to get that off my chest.”

“Do not apologize, my love” Loki declared, chin resting atop of your head, still no intention to let go off of you. “I deserve far worse than that.”

You looked up to him, the kiss having made something surface in his eyes: So solemn, and incredibly fragile, it made your heart ache.

“Wha- what happened to you? Where have you been all this time?”

Loki’s face contorted at the question, as if the thoughts in his mind were physically painful. But his mind was clouded, unable to make his proper memory resurfacing. “Places far beyond your imagination, dear. And I have learned many things.”

“I-I thought I had lost you...” you ultimatively began to sob, face dug into his chest.

“No” the god whispered softly, his gaze still unwavering. “You always have me. I promise.”

“What now?” you sniveled as he gently pet your head, just as back in good old times. “Where do we go?”

“What do you mean?” Loki’s features creased into a slight frown, “We stay here. There’s no need to leave or flee.”

“Bu-” you hesistantly took a few steps back, to take in his full reaction. “But you’re a wanted criminal, Loki! On Asgard as well as Midgard!”

His manner became more defensive again, glee radiating off of him. “Oh, my sweet, innocent Y/N...still the idealist, I see.”

“And you are still insufferable” you scoffed back, crossing your arms. “What do you mean?”

Actually, you dreaded the answer.

The man seemed to be thinking about many things at once, eyes narrowing before he finally took a hold of your hand, squeezing it ever so slightly when he saw that you were still wearing his ring - even after everything that had happened.

“Y/N, my love, those deaths were a necessary evil.” He tried to peck a quick kiss on your hand, but you pulled away at those words. “The only crime I feel guilty for is having left the love of my life. But don’t you worry, I’ll make up for it.”

He summoned a staff, glowing in the same blue as the tesseract - and much to your terror, his eyes started to adapt to them as well.

“I will create my own kingdom, Y/N! Here on Midgard, with you as my queen! This is what you deserve, my love! You and our child will have everything you desire and more!”

“This is madness, Loki!” It wasn’t the first time he had heared that.

People always treated him wrongly, afterwards wondering why he was trying to create felicity on his own. “Is it?” he croaked, “Is it madness for a person born to rule two kingdoms to create a home he never had?”

His plan did not merit awe or any such feelings he hoped you to have - the only person in the world he thought would understand him.

“Loki, what your parents have done to you is inexcusable, yet-”

“They’re not my parents!” he screamed enraged, eyes then widened in shock that he had raised his voice at you. “My apologies, I...”

“They have kept the truth from you so that you’d never feel different. You know you’re their son, and the Asgardians are your family. You must know that!”

“You speak like mother” he spat, and still Frigga’s words he could not shake off as easily as Odin’s. “There is no going back to that place, and Jotunheim I never had a connection with. You most likely heared that I tried to kill Laufey, yes?”

Nodding in silence, you nervously bit your lip. “Please...” Wrapping your arms around him and placing one ear at his sternum, you could clearly hear how his heart was fighting a war, struggling to decide.

“You can still stop whatever you were gonna do. We can start anew somewhere, lead a peaceful life with Liam. I don’t need wealth or power, and you clearly know any of this wouldn’t give you the satisfaction you’re searching for!”

“As always, you’re right” he grumbled deeply, already regretting what he was about to do. “But it’s not that easy, my naive little dove.”

“No~” With his hand on the back of your neck, he infused a powerful magic inside your body, slowly shutting down your nervous system completely. As careful as possible, he cradled you in his arms and slowly led you to the floor, then proceeding to take his heir.

“The only thing I need for myself is our little family - and I will avenge you by murdering anyone that did you wrong, or tries to separate us again.”

[castiel-left-his-mark-on-me]

Hi, Ary, very inactive ex-mutual(i think???) here. Good to see you thriving! ♥ It's been a while since I've dipped my head into cockles stuff. Could I perchance maybe ask uuuuum tf is going on??? lol I see Mish apparently confirmed he used to stay over at Jensen's in Van, and heard newbs were apparently freaking out about it and getting a bit messy, which I get that, business as usual. But I'm also seeing shit about spin-offs? And Jared getting in a twitter fight with Jensen, causing/resulting in stans to going feral and sending hate?? I know you're not as big a fan of Jar, but that's part of why I figured I'd ask you, you usually have a really level head about this kinda stuff. If you don't wanna answer publically, or at all, that's totally chill!

Hey, Rhi! We're still mutuals! Of course we're still mutuals! When I saw the notification of your ask, I was like "Hey! I haven't seen you in a while!" and my husband was like "???" and I said "Tumblr" and he said "Oh."

It was a wild time haha.

In any case, welcome back to the dumpster fire! We are obviously still a mess. So to catch you up, I guess I will start by summarizing both before and after the finale (not sure where you left off so this might be redundant for you) ... basically, it became obvious as the end of the show neared that Jensen was not on board with the plan for the finale; although Jared never stopped singing its praises.

We got confirmation of this during a zoom interview where Jensen said that he actually went into the writers room as well as called Kripke to basically voice how he didn't agree with the direction the final season was going, but he was shot down on all fronts. In another interview, he was asked "What would you tell your younger self going into this career?" And Jensen responded with: "I would tell myself to just keep your head down and do the work" meaning, "Don't try to change things because you can't." I also think that this whole situation is what he wrote "Let Me Be" about for his first Radio Company album, but that is just my own speculation. All of his reluctance, even though he always followed it up with "But I eventually saw the value in the script" or "I came around in the end" (which never sounded sincere, and I don't think he was really trying to sound sincere) made us all very nervous about what was to come for 15x20; and of course, when the last two episodes aired, we saw just how badly they fucked it up.

After the awful finale, the entire fandom became aware of the CW's heavy handed role in the thing, basically squeezing all the life out of SPN to shape it into a ramp from which Walker could launch itself. They not only erased all the love and joy and representation that Cas's love confession gave us, they also tore apart the things that made sense about the bond between Sam and Dean, making it really just about Sam-- and therefore Jared, which of course, Jared seemed to be fine with ... even though no one else was. Misha barely said anything during the finale, and a few of the other actors talked about the show ending in various posts, but Jared tweeted up a storm ... and Jensen? Jensen just sat in sexy-silent resentment of the whole thing. He didn't tweet, he didn't post, he didn't say a word once he no longer had to, and I think that's because he was already going full-steam-ahead on his plans for redemption.

Which brings us to Chaos Machine-- Jensen and Danneel's new production company that is being run by a queer creative director and has a mantra of inclusivity and representation woven throughout it's fabric; and apparently, the first story that Jensen wanted to tell through this new platform is the origin story of Sam and Dean's parents; so last week (?) he announced the upcoming production of "The Winchesters" -- the untold love story of John and Mary. Obviously, John is not the most likable character from the show, so the idea was met with a lot of resentment when it was first announced, but Jensen has gone on to say that he is excited to take on the task of telling the "true" story behind these characters-- the one that makes sense with the pre-established canon and doesn't reject it. So, given that, the idea is being mulled over with a bit more optimism from the fandom.

Who isn't being optimistic though?

Jared Padalecki.

When Jensen made this announcement on Twitter, many of his friends and coworkers congratulated him, but not Jared. Jared responded with a passive aggressive: "I'm happy for you, man, but I wish I didn't hear about it through Twitter." This of course, sent all the die-hard Jared fans into a tizzy and they immediately began asking him if he was serious (hoping it was just a joke-- we all hoped it was because there would be fallout no matter what one's opinion on Jared is). Instead of leaving it there though or just deleting that tweet, Jared went on to tweet some more, saying that he was being serious that he didn't know about the plans for the prequel, and that he was "gutted" that Sam apparenlty wouldn't be included (mind you, this a prequel to SPN... meaning BEFORE Sam and Dean were even born, so how could Sam be included? But Dean is apparently narrating this story so maybe Jared thought Sam should be helping to narrate it? I don't know). But Jared being Jared couldn't just leave that there, he then went on to tweet at Robbie Thompson who was announced as a writer for "The Winchesters" so then Jared went off on him too, calling him "Brutus" and a "coward" acting like Robbie betrayed him (speculation is-- Robbie refused to write for Walker, so Jared is pissed that he essentially chose Jensen over him). He did fairly quickly, remove that tweet attacking Robbie, but of course the damage was done at that point. And it truly only took his first tweet calling out Jensen for some people to be like "Jared-- that sucks if you didn't know but why are you saying any of this publicly?"

As you might know, Jared has had issues in the past with posting hurtful things on social media, and has even used it as a tool for attack before-- calling out customer service agents and public workers that he felt have wronged him, which is bad enough ... but for him to then do the same thing to his best friend of well over a decade? Many people who had once liked him or at least gave him the benefit of the doubt (I used to ...) stopped after this latest twitter tantrum.

However, some people have suspected for some time that J2 had a falling out either shortly before the finale or just after. Their public/social media interactions have seemed awkward, stilted or even non-existent in moments that they normally wouldn't be. In the past year, when Walker premiered, Jensen didn't say much about his friend's new venture other than a "Congrats. buddy" here and there. Later, we learned that Jensen refused to work on the show ... Jared said he make him do it, drag Jensen to the set "kicking and screaming" which made many fans quirk up an eyebrow because, why would Jensen put up a fight unless the two weren't as close as they used to be? And then Jensen moved his family to Colorado (either permanently or for an extended period at least) which is notable considering how he moved to Texas seemingly to be closer to Jared, even buying a house that was near his. All this was just speculation though; but it wasn't until Jared's tweet complaining about not knowing about the prequel that the theories behind them falling out, became less theory and more fact.

The day after his twitter tantrum, Jared tweeted again-- not retracting his statements or apologizing, but instead saying that he and Jensen "talked" and were "all good". Jensen then tweeted too, parroting this statement to some degree, which only made the whole thing even more sour in the mouths of the fans. The fact that Jared didn't apologize for his outburst and throwing his friend under the bus, and also the fact that Jensen-- Mr. Sexy Silence, Mr. Never Tweets, Mr. Tech-Ignorant-and-Proud, actually had to POST SOMETHING saying that he and Jared made up, it just screamed OPTICS. It was obviously the work of agents and PR firms and lots of people going "Look, if you two keep beefing, that will mean the death of both of your projects. Even more people will stop watching Walker, and this SPN prequel will never get picked up due to the scandal." So, the two "made nice" publicly to quell the chaos, but in my opinion, it's all too little too late. Jared started a storm that he can't contain now with a little tweet, and it seems like he knows that too because before he talked about him and Jensen making up, he asked that people "not send threats". He could have just as easily said that he shouldn't have made this a public issue and that he's sorry, but instead, he continued to play the victim and stoke the flames by alerting us all to the damage he's done.

Now, like I said before-- I used to give him the benefit of the doubt. I don't think he's an awful human or that he deserves to be attacked or anything, but he is an adult man with very poor judgment and an obvious selfish-streak a mile wide. He should know better, and he should have more respect for his so-called "friends" and "brothers" than to make them targets to public ridicule. I have a hard time believing that Jensen still sees Jared the way he used to, and I wouldn't blame him a bit for wanting to pull away-- especially when he's moving on to so many new and exciting things. Jared certainly deserves happiness just as much as anyone else, but he went on twitter and basically asked for a scandal, and he got one.

The question is now-- was there a motive behind it? Was just looking for a reason to bring his and Jensen's falling out to light-- while making himself looking like the victim in the process? Or did he genuinely not know about the prequel and just decided to go about "not knowing" in the most toxic and hurtful way he could manage?

In any case, that is the drama ... that is the J2 insanity in a rather lengthy nutshell ... that is the tea ... and I hope it all makes sense.

But the good news out of all of this is, Cockles is thriving-- they are happy and in love and Jensen calls Misha "Babe" and Misha misses waking up to see Jensen in the morning, and they are just as cute and wonderful as can be.

So, I will end that there. I am so glad to see you back, and I hope I answered all your questions in a way that made sense ... I tried anyway!

💖💖💖

[linkspooky]

Do you have any thoughts on the Pro-Hero's discussion about Shigaraki and his hatred from chapter 311?

My thoughts are this, from both Jeanist and Hawks utter cluelessness to why Dabi could possibly have turned into a villain despite Dabi just telling them why, on tv, and being next to the man who pushed him into it, and from how all three of them fail to understand how Shigaraki could have been so easily groomed into hatred reflects an unacknowledged shadow for all three of them.

In Jungian psychology the concept of the shadow exists. The Shadow is an unconscious aspect of the personality which is outside of the conscious ego. While our consciousness is mainly made out of behaviors and memories, we judge as positive, and our Shadow differentiates by holding emotions, behaviors, and memories we label as adverse or painful. In a shadow, constructive perspectives might be incorporated, but most of the parts remain camouflaged under the thumb points of low self-esteem ness, anxieties, and false beliefs. "Everyone carries a shadow," stated Jung "and the less it is embodied in the individual's conscious life, the blacker and denser it is. To know yourself, you must accept your dark side. To deal with others' dark hands, you must also know your dark side.

In other words, for characters like Enji and Hawks, all of their bad traits define them just as much as their good traits, to be a whole and complete person they have to recognize those bad traits instead of being in denial of them however, both of them choose to only see themselves as heroes.

Anyway, now for something completely different. Let’s talk about batman and the joker. Batman uses Jungian symbolism a lot, of all the heroes he’s the most famous for being a normal person, who dresses in a costume to fight crime specifically in shadowed alleyways, and has a rogues gallery that also consists of mostly normal people in costumes. Batman’s villains are batman. Batman plays with both the relationship between himself and his villains, and also the relatinoship between Bruce and his own Shadow, because his Shadow is part of who he is. 

Now the most iconic batman villain is obviously the joker, and he’s a character like All for One who most of the time is just written as a character who does evil for evil’s sake, but more serious looks at the Joker like The Killing Joke which My Hero Academia directly references make this comparison between the two of them. The famous One Bad Day speech is also, notably, an attempt for Joker to connect to batman, to try to explain himself to him. 

He’s not just spouting a villain speech, he’s also looking for sympathy and trying to give sympathy, because that’s just what humans do. Because deep down, both Batman and the Joker were normal people once. The connection between Batman and the Joker is that they were both normal people, but one of them became a hero, and the other one a villain, and therefore that potential exists in any normal person. 

However, the heroes in MHA still don’t acknowledge their connection to the villains. Hawks and Enji did apologize yes, but what’s also important is their actions after, which is to choose to continue fighting villains as heroes.

It’s been pointed out by Shoto before that what Enji really needs to do to heal his family, is act like a good father, rather than a good hero. However, when given the chance to reach out to his son, he chooses to fight it instead. There’s a reason that the public isn’t reassured by the actions of Hawks, Jeanist and Endeavor and that’s because they continue to keep playing heroes instead of acknowledging what’s wrong. I’m not saying they are good or bad people, both Hawks and Enji have bad sides of their personality that they are almost completely ignorant of. They, like any human being have the potential to be driven to villainy. That’s why Enji can’t reach out to his son, because his brains have still made the connection that he was what drove Toya to villainry. 

It comes across in the casualness which Enji remarks upon what AFO did to Shigaraki and the complete lack of self awareness. Enji did the same thing, he had a child for the sake of passing on his quirk, raised that child to hate all might and want to do anything to surpass him, and he even wanted to live vicariously through the success of Toya and then Shoto so everyone would know him as Endeavor’s son. He still only cares about Toya to the extent that his dreams were once resting on him. 

So when Enji makes the connection to AFO, he asserts that there must be something wrong with him to do all those bad things, because he’s unaware of the resmeblance between his own deeds and AFO’s. He sees himself as a human being with reasons for his bad actions, he didn’t mean to neglect Toya, he didn’t know what to say to him, he was too guilty and hid from his guilt for so long but he doesn’t allow his enemies to have that guilt. This is a pattern that repeats with Hawks, and Jeanist as well, they can’t understand why people like Twice and Dabi would feel like they have a right to be angry at the society that mistreated them. 

Jeanist’s defense is why can’t he just keep quiet about it. 

Twice’s last words were hating Hawks and wishing the worst for him, yet Hawks still thinks they were best friends somehow.

Hawks and Twice were not friends, because Hawks chose not to be his friend, and to hurt what was most precious to Twice which was all of his other friends. Enji chose not to be a father to Toya and not be a father. Enji and Hawks are neither heroes nor villains, they are not good or bad, they’re just humans and as humans they have the potential to be both. 

In only seeing the hatred that Shigaraki was groomed to have they’re also fundamentally misunderstanding him. The thing is Shigaraki has reasons for his hatred, and not just because AFO forced him to feel that way. It’s not just AFO, that’s what they critically misunderstand, it’s Shigaraki’s experiences with how the society around him has neglected both him and his friends.

That’s something that the heroes can never see, because Shigaraki has been assigned the role of a villain who hates society. It’s not just AFO, Shigaraki can’t be at peace with a society that is designed to reject others.

That doesn’t come from his hate either, it comes from his sympathy with the victims. Just like they only see their own good traits, they can only see the villain’s bad traits. The thing is we have witnessed Shigaraki constantly been challenged on the fact that he only has empty hatred, first by Stain, then by Chisaki, and finally be Re-Destro. We also witnessed the moment he changed. 

The conclusion Shigaraki comes to as the result of his arc is that while he himself doesn’t care about the people, he’s not alone anymore, he wants to give the future to the others around him. 

That’s why Shigaraki’s actions aren’t driven just by hatred, but also by a deeply broken sense of empathy. Not only is he a crying child himself, he’s also someone who acknowledges the feelings of others. What converted Spinner from being someone who didn’t particularly care about the goals of the league, and doubted Shigaraki in front of everyone to his most loyal follower. 

It’s because he came to recognize that this human side of Shigaraki was there. The same way that underneath his mask, Spinner was just a pathetic NEET struggling with his own feelings of inadequacy, Shigaraki gets close to broken people, he tries to protect them, he tries to give some kind of validation to their feelings. 

Shigaraki has grown from just hating all of society because it rejected him, to realizing the real reason is because it rejects everyone around him. That means while there’s hatred to his character, there’s also a very selfish and intense love that applies to a small group of people, but the potential for love is still there. Shigaraki reaches out and saves people the same way that Deku does, he tries to do all the fighting himself to protect others just like Deku, it’s just that he’s been hurt again and again and that’s twisted him to act on his worst trait. None of the heroes understand Shigaraki’s love, because they can only see his hate. 

It’s not just that he’s been victimized or that he’s a crying child. Shigaraki is constantly compared to a child both in a negative sense as a man child, and a positive sense as a child pure heartedly pursuing their dream, because there is that potential within Shigarkai, to grow up, and grow into a better person if he was given the same chance to atone that characters like Hawks and Enji have already received. 

Shigaraki and Deku just like batman and the joker both reflect that in perfectly normal people, there’s the chance for great good, or great evil. For Shigaraki there’s an added level of complexity, that you can still grow into a better person, after everyone has written you off as too far gone. You can still grow to love the people around you when you thought you were only capable of hating. 

Enji and Hawks still have the oppurtunity to grow just like that, not as heroes, but as people. 

However to truly grow as people they would have to learn to empathize with the villains, especially because they have done wrong things too, Hawks killed because he had to, Enji hurt his entire family. Defeating the villain really is not the solution, because sometimes you yourself are the villain. 

In order to fully grow as people they have to learn to see themselves as people, and not heroes. That also means admitting the villains are just as human as they are. If Endeavor is someone who can become better after realizing that he made so many mistakes in the past and the only thing he can do about it is try to do better from now on, then Endeavor’s ending point should be realizing that since he was given that chance by his family, others deserve that chance too, especially his own son.  People are not villains, or heroes, Endeavor is just Enji Todoroki and Dabi is Touya Todoroki deep down no matter how they see themselves. 

[h3l10tr0p3]

MANGA CH. 284 SPOILERS

OF REDEMPTIONS AND ATONEMENTS:

We all been knew, man. We all knew this was coming.

And godDAMN does it fucking HURT. (oh the sweet sweet angstfest this whole chapter is, just *chef's kiss*)

But i legit cannot put into words how deep the choice to 'Atone' cuts on my bleeding bkdk heart. Let's first take a step back and see how Katsuki went from DvK2 to here- that one keystone moment that has given us this beautiful chapter: And I meant ALLLL the way back to Chap. 252

I have already written a whole-ass post based on this panel, which you can check Here.

TL;DR Katsuki was actually paying real close attention to Endeavour in this part. He came to Endeavour to learn exactly what he was missing as a Hero, but he learnt so much more.

This scene in particular left a momentous impact on Kacchan. Here, Natsuo is resistant to the idea of forgiving his father for all his sins just because he is more involved in their lives now. And Endeavour had been dreaming for a while about a Home where he is not present with the rest of the Todoroki's which ultimately gave him the idea of buying a house for the others to live in apart from him. This is HUGE. This is what actually drove Endeavour's Redemption home- the perfect understanding and the perfect compensation, the two elements of a brilliant Redemption Arc. NOT THE FORGIVENESS, just as Enji says it. It is NEVER ABOUT THE FORGIVENESS.

Endeavour understood that it was his presence that caused his family distress, and although he dearly wanted to be a part of his family again, was even making efforts towards it by being cordial and accepting of Shouto's friends, inviting them to a family dinner, etc. etc. Endeavour realized the only way he can compensate/atone was to give up something that would cause him suffering, and them happiness. The idea that your family doesnt want you, when you just started to show some effort and HOPE that they might see you in different light, maybe forgive you and then to just terminate those ties entirely, punting yourself into a void where NO ONE CAN COME IN AND SAVE YOU FROM YOUR SUFFERING, is exactly what Endeavour did. He is actively shutting down the ONE window through which his family could see that he was suffering, and miserable, and wanted to be a part of the family again. Endeavour CHOSE to not be forgiven. To writhe with the knowledge of his sins day in and day out with only the shrine of Dabi Touya to haunt him every waking minute.

I cannot explain just how much determination it takes to do that, man. It's just- WOW.

Excuse me for ranting on Endeavour in a bkdk post, but I swear this has a point. And All Might says this the best:

This is the fanlation, the official release (which I couldnt get my hands on) also mentions that "When I meant you were like Endeavour, I meant the Change"

This here is an important bit that AM has caught onto.

In the 252 panel, where Endeavour says 'It's not like I want forgiveness' (Because Endeavour understands he cannot be, should not be, forgiven) "I just want to make up for everything I have done" (and to back this up, Endeavour shuts down the one communication link that could have offered him forgiveness, and thus salvation from the weight of his sins and his guilt)

Katsuki understood Endeavour's idea of redemption very well here, although he might not be shown with that light-bulb moment. He may have already known this wayyy before Endeavour said anything, but those words lent a solidity and to the path he must persue to acheive redemption: And it's Not forgiveness.

Let me tell you why I think Atonement is the greater factor here, even greater than Redemption itself. Redemption has an end-point: Forgiveness. But Atonement doesn't. Atonement has no expiry date. Atonement is purely propelled by the understanding of self, and the weight of guilt the self bears, whereas a Redemption is All About The Forgiveness.

Forgiveness is an external force, it may or may not be given to you and that is completely up to the person who has been wronged. Atonement is self-imposed, it is a meditation of the soul to forgive itself against the guilt it carries.

If Redemption is a marathon with a banner at the finish line, Atonement is trying to drag a twenty pounds of rocks through the Sahara desert without water, food or a compass- it's endless, hopeless.

And this is why Atonement is greater than Redemption.

And do you think someone as stubborn as Kastuki will ever find himself atoned of his deeds? No. And That, my friends, is The Point. In 252, when Endeavour says, "I dont want forgiveness" it's not just him saying it- it's also Katsuki. "I just want to make it upto you", is also Katsuki.

And to prove it, Katsuki will never ask for forgiveness. A verbal apology will be nice, sure. Especially since dumb-ass, gay-ass, 'Kacchan-sugoi' ass Izuku Doesn't even See it as Atonement. He is just #Blessed that Kacchan and he can talk almost-naturally again. And that is also Katsuki's intention- because the moment Izuku knows, he won't be able to atone this way anymore.

So, as much as I HATE to say this, the chances of a voluntary verbal apology are slim. If allowed to go on like this, Kacchan with continue to shadow Izuku through his life, worrying about him, LOSING SLEEP OVER HIM :

LOOK AT THOSE BAGS UNDER HIS EYES. /*shoves panels in yo face*/LOOK

Can you believe this bitch-ass gremlin who goes to sleep at 8:30 got bags just from stressing over his Deku??????

LOOK AT HIM DOING A HECCIN' MAJOR KOKORO-STOPPING CONCERN.

(He is flipping his shit because he worries, and he worries so much, and has worried for him for a long LONG time.)

- Katsuki will continue on this path of being Izuku's support.

Forever if it takes.

Forever, he hopes, it takes-

Because the only way he will stop is in death, either his own or Deku's.

This is his Atonement: To undo everything he once did, to support Izuku's dream instead of squashing it; To help him get stronger instead of perpetuating the narrative on his weakness; To protect him from all harm, when he once hurt; To be on his side when the whole world is against him, because once he was all, but, for him; To save Izuku as he wins, to win as he saves.

And, To deny each oppurtunity of forgiveness even as he desperately longs to be unburdened of his guilt.

Because Katsuki knows:

He knows Izuku is that one of a million, he is kind and humble and considerate and loving to a fault.

Katsuki knows that Izuku will forgive him in a heartbeat. That is just the kind of selfless, beautiful person he is.

Unlike Endeavour, who had no guarantee to forgiveness, Katsuki does. And that is what makes Katsuki's Atonement more powerful than Endeavour's. He recognizes it is in his grasp, just an arm's length away...

....Just an arm's length.

And Katsuki will deny himself that. Because he does not believe he deserves it. He hasn't atoned enough for it.

"Keep At Arm's Length"

He says. Because this is the critical distance between them. Not "Stay an arm's length away", because Katsuki doesn't wanna run away from Deku, and he doesn't want to be too far away to protect him, nor does he want to get too close to finally recieve the forgiveness that will give him salvation.

This is the fine balancing act Katsuki must maintain indefintely till he believes he has acheived his idea of atonement. (And when has he ever been happy just the bare minimum?)

I know I said Katsuki will never ask for forgiveness, and a voluntary verbal apology is very unlikely, because in it's very nature, it is inviting a forgiveness from Izuku, which we have established, Katsuki wants to avoid. And if this were any other manga, we would have been doomed to this conclusion. But, there is a scenario when Katsuki might issue a verbal apology and that is when Katsuki knows there isn't enough time to be forgiven in turn, or, hasn't atoned enough and can no longer continue to.

Like when Katsuki launches off, to deliver a final kamikaze blow to a villain, and he has only enough time to tell Deku a short "I am sorry", but not enough time to wait for a reply. Or when Deku is dying and at his final moments, when Katsuki knows however much he has atoned isn't enough and isn't how Deku should leave, without closure.

Whatever the future may hold, my dear readers, Katsuki still has a long, long way to go. And I hope to see him live through everything, to be there -

To survive these wars with Deku, To fight alongside him, To protect him. To win. To save.

To Live.

To hear Deku say "I had forgiven you a long time ago";

and ofcourse,

To forgive himself.

[autumnywinter]

Yandere Julian, please? 👀👀👀👀 I need my doctor man,,, just so in love and desperately needing to protect his darling and be loved back, but also feeling like a monster and disgusting and self-loathing, the apprentice didn't DESERVE to be with someone as awful as him!

I know this took so long to make but I finally made it! I’m so sorry for the wait!

Warnings: Posessive behavior, manipulation(?), implied kidnapping

You hate coming back home because almost every single time, Julian asks the same questions as if you’re being hired for a job.

He didn’t ask them in a cruel way.

But it sure felt like that.

Did you talk to anyone?

What did you do?

Did you feel safe?

You know you can tell me anything, right?

This time, it felt different though.

“Jules! ‘M home!”

He greets you as usual, but doesn’t say a word. After examining you closely, he just hugs you.

“Babe? You alright?” you ask.

You can’t help the tired way it comes across, you’ve had a long day as usual.

He stares at you. “You were gone for thirty minutes longer than you usually are.”

You were? You didn’t notice.

“Sorry,” you apologize, even though you hardly feel like you should be.

It’s hard not to apologize when he looks so miserable.

Even if you’re starting to feel that way.

“You’re okay, right?” he asks into the crook of your neck, his face buried almost painfully in it.

“Of course.” You want to make a face, you want to tell him that he’s being irrational, but you never manage to actually say it.

“Good,” he murmurs.

For almost five minutes, the two of you stay like that. To you, it’s beyond awkward. To him, it’s anything but.

“Are you okay?” you finally ask.

“Of course,” he says in return.

Finally, you pull away despite his desperate attempt to pull you back into a hug.

“Why do you always get like this?”

“Like… like what, darling?”

“Like this. Like I was gone for days and not just a few hours.”

“I just miss you.”

He grips your hands. “Can… can I be honest with you, honey?”

“Yeah,” you say after hesitating for a few seconds.

He nods with an etched frown. “Every time you leave, it… it scares me. Realistically, I know you aren’t going to get hurt or--” He cuts himself to let out a small growl, “Or leave me. But it still gets to me.”

“How long have you felt this way?”

Of course you know he’s felt this way for a long time, but you didn’t know it was that bad.

You didn’t know if you should pity him or give him tough love.

“Ever since I met you,” he confesses, but to both of you, it feels like already known knowledge. Because it is.

He looks at you with a new type of pain, a pain that doesn’t scream that he just wants to be babied as usual.

It screams loneliness, fear, and insecurity.

“I need you. I need you, Y/n,” he murmurs into your hair. “If you left me… I don’t know what I’d do.”

That’s a half-truth.

He does know what he’d do.

But he wouldn’t know what to do after he’s done it.

“Julian,” you breathe.

“You’re my everything.” The most sad, desperate look forms on his face. “I love you. I know I don’t deserve you. No one deserves you, but especially me.” A sob bubbles in his throat. “But I’m so lucky you chose me anyway.”

Normally, a confession like this should make you feel loved or safe, right?

But why is this confession making you feel like you want to run until your legs give out?

“Sw-- sweetheart?” he gulps, looking at you with tears pooling from his eyes. “You… you’ve gone quiet…”

“I’m fine,” you laugh anxiously. “Uh… you do know you deserve me, right? I chose to be with you. Just like you chose to be with me.”

Julian looks somewhat comforted by that. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right.” His lips ghost yours for a moment. “Can I kiss you?”

“Of course.”

He pulls you in for a passionate, sloppy kiss, and you’re the first to pull away after a few seconds.

“I’m going to make dinner,” you say, your voice wavering slightly.

Why do you feel so uncomfortable all of the sudden?

You pray Julian doesn’t notice.

He nods. “Oh… of- - of course. I’ll hel--”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”

He stares at you, his eyes showing a mixture of confusion and worry before nodding. “Okay. I love you.”

He always reminds you of that every single time you go to do anything.

At first, it was annoying. Then, it got endearing.

But right now, you weren’t sure how it felt.

“I love you too.”

You go into the kitchen, as he stares at you leave.

He doesn’t know when he’ll break.

He doesn’t know when he’ll start refusing you to leave him, even if it were just to go work.

He doesn’t know when he’ll start not letting you out of his sight, even for a second.

But he knows it’s soon.

And even a little part of you knew that as well.

[sidespromptblog]

Locked

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Logan is insecure, Crying (Almost), and Angst. 

Summary: After Patton skips him, Logan locks himself away in his room as the doubts about their friendship start to overwhelm him. Why had Patton done that? Had he wanted to do it all along? Was it just better this way? Should he just stop talked? Should he just...

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 3305

The door slammed shut much harder than he had meant for it to, but be that as it may… Logan couldn’t bring himself to care about that as he sank heavily into the chair next to his desk. Tossing his glasses onto his desk, he held his face in his hands trying desperately to calm the shaking that started in his shoulders and traveled all the way through his entire body. He wasn’t crying, but right now he honestly wished that he could at least get that kind of relief right now. Instead, there was only a deep well of sadness that only seemed to get bigger and bigger with each passing moment, he didn’t like it. At least with tears, it was only temporary, but this feeling… it felt like it could go on forever. 

“It’s not fair…” Logan couldn’t help but to whisper in a way that almost sounded like a whimper, his bottom lip trembled uncontrollably, and yet no tears. “Why.. he…” He honestly could not believe what Patton had done this time, he’d already expected it from Roman when he had chosen ignorance over Logan informing him. But for Patton to… to just let Janus come in and pull him out and replace him, just because he didn’t want to listen to him. Patton… who had seemed so worried when Janus had first taken his place before. “It’s not fair…” He repeated with a mumble, as he dragged his fingers through his hair messing up his usually neat and presentable hair. 

He didn’t care right now, now was not the time to be neat and presentable. 

He could allow himself this at least, to dwell in this.. this...

Betrayal.

Yes, that was an apt term for what had happened between him and Patton. Whether the other side chose to acknowledge it or not, Patton had… betrayed his trust as well as his feelings by choosing to silence him. Ordinarily, he could understand that due to heightened emotions Patton could do weird things, but it was the fact that when he had chosen to confront him about it in front of Thomas he had… tried to do damage control. Which as responsible as that sounded, only made him feel as if he were like a child being placated, and like he didn’t deserve an apology for what had been done. 

Did he though? 

Doubt curled its ugly unease around Logan, making him slump even more in the chair as he ran his hands back over his face before eventually just covering up his eyes. He knew that he could be a lot to handle sometimes, and that his many many facts could sometimes be annoying to handle well all of the time if their reactions were anything to go by. Oftentimes his input wasn’t exactly wanted, especially when it came to things with emotion. Even things involving stuff like philosophy or psychology seemed boring for the others, more so when it seemed to come from him of all sides. Even his history facts… 

But Patton had always assured him that he wanted to hear him. 

The doubt in his mind grew stronger, “Was he…” The word lying stuck on his tongue like a barb, as his heart clenched painfully in his chest. For the first time since he’d come back to his room, tears welled up in his eyes misting over everything in sight. 

It didn’t make him feel any better. 

He probably was. 

After all, if Patton had lied about his own emotions multiple times then there was no reason to assume that he hadn’t lied about things like this to all of them. It wasn’t wrong to assume that… he perhaps didn’t even like him, or maybe even that.. that he had just been humoring Logan until he grew too annoyed to bother putting up with him anymore. That he had finally reached his breaking point, and Logan just so happened to be the kind and cheerful side’s breaking point. It wasn’t an impossible thing to assume, but after Patton had dealt with both Remus and Janus… for Logan to be his breaking point kind of hurt more than a little. 

Was he really so unlikable? 

Probably…

God, why hadn’t he listened before when the others had told him to shut up? Probably his pride, he was too arrogant and far too self-absorbed. 

And he had called Roman conceited…

Logan raked his fingers through his hair again, tangling his messy hair even further. “Maybe I should just start being quiet…” He muttered dourly, even though deep down… he knew that it wouldn’t be enough. Just being quiet wouldn’t work considering the damage he’d already done to everyone around him. “Maybe I sh-”

A quick series of knocks pattered on Logan’s door, and just as quickly as it had started the words quickly died in the logical side’s throat. 

“Logan.” Janus’ cool and calm voice called from the other side of the door, he couldn’t have been standing more than a few inches away from the wood that separated them. It was just one word and his name at that, it shouldn’t have been so startling. And yet, despite that calmness that always seemed to accompany Janus’ tone, Logan couldn’t help but to detect… something else. “Logan, may I come in?”

It was... worry?

Even so, Logan fought the urge to sigh heavily at the request. Here, was the one person who had not only taken his place at Patton’s unspoken and unsaid request… but the person who seemed to delight in calling him out on all of the lies that he constantly told himself. He wasn’t exactly the kind of person that Logan really wanted to have over for tea, much less invite him into his room when he was already feeling vulnerable and on the verge of tears. But… it wasn’t like he could deny the request, should someone need him he was always to be there for them. Whether it be someone like Janus, or one of the other sides he had grown up around. He was to be there for them, and to offer them logical assistance. And maybe Janus needed that.

Or to just rub it in his face about how Patton had chosen to have lies rather than the truth. 

“What you don’t know can’t hurt you.” Deceit smirked at Logan in that knowing way of his, as if he knew that further down the line of what was to come. Or maybe because he just knew of the lies that constantly rattled off of Logan’s tongue, or the lies that just stayed inside his head constantly tormenting him. 

“Logan?” 

Another sigh rattled out of the side in question, before he painstakingly combed his tangled hair back with his fingers in an effort to get some kind of neatness back before Janus could see. 

“Do what you want Janus,” Logan called out from his desk, turning back to it to give the semblance that he had been doing some kind of work. His desk was a mess though, there would be no getting that past Janus. He attempted to neaten up a little, his shaking fingers plucking up different papers as he organized them into little stacks that hardly felt as organized as he wanted it to be. Although the light trembling of his entire body certainly didn’t help manners any, his inner turmoil certainly hadn’t gone away just because Janus had shown up. “Come in.” He muttered, half expecting the other side to just have left at the sound of the attitude clearly ringing in Logan’s voice. 

But hearing the sound of the knob of his door turning before it creaked open made the logical side turn his head a little, the streak of light from the hallway made his eyes burn a little. Although that could have just been from the fact that he had forgotten to put his glasses back on in his haste, as well as the fact that his eyes had been completely adjusted to the darkness of his own bedroom. 

But even so, there Janus stood. With his caplet draped casually over his arm and his head held in his hands, letting Logan see his smooth wavy hair that stuck up from the friction of his hat. His gloves had even been tucked away into the back pocket of his pants, letting Logan get the tiniest glimpse of the scales that gleamed like glass on his wrists. He looked…

Casual. 

Suspiciously so. 

If he hadn’t been before then the smile that came from the other most certainly sealed it. “Thank you for seeing me,” Janus carefully said as he walked from the door to Logan’s bed. Tossing his caplet onto the blankets Janus took a seat without even bothering to ask, instead just crossing his legs as he stared back at the logical side for a good long moment. “I was worried that you wouldn’t for a moment, or that you’d just turn me away… I wouldn’t blame you.” 

“Why?” 

Janus blinked at the question, “Because I took your place to-” 

“I mean why are you here right now?” Logan didn’t feel that bad about interrupting him, if anything he almost deserved it after how he had been interrupted today. “There’s no logical reason for you to be. You got what you wanted, didn’t you?” He’d hurt him, or in the very least he’d assisted Patton in hurting him. That skip button hadn’t come out of nowhere, and neither had that cane that had hooked him. 

But then again… maybe Janus had sensed what Patton secretly wanted but couldn’t say to Logan. Janus had always known the secrets that they’d all kept hidden, and… Patton not liking him and wanting him to just shut up was something that Janus could most certainly help with now as well as in the future. Janus even made logical arguments, so it wasn’t a stretch to say that he could even deliver some arguments in a way that wouldn’t bore the others too. Patton… 

Patton even seemed to like him. 

Janus cleared his throat, and just like that Logan’s mind had been dragged back to the present. 

“I just wanted to let you know,” Janus slowly began, as he fidgeted with the hat in his hands. “That I’m not good at this whole… being a vulnerable and truthful person kind of thing, but you deserve... to know the truth.” Janus lamely finished, looking like he was going to say something else before finally ending his words. “It’s not easy, especially since I’m so used to lying all of the time. But…” 

Logan just stared back tiredly, wondering when it would all be over so that he could just bury himself in work and sleep, so that he could forget this whole day ever happened to begin with. 

“Your doubts and your fears about Patton are unfounded.” Janus finally snapped, the words coming out in one massive rush as if in fear of waiting any longer would stop them from coming at all. But even so, it didn’t stop the emotions that were clearly shining in the dishonest side’s face. As he gripped his hat tighter and tighter, until his knuckles had turned white.  “He does not find you annoying, because you are not annoying. He does not want your silence.” 

I don’t want your silence. 

The words were unspoken, and yet Logan heard them all the same. 

But it still did little to alleviate the pain that had already sunk deep in his chest, while it was nice that Patton apparently felt this way… actions had more a louder call than words did. And Patton’s actions… they stung like a slap to the fact that would bruise for months to come, and even so.. even then he wasn’t sure he could trust that Patton wouldn’t do it again. 

It had hurt. 

A tired sigh fell from his lips, “Is it you or Patton that’s saying that?” He finally asked, as he finally allowed his shoulders to droop from the exhaustion he had felt from the day. There was no hiding his emotions from Janus, the side could see through whatever front he put up effortlessly, so there was no point in hiding anymore…

There never really was. 

A mixture of emotions darted over Janus’ face, “Both… both of us Logan.” He softly whispered, the look of regret and sorrow unfolding as his gaze took in all of the emotions that were freely being shown on the logical side’s face. “I’m sorry…” He honestly said, agony curling into him like a white-hot fire as Logan closed his eyes at the simple two-letter words that had left the dishonest side’s mouth. 

“Clearly,” Logan began, not callously but logically. “Otherwise I doubt you would have made the effort to come here. But…” He took in a deep breath, steadying himself for what he was about to say. “It changes nothing.” He had to put his foot down, at least this one time… he was tired of this, so very tired. “I am tired Janus, I am tired of what keeps happening to me. I had learned to accept it from some of the others at this point, as just ‘teasing’. But this… this is the last straw for me.” It hurt to say, but.. but he had to take care of himself first before he could even think about what Patton’s actions might’ve meant if it didn’t mean he was annoyed with him. “I am taking this for myself.” 

There was a moment of silence between them, and when Logan finally opened his eyes he didn’t really see what he had expected to see from Janus. Maybe some anger, some more worry, or even some annoyance at the way that Logan had chosen to go. He wasn’t really sure how he was supposed to react to the calm understanding that was reflected back in Janus’ eyes, as if… it had been something that the serpentine side was acutely familiar with. 

But even so, Janus slowly nodded. “Are you going to duck out?”  He carefully asked.

Logan couldn’t fault him for the question, it was a very valid one especially considering that Virgil had done the same exact thing months prior. But that wouldn’t solve anything, it would just be running away and waiting for the others to chase after him and show him that they care after so long of… everything. And while it was tempting and so very.. very nice sounding… he wouldn’t do that to them. Seeing how Thomas had been affected by Virgil’s absence had been enough to assure himself that even if he had the opportunity to, he wouldn’t. It wouldn’t solve the baseline problem anyways.

It would just make the others feel guilty about boundaries that they didn’t know existed for Logan. 

“No,” He easily answered, and he watched as Janus relaxed clearly sensing the lack of a lie in Logan’s statement. “I will continue to do my work as Thomas’ logic, and be good at it. But.. I am tired, and…” He looked over to the messy stacks of papers on his desk that he had tried to organize before Janus had come in, there was so much he needed to clean and work on. “I think that I need some time away from the others, and… some time to think about myself and how I stand with them.” Logically he knew.. he knew that they had never done anything out of any pure malice or hateful intent. Logan was just… well he was weird and he was odd at times, so there was no reason for them not to comment on it. Especially since he’d never told them not to, he should have put up clear boundaries of what he was okay with and what he wasn’t. But even so…

It didn’t stop the hurt. 

A chilly hand squeezed his own, and looking down to his lap Logan saw that Janus had reached across the distance to bridge the gap between them. “Take however long that you need to,” Janus murmured, although knowing entirely that he had no say in the matter. “I am glad that you are taking this, and doing this.” Logan would never see him making a fuss about taking some self-preservation for himself, more of the sides needed to do what Logan was doing. Better late than never, anyways. “I wish you the best of luck, and…” As Janus stood from his spot at Logan’s bed, making his way towards the door. He stopped as soon as he laid his hair on the brass doorknob. “I hope that when you come back, I can make a better opportunity at being your friend.”  

With that being said, Janus opened the door and walked out leaving Logan to his rest. The hammering of his heart had quieted almost as soon as the lies that had been surrounding Logan’s mind had faded into nothingness. He had been scared for a moment, that Logan would duck out just as Virgil did, but this time they’d have a much harder time of getting Logan back. 

He hadn’t been the only one that was worried. 

“Is he okay?” Patton softly asked from the couch, the stuffed animal that was being squeezed to death in his arms told Janus just how worried the moral side really was even if he was trying to remain calm. “Should I go up there and talk to him?” Patton fidgeted with the strings of sleeves of his cat hoodie, his leg bouncing up and down as he glanced towards the stairs that Janus had just walked down. 

He stilled as soon as Janus raised his hand to stop him. “He is fine right now,” The dishonest side said, as he sat beside Patton comfortably. “But I wouldn’t suggest going to see him, he’s…” Janus struggled to find a way to word it delicately enough to get the feelings across, but without hurting Patton too much in the process. “He was very hurt by your actions, and it’s not a feeling that I think is going to go away anytime soon. You showing up and trying to apologize when he’s not ready… it’s just going to make him feel that hurt so much worse.” Putting his hand on Patton’s shoulder, Janus looked back at the other side’s guilty look. “ I understand your guilt, but showing up before he’s ready will just make him draw away from you even more. Trust me I know this much about forgiveness…” Images of Virgil’s distrustful sneers flashed in his mind, and Janus couldn’t help but to wince at the pain that crackled over his heart. It was always better to wait than to say something you couldn’t take back, because you didn’t wait. “I don’t think he’ll be ready for a while, and I think yo-... We all need to be prepared to wait until he’s ready to come out, not us going to him. ”

As depressed as Patton looked at the prospect of leaving one of the others to stew in their own mental torment, he nodded. 

“Okay,” Patton sadly said as he hugged the stuffed animal in his arms tighter, “You’re right… I can’t make him forgive me, and I don’t want him to feel put on the spot. I just.. I just hope that he’ll be okay, I’ll miss him.” 

Janus knew, he knew so much about that feeling so much that it physically made him ache on the inside. 

He still missed Virgil to this day, even though he saw him almost every day now. 

But he’d lost his chance, so the very least he could do was ensure that Virgil and the others didn’t lose theirs with Logan. 

He wouldn’t put them through that pain.

Never. 

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Cold Hands

Jackson Neill x Reader

For @storiesofsvu​​​’s Fall Bingo! Requested by @detectivebarba. Followed up in Cozy Sweaters​

Warnings: NSFW (smutty lines, no smut). Angst, cheating, breakup.

OK, so, my fluffy Jackson fics take place in a world where Sarah never happened or after she & Jackson broke up… But what if they didn’t? 

1,800 words

“Here’s another one: ‘Professor Neill is super dreamy. He’s a PILF.’ What’s a PILF?”

“I honestly don’t know. I don’t read these comments. I don’t care,” Jackson replied with irritation. He did, and he does, but he wasn’t going to let some cultist make him out to be an exploitative, charismatic leader.

“But you did ‘eff’ a student, right?”

Jackson laughed nervously under the hot stage lights.

“Any chance you had a sexual relationship with a student you used for a source in your article?” Cal Roberts, the man sitting across the news set from him, raised an eyebrow innocently, reveling in the way his little ace in the hole had Jackson pinned.

“Of course not. That would be unethical.”

“Right, right.”

How the fuck did he find out? When Sarah chose to go back to the Meyerist Movement instead of listening to reason, he didn’t think she would tell anyone. Their fringe movement was dangerous—restrictive to personal freedoms. Letting them know that she was his source would have put her in danger. The fact that one of its leaders knew blindsided him.

He was tense for the rest of the debate, and the cameras picked up on it. He looked like an asshole. The cult won this round as far as the audience was concerned.

As the cameras turned off and the PA came to unclip his mic, Jackson stepped close to Cal and said, low enough not to be overheard, “I did care about her. I do. Tell her I miss her, and I hope she’s OK.”

Guilt over their affair swirled in his gut as he walked off the set—and came to a screeching halt as he ran into you.

You had been sitting in the vacant live-audience area to watch the filming, but you were standing now, as if you’d gotten up to meet him but froze halfway there and were just… staring. Your eyes were dull.

“Who was he talking about?” you asked in a small voice.

Anger he could have handled. His ex-wife was always screaming at him for his screw-ups. But this was something worse.

He could have placated you with lies. Told you that everything with Sarah was before he met you, but you were too clever for that—too interested in his research not to realize when he started using her as a source. Besides, you didn’t deserve to be lied to again. If he hoped to salvage his relationship with you, then you deserved the truth from now on.

“Listen, let’s just… go home and talk.”

You silently nodded.

***

A thick silence haunted the car ride home, punctuated only by the howl of autumn wind through the dark city streets.

On the ride to the studio, you had been so animated, helping him prepare for the debate. You would pretend to be a Meyerist and argue against him so Jackson could practice his response. He put his hand on your thigh, and it was so warm. You squealed at his icy fingertips, but instead of batting them away, you shoved them deeper between your thighs. “Someone has to help your bad circulation,” you declared with a grin. “Can’t let you get frostbite.” He could barely focus on the road.

Now, when he tried to say something… to broach the subject… you only stared out the passenger window at the passing streetlights and bare trees.

He reached out to touch you, but you shrugged him off.

***

Jackson couldn’t have known the deafening chaos of that car ride home. His home, not yours, though you had all but moved in. You’d been planning to make it official when your lease was up, but now you would have to renew it.

You’d have to let your roommates know you’d be staying.

All these little thoughts swarmed through your head like post-it notes caught in a cyclone—reminders of a million mundane plans falling apart and being remade. The logistics of separating two entangled lives. Would you take your houseplant back or leave it in Jackson’s kitchen? There was never enough light for it in your apartment.

If you started thinking about the big things—who was the student? How long? How many nights did he say he was working late when he was with them?—then you might fall apart.

The car was silent, but inside your head was an endless dark roar.

Jackson parked in the driveway, and without a word, you began wandering through the house like a ghost, picking up your things and packing them up in a plastic garbage bag. Half your wardrobe was here. It should take two trips, but if you had to come back… if you had to see him again, and he asked you to stay, you might be too weak. So you’d have to get everything in one trip.

Your feet shuffled lifelessly into the bathroom to retrieve your toiletries when Jackson squeezed through the door in front of you and blocked the sink.

“Stop. Please. Let’s talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about? I don’t want to know his name.”

The obvious thought was, maybe it wasn’t true. That Meyerist guy would have said anything just to make Jackson look bad. But if that were the case, Jackson would have told you so right away. He didn’t, and he wasn’t even trying to sell you an alternate fiction to exonerate himself. For a cheater, he was honest. Jackson never lied to you, so you used to think. That was why this… this was so unexpected. You never saw it coming.

You tried to get around him, but he kept getting in the way of your toothbrush until you looked at him. “She wasn’t a student. She was participating in one of my classes as a guest speaker. She’s not even enrolled at the university. He made it sound as if—”

“DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT’S THE PART I HAVE A PROBLEM WITH?!” you screamed.

Your anger had been so seething, quiet, you didn’t even realize you were angry until you finally opened your mouth and fury poured out like dragon’s fire. It caught you both by surprise. You shoved past him to grab your toothbrush and marched back out into the master bedroom without another word.

Tears pricked the back of your eyelids. You didn’t like yourself when you lost control like that, especially knowing how his ex had been. How much he flinched at raised voices. Part of you wanted to turn around and hold him, comfort him, apologize. Then you felt sick that that was your first impulse after what he did.

Maybe the bastard deserved it.

“I… just wanted you to know I’m not some kind of… of predator.” He sounded like a child, his voice high and thin.

You turned.

He looked so pathetic standing there in the bathroom with his rumpled shirt hanging off fallen shoulders, his eyes shining wet and desperate.

“Why?” you asked. It was the only question you could ask. The only one that mattered—if it even mattered. You heard your voice breaking as if it were in another room.

“It was just supposed to be research. I chatted her up to learn about the Meyerist Movement… It wasn’t cheating, at first. I never meant to let things go that far. But she was so smart, but vulnerable… I thought I could help her get out. I thought she was ready to leave religion behind, like I did. She was so much like I used to be. Before I knew it, I was falling in love with her. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Tears escaped your eyes, but you didn’t want them to. You didn’t want him to see you cry over him. “So you love her?”

“No! I love you—I chose you,” he croaked. “It’s been over for a long time. She was only using me to help her research the history of Meyerism. When I realized that...” He took a few steps toward you, but you took one back to stay out of reach.

You let out a bark of cynical laughter. “So I was your fallback? The one who actually cared about you? Supported you? It was too hard having this woman lean on you for help, so you just used me the same way?”

“That… that isn’t—”

“You don’t love me. I’m just a soft place for you to land. If she patiently waited at home for you, you would have left me, wouldn’t you?”

“It was a mistake. The worst mistake of my life. Please...”

“The worst part is, I thought you were better than this. I believed in you. You were always so cuddly and domestic, the kind of guy you settle down with—I thought I finally found a man I could trust.”

“You can. It will never happen again. I’ll spend my whole life making up for it if I have to.”

Unlike the tightly clenched tear ducts on your face, regularly scrubbed dry with the back of your sleeve, Jackson’s tears were freely flowing down his cheeks. He tried to hold you, but you shoved his cold touch away.

It was too late for that. His arms were not comfort anymore.

All you could see was him wrapping those arms around her. All while you were cooking him dinner, being so understanding of his late nights, waiting for him to come home. Never knowing. Never thinking he would betray you.

He must have washed her scent off him. Did he scrub his cock with soap twice just to make sure you wouldn’t taste her on him when you knelt between his knees? Did he think about her hair when he was pulling yours? Imagine her lips wrapped around him?

Was she better than you? Was that why he did it?

Did he finger her the same way, slow and gentle, before fucking her? You wondered if he murmured the same praises, told her she was taking him so well, if he gave that same breathy, “fuck,” just before he came inside her.

Weren’t you enough? What did you do so wrong that he needed to cheat?

Finally, you began to sob. Your whole body rocking, shoulders heaving in big gasping breaths. He took advantage of the moment and hugged you tight, whispering shallow promises meant to be comforting, and you could tell his heart was breaking at the sight of you in pain.

You let him hold you, just for a moment, because it still felt so good—he still felt like home.

But you were sobbing for broken plans. For the apartment lease you would have to renew when you had been looking forward to moving in. For the dog you and Jackson wanted to adopt from the shelter. For the Airbnb you booked in Vermont for leaf-peeping season that would have to be canceled.

His cheating hands felt cold on your back, but you let him hold you a little bit longer, because despite everything, your heart was breaking for him, too.

Because this would be the last time he ever held you.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● • @beccabarba​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws​ / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @madamsnape921​ / @astrangegirlsmind​ / @neely1177​ / @onerestein​ / @dreamlover31​ / @isvvc-pvscvl​​  / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu​ / @welcometothemxdhouse​​ / @feedthemadness-sweetie​ / @law-nerd105​ / @amelia-song-pond​ / @michael-rooker​ / @xecq / @madpanda75​ / @alwaysachorusgirl​ / @bananas-pajamas​ / @leanor-min​ / @mad-girl-without-a-box​ / @katierpblogg​ / @worldofvixen​ / @sassyada​ / @detectivebarba​

[darkcircles4lyfe]

retrospective & predictions

Since we're on a hiatus week (between 320 and 321) I feel like waxing poetic about the depth and growth of bkdk for a bit. Especially because it seems like we’re right on the edge of their biggest development yet, I’m getting the urge to lay all my perspectives and insights I’ve picked up from others out on the table. This is ultimately only my subjective interpretation of subtextual material in canon, though. If you’ve never quite understood what people see in their dynamic and you’re actually open to hearing me out, maybe from this you can at least see where we’re coming from. And if you don’t like my takes after all, well, we’ll see who’s right in the coming chapters, won’t we? What I have to say can be taken platonically or romantically; I appreciate both. 

putting it under the cut, since it’ll be long:

At the risk of projecting, I want to start by examining a couple things based partly on personal experience.

From many different directions, I often hear people expressing that Deku’s persistent attachment and admiration for Bakugou is baffling at best. Despite the bullying, despite Bakugou’s loud, rude, and uncompromising personality, he still puts effort into their relationship and frequently describes him as amazing. It seems like Deku himself is aware of this as he’s said things along the lines of how he’s difficult, BUT... etc. Although I don’t think it’s exactly that Deku finds Bakugou’s personality hard to be around, but that he’s deliberately expressing patience for Bakugou’s emotional turmoil. 

I have to say I know what this sort of patience is like, as I went through it with someone I love. I only chose to put up with their behavior because I decided the possibility of what our relationship could be was worth it. I wasn’t blind or submissive to how they treated me, and I wasn’t coerced. I simply expressed myself and established my boundaries while still allowing them the opportunity to join me in my world once they got over their own hangups. And guess what? It worked out in the end. That doesn’t mean there aren’t circumstances where it’s better to cut ties, but I want to stress that true reconciliation is possible sometimes. I used to worry that other people around me thought I was delusional for seeking it, but what really helped was my therapist reminding me that I’m smart and strong. So I think Deku deserves to feel the same. In a way this is his whole mission in life, his approach to being a hero as well as his personal relationships.

Let me also be clear though that I don’t mean Deku is only tolerating Bakugou’s personality, his mannerisms, the parts of him that will likely never change. I’m drawing a line between those things and his emotional state (they so rarely align anyway, but I’ll get to that later). In fact, I think Bakugou’s general attitude is part of what Deku admires. This is gonna be hard to explain without inserting personal experience too, sorry. As a writer myself I’ve noticed I’m drawn to writing characters that are brazen and bold and don't mind telling people off. Really it’s because I operate in the world in the polar opposite way. I try not to draw attention to myself, I’m quiet, and I’m a people-pleaser. People who project confidence, especially in an impolite sort of way, fascinate me. It’s good to take cultural context into account, too: I've heard people who’d know better than me that part of the reason Bakugou is the most popular character in the Japanese fandom is likely because he contradicts a lot of their social norms. His disregard is refreshing and cathartic. I can speculate that Deku has a similar point of view based on what he thinks but does not admit about Bakugou being his image of victory and how this sometimes makes him mimic Bakugou’s speech and mannerisms: 

There’s also the bit in this fight where Deku realizes he's the only one able to receive Bakugou’s emotions. This is because he’s the most intimately familiar with him and his situation, but I think there’s another layer. Deku, as we know, has a self-sacrificing tendency, and in the current chapters we’re seeing the worst side of that. But let’s also not forget that to an extent, it can be a positive trait: resilience. When it comes to Bakugou, he has an almost comical ability to dodge the potential fallout of his outbursts. The example we all jump to (and fight about..) is how in ch1, apart from the initial shock of Bakugou suggesting he jump off the roof, the most he reacts is to criticize him for saying such a ridiculous thing. However, I think their interaction post- sludge villain is a lot more interesting:

Note two things: 1, in his head, Deku is practically making fun of how Bakugou’s acting as he stomps away without waiting for a reply. It doesn’t faze him. 2, Deku thinks, optimistically, that he can now focus on a different career choice. This is astonishing really. Up to this point, none of Bakugou’s attempts to put him down have worked; he just kept pursuing his dream. The only reason Deku concedes in this moment it because for the first time, he has been shown that he really couldn't do anything in a fight against a villain. All Might told him he couldn't be a hero (although he’s literally about to take that back in the next few pages lol) and the other heroes at the scene gave him a lecture about it too. It was those experiences, and not Bakugou’s words, that truly affected him. And when All Might tells Deku he can be a hero after all, it’s not thinking of Bakugou’s bullying that makes him sob and fall to his knees, it’s the memory of his own mom never telling him those words he so desperately needed to hear. Having spent most of their lives together, Deku must have been aware all this time that Baukgou was influenced by larger societal forces rather than a core judgement, so he didn’t take it personally. He separated the person from the action, and because he’s resilient and patient, he is thus equipped to handle Bakugou’s emotions. It’s a testament to his maturity and emotional intelligence, really. 

But I can almost hear some of you saying, “that doesn’t mean Deku should have to be the bigger person here!” Correct! Just because Deku is perfectly alright bearing all of that, doesn’t mean atonement-era Bakugou sees it this way. We can track his awareness of Deku’s care and selflessness as follows-

The bridge scene, when they’re little kids: Bakugou conflates Deku’s heroism with pity, and subsequently thinks Deku is looking down on him because Bakugou’s own insecurity makes him defensive.

The Sludge Villain, and also Deku vs. Kacchan Part 1: Bakugou witnesses first-hand how easily Deku jumps to risk his own life, but still thinks he’s being looked down on. 

The Sports Festival: Bakugou fights Uraraka and recognizes her endurance strategy and refusal to give up as very Deku-like. He’s half right. He thinks Deku advised her in the fight, when in reality she just mimicked Deku because she admired him. I want to draw attention to his very sober comment about her not being frail. It’s a great endearment of Uraraka’s character and Bakugou’s respect for her when others didn’t take “fighting a girl” seriously, but it also reflects on his opinion of Deku. Deku isn’t weak either. He never was.

Deku vs. Kacchan Part 2: Deku finally corrects him about the whole looking-down-on-him thing, and Bakugou is informed that Deku’s selflessness is in fact the reason All Might chose him. Since Bakugou had been in search of what he himself was “doing wrong” for All Might to favor Deku over him, he now has to reconcile the fact that selflessness is a heroic trait, and moreover something he lacks. This is also possibly the first time Bakugou is able to see his past actions toward Deku as bullying since he previously thought it was more mutual. Additionally, Bakugou can now link Deku’s selfless behavior to what he perceived as pity/contempt, and realize that Deku has been giving him A LOT of grace. Maybe too much. Maybe more than Bakugou deserves, and definitely more than Deku should have to. Holy heck- now Bakugou has to figure out how to live up to all the faith that’s been placed in him. 

Subtextually, we can see Bakugou’s feelings about atonement reflected in the Todoroki family:

1, Shouto is another example of Deku growing a friendship using his selflessness (since their fight in the sports festival) and their relationship is being acknowledged here where it hasn’t been in Bakugou’s situation. Perhaps Bakugou is wishing it could be so simple for him, to be able to thank him for being his friend like that. Deku saying the pleasure is all his also probably calls to mind how a mere apology from Bakugou would probably be dismissed because that’s just the kind of accommodating person Deku is. Bakugou has to operate more quietly in order to actually make up for their past. I personally don’t interpret this scene as Bakugou being jealous of Deku and Shouto’s friendship, exactly, just the lack of emotional baggage. Side note, Deku and Fuyumi are kinda similar in their desire to repair relationships. I like that she’s the one to give him some credit. 

2, With the common terminology, this can be interpreted as Bakugou receiving a model for atonement, one that is about action, and nothing to do with receiving favor or forgiveness. It’s a sense of duty. 

Many of the above sentiments are repeated in the flashback conversation between All Might and Bakugou right before Bakugou’s sacrifice. 

Bakugou acknowledges his bullying and that it happened because of his own insecurities, but aside from that, it’s interesting he neither confirms nor denies All Might’s suggestion that he’s trying to atone, or that Deku doesn’t see it that way. All Might is a bit of an unreliable mentor sometimes, but I don’t think he’s misreading here. Rather, Bakugou is displaying his tendency to hold back when talking about things that would make him really emotional. Besides, admitting to what he’s doing kind of defeats the purpose. He isn’t seeking acknowledgement. All Might has gotten to the crux of the issue here when pointing out that Deku doesn’t recognize the atonement, likely because Deku doesn't think Bakugou even needs to atone. Am I reading into it too much to say Bakugou looks wistful at this? It’s kinda frustrating sometimes trying to interpret Bakugou’s actions because he’s so paradoxical. Loud and in your face, but also extremely reserved. Sometimes I feel like I’m grasping at thin air, but hey, being hard to figure out is part of his intrigue as a character. The simplest way to look at him is to assume that unless he’s really showing vulnerability, he’s probably deflecting and hiding something.

Speaking of Bakugou’s tendency to to hold back emotional stuff, there’s his apparent lack of issue with Deku calling him Kacchan. Maybe to begin with, in his warped perception of things where he thought they hated each other, Bakugou saw it as Deku’s way of getting back at him for calling him “useless,” and didn't dare give any indication that it actually bothered him. However... consider how betrayed Bakugou has appeared when he was noticeably thinking Deku was looking down on him- the bridge scene, and the beginning of their first year at UA when he thought Deku was hiding a quirk all along. He looks shocked and hurt. That kind of emotion couldn’t be invoked by someone Bakugou didn’t actually care about his relationship with. “Kacchan” comes from a long time ago, before their relationship was strained, so it’s connotations are pure. Maybe somewhere deep down, Bakugou has always been hoping that Deku’s continued use of the nickname was not simply a matter of habit or teasing, but a vestige of friendship they’re both clinging to, and Bakugou himself was too afraid to admit to himself that he felt this way about it, so he mostly ignored it. (These are not original thoughts I am having here lol, this is a common interpretation. I’m just laying everything out like I said.) 

And now we turn to the current situation. Personally, I’ve been looking frantically back and forth between them wondering who’s going to break down first (Deku vs. Kacchan Part 3, this time it’s just a fight to get the other person to cry? ha.) Both have looked like they’re approaching a breaking point for some time. Also, I’ve addressed this before, but I think it’s significant that Bakugou is no longer wearing his mask with his hero costume, in contrast to Deku recently donning his own. It feels symbolic of Bakugou about to be upfront about how he feels.

The question is, what is it going to take to get Deku to accept help? If you ask me, Deku has dug himself so deeply into the I’m-doing-this-for-everyone-else’s-safety-and-smiles hole, no common sense argument can possibly reach him. By the end of 320, Deku’s mask is off, and we can see how desperate he truly is. But he has not cried, yet. I predict we’re going to see a bit more of his defiance, this time on full display on his face as the remaining class members and his other friends take their turns. But then I think Bakugou has to be the one to break down so Deku can witness his actions having the opposite effect he intended. People have been pointing out that Deku is currently ignoring Bakugou, and oof, that’s gotta be intentional. Regardless of what Bakugou says, it’s going to be wrapped up not only in his understanding of Deku’s self-sacrifice, but also the betrayal Bakugou feels at being ignored/left behind that ironically echoes his previous perception of being looked down on, as well as a need to express how much he cares about Deku before it’s too late. He must show that the two of them are inseparable because they both act to save each other without thinking, and both feel like losing the other would be like dying themselves. All Might may have been right when he told them they could learn from each other after Deku vs. Kacchan Part 2, but he didn’t fully realize that idea by making sure they stuck by each other for support and balance. 

I can’t wait to see what it’ll be like when they do finally get to that point, totally in synch and in tune with each other. They’ll be a powerful force no one is quite prepared for. Who knows when that will be, or even which chapter will be their big showdown, but I know the day is coming.

To speculate even further, I think the 2nd user is going to be really important really soon. And no I don’t mean to suggest that the 2nd user is Bakugou. But I do think their resemblance is key. Okay this is gonna be convoluted...

See how 2nd is the only one still standing? I think that’s symbolic of him withholding his quirk. Deku may not even know what it is at this point, let alone have unlocked it. Given that 2nd approves of Deku’s strategy at this point, it seems odd for him to withhold his quirk based on lack of faith. I think if his quirk was something that would help Deku in combat, he would have shown it to him already like the others did. So what if those gauntlets of his are support items that are meant to make up for his lack of a combat-oriented quirk, rather than to augment it? Mind you, I still have no idea what his mysterious power might be, but I’m dead set on it not being explosion-y. Regardless, I think 2nd looking like Bakugou is more about aiding some grand visual parallel, so! You know how 2nd and 3rd were probably intending to do away with Yoichi but 2nd changed his mind as soon as they made eye contact? This is really a long shot, but I wonder if 2nd’s quirk has something to do with that exchange. Maybe it’s something psychological, or some 6th sense about people he meets. So... in that way 2nd’s quirk could play a role in bkdk reaching a deeper understanding? Idk! But it could be significant at least that 2nd left Yoichi’s question about why he reached out to him unanswered. 

One more thing- while I was gathering screenshots I found this. I think “you’re the last one I’m telling” might be foreshadowing for Bakugou revealing his hero name to Deku and it being a Big Deal:

As for other lingering threads in the overall plot right now, such as the UA traitor, Stain, whatever Tsuyu is apparently about to do, All Might’s car maybe in the background of the last page of 320... man I have no idea. All I know is there’s literally 320 chapters’ worth of build-up to this confrontation that can’t be interrupted. 

See you next week <3