#hair getting to that awkward long length but still trying to not cut it

[sanospet]

✩ MAKE ME FEEL LIKE IM YOURS AGAIN ✩

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 - 𝘚𝘏𝘐𝘎𝘈𝘙𝘈𝘒𝘐 𝘛𝘖𝘔𝘜𝘙𝘈 𝘟 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋𝘌𝘙

𝘲𝘶𝘰𝘵𝘦 : gummy walls tightening around the thick of his shaft, tomura's brows knitting together as the coil nestling at the pit of his stomach slowly came undone, hips staggering, painting your warmth with his pearly seed, inscribing the story of your shared love on your walls like a parietal painting.

warnings and notes!

18+ . mdni . smut . angst . hurt comfort . quirkless au . fluffy ending . after care . detailed descriptions of SA . mentions of a knife . reader held at knifepoint . reader has a breakdown . heavy suggestions of reader struggling with SH . detailed fight scene (tomura beats someone’s ass) . deeply insecure reader . they’re both just trying to navigate their way through complex emotions . a whole lot of guilt and self-blaming . soft dom tomura . passionate sex . codependency . requited clinginess . praise praise praise . tomura just being a sweetheart, honestly . pet names (“baby”, “my love”, “princess”) . gender neutral reader . afab reader . reader’s sex is mentioned . proofread though there still may be some spelling mistakes, enjoy <33

authors note:

this fic is super self indulgent, i am the reader, the reader is, indeed, me, lol. it took me much longer than usual to complete, and in turn it is probably one of my longest fics yet, lol. but im happy with how it turned out, i literally daydreamed (basically me writing/directing a movie in my brain, im not sure if that’s the right term…but i do it quite frequently) this fic for like 6 hours straight from start to finish the other day and it kept replaying in my mind like a movie ever since. i needed to get it out and written down, and i wanted to do it justice, so here it is. i hope you enjoy it, and i hope i explained the complexity of their emotions and the turmoil they faced well. thanks for reading <33

(+1000 aura points to you if you caught my shrek reference)

- linus

"you can't be serious..." the question was drawled as tomura gave your outfit a once over, a slight quirk in his brow, earning a pout in response.

"what's wrong with it ?" you whined, feet shifting beneath you as you twirled, "isn't it cute ?" a sweet smile dawning your glossy lips.

tomura's eyes softened, "it is," he confirmed, "very very cute, too cute, even," gaze resting on your upper thighs, raking over the length of them in the reflection before shifting to where your skirt cut off at the back, just beneath the curve of your ass.

sighing softly with a troubled expression, "look, i wouldn't mind you wearing this if i were coming along with you, but you're seriously thinking of going out in that all alone ? to a party, no less...you'll be getting all sorts of unwanted attention from the weirdos plaguing that place."

your hands fiddled with the silver chain, attempting to clasp it behind your neck as you spoke, "tomura, in all my years of living, you're the only guy that's given me the time of day, let alone a double-take," the reality of it set a pang in your chest as you let out a soft, awkward laugh, "i'll be nothing but a fly on the wall at this party, i highly doubt anyone will try anything."

soft snowy locks swaying with a shake of his head, tomura rose from his perch on the armchair, gently shifting your hair to your front, hands replacing your own, "well you'll do it for my peace of mind, won't you ?" gaze meeting yours in the reflection, hand smoothing over the skin of your back, "if you pick out the perfect piece, i suppose." a small smirk rested on your features, tomura reading the playful glint in your eyes.

tomura sifted through the hangers, pulling out a long, brown, flowy skirt, "it's a party, tomura, not a church." shaking his head at your remark, "no, no, look," he took place behind you, laying the fabric against you, "pretty, no ?" eyes shifting from the skirt to your unimpressed ones in the reflection, "tomura..." cutting you off with an exasperated tutt, "fine, fine."

returning to his previous endeavour, "it's like you dress for the summer all year round," he mentioned, flicking through the plethora of mini skirts and dresses before him "fashion knows no weather." you replied, earning a laugh in response.

pulling out a pair of flare jeans, with hope filled eyes, "what about these ?" you shrugged, "it's a skirt kind of day" amused by your reply , "only you would come up with something like that, god, you're impossible."

"oh," you chirped, kneeling down "how about i wear some tights instead ? compromise ?" he hummed as you pulled open the drawer, "let's see them first," sifting through the load, you landed on two that would match your colour scheme, "yeah, well fishnets wont exactly help your cause," he remarked, "don't you have any of those normal ones ?" fingers combing through his locks as he watched.

"and threaten to ruin my ensemble ?" gasping, "not a chance." holding up both pairs as the man observed "pick your poison, tomura~" you joked a slight melody stringing the words together as tomura rolled his eyes, "these will do," seizing the fabric from your grip, he knelt on one knee as you rose, pulling the lace over your legs before taking place behind you, arms wrapped around your waist.

"i can change if you really want me to..." offering a faltering smile, guilt crept in for pushing back so hard, but tomura insisted, "i can take on anyone who dares touching you," setting a soft kiss to your exposed shoulder, "and i don't think i ever really want to go through your closet again, anyway," and you giggle at that.

"you remember the rules, yeah ?" he asks, earning an eager nod in return, "recite them."

"don't get too drunk," you held up a finger, "don't accept drinks from anyone, and guard my own," adding another finger, "keep my location on at all times, text you throughout the night and..." you grew quiet, "don't wander off too far from your friends" he piped in and you nodded, "but what if they're like…making out with someone ?" you questioned, "watch them." he shrugged, "ew, pervert." tutting, softly nudging your elbow into him and he laughed.

the air felt cold and void when he broke your embrace, the clock's incessant ticking toward your departure doing nothing to aid your growing anxiety about your separation with tomura for the night.

"are you sure you can't come with me ?" voice pleading as you trailed close behind him to the kitchen, "i wasn't invited, love." he swallowed thickly as the words left his cracked lips.

he wanted nothing more than to accompany you, the thought of being parted for so long having glass shards set in his stomach, tearing him to shreds from the inside out. yet he pushed for your lonesome attendance, with the thought of you spending time and having a ball with the friends you adored so.

"im sure they'll let you in regardless," brows upturned, eyes soon to be wet with tears, "besides, i don't think security will be that tight, anyway..." placing an opened bottle of ukon no chikara in your hand, he lifted it to your lips, tipping it as you swallowed.

"you know i'm just a phone call way, baby," he smiled, "and i can come and pick you up at anytime.”

placing the small, empty bottle on the counter, "well you don't have to stay up if you're not coming along," you couldn't help the pout that formed, saturating your murmured words, "i could catch a ride with my friend or something."

raising your gaze with a hooked finger beneath your chin, "you know i can't fall sleep without you, love, and i'm pretty sure i need to be awake to answer your messages," thumb shifting to gently stroke your cheek, "and i love your friends, truly, i do, but there's no way i'm letting them drive you home when they're drunk."

"i could get a taxi..." his brows furrowed at that, "and im sure they'd be just as bad as the creeps at the party, love."

nodding at the words, shifting to the balls of your feet, noses brushing together with a smile, your lips meeting in a gentle touch. his hand moving to the small of your back, pulling you closer as he deepened it, tongue pushing past your lips, the subtle taste of your cherry flavoured lipgloss accompanying it.

"i'll miss you," parting, your breath fanning against his lips as you spoke, "i'll miss you too," he smiled softly.

"do you have everything you need ?" you hummed, moving to grab your small bag from the counter, handing it to him to look over, "and do you really need three lip products ?" he questioned through a breathy laugh as you plucked the lip gloss from his grasp, using the aid of your compact mirror to reapply it. "lip shades are like mood rings, tomura, they change with my emotions."

phone screen lighting up with a message, "she's here already ?" he questioned, failing to suppress the disappointment in his tone, earning a nod as he placed the device in your bag, following you to the front door as you slipped on your shoes.

turning to him, "how do i look ?" clammy hands smoothing over the fabric of your skirt, he neared you, tucking your hair behind your ear, "perfect," he smiled, eyes raking over your appearance, "absolutely perfect."

                               ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

the music seemed to permeate through your eardrums, rattling in your head and you could feel the thumping of the bass in your chest as it played, the alcohol mellowing it out just enough for it to be enjoyable. your body felt loose as you  swayed to the melodies, singing along amongst the crowd of perspiring bodies.

your friends had split as the party drew on, dotting around the oversized living area, hidden in corners and splayed on the leather couches at the centre of it all, preoccupied with their newfound love interests for the night, though you lingered near them.

as your buzz began to subside and the itch for another drink began to set in, your head spun, eyes scanning for a friend of yours to accompany you to fetch one, ruling out the few who had made their way to the second floor in hopes of finding an empty room, dwindling the group to just two, both who seemed to still be busy with the acts of exploring their dates bodies, your defeated sigh was unheard over the music as your feet shifted toward the kitchen.

the ceiling was just as tall as the ones you'd seen prior, the room almost soundproof as you closed the door behind you, warm lighting illuminating the dark oak of the cabinets and the hefty island that stood tall in the middle of it, housing a mix of opened half drunken bottles, crushed solo cups and beer cans as well as your bag.

the bright blue cooler almost shone in contrast, juxtaposed by the mahogany in which it rested upon and you reached in for another cider, before aiming to head out.

bumping harshly into the chest of another, you stumbled back, feeling a tight grip on your wrist and the deep, slightly slurry voice that followed "my bad, are you alright ?" speech failing you, an eager nod was all you could manage, your gaze searing into his tight grip.

finger hooking under your chin, a large smirk growing as he gave you a once over, "well, what's a pretty little thing like you doing all alone at a party like this, hm ?" words laced in excitement, "your friends ditch you or something ? did you lose your way ?"

breath hitching, his touch soldering, blazing your skin, your mind fell numb, heart rate only rising as you attempted to voice back, "i..." the lump forming in your throat swallowed your sound, "i came to get a drink," you pushed, voice low, his gaze moving to the cider in your hand, as you pulled your confined wrist from his grip, "excuse me." head hung, you took a step to leave, the searing cuffs of his calloused hands forming its assault once more on your upper arm, grip bruising.

"oh, c'mon, don't deny a guy so harshly," tone grating, whining almost "we can have some fun of our own." his voice deepened, slowly twisting your arm in his grasp, forcing you to meet him once more as you turned, the only solution to stop the growing discomfort and pain blossoming as you suppressed a cry, the can falling to the ground at the harsh tug.

"l-let me go!" yanking your arm toward you in order to free yourself, he only followed, chest slamming against yours, "eager, aren't we ?" he smirked.

stomach churning, the taste of copper sat heavy on your tongue as he placed a hand on your hip, his grip all but crushing. pushing your lower back against the island, his head dipping into the curve of your neck, "stop!" the attempted yell was more of a chirp, "i have a boyfriend!"

riled and raged, the man pulled back with an irritated sigh, lazily glancing around the empty space, "i don't see him," mocking bitterly.

the words set the fiery pit in your stomach ablaze as you continued "he's on his way," you convinced, "just a few minutes until he arrives."

"well i guess that earns us a few minutes to get this over with," you continued your aggressive attempt to break free, soon stilling as the sensation of a cold and sharp object made its presence pushed up against your exposed stomach, "wouldn't you agree ?" lips grazing against your ear as he spoke, laughing softly, pulling back at your silence with a smile, "god, you're so much hotter once you shut the fuck up." he sighed, eyes raking over your face, observing.

your breathing shallowed, almost diminishing completely as your face paled, his lips moving lazily against the soft flesh of your neck. animalistic groans almost reverberating on your smooth skin, teeth grazing harshly as he nibbled, his eyes shut tight. fingers inching up your thighs, crawling beneath your skirt, goosebumps rising in the trail of his vulgar touch.

the growing pit of repulsion and guilt in your stomach threatened to force up the drinks you'd had, and as your eyes glazed over, thoughts of tomura flooding your brain, the sensation of a sprouting rose deep in your heart followed, its unforgiving thorns shredding the pumping organ in its wake.

"s-stop..." you forced through a shaky breath, "please...you don't have to do this," pleading, he continued on, teeth grazing against you harshly, earning a pained whimper, "t-there are so many people here, there's gotta be someone who would jump at the chance to sleep with you tonight..." meeting you once more, eyes lidded, filled with need, the sight sending jagged shards of terror down your straightened spine, "you think ?" you nodded eagerly, "cute, but, the thing is i want to sleep with you tonight, so they're a little out of luck, aren't they ?" smirking, words filled with mockery and snark, as he looked toward the clock, "seems like your boyfriend is running a little late," tracing the flat edge of the cold weapon against the dip of your waist, "let's make the most of it, shall we ?" he whispered.

palms turning white, he gripped the glazed wooden slab tight with one hand as he rocked his hips into yours at a vigorous yet sloppy pace, the edged surface of the island bruising your lower back, his breath fanning against your ear as soft moans escaped his parted lips, head hung low.

"alastair, you in here ?" door swinging open, tufts of golden hair and amber eyes coming into view, "oh—" cutting his words short at the sight before him, analysing your position with a studied gaze, the man before you, alastair, shielding the weapon from the golden man's sight as he raised his head, "uh, we're about to play beer pong, wanna join ?" the two pairs of eyes now trained on you, "if you're not already busy, that is."

alastair hummed, face inching closer to yours, lips grazing your cheek as you turned away, "i'll be right there." sighing, turning your gaze toward him once more with a harsh grip on your chin, "next time, sweetheart ?" he willed, pushing off the counter as he pocketed the blade with a grin, setting a few taps to your cheek "next time." he replied to himself, turning to join his friend as he stumbled through the tall door.

your body remained stagnant in his wake for a while, unmoving as the cold air rushing in through the opened window coated your skin. willing yourself to move, to run, to scream, to vomit to do anything but let that scene replay in your mind for the nth time, or to think about tomura...both only causing a putrid cocktail of rage, guilt and disgust with yourself to build in your veins.

the reflection of the bathroom mirror met you after suffering the treacherous trail of making your way through the drunken, sex filled halls of the winding home you were seemingly trapped within.

a gut wrenching scream was kept locked in the back of your throat as your hands moved, vigorously rubbing and scratching against your neck and shoulders, soap and water trailing down your skin, soaking your clothing as tears crept down your face, falling into your teeth gritted mouth, breathing ragged and irregular as you worked with such force, hyperventilating.

shaky hands steadied with a firm grip on the sink, vision cloudy, tears falling with a blink, your reflection soon came back into focus. skin rubbed raw, rosy, irritated, makeup smeared, eyes wet and red, a chesty cry ripping through your throat at the sight.

you were disgusting, defiled, tainted, no amount of scrubbing and scouring could reverse the damage that had been inflicted upon you.

bag illuminating as your phone shone bright, a message coming into view as you peaked in.

tomura.

culpability gnawed at you from the inside, crawling up and into your lungs with its jagged claws, piercing gaping holes through your chest, guilt and remorse nestling in the pit of your stomach, the scorching craving for agony and torment setting in.

you deserved it, after all.

you betrayed him, had been disloyal to the overwhelming love you shared, and hadn't done enough to stop it all.

'i could've fucking tried harder' the thought was deafening, echoing in your brain and you could almost hear it, 'should've taken my chances of being stabbed than just standing there like a fucking statue and letting him have his way with me…’

heart clouded, encompassed by the grim emotions, compressed by the pressure of it all, you let out a jagged sigh, shaking your head as if to rid yourself of thoughts completely. collecting yourself to the best of your abilities, you tapped lightly at your makeup with your powder brush, intending to save it to no avail, mascara having left streaky trails, moving onto your messy hair with a tut before smoothing out your clothing and making your way downstairs.

"hey," your friend mouthed from across the main room, waving you over as you pushed past the crowd, "we're thinking about calling it a night and..." bright smile faltering, concern dawning as she took in your appearance under the dim lighting, "have you been crying ? are you okay ? what's wrong ?" hand moving to rest gently on your arm, the pad of her thumb offering strokes, "im alright," your hoarse voice pushed, "do you want me to drive you home ?" she whispered, almost worried as if her volume would shatter you completely, "i, um," you bit back, fearful that the utterance of his name aloud would set your throat ablaze, "t-tomura's c-coming to um, pick me up..." wincing at the words.

"alright, but um, i'm here if you need to talk, you know that, right ?" she spoke softly, brows upturned, eyes overflowing with worry, and you forced a smile, "i know," nodding, "thank you."

arms interlocked with hers, you finally escaped the, now seemingly claustrophobic, confines of the oversized home. offering your friend a farewell, waving to the others, you slowly made your way to tomura's parked car, his shadowy figure leaning against it.

the soles of your shoes scraping against the asphalt as you dragged your feet to continue your trek closer to him, the intense loathing, you'd been all but consumed by, threatening to take over as he waited with outstretched arms, a warm smile dawning his face.

falling into him, your body relaxing upon contact, a shuddery breath escaped your lips as the comforting scent of his cologne filled your head, arms wrapping around him despite the turmoil in your brain.

"you missed me that much, yeah ?" he let out a gentle laugh, your eyes falling shut as the melody vibrated through his chest, slightly straining as they filled with tears once more at the sound of him, despair twisting your stomach in a harsh pinch.

"_____?" words dripping in concern as he hooked a finger beneath your chin, chest tightening at the sight of you. eye whites more of a crimson shade, veiny and dried out, your neck looking more like his own, hair tousled and unkept, clothes home patches of water as it stuck to your skin, the makeup you'd perfected now streaky with canals of dried tears.

letting out a manually steadied breath, he aimed to suppress his swiftly accelerating anger in a soft veil, "what happened ?" tomura's undivided attention had your face wet once more, rivers pouring from your eyes, hiccuping as you could barely form words, apologies spilling from your lips as he guided you into the car, hoping for more privacy and peace as you explained.

"it's all my fault," you pushed as your breathing steadied once more, "i shouldn't have..." shaking your head as tears continued, voice breaking, "i-i shouldn’t have l-let him..." the car fell silent, save for the unsteady puffs of air falling from your lips. tomura's jaw clenching at the mention of another, he knew where this was going and a sloppy cocktail of guilt, fiery fury and rage coursed through him.

tomura gently urging you to continue, you obliged, albeit through choked sobs and hiccups, hands interlaced, his thumb stroking over the back of yours, aiming to give you some sort of solace as you struggled, despite the ire festering within him. breath hitching, he swallowed thickly at the mention of the weapon you were held up toward, eyes frantically flying over your being, hands moving to inspect for any injuries, "i wasn't cut or anything," you explained, "he just h-held it up to me and i was scared so i..." the words stopped at the back of your throat, the confession stinging your throat,"um, i...i stopped fighting" gaze falling beyond the window, looking at tomura only causing an eruption of pain within you, "...im so sorry."

letting out a serrated exhale, "do you remember what he looks like ?" earning a slow nod in response, gaze lifting toward the house as alastair's infamous figure came into view. "are you going to h-hurt him ?" you questioned through sniffled gasps of air, tomura following the object of your glare, eyes landing on the tall man, "he'll be lucky if i don't fucking kill him." he breathed, turning to you, "stay in the car."

tomura's gait was that of a soldier, marching toward the man without a word, a heavy mist of enmity encompassing his being, trailing after him as his boots scraped harshly against the asphalt, echoing amongst the chatty drunken party-goers during his trek. slowly garnering attention from them as he shrugged off his jacket, before he raised a tight fist, slamming it down onto alastair's face with vigor, the man almost kissing the ground as tomura pulled his fist away, ready for another blow.

"what the fuck ?!" alastair slurred, mind spinning, the stench of alcohol coming off him in wafts as the weighty sole of tomura's boot crashed into his nose, before retracting and slamming into the man's ribs. falling to his knees, alastair trapped between them, tomura's world fell silent.

tomura wanted to break the man before him, tear his limbs from his body with his teeth and leave him strung up to be eaten by wild animals, to burn him alive and savour his tormented shrieks. tomura wanted to disintegrate him, dust him by a single touch, into nothing but a pathetic pile of grim ashes, to have him slip away between his fingers, to be forgotten, to drift away in the wind.

tomura's punches were mechanic, automatic, rhythmic as he moved, dealing continuous blows of the same force, and the packed crowd that had formed around him were hushed, gawking, the only sound echoing through the night being that of dull hits and cracking bones.

"....im tomura!"

his unforgiving assault continued, heart pumping liquid ivy, adrenaline coursing through his veins like a drug, eyes glazed over, void of light, face expressionless as your screams slowly permeated his trance.

"you're gonna kill him, tomura!" pleading, eyes bloodshot, slightly hesitating to touch him,"that's enough...please..." reaching for his raised fist, shaky hands enclosing around them, "let's go home..."

the cacophony of overlapping sirens sliced through the air like bullets as the crowd clamoured, scattering like flies, yet your stagnant positions remained. tomura's gaze raking over your tired eyes and puffy face, heart clenching. hands tightly woven together, you rose as a duet, crisp air lacing over his bloodied knuckles, nipping at your tear stained cheeks as you made your way to his car once more, settling into the warmed seats.

tomura was the first to break the otherwise wordless journey home, "he could've killed you." the statement was harsh, piercing, "i wouldn't know what to do if you were to die," focused on the road, tomura's grip tightened on the steering wheel as he let out an uncomfortable laugh, "i mean, i can barely sleep without you, let alone live without you..." trailing off, "...i think i'd be better off joining you.”

the sentiment was not lost on you, you knew he meant it, deeply at that, yet it pained you to no end. his words feeling like an open wound exposed to the elements, heart continuing to bleed for you in the wake of your betrayal.

you'd never experienced such life altering love in all your years, something so dizzying, intoxicating and intense, something so real and raw and beautiful, something you could almost...touch, something you didn't deserve.

tomura was the best thing that had ever happened to you, by far and...he now sat beside you solemn, hands bloodied and bruised, heart torn, trust broken, betrayed and trampled upon by the one he treasured most in this parasitic world.

clothing rustling against the leather seat as you shifted uncomfortably, "why didn't you call me ?" he questioned through a small sigh, tired words laced with defeat, disappointment. "...i wasn't in my right mind," you spoke, voice hoarse, eyes trained on your fingers placed in your lap, fiddling with a loosened thread of your skirt. "i was in a daze and i was frantic and i went to...wash him off of me in the bathroom right after and," speech pace speeding as you explained, "i was so fucking overwhelmed by everything and that's when i got your message and by the time i went downstairs you were already there and...now we're here..." exhaling softly through a shaky breath, "and i'm so sorry..."

the soft blow of the car heating was all you could hear, as tomura's mind spiralled, fingers reaching for his deck, putting the cigarette to his lips, lighting it. "you broke our agreement." it was a statement more than anything, just a voicing of his conflicting thoughts, expressed through a sigh after a long drag, yet you replied, "i know…im sorry”

                              ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

knees buried in the soft carpeted floor, you tipped the rubbing alcohol onto the cotton, gently pushing it up against tomura's knuckles as you finished cleaning him up, barely earning a hiss from the man. eyes searching your face from his position above, observing the wrinkles in your forehead due to your furrowed brows, "what's on your mind, love ?"

stilling your movements, gaze lifting to meet his, white hair falling forward as he looked down at you, almost curtaining the rubies held within his eyes. words clogging, gulping harshly, breaking the stare for a moment before locking it in again, with the help of his hooked finger beneath your chin, a shaky breath escaping your parted lips, "c'mon, what's up ?"

"hurt me...p-please" begging, glassy eyed, voice breaking. tomura's tone remained calm at your pleads, almost as if he were expecting such a request, "why would you want me to do that ?"

eyes straining once more as tears threatened to well, speech quickening, "i...i betrayed you and i broke your trust and i let that guy touch me and i could've done more to stop it and i could've fought harder and i didn't tell you right after and—" vision clouding your eyelashes failed you as tears began to trail down your face again, chest rising and falling faster as you spoke, eyes darting around the place, "i— your pretty hands are scarred now because of me and...and...i deserve it."

nodding firmly at your own words, finally raising your gaze to meet his own, pleading, "please, take your frustrations out on me...it would make you feel better." eyes squinting, "it would make you feel better." he corrected, "it would." you confirmed.

rising from his perch on the sofa, extending a hand out to you, leading you to your joint chambers, tomura's lips met yours in a gentle embrace and as he moved to deepen it, you pulled away, eyes wide "w-what are you doing ?" confusion knitting your brows together.

"i forgive you," he stated firmly, "i think your guilt is punishment enough," tucking your loose hairs behind your ears, shifting your tendrils from your face, his hand rested on your cheek, thumbing it softly, "this...all of it, it wasn't your fault, you had no choice," he spoke, tone assertive yet tender, "you just need to forgive yourself now, yeah ? it's gonna be okay," setting a soft kiss on your lips, resting his forehead to yours "we're okay, we're together again like always, yeah ? just you and me, it'll be okay." the words were whispered, like a secret only to be shared between the two of you, something special to treasure as a pair.

leaning into him, crashing your lips together once more, you couldn't help the tears that fell, hoping to seal the taste of him in your soul, meld into him completely as his hand found the small of your back, pulling you in closer as he breathed you.

pulling away, "is this truly what you want right now?" he questioned, searching your face for any signs of discomfort, coming up empty as you nodded eagerly, whispering, pleading, begging, "make me feel like im yours again, tomura."

hovering over your nude laying form on the cushioned bed, clothes collectively discarded on the hardwood, safe for your undergarments, his lips met your cheek, trailing down your jaw slowly, slowly before meeting your neck. pushing his pillowy lips against your sensitive skin, mellow actions growing eager gradually as he continued, teeth softly grazing your skin as he sucked, making a mark, branding you as his own.

shame shrouded tomura's being, hanging heavy like a thunderous cloud, striking him in his core. his culpability was discernible in his mind, his constant turn-downs of your unofficial invitation gnawing at his insides. his presence all that would've been needed to prevent such a situation from taking place, to prevent such trauma, such pain, yet he withdrew the opportunity, and it haunted him like a vengeful ghost.

soft mewls fell from you as he worked, the nausea you'd associated with the actions earlier that night being reborn anew at the touch of your lover. hands gripping his arm, hips rutting, as he toyed with your most sensitive part through the fabric of your underwear.

finger hooking into the band, hand slipping underneath, finally making contact, a gasp falling from your lips at the act, tomura continued, sharp intakes of breath soon switching to a whines as he did so. drawing circles on your blossoming core, pulling away, he admired the flowery imprints he’d created on your neck as they deepened in shade.

lips meeting yours once more, finally slipping a digit into your warmth, taking the opportunity of your opened mouth to slip his tongue in as you moaned, slowly pumping you before doubling the dosage. lacing your hands into his hair, brows furrowing as tomura swallowed your tunes, meeting you with his own, kiss growing desperate as your hand found his clothed cock, slipping beneath the fabric, intending to alleviate the tension as you stroked, earning shaky groans from the man.

parting to hurriedly free yourselves from the threaded pieces of fabric, you met again, lips interlocked, his thumb pressed to the length of his cock, leisurely dragging it between your folds, as he rutted against you.

the strain was native as tomura slowly buried the head of his cock into your core, yet you couldn't help the need to paw at his shoulders, face contorting at the width and he gripped your wrist, "you can take it, princess," whispering, lips grazing yours as he spoke, inching deeper, soon bottoming out, "there we go."

stilling as you adjusted, tomura's mind itched for friction yet he remained stagnant as your lips crashed with fervour, treasuring the complete feeling of being slotted together once more, like missing pieces of a jigsaw, your core carved, his cock sculpted to couple.

his motions were slow at first, tender, pulling out at a grating pace before filling you once more, your hips moving to meet his, yet they harshened as he continued, pelvis soon snapping into yours, coarse strokes pummelling against that gentle pocket of nerves deep within you, leaving you in a choked daze. bodies rocking in tune with the bed springs, tomura's head buried in the crook of your neck, groans slipping into your ears, aiding the tightening knot nestling in your core as his thumb drew circles between your folds.

raising his head to meet your gaze, flushed cheeked and glossy lipped, heavy lidded eyes harbouring a fountain of lust, and you were enraptured by the view, his cologne almost permeating off him at the short proximity, intoxicatingly so.

mind dizzying as he observed your features, wanting to savour the expressions he pulled from you, clenching around him unwillingly at the sight, eyes squeezing shut in shame as your cheeks rosed, a smirk dawning his face in return, "you're taking me so well, baby." his voice raspy, a whine slipping from your lips, "such a good girl for me, aren't you ?" nodding eagerly at the question, "anything for you, master." through whimpers, and tomura smiled at the words, knowing you met it, all too deeply.

panting softly, the knot in your stomach tightening harshly as you squeezed around tomura once more, "can i—" cut off by a moan, hands fisting the fabric of the sheets, "cum on my cock, princess." back arching off the bed at the vulgar words with a mewl, tomura slipped his hand beneath, holding you, pumping you through your bliss, relishing in the way your muscles tensed, the way your eyes fell shut and the lazy open mouthed smile that rested on your lips.

"t-thank you," you pushed through a whine as the sensitivity set in, tomura's actions persisting as he chased his own high, pace becoming languid and jagged as it neared. hand flying to grip his wrist as he began to pull out, "w-wait..." pleading, "c-can you uh...inside..." cheeks burning as you spoke, voice timid, quiet.

tomura's brow quirking at the request, his silence only making you feel the need to explain further, "t-the love bites aren't enough..." you pushed, "i...i want to feel you from the inside..." eyes searching his face as you trailed off, a smile forming on his lips as he obliged, settling back in with the gentle words, "anything for you, my love." you smiled shyly in turn, knowing he meant it, all too deeply.

gummy walls tightening around the thick of his shaft, tomura's brows knitting together as the coil nestling at the pit of his stomach slowly came undone, hips staggering, painting your warmth with his pearly seed, inscribing the story of your shared love on your walls like a parietal painting.

                              ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

the rushing water pooled at your feet, head tipped back as tomura's sudsy digits massaged your scalp gently, eyes falling shut as he moved the shower head over the length of your hair, keeping the soap from trailing down your face before raking conditioner through your locks with tender care, repeating.

your fingers moved through snowy locks as tomura reached for the shampoo bottle, taking a whiff, "it smells so…sweet," he commented, "one of the reasons i like it so much," you shrugged, "is it any good ?" he questioned, "you'll see for yourself when we're done," humming, he sniffed it once more, "i like it" slight confusion lacing your brows, "how so ? you haven't even seen the results yet," earning a shrug, "it smells like you," the words forming a sweet ball of golden light to glow within your chest, a smile dawning your face, "besides, your hair is always super soft anyway."

dried and clothed, tomura fingers combed through his hair in the reflection, "woah…" he spoke, "see ? this is why i keep telling you to quit buying the cheap stuff," gently poking a finger into his arm with a smile, he shrugged, "eh, it gets the job done but this...this is some fancy shit." laughing at his choice of wording, "yeah, sure it is, tomura." sarcasm laced within the words, earning a playful squinted glare in the reflection from the other. 

"do you wanna do a face mask with me ?" holding up a small pot in one hand and a sealed packet in the other as tomura splashed water on his soapy features, patting his clean face dry as you continued, "a clay mask is drying and would probably irritate the areas around your lips and eyes but i think a sheet mask should be okay."

"and if it does irritate my skin ?" you squint, pointing as you talk, "it’s moisturising, so i have high hopes that it won't..." smiling as you trailed off, he shrugged, "sure then, go ahead."

perched at the edge of the bathtub, you took place between his knees, his hands placed on the backs of your thighs as you laid the serum doused sheet on his features, tugging it into place. entranced by your focus, tomura's heart swelling as his eyes raked over the soft lines of your face, the wet tendrils sticking to your forehead, the gentle curl of your pretty lashes and the plump lips he so dearly wanted to kiss again, "there we go." you piped, breaking tomura's daze, his eyes shifting to the mirror, "i look terrifying," he laughed, "you don't," you retort, "and don't laugh, you'll shift the placement of the mask," shrugging, arms held in surrender "whatever you say."

he observed intently as you swiped the clay on your face, "now we both look terrifying," you laughed, earning a tut, "no, you, you look cute." giggling at the words, "well, you think i look cute in anything." shrugging, "my point exactly."

tomura's chest warmed as you gently pressed the serum into his skin, the dried mask discarded on the counter not too long ago, fingers setting soft pats against the scarred flesh, careful not to agitate the wounds, "you haven't been scratching as much recently," you spoke, gaze dipping to his neck, reaching for the moisturiser you'd put on moments prior, gently massaging it into his skin, "the urge comes in waves sometimes," he shrugged, "still, im proud of you," a gentle smile gracing your lips as you uttered the words, tomura mirroring it, "all done!" you beamed, tomura pulling you down, setting a soft kiss to your lips, "now you're done." he corrected.

you soon found your tired bodies interlinked within fresh silk sheets, your head on tomura's chest as his fingers smoothed over your hair, the nostalgic cartoon playing in the background on the tv becoming white noise as your heavy lids fluttered shut, drifting into a hearty slumber within the safe confines of the arms of your lover.

[froggibus]

Hay, I recently found your stuff on here. I really like your writing. I'm not really sure how the request works? I hope i'm doing it right:)

Can you do DC characters/Batboys finding readers self-harm scar's/marks and how they react

(I've struggled with self-harm off and on for a long time, and at least for me, I've kind of like thinking about how my favorite characters would react/try and support)

Also, if you do, can you do some about Mark some on the thighs. it's hard to find stuff about other then on the arms

Im dyslexic, so I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense.

Leaping Into The Light - Batboys + Wally West

Pairing: Dick Grayson x reader, Jason Todd x reader, Tim Drake x reader, Wally West x reader

Genre: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.4k (Dick), 1.3k (Tim), 1.5k (Jason) and 1.2k (Wally)

Summary: their reaction when they see your old self-harm marks/scars

CW: mentions of self-harm (past), self-harm scars (thighs mostly), awkward conversations, embarrassment, mental health, allusions to depression and suicidal thoughts, injury & blood (not from SH), insomnia, nightmares, Wally walks in on you changing, maybe some corny dialogue, mentions of sensory problems, recovery and healing this is at least the second fic ive wrote where Jason brings you chinese food--no clue why.

hi lovely, hope you're doing alright :) so sorry its taken me so long to get to this, january was a bitch for me. i also struggled on and off with self-harm before starting this blog, so writing this was incredibly personal to me <3 thank you for requesting, and i want you to know that my inbox is always open if you ever need to vent i really wanted to go for a more recovery-based fic where you're healing. i wanted to show that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it does get better, we do recover. you will be okay.

Dick:

It’s a rare, sunny morning in Bludhaven when you wake up and stretch your limbs. The sunlight filtering through the window catches on the bare length of your arms, casting brilliant patterns across your skin.

A newfound warmth filters through your apartment as you pad across the wooden floors and make your way to the kitchen. The sunlight seems to follow you, dancing across walls, door handles and cupboards as if saying hello.

The sight of Dick Grayson hunched over a laptop greets you at the kitchen island, his black hair almost brown in the morning light. 

He offers you a sleepy smile, “I made coffee.”

Your eyes move from his pyjama clad figure to the fresh pot of coffee sitting on the counter, tufts of steam still flowing from its spout. A smile breaks across your face, your eyes falling shut as you inhale the scent of fresh coffee.

Yeah, it’s going to be a good day.

Dick watches you from over the rim of his ‘World’s Best Detective’ coffee mug, blue eyes tracing your figure as you shuffle around the kitchen.

Dick watches as you cut open one of the croissants you’d picked up from the bakery yesterday and slather it in a generous coating of butter. He watches as you open the cupboard above the coffee machine, the one where you guys keep your dishes, and stretch up on your tippy toes to reach your favorite mug. 

This is his favorite part of any day—watching you. The soft domesticity of the morning blankets him, soothes him. It’s his daily reminder that there’s still good in the world around him.

His eyes stay on you as your fingers brush the handle of your mug, tugging it towards you little by little. He watches as it slides to the edge, your fingers just barely grasping it and—shit. He watches as the mug falls from the cupboard, shattering on the edge of the counter into a dozen pieces, the largest of which embeds itself in your leg. 

Everything happens so fast, you barely have any time to react. The ceramic shard slices through the leg of your pyjama pants and you keel over, clenching the skin of your thigh. The pain is searing and carries an unfortunate familiarity that has tears bubbling up in your eyes.

Dick’s at your side within seconds, an arm wrapping beneath your shoulders to keep you steady. “Are you okay?”

“I think so.” You suck in a breath and risk glancing down at your leg, noting the splotch of red starting to soak through the fabric of your pants.

A sigh slips from your lips. So much for today being a good day.

Dick’s hand wraps around your own, positioning your fingers on either side of the wound. “Here,” he says calmly, “try and apply as much pressure as you can.”

Dick guides you to the bathroom with a steady confidence that only someone who’d trained under Bruce could have. He helps you onto the bathroom counter, your legs splayed out in front of him.

“Keep applying pressure,” he commands. 

You watch as he ducks beneath you, rummaging through the cupboard to pull out the first aid kit you’ve seen him use countless times. A weak laugh bubbles up inside of you—usually it’s the other way around. 

Dick holds up the kit triumphantly, dark strands of hair bouncing as he stands. He fixes you with a grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, the familiar blue filled with concern.

You force a smile despite the aching skin of your thigh. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” you assure him. “It's just a flesh wound.”

It’s not the physical pain that has tears pricking your eyes and thoughts racing around your head. No, it’s the reminder that comes with it. The flashbacks of nights spent entirely alone, of nights where the world was too quiet and your thoughts were too loud. 

Dick exhales in what seems to be a laugh, the tension in his shoulders falling. “Alright then,” he rubs his thumb along the seam of your pants, “let’s get these off before they get stained even more.”

You’re quick to agree, if only to not make him worry even more. You scoot to the edge of the counter and let Dick hook his thumbs into your waistband. The action is so casual but so intimate, and it has heat rushing through you.

The warm air of the apartment meets the bare skin of your thighs and Dick’s hands still. Realization flashes through you and by instinct alone, you grip the fabric of your pants and try to force it back up your legs. Dick catches your hands in his, gripping them just tightly enough to keep you from moving.

The pain of your wound is forgotten, replaced by a sudden surge of embarrassment. Your gaze lingers on your thighs, on the scarred skin that reminds you of the hardest time in your life.

Your mouth is impossibly dry as you force yourself to look at Dick. You expect disappointment, that annoying older brother look you’ve seen him use a thousand times. You’re wholly unprepared for the softness in his gaze, the kindness and warmth that radiates off him.

“Dick,” you say softly, ready to explain yourself. “It’s not…I’m not—”

You’re thankful when he cuts you off.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

You scrunch your nose. “But—”

He brushes a thumb across the faded marks, his touch delicate and firm. “It’s alright. I know what these mean.” A new intensity flickers through his eyes, but as soon as you see it, it’s gone. “Let’s get you patched up.”

Dick kneels down and gets to work soaking up the blood while you stare at his working hands in confusion. You’d told him before about the hard times you went through, the mental state you were in.

That was part of the reason you moved in together—so Dick could help you and keep a better eye on you. But you’d never told him about the self-harm or the scars that speckled your skin.

Yet, his reaction is so normal it has your head spinning.

He finishes wiping up the blood and gets to work disinfecting it. The rubbing alcohol stings but the burn is quickly snuffed out by polysporin.

“It’s been a while.” The words tumble out before you can stop them. “Sometimes I still think about it, miss it, even. That probably sounds strange but…it’s hard sometimes.”

Dick glances up at you but says nothing. 

“I-I have bad nights sometimes, and it’s all I can think about. But it helps. Living here with you, I mean. It helps.”

Dick secures a thick piece of gauze over the wound, patting it gently to ensure it stays in place. “You don’t have to hide it, you know.”

“I know, but—” You sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut. “You already have so much on your shoulders, with work and your family and…other things. The last thing I want to do is weigh you down even more.”

He rests his hands on your thighs and levels you with a serious look. “That’s ridiculous. The only thing that would hold me down is knowing that you’re hurting alone. You’re so incredibly important to me, how could you ever think you’d be a burden to me?”

“I don’t know, I just—”

“I want to take care of you, I want to help you.” He traces circles across your skin with his thumb, “I don’t want you dying in the dark, y/n.”

Tears prick your eyes once more, a heavy warmth settling into your chest. “Dick…”

“C’mere.”

He pulls you into his chest, settling between your legs at the counter. One of his hands wraps around your neck, petting the back of your head slowly. 

“Just promise me this,” his voice is soft. “If it gets bad and you need help, promise you’ll reach out. Call me, come to me—whatever. We don’t even have to talk about it, just let me help you. Please.”

You nod quickly, burying your face further into his chest. Don’t want you dying in the dark, his words echo inside your head. 

Within the warmth of his arms, you can’t help but feel that this is a step forward, and with Dick by your side, you’ll be leaping into the light in no time.

Jason:

It’s midnight when Jason Todd comes banging on your door, takeout bags in hand. Despite the late hour, he still sports his day clothes—grey cargo pants and a black compression shirt over a pair of combat boots.

Setting your book down on the couch, you stumble to the door as quickly as you can, if only to keep his incessant banging from waking your neighbours. You swing the door open and raise an eyebrow, silently demanding an explanation.

“Hey.” He holds out the takeout bags for you to take, “have you eaten yet?”

“At midnight on a Saturday? Yes.”

In spite of yourself, you reach out and take the bags from his hands. You shuffle back into your home, gesturing to him to follow after you.

Jason shuts your door behind him and locks it in one, smooth motion that has you wondering if he’s been here one too many times. You try not to dwell on it, just like you try not to think about how easily he finds a spot on your shoe rack—the same one he always uses—and seats himself on a stool at your counter.

Jason watches while you unpack the takeout, cardboard contains billowing with steam lining your counters. The scent of fresh Chinese food fills the room, a heavy sort of comfort settling over it.

“So,” you say, propping yourself on your tiptoes to reach the last container in the bag, “what brings you over?”

He shrugs, his broad shoulders falling heavily. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Just thought I’d check in.”

A frown flashes over your face but you quickly mask it with a tight lipped smile and a nod. It has been a while, and any hope that Jason wouldn’t notice is immediately snuffed out. 

“I’ve had a lot on my plate.”

It’s a half-truth at best but you’re not quite sure what else to say, how else to explain what you’ve gone through lately. 

Jason squints, examining you. If it was anyone else, they might not have noticed something was wrong. They probably wouldn’t notice the shadows beneath your eyes, or the slight shake to your hands as you bring out plates and cutlery. If it was anyone else, they’d probably believe you.

But Jason doesn’t.

You get to work dishing up a plate, sucking in a breath when Jason sidles up next to you to dish himself up. The sudden proximity has the breath leaving your body and heat climbing the back of your neck. God—how long has it been since you touched another person? Since you’ve seen another person?

You force the feelings down and finish grabbing your food, making your way to the couch you’ve been rotting on for days. A small stack of books and a few empty glasses scatter the side table—clear evidence of your struggle.

Jason sits at the opposite end of the couch, balancing his plate on his lap. You don’t miss the way his eyes skim over the room, taking everything in. He takes a bite of his fried rice but his blue eyes remain on you.

He clears his throat. “That’s a good one,” he points with his fork at a romance book near the bottom of your pile. “A little racy for my tastes, but the worldbuilding was insane.”

“Something’s a little too racy for you?”

“Hey,” he rolls his eyes, “believe it or not, I do have standards.”

Joy swells in your chest and threatens to bring tears to your eyes. You’ve shut yourself away for so long, you’d almost forgotten what normalcy feels like. But this? You and Jason, eating takeout and talking about books on your couch? That’s the most normal thing in the world to you. 

You snort. “Sure you do.”

“I do!” He protests. “I loved the first four books, but that one? My god. Half the book was just them going at it.”

You laugh, your chest aching with longing. You missed this, god, you missed this, One minute you’re laughing over Jason’s review and the next you’re sobbing, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Your voice cracks, a horribly cry ripping free of your throat.

“Woah, woah.”

Jason’s voice is soft, a beacon of light in the sudden storm of emotions that’s gripped you. He sets his plate on the coffee table, scooching down the length of the couch to your side.

“I don’t, I can’t—” 

“Hey,” he says calmly, taking your half eaten plate from your hands and setting it on your side table. “It’s alright. Shh, it’s alright.”

You let yourself slump into the couch, your feelings eating away at your physical strength. Jason throws an arm around you, pulling you into his side. The warmth of his body floods you.

You sob and Jason speaks, though you don’t quite catch what he’s saying. The world around you fades to a mosaic of tears and sorrow and guilt. Your heart is so heavy in your chest you worry it might fall out and drag you down with it.

“Talk to me,” Jason says softly. “Please.”

A calloused hand lifts to your cheek, wiping away wet tears. You want to give in to his touch so bad, give into what he’s saying. But how can you take his comfort when you’ve avoided him for weeks? When you’ve pushed yourself so far away that it feels like there’s no hope of coming back?

You tear yourself away from his grip, forcing yourself to your feet. Your hands shake as you turn to face him. When your eyes meet, his are filled with something entirely new to you—concern.

“I-I can’t.”

He sets his jaw. “Why not? You’ve been away from me for so long, you’ve been avoiding me,” he forces himself to keep his voice level. “I just want to know why. I just want to help you.”

His sudden pleading tone has you freezing in your tracks. You look at him seriously, “swear?”

“Swear.”

You sigh and slip your fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants. For a second, you clench your fists, trying to ground yourself. The world around you seems to still as you tug your pants down, shimmying out of them until they lay in a pool around your ankles.

Jason watches silently, his head cocked to the side in visible confusion. It’s only when you self-consciously rub a hand over the skin of your left thigh does he notice.

The breath leaves his body, his lungs squeezing so tight he’s afraid they might burst. He’s no stranger to scars—he has at least a few dozen himself—but these are entirely different. 

The scars scatter the surface of both thighs, long and thin. Most are completely healed, some just barely finishing the process. The size, the shape, the distance…intentional is the only word that comes to mind.

Jason feels his heart break in his chest but he can’t bring himself to look away. You’re hurt—you’re hurting, and he can’t do a damn thing to help. “Y/n,” he says softly.

You shrink beneath his gaze. You can’t think of a single time he’s looked at you like this—scared and worried and broken. It has the guilt rising in your throat once more, threatening to suffocate you.

“I’m better,” you try to assure him, your voice hoarse from crying. “I’m getting better. It was bad but—I’m getting better now. I-I’m okay. I swear.”

You wait for him to say something, anything. You wait for the anger, for a lecture about how stupid and dangerous this can be. You wait for him to scoff at your problems. 

You’re utterly shocked when Jason falls to his knees in front of you, head tilting up to look at you with an expression you’ve never seen before.

“Jason…”

“This is why you’ve been avoiding me?”

You nod slowly, as if moving slower will keep the ice from breaking.

“Fuck, y/n, why didn’t you—god, you should know that I of all people would understand.” He traces a finger across a particularly fresh scar, “this isn’t something you needed to hide from me. This isn’t something you ever have to hide from me.”

“I—”

“I’m not finished.”

You’re taken aback, the words ripped straight from your mouth. 

“Let me help you. Come to me and let me help you. Don’t shut yourself away in the dark and suffer all by yourself.” He runs his fingers through his hair, cracking the ghost of a smile, “god, who are you, me?”

A half-laugh, half-sob leaves you. “I just don’t like bothering people.”

“You think you could annoy me? You overestimate yourself, y/n. The only people who annoy me are Waynes and Wayne-adjacent.”

He rises to his feet in front of you and tugs you into his chest before you can react. His grip on you is tighter than usual, the warmth of his arms threatening to consume you. 

“You’ll come to me next time you feel this way, yeah?” He says, and he feels you nod against his chest. “Swear?”

“Swear.”

Tim:

Your chest burns as you sit up in bed, lungs heaving as they try to force some air into your body. Your ribs ache from the way your heart hammers against them.

Rubbing your aching eyes, you force yourself to swing your legs over the side of your bed and reach for your lamp. The light comes on with a click, illuminating the walls of your room. Finally, you manage to take a deep breath, the cold air soothing your burning chest.

It was just a dream. You’re safe here. But the words taste bitter and empty, the images you’d seen while you were asleep still spinning around your head. You rub at the exposed skin of your thighs where the seam of your shorts come to an end. The friction barely manages to warm you among the cold night air.

Before you can even think, your feet are meeting the ground and you’re padding across the room. You hesitate for just a second when your hand meets the door handle, but the hesitation melts into need and you continue on your way.

Your steps are quiet through the hallway, unimposing. When you find yourself facing the closed door, identical to yours, you knock softly. Once, twice, and then the door is swinging open.

Tim stands on the other side, bleary eyed and messy haired from sleep. He yawns, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hey,” his voice is raspy, “everything alright?”

“I can’t sleep.”

It’s all you have to say before he’s opening the door as wide as it goes, gesturing you to the disheveled navy covers of his bed spread. The sleepiness fades from his body as he watches you closely, examining your every movement.

Your eyes are red-rimmed and sweat beads along your temples. Despite wearing pyjamas—patterned shorts and a t-shirt that looks suspiciously like one of his—they don’t look wrinkled with sleep like they should be. 

Tim frowns. Something’s wrong, and it’s more than not being able to sleep.

He shuffles in after you, closing the door and clicking the lock behind him. His examination continues as he reaches the bed and crawls in next to you. You fit together so easily, so perfectly, it’s hard to believe this is the first time you’ve ever sought him out.

In all the time you’ve known each other, never once have you ever gone to Tim when you can’t sleep. He’s known about your sleep problems for a while, from even before you’d told him. Yet, never once have you asked for his help.

Until tonight.

Tim’s arms fall easily around you, one gently across your waist, the other falling on the side of your thigh. You’re so tired, so shaken from your dream, your head falls easily into his pillows and your eyes flutter shut. 

It’s not so much sleep that hits you as much as it is contentment. Tim’s hand trails up and down the side of your thigh, fingers exploring the soft skin while he tries to soothe you to sleep.

His hand shuffles sideways, just a tiny bit more, and then pauses. His fingertips graze something rough, something raised slightly, and the breath leaves his body. His hand trails further and he’s met with another, almost perfectly parallel to the first.

No, it can’t be.

Trying not to startle you, he moves the arm around your waist as slowly as he can. His fingertips make their way up his own body, finding their way to the scar on his abdomen from when he lost his spleen. He swipes his thumb over the area, feeling the rough patch of raised skin.

His other hand trails over your thigh again, feeling the rows of similar skin. For a moment, he swears the world stops turning.

The feeling is unmistakable, and even though it’s dark and he hasn’t laid eyes on them, he knows exactly what they are.

He wraps his arm around your waist once more and pulls you closer. “Y/n,” he whispers.

You whimper, the exhaustion weighing heavily on you. Tim’s hand rubs over the scars on your thigh once more, and suddenly your weariness is replaced with an icy feeling in your veins.

You sit up abruptly, forcing your body away from his. 

“Y/n.”

You gasp, looking up at him through teary lashes. You draw your knees into your chest, the pressure helping soothe the sudden cold in your chest. You bury your face between your knees.

The longer Tim stays silent, the worse your anxiety gets. You wait for the familiar cold logic, for the warmth to fall away and the sarcastic, callous detective to show up. You expect it any second.

But Tim does something that surprises you even more.

He wraps an arm around you, letting your head lean on your shoulder, and murmurs, “how long has it been?”

It takes a few seconds for you to gather your bearings and realize what he’s asking. You blink a few times, slowly unfurling your body. Though you know it’s too dark for him to see the scars, you see his eyes fall on your bare thighs anyway.

“A while,” you admit. “It comes and goes.”

He rubs his hand up and down your arm. “Is that why you came to me?”

You swallow, remembering the horrid dream you’d had earlier. “Partially.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” 

The pet name takes you by surprise, washing away the cold shame that threatened to drown you. You relax further into Tim’s side, relishing in the heat of his body.

“It’s not as bad as it seems,” you say quietly. “I know it’s bad, that I shouldn’t do it. And I try not to. I’ve been really good about that lately. It’s just…”

Tim stays silent as you trail off, trying to find the right words to explain yourself. He keeps rubbing the skin of your arm, as if reminding you that he’s still there.

“Things get hard sometimes. I don’t like asking for help, because I don’t want anyone to think less of me, or think I have problems and—”

“Why would anyone ever think less of you?”

His words stun you out of your speech, every thought you had falling away. You take a few deep breaths, letting them echo around your head.

“God, this is so hypocritical of me but,” he sighs, “there’s nothing wrong with needing support or asking for help. You’re not any worse off because you needed a little comfort on a bad day, you’re not a burden just because you’re hurting.”

“I just—”

“You came to me tonight because you needed comfort, right?” He gestures around the room, “did anything bad happen because of that?”

You shake your head.

“Did I question you at all, or make you feel like it was a problem?”

Realization dawns on you. “No.”

“That’s because it’s not a problem, you’re not a problem. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling, but the first step to feeling better is helping yourself.” He offers you a sleepy smile, “and that’s what you did tonight. You helped yourself by asking for help.”

“Tim…”

“I’m really proud of you for coming to me tonight, y/n. Whether it was consciously or not.”

A stray tear rolls down your cheek, his kind words washing over you in waves. 

“Keep coming to me when you need it. Let me shoulder your problems with you. Please.”

The sudden plea catches you off guard and suddenly more tears are falling down your face. You wrap your arms around Tim and let your head fall into his shoulder, burying your face into the side of his neck.

He holds you tighter, letting you cry it all out.

Wally:

The sound of rain on your window seems to taunt you as you struggle out of your soaking wet jeans. The fabric sticks to your skin, chafing as you try to force it away from the chilled skin of your legs. 

As if the sudden torrential downpour that had ruined any hopes of a morning breakfast run wasn’t bad enough, now you seemed to be forever trapped in your sensory nightmare—wet denim. A groan of frustration leaves your lips as you abandon your jeans and instead tug away the sopping fabric of your t-shirt.

Goosebumps rise across your damp skin the minute the air touches it. You shiver slightly and wrap your arms around yourself, stumbling across the room to find a sweatshirt.

You settle on one you’d stolen from Wally months ago that you’re partially convinced he’d stolen from Dick. Still, the worn cotton warms your skin as you make the trek across your room and to the full-body mirror resting against a wall. 

You use the guidance of your reflection to peel away your jeans, shimmying awkwardly until finally the heavy fabric gives way. They land in a wet plop on the floor, splattering water that you can’t be bothered to clean up.

Just as you turn away from the mirror, one of the shiny scars on your thigh catches the light and draws your attention back to it. You frown, pulling the marked skin of your leg tight, examining the scars in the mirror. 

Most are small and thin, luckily not bad enough to leave more than a faded, dark mark on the skin. You cringe at the ones that are worse—raised and puffy and shiny in the centre. They’re still healing, you remind yourself.

“Hey, no way you’re still changing in here—” the door clicks open and Wally’s voice trails off.

You whip your head to him, watching as he stumbles into the room. A flush falls across his face. His eyes trail over you, tracing your figure, falling onto your underwear and the uncovered skin around it.

Wally freezes, green eyes glued to the scars you’d just been examining. His brows scrunch together, his lips twisting into a frown.

Oh, goddamn. 

Any other time, Wally would feel mortified—and somewhat blessed—to walk in on you changing. He’d cover his eyes and stumble around awkwardly, mumbling out some goofy apology laced in innuendos. 

It’s clear now from the frown on his face and the hard set solemnity in his eyes that that Wally is gone. 

He’s at your side before you can react, falling to his knees in front of you. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did someone—”

His words trail off, his face falling as realization dawns across his features. He traces a thumb across the biggest of the scars and you swear you see tears prick at his eyes.

“Wally, it’s not—”

“It’s not what?” He looks up at you seriously. 

And you pause, reconsidering your words. Wally’s always been the kind one, the goofy one, the comedic relief. It’s rare that you see him serious, rare that he wavers like this.

You lower yourself to the ground beside him, cringing at the unpleasant cold meeting the bare backs of your legs. Wally keeps his focus on your thighs, fingers tracing over every scar, every mark, like he could somehow erase them.

You stay entirely still next to him, letting him calm himself with your touch. “It’s not really something I do anymore,” you say quietly.

His hand stills, the warmth of his clammy palm resting on your upper thigh. In any other situation, it would feel intimate. But right now, all it feels like is a slap to the face. 

“I still have bad days, but I manage. This,” you gesture to your skin,“was a last resort. I know it looks bad, really bad, and that it probably seems so—so stupid compared to what you face and—”

His voice is barely a whisper. “It’s not stupid.”

You scrunch your nose. The normal, goofy Wally you’d just gotten caught in a rainstorm with is gone, and you’d give anything to bring him back right now. 

“You don’t have to be a superhero to be hurt, y/n.” He clasps your hand tightly. “I know I joke a lot but I am capable of being serious. Especially when the people I love are concerned.”

He looks at you so intensely when he says the word love that it sends shivers down your spine. You can’t bear to meet his gaze. His hands find your waist, tugging you to sit between his legs. It scares you how easily you settle into him, how well you fit together.

You sit in silence for a moment, letting the beat of his racing heart thump against your back.

“I can’t stand to see you hurt, or know that you were hurt. Emotionally, physically, whatever.”

“I’m doing okay now,” you offer him a weak smile. “It’s rough sometimes, but I’m okay now.”

His shoulders slump slightly, but his jaw remains clenched in an un-Wally way. You can’t help but wish in this moment that you could have his powers, if only so you could run to the past and stop this from happening.

“You could’ve told me. I might have made a few stupid jokes but you could’ve told me. God, I want you to tell me. I want you to want to tell me.”

“Wally.”

“I want to help you, y/n. Always. Please,” he sighs, “please, want my help. Let me make you want my help.”

And for a moment, you see a glimpse of an awkward teenager. You see a yellow costume and a scared kid just trying his best to help people. To save people. You see sleepless nights and the burden of a power that makes him both the fastest man alive, but never fast enough to save the people who matter most to him. To save you.

“I just don’t know where to start,” you admit quietly.

He wraps his arms tighter around you, crushing your body against his. “You start here. You start today. You start with me.”

You cross your arms over his in what you hope is a gesture of affection. 

“Say the word,” he leans in so his mouth is only inches from your ear, his voice dropping an octave, “and I’ll be there for you as soon as you need me. Ask for my help and I’ll be there in, well, a flash.”

You can’t help but laugh at his pun. It’s dumb and silly and so unserious for such an uncomfortable, serious moment. But it’s Wally and it’s you and his joke has you thinking that maybe, maybe things really can be okay.

“I care about you so much. All I want is for you to be happy. Got it?”

“Got it,” you echo.

He plants a soft kiss on the top of your head before loosening his grip on you, rising to his feet. He offers you a hand, helping you stand up.

“Now,” he grins, “let’s say we forget the pants, and order in some breakfast, hm?”

thanks so much for reading! ^^

masterlist | dc masterlist

[sorcerousundries]

Her Graces loyal protecter

Criston Cole as your sworn protector

(the one where he’s injured during a tourney)

Warnings; Fem!Reader, Established relationship, Reader is described with Targaryen features(Violet eyes, long silver hair, implied pale skin), Rhaenyra is wed to Harwin Strong, Rhaenyra and Reader are heavily implied to be twins, Dubious age dynamics, stolen Rhaenyra dialogue, Daemon loves his niece in a non creepy way

A/N: He’s so fine when he shuts up

Content under the cut

The carriage jostled as it went over rocks and bumps in the road, the road to The Red Keep was always long but the road seemed to forever go on as the uncomfortable silence bore on.

You braved a glance to the other side of the carriage. Alicent Hightower. your Sisters Best-friend sat on the other side of the bench like seat.

You remember a time when all three of you would sit underneath the great tree in the courtyard, huddled together with mud staining the bottoms of your dresses, reading the song of ice and fire, one of you shrieking that you weren’t done reading the page.

It felt like centuries ago, now you both sit with blank stares. your father sits at the head of the carriage, before you left, you had a rather nasty row regarding your betrothal.

Your sister had done the same, your father told you.

Your thoughts were cut short as the carriage swayed to a stop, you had to cringe to stop yourself from rolling your eyes when your father took Alicents hand in his, giving her a soft smile.

You sat alone with your thoughts for a couple moments watching through the small window as the two figures disappeared up the steps of the royal box.

You looked down at your gown, typical Targaryen colours, Red and Black.

The rounded neckline encrusted with rubies along with the bodice giving way to panel of red in the middle of the skirt, two dragons on either side of the skirt panels.

“Your grace” you heard someone call, your cue to make your way to the box.

Stepping out of the carriage and taking the steps one at a time, trying to drag out the length before you would have to sit in her another awkward silence before the start of the tourney.

You took your seat, huffing as the velvet crinkled around your form, looking over at the array of knights, you recognise some.

A Greyjoy, a Baratheon, a Hightower, your uncle Daemon and the one you were seeking.

Criston.

In silver armour and a Dornish patterned shield on his forearm with his white cloak splayed on his horses rump, you could not see his face but you smiled at the image of his tan skin and dark locks flickering in your mind.

You’re snapped from your gawking as drums sound, the start of the tourney.

People cheering rings in your ears, you clap as the competitors line up.

Your Aunt Rhaenys blesses Boremund Baratheon with her favor, but it was in vain as he is struck down from his horse.

Your uncle in turn chooses Gwayne Hightower to joust. You can feel the air tense as they take their sides.

You can’t help but snicker as your uncle is very literally taken off his high horse, the second time he gets lucky, darting his lance out to swipe his horses feet from under him.

Gwayne lands hard, Daemon with a smug smile on his face, you stand as daemon trots over to the box.

“Nicely done uncle” you smirk, leaning your forearms onto the bannister, “thank you princess” he grins, “it’s in all certainty I can say that I will win these games lēkianna, yet having your favor would all but assure it” he says, pointing his lance at you.

You snort silently as you walk over to seat, grabbing the red and white knights favor, you lock eyes with Alicent, paralleling her as she done the same thing moons ago.

You toss the favor, it circles his lance before landing at the hilt.

He smiles before trotting back to his place at the tilt, knights chat among themselves before the herald cries “Ser Criston Cole will now tilt against Ser Daemon Targaryen, Prince of the city”.

This stills your heart and you lean forward in your seat, watching as both men take their places.

Both waiting for the other to make their first move, the tension is palpable, almost thick enough to cut with a knife.

In a blink of an eye Daemon spurs his horse forward and both men charge towards eachother, the first lap Daemon nicks Criston, when they swap lances and charge again it felt like it was in slow motion.

Criston jabs Daemon and he falls like a rag doll being dragged by his horse down the tilt bar before face planting onto the ground.

You smile with relief as you watch Criston steady his horse, clapping and cheering for him as the crowd roars.

But your relief fades as Daemon challenges Criston to a contest of arms, they swing at eachother.

Daemon with a sword, Criston with a mace, you watch incredulously as the men swing desperately, their shields breaking down.

Your mouth turns upward in an almost shocked expression as Daemon is struck to the ground, Criston taking the victory, he slaps Cristons hand away as he attempts to help your uncle up.

Both men limp off, you jump from your seat, not minding the puzzled look your father shoots your way, you pick up your skirts as you rush down the stairs, the uneven steps and winding hallways familiar to you.

You end up at the entry flap of his tent, you can hear other knights and nobles speculating and gossiping about the tourney, you open the flap, bowing your head as to not ruin the array of braids neatly arranged on your silver head.

There he sits, shirtless, his tanned muscles flexing as he wipes the gashes on his arms and abdomen, groaning as they sting.

“Ser” you say, grabbing his attention, he looks up immediately “princess” he smiles.

You return the grin, slinking over to him to stand between his legs, taking the blood soiled cloth from his hands, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger, you dab at the blood dripping from the corner of his lip.

“I’ll admit you had me worried for a moment” you murmur, his dark eyes are wide and soft as they look up at your violet ones.

“And why would that be princess?” He smirks, raising his eyebrows at you.

“I thought my Uncle had finally got the best of you when he falsely claimed his victory, but it seems you proved me wrong” the praise dripping with honey from your lips as you apply the egg white and wine mixture onto his wounds.

“You certainly know how to make an entrance, don’t you Ser?, I thought you were supposed to be a fearless knight, not a fallen one” you jab playfully.

His smirk grows “I like to think of it as a dramatic flair, besides, I didn’t want to steal all of the attention from the other knights”. You laugh lightly “well you certainly succeeded, now hold still I don’t want to make you look even more of a fool” you seat his shoulder lightly as he squirms from the sting of the paste mixture.

“If you keep talking like that, I might just need to start charging you for my championship, a knight should not have to endure such teasing with proper compensation”.

You raise an eyebrow, “oh?, and what compensation do you have in mind, Ser Criston” you giggle.

He grins “perhaps a dance at the next royal feast?, I promise to keep my feet to myself this time” he chimes, you chuckle as you remember the first time you tried to show Criston how to dance, your toes were sore for nearly two moons after it.

“Is that a challenge?, I’ll have you know Prince Ommen Macklyn told me I was the most charming dancer this side of the emerald sea.

He bows his head as deep laughter reverbs through his chest “I’ve seen how you handle a sword, i can only imagine how you handle the dance floor. I’d be the one needing protection then” your jaw drops in mock offense.

You finish placing the cloth bandage on his jaw before you lean closer, almost touching noses with him, “you know, if you keep flirting with me, I might just honour you with a kiss the next time we dance together”

“That is a dangerous offer to make, I might just take you up on that offer” he hums, gripping your hips softly in his calloused hands to pull you onto his lap.

“Oh of course, how terrible it would be if you took me up on the offer. I suppose I could compromise by offering you a kiss now” you roll your eyes playfully, “truly wicked” he mutters before his lips seal over yours.

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

I love how you write tech! And how you have him all flustered is written amazingly!

As someone who is high functioning, I love hearing people talk about what they’re interested in. Could you do a tech x Fem!reader where she loves listening to him and he gets flustered and add some of your own flare to it? Xx

“Sweet Circuits”

Tech x Reader

⸻

The cantina was its usual mess of sour drinks, old booths, and worse music. A storm brewed outside, the dusty kind that stuck to your clothes and made the whole world feel static-charged. Inside, though, it was warm. Dim. Safe.

And across from you, Tech was talking—hands animated, datapad in one hand, drink in the other (untouched, as usual).

“You see, the issue with the ion displacer isn’t so much the core processor as it is the overcompensating voltage feedback. Most engineers forget to recalibrate the thermal sync, which is frankly a rookie mistake.”

You nodded slowly, chin in your hand. Not because you were bored—but because watching him talk was like being allowed to peek inside a galaxy of stars. Not many people noticed how his eyes lit up, how fast he moved when he was in his element. He was like a hyperdrive: complex, brilliant, and far too often overlooked.

“I mean,” he went on, tapping something on his datapad, “with the right calibration, you can amplify power efficiency by at least 23.8 percent. If you’re clever about it. Which, most are not.”

“You’re clever,” you said simply, before you could think to dial it back.

He paused. Blinked. Looked up from the pad, blinking again behind his goggles as if the compliment hadn’t quite registered.

“Pardon?”

“You’re clever,” you repeated, letting a little smile curve your lips. “I like hearing you talk about this stuff.”

Tech straightened, shoulders going stiff like someone had just issued a direct order. His ears flushed a soft pink beneath the curl of his hair.

“You… do?” His voice had gone up just slightly, like you’d knocked him off-balance. “I was under the impression that most people find my commentary… verbose. Occasionally overwhelming.”

“Not me.” You shrugged. “It’s nice. Makes me feel like the galaxy still has things worth understanding. Even if I’ll never understand them as well as you.”

He stared at you for a moment too long.

Then, very slowly, he lowered the datapad. His fingers twitched near the edge of it, like they weren’t sure what to do without typing.

“I… appreciate that.”

Silence settled between you. Not awkward. Just… soft. Outside, thunder rolled. Inside, Tech leaned back in the booth, flustered but visibly trying to play it cool.

“If you’d like,” he added, voice quieter now, “I could explain the modular wiring system I built for Hunter’s blade gauntlet. It incorporates… well, it incorporates some rather interesting electroreactive alloy.”

You grinned.

“I’d love that.”

And so he talked, and you listened, both of you orbiting the same quiet space—two people who had survived too much, holding on to the little things that still made the galaxy feel… good.

Tech was halfway into an explanation about conductive filament lengths—his voice smoothing out, more relaxed now that he knew you actually wanted to hear him—when a sharp voice cut through the low hum of the cantina.

“Well, well. Isn’t this cozy.”

You turned to see Cid standing a few feet away, arms crossed, one brow raised like she’d caught the two of you holding hands under the table—which, for the record, you weren’t. Yet.

Tech sat up straighter immediately, clearly thrown, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“Good evening, Cid,” he said, formal as ever.

Cid glanced between the two of you, unimpressed. “You sweet on him or just have a death wish sittin’ through all that tech talk?” she asked, jabbing a clawed thumb toward you, then Tech.

You smirked. “A little from column A, little from column B.”

Cid snorted. “Well, hate to break up the love-in, but if you two are done whispering sweet circuits to each other, we’ve got a situation.”

Tech’s expression snapped back into mission-mode like a switch had been flipped. “What sort of situation?”

“Kind that pays, if you don’t mess it up,” she said, tossing a datapad onto the table with a clatter. “Package needs retrieving. Discreetly. You’re the brains, and she”—she gestured to you with a smirk—“is the only one who doesn’t treat the clientele like targets.”

“I do not—” Tech started, clearly offended.

You cut him off gently, patting his arm. “It’s fine, Tech. She’s just mad she interrupted the best lecture I’ve had all week.”

Cid made a gagging sound and walked off, muttering about nerd love and people trying to run a business.

Once she was gone, Tech turned to you with a strange look—half embarrassed, half something warmer.

“Did you… mean that?”

You looked at him.

“Of course I did. You’re brilliant. And kind. And you make me feel like I can actually understand the stars, not just look up at them.”

That flushed-pink look returned to his ears again. He swallowed.

“Well then,” he said, offering you his hand with a shy, almost formal air. “Shall we retrieve a package, Miss…?”

You took his hand, letting your fingers linger just a bit longer than necessary.

“We shall, Mr Genius.”

And as you stood, his hand still holding yours, you noticed the datapad had been left behind on the table—still open to the schematic he’d made just for fun, just to show you something he loved.

And you realized, maybe he hadn’t really been explaining it for the sake of talking.

Maybe he’d just wanted you to understand him.

⸻

[elliespuns]

How and when do you think Joel would ask his partner to move in with him and Ellie in Jackson? How would he feel about her wanting him to discuss the issue with Ellie first, considering her well-being and comfort with the decision?

How and when Joel would ask his girlfriend to move in with him would depend on several key factors.

The length of time Joel and his romantic partner had known each other would play a significant role, as would the level of trust he had built with her. Joel would also carefully consider his girlfriend's eagerness to cohabitate, making sure her feelings and needs aligned with his own. Most importantly though, was how well his girlfriend would get along with Ellie. He couldn't imagine dating a woman who wasn't cut out for their unique situation. Joel wouldn't even entertain the idea of living together unless he was absolutely certain this was the right person, both for him and for Ellie.

If Joel did decide his girlfriend was the one, he would have a long, honest conversation with Ellie first. As her guardian, he would never make a decision like this without thoroughly considering her thoughts and feelings on the matter. If for some reason Ellie was hesitant, Joel would try to find a compromise—with respect to his partner making it clear how much he cares about the both of them. He'd voice his concerns to his woman and ask for understanding and patience. He'd believe Ellie would come around in time.

However, this is probably highly unlikely, as I believe Ellie wouldn't strongly object to Joel having his own life. Given her maturity beyond her years, she would likely understand that her old man has romantic needs. Ellie probably wouldn't want to be an obstacle to Joel's happiness. She might even feel guilty if she stood in the way. And based on Joel's cautious and discerning nature, he would never choose to date an unsuitable woman—so there's little chance Ellie and any girlfriend of his would have a strained relationship.

If Joel's girlfriend was the one to encourage him to check in with Ellie, express concern for her comfort and well-being, it would have deepened his love and appreciation for her even more. Joel would admire that beyond caring for him, she also showed compassion for his surrogate daughter. This would be a green flag in his eyes—a sign that he was with someone truly special and unselfish. While it's unlikely Joel would rush into moving in with someone given his past trauma and reservations, having a partner who cared about Ellie too would make this a more palatable decision, not an impossible one. His girlfriend's empathy would chip away at his walls.

How would Joel ask his girlfriend? That's a whole different story. He would want to make sure everything was just right before even broaching the subject. The last thing he would want is any miscommunication or awkwardness. He'd plan to have a chat with her about it, but he knows he'd probably botch it. Figuring out the perfect moment to ask is impossible for him. Should he do it before dinner? After the meal? During the movie? As he walks her home? No. Joel would likely not know the right moment to ask something as monumental as this. He would probably end up blurting it out as he and his partner lay together, both panting heavily, their naked bodies pressed close after an intensely passionate fuck session.

"You are so amazing." He'd murmur, their combined sweat beading on her brow. She still struggling to catch her breath, her chest heaving from their passionate exertions. "Anyway..." He'd continue breathlessly, reaching out a slightly shaky hand to tenderly tuck a damp lock of hair behind her ear. "Want to move in with me?"

[marvelavengerspovs1]

Winter Wolf Ch. 4

Winter Wolf Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of Y/N, mentions of violence

Length: 1450

A/N: Hello! In celebration of my 1 year on Tumblr, I decided to post 2 chapters of Winter Wolf, the series that I first started to write on TikTok.

I do not give consent for my work to be translated, copied, or sold!

Tony made both you and Bucky go to one of the meeting rooms. The team would be back any second and Tony didn't want Steve to yell at him for yelling at his best friend.

You and Bucky sit on the couch that is against one of the walls. Tony sits in front of the both of you, making it seem like you guys were in therapy.

No one was talking, too embarrassed and awkward to say anything.

Tony is the first to finally say something. "So how long has this been going on?'

It was silent for a few seconds.

"A couple of weeks." Bucky answers.

"And you didn't think to tell the team?" Tony asks.

"We wanted to make sure that what we had was real. We didn't know if it was a one-time thing or if it was actually something." You answer.

You look at Bucky and he looks at you. You know that you both were thinking about your first night together.

Three and a half months ago

You and Bucky were sent on a mission together. You both were going to gather intel and take down the Hydra base.

You and Bucky are walking down the sidewalk, quietly talking about the mission.

"It's just going to be a quick mission. In and out and then hiding in the safe house for a week." Bucky explains.

"I know, I read the mission file." You tell him.

"Don't forget that we only have one shot at this."

"I know James. This isn't my first rodeo." You look up at him.

He looks at you. "I prefer Bucky."

You nod your head silently and you both continue to walk.

You feel like someone is watching you so you look over your shoulder and turn back around.

"You look suspicious. Calm down."

"I'm trying to make sure that we're not being followed."

"Of course we are. Hydra has ears everywhere. We just have to make them think we're here for something else."

You relax a bit but you still look tense.

Bucky sighs and wraps his left arm over your shoulders. You look up at him with a confused face.

"Don't worry, I'm not hitting on you. We're just putting up a front until we get to our base." You nod your head.

Bucky leads you into an alleyway and removes his arm. He looks over his shoulder before pushing you behind a dumpster. He crouches next to you and reaches into his back pocket.

You look at him with furrowed eyebrows. "What the hell Barnes?"

He puts his finger on his lips and quietly shushes you.

You quickly get up from your butt and go to a squat. You peek out and see two men walking down the alleyway in suits. There was no way that they were just passing by. They were Hydra.

You look at Bucky with wide eyes. You already had a plan forming in your head.

"I'll get the guy closest to us, you'll get the other guy." He tells you. You nod your head in understanding and prepare yourself.

"And do not use your gun. We don't need to draw more attention to ourselves."

You hear the footsteps get louder as they come towards you.

Bucky is the first to get up. He stands up and quickly punches the first guy. You take that as your queue to attack the other guy.

You launch yourself up and get on top of his shoulders. You tighten your legs and he starts to choke. He flips you over so you are on your back. He punches you across the face, his ring cutting your cheek. You punch his face and kick him in the groin. He falls over and you get up. You kick the side of his head and he knocks out.

You look at Bucky and he looks at you. It doesn't even look like he was fighting. His clothes are slightly messed up, but he doesn't even have a scratch on him.

You, on the other hand, look like you've been through it. You had some blood on your cheek and your hair was falling out of its ponytail. It wasn't even that difficult of a task and you were breaking a sweat.

"Let's go," Bucky says, walking towards you.

You walk away and shake your head. This was going to be a long mission.

A day later you and Bucky find yourselves in a Hydra building outside of the city. You guys just had to get to the main computer and download all of the files from there. Bucky would mostly worry about getting the Hydra agents and you would gather the files.

The mission went by in a breeze. You both executed your parts skillfully and without any bumps in the road. Bucky kept watch as you downloaded the files.

On the ride to the safe house, it was silent. Bucky was just staring.

"What?"

"Nothing," Bucky shakes his head and looks away from you.

"It's not nothing. You've been staring for 3 minutes."

"You were counting how long I was staring?" Bucky looks at you.

"So you admit you were staring."

"No." Bucky looks down.

"Just tell me."

"I guess," Bucky sighs and looks up at you. "I just want to say thank you for not freaking out about working with the Winter Soldier."

You hold his gaze. "You're not him Bucky."

He gives you a small smile and you return it.

You weren't there when the whole civil war thing happened but from what you could tell, Bucky was not a bad guy. He was forced to be a monster.

You and Bucky sit in silence for the rest of the ride. For the first time, the Quinjet was silent.

You guys finally reach the safe house. It's similar to the house Clint owns. In the middle of nowhere, perfect for hiding.

You pick up your bag and walk to the front door. You see Bucky walking slowly to the front door.

"Can you hurry please?" You ask.

"Why?"

"I have to use the bathroom." You tell him as you bounce in place.

He nods and grabs the keys from his bag. He opens the door and gestures for you to go first. You quickly thank him and run up the stairs.

You get to your room and open the door. Bucky closes the front door and follows you up the stairs.

"Goodnight Y/N," You hear Bucky say.

"Goodnight Bucky," You close the door and run to the bathroom.

A couple of hours later you're laying in bed reading a book. You get up to get a glass of water when there's a knock on the door. You open the door.

"Bucky?"

He looks up at you for a second before kissing you. It wasn't like any other kiss you've had before.

He was gentle but you could still feel the intensity of it. Bucky gently holds both sides of your face. The coldness of his vibranium arm makes you jump.

Bucky quickly pulls away thinking you didn't want to kiss him. "I'm sorry. You probably have a boyfriend."

He starts to turn but you grab his shirt and pull him in for another kiss.

Present-day

Tony just stares at both of you. It's silent for a few minutes.

"The rest of the team has arrived," Friday announces.

"Thanks, Friday. Don't let them know we're in here," Tony runs a hand over his face.

"Yes sir."

Tony leans back in his chair. "You guys could have compromised a mission!"

"Let us explain-" Tony cuts you off.

"No. What you guys are doing could've compromised EVERYTHING! We need to know this type of stuff because something can happen to either of you and you would throw everything away for each other!" Tony's voice starts to raise.

You know he's right. You know that if you were seriously hurt Bucky would only be concerned about you and not the mission. It would be the same if Bucky was hurt.

"Tony, I'm not asking you to accept us. We don't need your approval. But I don't think you understand-" You try once again to explain but Tony cuts you off. 

"You could've compromised a mission. End of discussion. You both are off missions for a week."

You open your mouth to say something but an explosion goes off.

You are separated from Tony and Bucky. Your head hits the wall and you knock out.

"Y/N!" Bucky yells your name.

Bucky and Tony look at each other but compose themselves. Tony calls his suit to him and looks at Bucky.

"Suit up and tell the rest of the team."

Tagged Readers: @ordelixx @bellabarnes1378 @sukaibg @angel-xx-1 @spookydestinydonut @harperkenobi @mcira @yeehawbrothers @waywardhunter95 @blackbirdwitch22

[sjsmith56]

The Visitor

Summary: A visitor to the Avengers compound causes concern for Bucky as she wishes to talk to him about his time as the Winter Soldier. Tony thinks she has something to hide.

Length: 4.3 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, name OFC.

Warnings: Emotional trauma, bringing up the past.

Author notes: In this canon based AU, the Avengers defeated Thanos in Wakanda. Bucky returned to the United States but was confined to the Avengers compound while his legal status was determined. Although Tony accepted his presence there is still awkwardness between the two men.

After the battle of Wakanda the world was in turmoil regarding the close call with the genocidal Thanos, that could have resulted in the death of billions of people.  The Avengers rallied together to fight the Titan, in a battle that saw the arrival of Tony Stark along with several non-human beings via a portal provided by Dr. Strange.  They met up with the force already in Wakanda that included the fugitives Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, and the man most people knew as the Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes.  The moment when Tony Stark found himself alongside the man who had killed his parents was captured by drone cameras that broadcast the battle to the world.  There was no denying that Stark wished he were beside someone else, but when Barnes took out an alien beast that knocked over Stark from behind then offered the iron-suited man a hand up, a hand that was taken, it was hoped the healing could begin.

After the defeat of Thanos, it was Stark who asked Bucky Barnes to return to the United States, offering him a place at the Avengers compound while his legal status was clarified, and providing him with legal counsel as the American political, judiciary and military complex began drawing their own battle lines over the former PoW's return.  When Bucky provided Stark a long list of names of HYDRA supporters in those areas, names that would have marked millions as enemies to be taken out, he went public with the information, turning attention towards the traitors who still hid openly in plain sight.  While Stark was the public face of the Avengers that handled this, Bucky was required to stay on the compound, wearing an ankle monitor to keep him there.  He was free but he was still confined.

The two super soldiers entered the common room, both fresh out of the showers after they ran close to 20 miles that morning.  As they helped themselves to the offerings of the breakfast buffet, then sat down at the large table, several others strolled in, having just awakened.

"We have a request from the legal team representing the families," said Tony Stark, entering the common room, looking like he had been up all night.  "Friday, display the request.  They wish to send another person to interview Bucky Barnes."

"Why?" asked Steve, looking up at the formal letter.  He frowned at the terse request.  "He already submitted everything he remembers.  What purpose would this serve?"

Tony looked briefly at Bucky, who sat quietly, as he often did at the compound, still trying to fit in there.

"Part of it is to question him themselves in a non-legal location so they can get an idea of what kind of man he is," he answered.  "That's what one of the lawyers admitted to me.  Personally, I think the woman they are proposing may be looking to find inconsistencies in his memories.  Our lawyers are insisting that anything he says to her would be inadmissible and unpublished by her in any way, shape or form."

"Is she a relative of one of the dead?" asked Bucky.

"No, she's not related to anyone," said Tony, bringing up a picture of a woman in her late twenties or early thirties, her dark hair cut in a stylish bob.  "Her name is Dr. Aline Clifton, a sociologist, PhD from Columbia University.  She's written several papers on the effects of imprisonment and torture on PoWs and kidnap victims.  Her papers have been ... interesting as she doesn't really come to any conclusions on whether a person can be forced to commit crimes when they are a prisoner, yet she appears to be sympathetic to those who have."

"Do I have to see her?"

"No, you're under no obligation.  It's just a request.  They would like an answer by tomorrow."

He nodded at Tony and got up from the table, leaving the rest of his breakfast untouched, followed by Steve.  Together, the two men went to Steve's quarters, which Bucky was sharing.  His nightmares occasionally needed an intervention from his friend.

"Why are they doing this?" he asked.  "She's the third one.  The first two concurred with my defence that I was in no position to counteract my programming.  I guess they didn't like hearing that.  Why do I have to go through this again?"

"You don't," replied Steve.  "It's just a request that you have already granted twice.  You don't have to see her."

"They'll twist that into saying I have something to hide.  I'll see her."

He left to tell Tony personally that he would agree to the meeting.  It wasn't like he was busy doing much else.

Two days later

It was stressful sitting in the conference room, waiting for the arrival of Dr. Aline Clifton.  Bucky had examined every vibranium plate in his left hand, tracing the seams between each section.  It was the equivalent of chewing his fingernails, which he had already done to his right hand.  He looked at the LED clock on the wall, noting it was only a minute since he last looked at it.  Then, with a sigh, he got up and went to the window, looking out over the nearby reservoir.  The waters looked so calm and peaceful, but he knew below that they were anything but, as currents drew the water towards the downstream dam that originally formed the body of water in the 1880s.  Hearing the door behind him open he was startled to see the woman in question standing in the doorway, alone.  She nodded her head at him, then entered, closing the door behind her.

"I'm Aline Clifton," she said.  "Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Barnes."

"Bucky is fine," he answered, then gestured to a chair.  "After you."

She sat, facing him as he sat across from her.  Quickly, he took in her appearance.  Her dark hair was cut in a modern style that accentuated her dark eyes and fine facial features, giving her an intensity that wasn't common on someone her age.  She had a septum piercing which drew his attention until he realized he was staring and looked away.  She smiled slightly at him, noticing his stare.

"A remnant of my youth," she explained.  "I embraced a goth lifestyle for a time.  There were many such piercings that I discarded over the years as I became more attuned to myself.  I keep this one as a reminder that everyone has issues, both exposed and hidden."

"I'm sorry.  That was rude of me to stare.  I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't and the sentiment is returned.  You're probably wondering why I'm here."  Bucky didn't answer.  "The truth is that I wished to meet you, and I put in a request to your lawyers, but they refused me outright.  So, I reached out to the lawyers of the families as I heard that two others approached you on a fact-finding basis.  I was hoping a third request would be accepted."

"I didn't hear about you until two days ago but now that you're here, you seem familiar.  We haven't met before." 

She shook her head; her mouth set in a grim line. 

"No, we haven't met but I did manage to be in the courtroom several times during your appearances.  Perhaps you remember me from that."

"Perhaps."  He caught himself staring again, trying to reconcile exactly where he knew her from.  "Why did you want to see me?  Everything that you see or read about me is true."

"I know, but I was hoping to provide you with some comfort, for lack of a better word."  She looked outside the window then, and he saw how she was choosing her words carefully.  "My whole career has been spent in studying individuals who were indoctrinated by others.  Some were subject to it by proximity; their parents were members of a cult, or they were looking for personal enlightenment at the hands of charlatans.  Others, like yourself, were captured, imprisoned, and tortured.  Sometimes, the treatment they received was just for the hell of it, to satisfy the sadistic desires of their captors.  Other times, it was with a purpose in mind, such as manipulating them into becoming agents or supporters of their cause."

"I didn't choose to be the Fist of HYDRA," interrupted Bucky.  "I was a prisoner of war, who was experimented on before my rescue, then I fell into their hands again, in a broken body that couldn't defend itself, and they continued the experiment for decades.  It was only Steve saying my name, and me recognizing him as being someone I once knew, that everything they did to me began to unravel."  He breathed out steadily.  "That's all public knowledge."

She nodded again, then looked out the window.  "Can we go for a walk and just talk?"

"I'm not allowed to be off the grounds."

"That's okay," she smiled.  "I just want to get out of here.  It feels confining."

He agreed, leaving the room with her, stopping to tell Steve and Tony they were going for a walk.  As they left, Tony looked at the pair and shook his head.

"There is something off about her.  I don't know what it is."

He whirled around, retreating to his lab while Steve stepped to the window and watched as Bucky and Dr. Clifton moved further away from the building.  Frowning, he went outside but hung back until he could barely see them, then he followed.

For some time, the couple didn't speak as they walked.  It was calming to Bucky then as they approached the path beside the reservoir, he put himself between Aline and the water, an action she noticed. 

"That's something that men of your time did, place yourselves between a woman and something that was a potential danger." 

"I guess the old habits came back quickly," he said.  "I can move to the other side if you want to be closer to the water."

"It's fine."  They walked a few more steps.  "Do you ever think of leaving?"

He stopped, frowning slightly at the question.

"No, I promised I would stay on the grounds until my case is decided.  I gave them my word."  He looked down at his ankle.  "They made me wear an ankle monitor but I wouldn't go back on my word.  I'm not that type of man."

"But if you could leave here, would you?"

"Not until my case is decided." 

"Did you try to leave HYDRA?" 

Ah, there was the question that was always asked.  It always came down to that.  So many of the politicians on the various committees that Bucky had appeared before had asked him the same question.  Why didn't he try harder to get away?  With a sigh, he answered.

"Many times.  They always found me, partly because they made me so dependent on them that I couldn't function in society anymore but also because I consistently tried to go home.  Even if I didn't consciously know that home was Brooklyn, a part of me knew and repeatedly headed there so they always knew where to find me.  The punishment for leaving was without exception worse than the time before.  You've read their files on me.  Do you really want me to say out loud what they did to me?"

Bucky stopped and looked at her, seeing the regret on her face.  Aline shook her head.

"No.  It was an obligation from the families' lawyers that I ask.  They are of the opinion that you could have left at any time, but you didn't because you were a believer.  They're surprised you don't try to leave now and go into hiding.  But you're done running, aren't you?"

He nodded, then looked out over the reservoir at the deceptively calm placid waters.  Even though he felt the anxiety and fear churning inside of him, he was still conditioned to display nothing on his face.  One of the psychiatrists he saw said it was a coping mechanism borne from years of abuse, a way not to give his captors a reason to hurt him any further.  Not that it ever really worked as HYDRA never saw him as human and most of his guards and handlers had strong sadistic tendencies that they expressed fully on him.

"Bucky, did any of your captors have families that you were aware of?"  Her voice was so quiet that it drew his attention to her face.  She was also looking out over the reservoir, her face an emotionless mask but he detected a note of anxiety in her voice.  "Were you allowed to interact with anyone outside of their duties?"

"No, although I did see children at times.  Most were told to avoid me, and I was ordered not to engage with them.  I wasn't seen as a person.  Just like most parents wouldn't let their kids play with weapons, I wasn't seen as being child friendly.  That's all I remember about that.  There are still a lot of missing memories."

Now she seemed distressed and wrung her hands a little.  Then she breathed out heavily and turned away from Bucky.

"I want to go back now, please," she said.  "I shouldn't have come."

"Okay," he replied, gesturing to her.  "Are you alright?"

"Yes ... no," she breathed out shakily. 

As they walked, he could see she was almost crying, and he reached out to touch her arm.  She pulled it away as if his touch was fire.  Then she shook her head and began walking quickly away from him.  He watched, concerned, then started following her.

Steve, who was close enough to see the expression on Dr. Clifton's face, frowned.  What happened that she looked like she was about to have a breakdown?  The sound of footsteps behind him made him look back to see Tony approaching.

"What's going on?" asked Tony. 

"I'm not sure.  She's walking fast and looks upset."

"Somehow I'm not surprised."  Steve's expression was curious to which Tony shrugged.  "I do know she wasn't completely truthful with us.  Bring her inside.  She has some questions to answer."

She came closer and made to walk right past them, but Steve reached out and grabbed her arm.  She pulled away briefly then stopped, breathing heavily.

"Please, let me go," she begged.  "I shouldn't have come."

"No," said Tony.  He nodded at Bucky who had just caught up.  "You owe Barnes some answers."

"I can't."  She shook her head, trying to pull away again, then began to hyperventilate.  "I can't do this."

"Do what?" asked Tony, staring intently at her face.  "Barnes is not the enemy, Dr. Clifton, but you already know that."

Agony was written on Aline's face as she looked everywhere until finally settling on Bucky again.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears.  "I'm sorry for what they did to you.  I could have told someone, but I was so afraid they would come for me ... please forgive me, please."

Burying her face in her hands, she slumped to the ground and bent over.  Bucky looked at Tony, questioningly, but he shook his head. 

"Give her a few moments then we'll go inside.  She can unburden herself in there."  He shook his head angrily.  "You and I weren't the only victims of HYDRA.  They hurt their own just as much."

It was several minutes before Aline was composed enough to go with them.  As they settled in the conference room, Tony poured a glass of water, placing it in front of the woman.  She smiled slightly at him then sipped it. 

"Where do you want me to start?" she asked.

"Allow me," said Tony.  He waved his hand, bringing up a holographic display.  "Alice Meyer, born April 10, 1985, the daughter of Dr. Ludwig Meyer and his wife Eloise.  Although you were born in Austria, your father worked in Siberia, in a HYDRA lab.  After a shipment of stolen serum was wasted on several individuals that became too violent to control, your father was transferred to a HYDRA lab outside of Washington, D.C.  You and your mother joined him.  You grew up in the small town that was built for the employees.  How am I doing so far?"

She swallowed nervously then nodded her head.  "I was seven years old when Mama and I arrived.  We lived a quiet life in Austria, seeing Papa every few months.  All I knew was that it was government work.  I wasn't allowed to ask about it and he never spoke of it when he was home.  But when we moved to the United States, it was like being dropped into the middle of a cult.  Everyone was HYDRA.  We woke up to the call of Hail HYDRA, on speakers throughout the town.  The only visitors that were welcome were other HYDRA followers.  Outsiders were made to feel very unwelcome and basically run out of town.  It was stifling and frightening all the time."

"You were HYDRA?" asked Bucky, a sense of anger in his voice.

"Not by choice," she answered.  "I soon learned that if I didn't display the proper attitude, I could expect punishment, both corporal and psychological.  It became easier to pretend that I belonged than to fight it.  My parents told me to go along with it, as my behaviour would reflect on them.  They used the Winter Soldier as an example of someone who didn't comply and look what they did to him."  She looked sadly at Bucky.  "You were the boogeyman, what we children were threatened with if we didn't behave and follow HYDRA's way.  Although my parents sometimes let slip that you were a prisoner, they never said you were being tortured or forced to do what you did.  Even when I heard the rumours of what was done to you, it was always explained that you deserved it for your crimes.  At that time, I thought my parents were good people caught up in an unpleasant situation, trying to get through the day without being punished in a similar way."

"What changed your mind?" asked Steve, sympathetically.

"September 11, 2001.  I was 16, in high school, a normal school, and all the TVs were tuned to the news, showing what was happening in New York.  It was frightening.  Who would do such a thing?"  She sipped some more water.  "The school bus took us home and it was like a party there.  Everyone was happy, hugging and laughing, celebrating this great moment for HYDRA.  I walked into the house and my parents both had a drink in hand.  No one else was there, so there was no need for them to pretend that this was anything other than a tragedy.  My father said it was a great day for HYDRA.  Now the world would know that they needed a firm hand on them to guide them properly."  She slumped a little and closed her eyes then opened them.  "I was staggered by their behaviour and for the first time in my life, realized that monsters had raised me.  It made me look at you, Bucky, with new eyes.  I noticed the bruises on your face, the way your hair wasn't tended to, of how they made you wear that mask and that heavy black clothing even on the hottest days of summer.  There was always a threat of violence around you, in the circle of people who surrounded you."

"You tried to run away," said Tony, bringing up a picture of her in her high school yearbook.  She looked like she was on the edge.  "You were screaming for help, but the police always returned you to your parents."

Aline nodded, transfixed by her high school photo. 

"HYDRA always tried to recruit from within," she said.  "Career day was a tour behind the scenes.  I saw Bucky in his cryogenic capsule, then we were shown the whole support team that went into reinforcing his missions.  It was like being in a nightmare and I wanted no part of it, but I couldn't say that as it would mean my own imprisonment and probable torture.  I was a coward."

"No, you weren't," said Bucky, quickly.  "Don't say that.  You were afraid with good reason.  How did you get out?"

"I took on a job as a driver," she said.  "We would be sent to safe houses to restock groceries, clothing, medical supplies, cash, false IDs, etc.  One day, they trusted me enough to go on my own.  I kept the money and staged an accident with the vehicle, made it seem that I drove it off a bridge to avoid an animal.  Then I went full goth makeup, clothing, and piercings.  I mentioned that to you, remember?"

He smiled at her and nodded his head.

"They found the car but never found my body.  I went to Canada, with a false passport for Aline Clifton, born in Montreal, May 12, 1986.  I registered in the sociology program at McGill University and got my bachelor's degree, then master's there and my PhD at Columbia, in New York, specializing in the indoctrination of prisoners of war, cult members and abductees.  Then I was offered a position at the university, where I was when you fought against Thanos.  They announced that Bucky was part of the force that fought against him, and that he was coming back.  I wanted to know for sure if what I always suspected was true."

"That he was coerced into it," said Tony.  "I had my doubts too, but the files and the videos were damning testimony against HYDRA.  They were monsters.  As much as I wanted to hate him for killing my parents I couldn't in good conscience do it.  I killed more people with Stark weapons than he ever did.  Yet, I'm supposed to be one of the good guys."  He smiled apologetically at Bucky.  "I'm sorry I tried to kill you.  You had no choice but to obey your orders when you killed my parents."

"I'm sorry I killed them, your mom, especially.  I'd give anything to see my mother again."

"You could always try binarily augmented retro-framing."

"Did it work for you?"

"Not really as it never really fixed my issues that I had with my dad before he died.  It was nice to see Mom again."  Tony huffed a little.  "Sorry, getting a little off topic.  Dr. Clifton, is there anything more that you want to say?"

"Yes, most of the legal team behind the families are connected to HYDRA," she said.  "I'm sure of it.  They want Bucky in prison and likely want him in a specific location where he can receive very special treatment."

"The words don't work anymore," said Bucky.  "Wakanda took their power away."

"They don't care," she answered.  "They'll try and keep trying to bring the Winter Soldier back.  They spent billions on you and you're the only one they had success with.  You're too valuable to give up on now."

"How do you know?"

"I'm a sociologist, trained to observe human behaviour.  I know how to question both perpetrators and victims of torture to get to the truth.  I know liars when I see them and all the tells of someone who is under stress.  I never told anyone about you before because I was afraid of them finding me and forcing me back but I'm not afraid anymore.  I'm not a monster but I know one when I see one.  You're not one, Bucky.  You never were."

A rush of emotion went through him, and he couldn't speak for a moment.  Then he whispered out a thank you and left with Steve, wanting to cry in the privacy of their shared quarters.  Aline looked at Tony.

"You're not a monster, either Mr. Stark," she said.  "I'll write down the names of the lawyers who are true believers.  Make sure they don't get away with this."

"I'll make sure," said Tony, sliding a virtual keyboard over to her.  "Just enter their names and Friday will investigate their backgrounds before I notify the proper authorities."  He watched her as she used the virtual device as if it were no big deal.  "Dr. Clifton, have you ever thought of working for an organization like the Avengers?  Your training would be a great asset to us."

"No, I like being a teacher," she replied.  "But I could visit on a regular basis, if you wish.  Say, once a month?  Maybe more, if circumstances permit?"

"That could work," said Tony, smiling at her as she stood up.  "Will you be alright?  I'm guessing this was the first time you disclosed your real past to anyone."

"Yeah, I think I will be," she said.  "It was freeing."  She looked towards the door.  "He really is a good man inside.  It was obvious to me very quickly that he still feels tremendous guilt for what they forced him to do.  A monster would feel nothing."

Tony walked her out of the building, then waved as she drove away.  He headed for his lab, but instead found himself in the residential part of the building.  Knocking on Steve Roger's door he looked past him when the door was opened.  Steve led him in to where Bucky sat at the couch, the thousand-mile stare on his face.  The man still carried so much on himself, and Tony knew that words alone weren't enough.  Standing in front of Bucky, he offered him his hand.  When Bucky took it, Tony pulled him up, then hugged him until he felt the other return it.  The tears followed and both men wept until they had nothing left.  Their visitor, Dr. Aline Clifton, was right.  Bucky really was a good man inside and so was he.

One Shots Masterlist

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[yellowocaballero]

absolutely adore all of the ncau and very excited for the rewrite (like legit i enjoy rereading it every couple of months and there are somany banger lines/scenes and cathartic moments and hot damn you write the clones so well and make genuinely amazing scenarios and asshole characters that are fun to love. your fox is one of my favorite characters in general.) but, what character is your favorite to write?

I AM TRYING SO HARD TO GET THE REWRITE OUT I AM TRYING SO HARD I AM TRYING SO HARD

I NEED TO TRY LESS HARD BECAUSE I STRESSED MYSELF OUT ABOUT IT SO MUCH THAT I WROTE A BOBA POV JUST IN SELF-DEFENSE AND

I love all of them. All the POVs are fun. Bly is really stand-out, because he breaks a lot of the rules of writing clones. Both he and Fox are very fun because they're so decidedly abnormal people, but Bly's maximalism and Fox's minimalism are both fun in opposite directions. Mace was really refreshing to write because he's a mature adult, but Depa was based off the AP honors student girls in high school and it was fun adapting that and showcasing a love for characters who don't get as much love. Neyo is fun because he's somehow very normal despite only doing batshit things. Boba is a lot of fun because he's so innocent and cute and yet somehow so demented. Omega is so much fun too, she's so genius and so baby.

Rex's POV wasn't fun to write because it was so unpleasant, but that was its own fun. Similarly, Obi-Wan's POV isn't fun to write because every sentence has a background depressing irony to it, but that's fun in its own way. The POV who is straight up unpleasant to write is Ben. Ben is miserable to write. This is because Ben is a fucking miserable person. He is miserable and mean. I can't even complain, I did this to him, I feel like a neglectful mother.

Thirty is obviously incredibly fun (space communist), as is Blanche (space jpoppie). Everyone's good there's a reason I wrote so much of this.

Every day is a struggle so here is some of the all-new Boba POV story under the cut. I have already written a story with a low-key running thread/joke/theme of Omega being the galaxy's first transgender cisgender person, and it was such an entertaining/interesting idea that I always wanted to do more with it. So for this story I was like Oh Boy It Would Be A Good Idea To Talk About How Queer Children Are Targeted By Fascism!!!! [metaphorical transphobic violence under the cut]

Boba could hear the sobbing from the other side of the door. It was an unfamiliar sound, and when he palmed the door open he was surprised to find a grim Kote already raising his hand to knock. His other hand was on Omega’s shoulder. Omega, who was sobbing hysterically. 

It took a ridiculous second to even recognize her. Omega’s thick and wavy hair was a ridiculously distinctive trait: not only dark blonde, but long enough to reach the nape of her neck. She had been growing it out ever since she saw a mother on a holo sitcom with long hair down to her waist, and she was very proud of it. Almost every inch of it was gone. 

Her hair had been sheared down to near regulation length, tufted and patchy. Parts of her head were almost bald, and other parts were long enough to awkwardly curl. It seemed as if a razor had attacked it from several awkward angles, uneven and careless. Boba had never seen Omega cry so hard. 

Kote gently pushed her inside, leaving Boba to take her and frantically pat her on the back. “Four Batch 1s cornered her in the fresher. Held her down and tried shaving it all off. I chased them off before they could finish. Can you report this to Prime? I have to get back to class.”

Dumbly, Boba said, “Did you beat up four Batch 1s by yourself?” The Batch 1s were almost at apex maturity, and Kote was still a teenager.

Kote just sneered. “They needed four people to attack one little kid. Of course they weren’t tough. Cowards never are.” Kote clapped a hand on Omega’s back, and Boba squeezed her in a tight hug. “Don’t let them see you cry, Omega. I have to go.”

Kote left as quickly as he came. He really must have been running late for class. Boba was left with an armful of an Omega crying so hard that she could barely breathe, and it took several minutes of rubbing her back before he could even get the story out of her. 

“They said that they were fixing my defect.” Boba had sat her on the couch and dumped all of his childhood stuffed animals on her lap. She was throttling that ancient fish plushie from Boba’s toddlerhood. It was missing a stone eye, but Omega didn’t seem to notice. “That I was embarrassing all of us with my shameful hair. And - and I said that I didn’t have to wear it regulation, but they didn’t care! They told me that I needed to learn my place, that a real clone wouldn’t brag about being defective, that - that - !”

Boba patted Omega on the arm as supportively as he could. “Did you fight back well?”

“How was I supposed to!” Omega cried. “They’re so big and I’m just a kid! It’s not fair! All I could do was bite them!”

“That’s not nothing,” Boba said encouragingly. “At least you didn’t embarrass yourself.”

Then Omega was wailing again, and Boba was left desperately messaging Dad before doing his own triage by hugging her and patting her on the back. None of it seemed to help. 

It felt like forever before Dad finally came home. He looked a little as if Boba had interrupted him in the middle of something important, but he was always doing something important so it was whatever. Boba had given him advance warning, but Dad was still visibly freaked out to see Omega crying. At least her sobbing had died down a little: she was just hiccuping and hitching wet breaths, occasionally taking a sip of water from the cup that Boba shoved at her. 

Dad walked in, looking Omega up and down. Omega visibly redoubled her efforts to stop crying. “That’s weird to see. You look like Rex now.”

“Rex is a boy!” Omega yelled, before breaking out into fresh tears. How much water could one clone have in their body?!

But Dad just sighed. He walked over and crouched in front of Omega, waiting for her to compose herself again. The full focus of Dad’s attention on her seemed to jolt her out of her renewed hysterics, and Dad waited until she calmed down again before he spoke. 

“What did you expect?” Dad said simply. Omega’s face fell tragically. “Stop crying. You accepted the risk of this happening when you chose to be different. You know full well how favorably your brothers look at clones who are different. Dented beskar gets hammered back into place, Omega.”

“I didn’t choose to be different!” Omega insisted. “I am different! Why should I pretend I’m not?”

“So you don’t get attacked in the fresher. So the other clones don’t ostracize and mock you. There’s a reason why Rex shaves his head. You get to do some of what you want, but you can’t do anything about its repercussions.”

“Galaxy’s not fair,” Boba said sympathetically. Dad said that all the time. Everyone in the room knew it. Maybe Omega knew it better than anyone. 

Omega’s jaw clenched, and for the first time she looked angry instead of heartbroken. Dad met her gaze evenly. “They’re punishing me for being a girl. I’m not ‘flaunting a defect’. I’m being me. I’m not like them. I’m not breaking any rules, so they don’t have the right to make me like them.”

“They don’t,” Dad said. “But that didn’t stop them, did it?”

“You could stop them, Dad,” Boba said eagerly. Maybe Omega was powerless, maybe the younger kids just had to put up with the older kids bullying them just because the older kids were stronger and higher ranking - but Dad was above all of that. Dad had the power to make anything happen. “Can’t you tell the clones to back off and let Omega be a girl?”

“I could,” Dad said. Boba brightened immediately, but Omega didn’t. She already knew how he would finish the sentence. “But I won’t. Orders from on high won’t change their minds or make them accept her. They’d just find other ways to put her back into place. You’ll just have to roll with these punches, kid.”

“I wish I was dead,” Omega said. It startled Boba way too much. He’d never heard anyone say that before. “I want to be dead.”

In that moment, Boba had to agree with Dad. If acting like a girl was making Omega so miserable, why couldn’t she act like a boy? Boba knew that Omega was happiest when she was doing girly things, but surely the pain of four boys attacking her in the fresher outweighed any happiness that the girly stuff brought. It seemed like a choice between a medium amount of misery and a lot of misery. Only one option made sense. But it wasn’t the option Omega chose. 

For the first time, Dad looked a little sad. He straightened, taking Omega’s hand and gently pulling her off the couch. “Let’s tidy this up. I’ll get my razor.” Omega looked up at him, question clear, and Dad shook his head. “We’ll have to shave the rest. Plenty of you keep it at that length. You should join them.”

“I can’t,” Omega muttered. She looked away, expression screwing up. “You think I haven’t tried…?”

Boba hovered near the doorframe of the fresher, watching Dad sit Omega on the toilet and tuck a cloth around her neck. Boba offered Omega ‘her’ stuffed Tooka - it was Boba’s, but he had munificently given her technical ownership of it - and she clutched it tightly as Dad spoke to her in a low voice. 

Boba wanted to know what he was saying, but he had the strange sense that it wasn’t for him. 

[emsgwenstan]

Personal or professional?

Chap 2 | chap 3 | chap 4

Larissa Weems x fem(carpenter/joiner) named reader.

Words: 2k

Warnings: panic attack, anxiety.

Note: what is violet making? Haha. God the obsession is becoming clear I’d say. X

———

Thursday came and went quickly, it’s currently Friday and 4 in the afternoon, with each passing day it seems to be getting colder and colder. Larissa sent me a screenshotted booking at a restaurant In Burlington reserved for 6:30, by the looks of it, its 5 star and very luxurious, she also said she’ll pick me up. I’m knocking off earlier than usual, hopefully finishing in half an hour. I sent her my address in return.

Im so excited, but I know it’s strictly a professional dinner between two adult woman, who might I add, has already shared an awkward moment that I can’t go back from. I’ll just pretend it never happened. But I wanted it to. I gathered the mahogany off cuts from the racks and placed them on my bench to start Monday, prepped the sandpaper and sander blowing out all the dust from the previous projects just to fill in time until I leave.

Dragging my bag slung over my shoulder and pulling out my hair tie to release the tension in my head, I turn off the lights and shut down the compressors finally leaving the vicinity until next week. Ducking out the front, I unlocked my car and threw in my belongings before starting the short 4 minute drive home. Regathering my things and making it to the front door I fumbled with the keys before dropping them to the ground. Not now. Short tempered me bent down, snatched the keys and practically ripped open the door.

Stepping inside placing my Keys in the dish on the hall stand, I took a deep breath trying to calm down. Wandering further into the house I made it to my room carelessly flinging my bag on the bed. I went looking for my tv remote to flick on for background noise, but of course it was no where in sight. 20 minutes of searching, I found it on the floor under my bed, irritated again, I put on a random movie and tore off my work clothes to have a shower and wash my hair, hopefully a scalp massage will help with my impending headache.

Stepping out and wrapping myself in a towel in front of the vanity, I wiped the mirror of steam just for it to re-form again, I used another towel to dry my hair as much as I could before blow drying it. My headache is mostly gone but I still have irritability in my system almost as if I’m on the verge of a panic attack, I can’t pin point the exact reason behind it, but I just need to push though and finish my hair and do my make up, I’m sure everything is going to be fine.

Doing the finishing touches on my makeup my hands start trembling wildly when I remember i haven’t eaten a thing today, probably just low blood sugar. Except my breathing becomes erratic, I walk out of the ensuite and sit on the edge of the bed for 5 minutes. Feeling up to it i pace to the dresser and pull out my underwear and slip them on and walk to my closet to find something to wear. I haven’t touched any of this for a very long time, I hardly remember what i have, most of my clothes are black with bits of burgundy and purples, possibly one or two things white or cream.

Dress after dress, skirt after skirt, blouses and pants strewn around my room and on the floor, not a fucking thing is right, isn’t what I want, doesn’t look right or good, fits weirdly. I hadn’t relised how much time i spent on looking and trying on clothes as there was a knock at the door, my stomach churned at the thought of not being ready for Larissa. I’m always on time, if not always early, I throw on a robe and hesitantly walk the length of the hallway to the door, I looked in the mirror on the wall seeing my eyes are bloodshot and a frown line indented between my brows, she’s going to be so disappointed in me.

Upon opening the door Larissa was breath taking, her hair styled in a low bun with her usual side part and dressed in a navy blue dress shorter than her normal work ones, white heels higher and a blue with white detailing coat to tie it all together, her lips painted in a darker shade of red as well as darker eyeshadow, also holding a small white purse. I could have collapsed at the sight of her, but knowing I have to face the inevitable disappointment, I clung to the door’s architrave.

“Violet… are you alright?” She asked concerned at my state. I let out a small huff annoyed at myself for causing a problem. I looked deep into her eyes telling her without words that I’m really not ok. “Come in.” I said opening the door widder for her to step in. She did, walking in past me she turned on the spot, observing, trying to understand the situation. I move toward her taking her wrist pulling her towards my room. Larissa took in the little bits she could view of my home, before I led her into the bedroom. I let go of her wrist and walked further into the messy room.

Turning to face her i splayed out my arms, gesturing to the state of everything. “None of it fits.” I said dropping my arms to my sides. “What do you mean darling?” She asked, still a little confused. “I mean every single thing in my wardrobe is to big, I haven’t a thing to wear.” I said, crouching down and pick the items of clothing off the floor angrily tossing them to the bed. Larissa walked a little further to bend at the knees and crouch down to take my hands in her own. “Violet.” She said. I didn’t stop, still trying to pick things up. “Violet stop sweetheart.” She gently commanded. At that I did, Larissa slowly stood pulling me with her and placing me down on my bed in a sitting position. She took to sitting beside me still holding my hands. “I’m sorry, I just- I just don’t have anything, I wanted to be ready before you got here an-.” I blurted. “It’s ok.” She said. “Don’t worry about it.”.

I sat in silence, until I could feel my nose go funny and my eyes starting to water. I’ll be damned letting Larissa see me cry. I shot up causing her to jump a little. “Just give me a minute sorry.” I shakily said walking briskly back into the ensuite and closing the door. I turned the tap on and looked at myself In the mirror, the tears flowing down my cheeks and a sob trying to crawl it’s way up my throat, I cover my my mouth trying not to make a noise. I was in there for about a minute not wanting to keep her waiting, cleaning the tears that have slightly ruined my make up and made mascara run all the way down my neck, I pat myself with the edge of a hand towel, turning off the tap and plastering on a smile, I re-opened the door to find Larissa had picked up most of the clothes on the floor.

She faced me with a sympathetic smile and tossed the shirt she was holding on the bed before coming up to me and stopping. Extending her hand up to my face she used the pad of her thumb to wipe a smudge of black from the corner of my eye, she used her other hand to cup my cheek and pull me into a hug. It’s been so long, it’s been so so long, I’ve missed this. Her hand wrapped around the backs of my shoulders and one on my head. I exhaled before breathing her back in, her scent, her perfume, her smell.

I pulled away not looking at her, feeling like it’s enough physical touch for now, how is it I’ve known Larissa for less than a week and she already feels like home, I don’t understand. “Just give me a moment, Ill actually put clothes on.” I said pulling out a sweater and sweat pants from the pile. Turing around I walked back towards the door stopping outside it telling her to make herself comfortable in the lounge room and I won’t be long.

Larissa complied and took a seat on the couch, she absorbed her surroundings, taking in my own decor, the large book shelf full of books, the arm chair in the corner with a tall lamp standing beside it, the large fire place with a big dark green and tan rug resting in front of it, the vaulted ceilings and simple yet elegant light hanging from one of the beams. Moving on the spot, was the kitchen behind her, the black marble bench tops secured to forest green cupboards and the same for the overhead cabinets with glass pains in the doors and little plants next to the sink in the island bench. She saw a lot of me in the rooms and smiled at the thought.

I opened the door stepping out in the old baggy clothes. Sitting next to Larissa I stared at the flames flickering within the fireplace. “I’m so sorry Larissa I didn’t plan this, I should have bought something yesterday.” I said. “What do you have?” She asked. I shifted to face her. “What?” I wondered. “What do you have in your pantry, I’ll cook something for us?” She questioned. I sat there looking at her wondering why the hell she hasn’t left angry yet. “I don’t care about going. I just hope your ok, would you like me to stay?” It was silent before I whispered. “Yes.”. Larissa pulled out her phone and obviously cancelled the booking.

I got up and opened the pantry, I could hear Larissa’s shoeless feet pad behind me and come to a stop. I took a step back letting her look for herself. She seemed to pick out a pack of fettuccine and a few things like crushed tomatoes, garlic, onion and herbs, stepping back she placed the ingredients on the bench. “Up for spaghetti?” She asked, I smiled and turned to the freezer and picked out a pack of mince. “And meatballs?” I asked. Larissa chuckled “and meatballs.” She replied.

Standing in the kitchen together was nice. She took the reins and somehow managed to make her way around, finding all the utensils, pots and pans she needed. I sat on top of the bench watching her flit about, I did ask if she wanted help but Larissa declined the offer. After a while I could tell she was getting hot and grabbed her shoulder spinning her around to face her back towards me as I peeled off her coat, Larissa let out a breath. “Thank you, I was getting a bit hot.” She laughed. I folded the coat and hopped off the bench to lay it on the back of the lounge. Walking back I stood beside her at the stove. “You know for some who has a big kitchen and makes them for a living, I hate cooking.” I stated, chuckling looking at her side profile. A grin spread across her face.

Larissa stepped back and leaned against the island bench with her hands clamped to the edges, she observed my jumper with a smirk. “Do I have something on me, is it stained?” I asked looking for possible marks. “No it’s just, the Colour… it’s violet.” She giggled. “Oh shut up.” I said rolling my eyes. “Anyway.” I started. “How was work today?” She took a moment to visibly recall her day. “It was… something.” She trailed. “I had detention with a group of four boys and it seemed to have turned into a therapy session. It was so odd, but very eye opening I guess, I didn’t expect it in the slightest.” She finished. “Wow, headmistress and therapist. What else?” I asked spinning around to pull out two wine glasses from the cabinets above me. Larissa shook her head and let out a little tsk. “God knows, I’m constantly surprised at the things that go on in my life.” She said.

“Are you a wine person by any chance?” I asked temporarily off topic. “Yes.” She answered. “Red, white or rosé?” I asked placing the glass on the counter. “Red, please.” Larissa hadn’t noticed the wine rack under the bench she was leaning against, I bent down and was just about eye level with her abdomen when I pulled out a bottle beside her. “So constantly on your toes than?” I asked referring back to the initial conversation. “Always. I think my job is easier when I have students that are troubled and I can connect with them about something so small, that gives them a sense of reassurance their not alone. It also feels less dawning on me, just so I don’t seem annoying to get them to open up.” She ended. I passed her a glass and watched her take a sip, her eyes involuntarily closed and she let out a small hum at the taste. I could feel my cheeks heating.

“That’s good than, I love kids, all ages to. I have a niece and she’s four I love her to death, I loved her mom and other auntie to bits to when they were kids.” I said reminiscing when Louise and jade were little. “Oh you have siblings?” She asked. “You don’t?” I asked back. “No, only child I’m afraid.” She said taking a sip and placing the glass back on the counter to tend to the stove and turn it off. “Well technically, their my half siblings on my dads side, but I will still call them my sisters no matter what. I mean I practically raised them.” I said pulling out two plates and cutlery. “So your the eldest I presume?” She asked dishing up the plates. “Yeah, I was ten when the first was born and twelve with the second.” I said picking up the plate. “Do you mind if we sit in the lounge room? Is so cold in the dining.” I asked. “Of course.” She said picking up her plate and wine glass, I did the same and placed my own glass on the floor plucking two cushions from the couch and tossing them on the floor for us to sit on.

“So where are they now?” She asked, digging into her food. “About 5 hours away.” I said. “So your not from Jericho?” She questioned. “No I moved here about 15 years ago.” I said not elaborating on why. “How is it I haven’t seen you around before?” She asked. “I don’t get out much.” I answered, beginning to eat my dinner. Fuck it was good, Larissa knows how to cook. For a while we just sat and ate, I stoll glances of her and tried so hard to not make it as though I was staring.

Our dishes discarded on the the floor and legs tucked behind ourselves, Larissa broke the silence. “I hope it was ok for me to stay, you could have told me to leave if you wanted to be alone.” She said peering over at me. The fire light was licking at her skin so beautifully, the glow made her look even more incredible. “I would have if I didn’t want you here.” I said sincerely. Larissa looked at her watch and her face contorted into a sad expression. “It’s getting quite late I should probably go soon, I’ll help tidy the kitchen.” She said. “No don’t even think about it, I can do that, you’ve done enough already, I appreciate the offer though.” I said. Larissa looked away for a moment, but her eyes fell upon a book I had resting on the small coffee table beside the lounge.

“Is that the book you bought the other day?… may I?” She asked gesturing towards it. “Yeah go ahead.” She pulled the book toward herself and flipped open to the page that had a bookmark wedged with it. “For eternity, the most beautiful things to me about you, are the things you won’t ever know about yourself. Things only I know of, because everyday I read you like a book that has never been read. Your beautiful cover with your inspiring title and amazing story held captive my curiosity. Now everyday I yearn to learn from your mystery.” I watched as she was reading, her eyes scanning through the piece of literature and her red lips forming the words, I had in fact already read that particular poem, but when it came from her I felt like I could just float into an abyss somewhere, I could hear it forever. I could hear her forever.

“I like that.” She said softly, she flipped the page back and read a couple more silently, before closing it and resting it back on the table. Larissa slowly stood and picked up my plate taking it with her back to the kitchen. I rose slowly having to hold onto the couch for support, work has really taken a toll on my body. Larissa came back to toe on her heals and rounded the lounge to meet me holding out her coat for her to slip back into. “I’ve had a wonderful evening Violet.” She said looking into my eyes. “Ditto… and I’m sorry again, but I’m sure your cooking was better than what that restaurant had to offer anyway.” I said with a smile. “Thank you, it was quite good wasn’t it?” She said with a self satisfactory smirk. “Absolutely delicious, are you going to be alright driving home, not tipsy are you?” I asked. “No I have an impeccable tolerance, thanks for the concern.” She said pulling out her keys from her pocket.

I lead Larissa to the door and open it for her. We both stood awkwardly in the doorway waiting for each other to say something. “Thank you again for the wonderful evening vi. I’ll be seeing you soon I hope.” Vi, oh my god, my nickname, this along with darling and sweetheart, I may faint. “Yes I’ll let you know when I’m ready to install at the school. I have something else for you to.” I said. “Really, what is it?” She questioned. “Uh uh, it’s a surprise, be patient and you’ll see.” I remarked with a sickeningly sweet tone. Larissa laughed and nodded. “Ok than.” She jested. Another stretch of silence radiated between us. Larissa leaned forward and without thinking of what was going on I stood completely still, she kissed my cheek and winked, Larissa without a word stepped out of the threshold and paced to her car.

Opening her door, she looked back at me. “Excuse my language, but it’s fucking freezing.” She called out. I just about died laughing, causing her to giggle. “It’s ok, I mean it is really fucken cold.” I said mocking her, crossing my arms to somehow get warmer. Larissa took the opportunity to slide into her car and turn it on, reversing out I could just make out her hand waving goodbye as she drove off. I returned the wave and closed the door locking it behind me. A feeling of emptiness washed over me as I wandered back into the kitchen, I gathered all of the dishes and put them into the dish washer and wiped down the benches.

A yawn escaped my mouth when I threw on another piece of wood on the fire, walking to turn off all the lights and make my way to my room, my eye was caught by Larissa’s purse resting on the floor next to the cushion she was sat on. I picked it up and smiled at the label Dior of course. Hesitantly I opened it and saw the contents within, a lipstick, wad of cash and a small vile of perfume. The perfume was the only thing that interested me, I wanted to smell her, feel close to her, closer than I know we’ll ever be.

I’ll find time to return it to as soon as I can possibly tomorrow, but for now I’m going to bed, my cold, empty and lonely bed.

@lex13cm @im-a-carnivorous-plant

@barbarasstar @giogwensversion @sabraaabra

[kimsohn]

haywire

pairing . juyeon x gn! reader (ft. karina of aespa) about . 1.5k words, fluff warnings . juyeon is pretty ooc (i had the urge to make him a hot beach boy sorry), very detailed description of him bc y/n is down bad (this isn't suggestive i just explained things in detail), y/n is also a little bit of an idiot, cursing

synopsis . public showers are the bane of your existence, but maybe you have to reconsider after seeing the eye candy next door. note. this is heavily inspired by juyeon's shower scenes in lip gloss!! (tysm to jacobblr for these gifs, view them in order as you read! 1 2) this was meant to be a drabble but i got carried away, hence the length. enjoy the physical hotness that is juyeon 💗

You have come to the conclusion that sand is magical.

Seriously, how is it that so much still remains on you after you've been furiously rubbing it off for the past 30 minutes? It's like glue is attached to the particles, because either it's not coming off or you're just a complete idiot (it's probably the latter).

"Y/N, the only way that sand is going to come off is with a shower." your friend Karina states, packing up the umbrella covering you two, "Stop trying so hard or you're going to get a towel burn. Is that what it’s even called? It’s definitely not a carpet burn…"

You sigh as you cut out her rambling, knowing that her words are correct and that you're simply choosing to ignore them because of your dislike for public showers. They're out in the open, extremely inefficient, and who knows how many people have stood on the nasty tile, but it's either that or ruining Karina's convertible with sand.

"Fine. I'll be back in ten."

Grabbing the towel, you make your way up the sand, spotting the metal showerheads in the distance. Wearing your flip-flops was useless because the sand still manages to make its way between your toes, and now it's an extra hassle to clean them and walk with the dripping water and squeaky noises. However, you would do anything to not feel the weird flooring of the showers, even if that meant dealing with the annoyance on your feet.

You hope for the best and make your way toward the first one, and to your luck, it’s empty. Thank heaven you don't have to make awkward eye contact with the other people showering. Plus, the handle is extendable, so you can properly rinse the sand off without leaving anything behind. As much as you hate to admit it, Karina was right: the shower can do so much more for you than a towel.

Once you're done double and triple washing the grit off your body, you turn off the shower and quickly dry yourself. The beach breeze has you shivering so you move fast, but to your utter dismay, the towel isn't enough to clean you entirely. It becomes fully damp only halfway through, and the rest of your body feels like it's in the Arctic Pole with the way your goosebumps prickle.

However, before you can freeze to ice, your lucky brain registers the shower running next to you. Maybe they have a spare towel, or at least something to dry you off, but as you walk around to ask, you stop in your tracks.

Your whole body feels numb now because the man standing in front of you is short-circuiting your brain. The shower sounds fade out behind you and all you can hear is the soft dangle of his silver bracelet when he moves his hand, and the water dripping from his sharp chin. He's washing his neck and it's doing absolutely nothing to help because his muscles are flexing, and the water from his hair is dripping onto his beautiful face, long fingers, thin black necklace, and… his chest. His goddamn chest. He's wearing a white tank but it's useless because the water is making it incredibly see-through, and you have to stop tracing his abdomen with scrutiny before you pass out. You have the thought that you should probably stop looking before you die of heatstroke and not your goosebumps, but even his hair is too beautiful to look away from.

I can't believe even hair can be this sexy.

"Hm?"

You watch in horror as he looks up to meet your gaze, and his feline-shaped eyes make you lose your senses for a couple of moments. Then you’re realizing the silence and the stare, and it finally hits you that you said those words out loud. You're in deep shit because now he probably thinks you're a freak, which probably means you have zero chance of getting a towel and maybe some decent eye candy too.

"Um, I’m so sorry. I did not mean to call your hair sexy—"

"Thanks, I guess? No one's ever told me that before."

His face shifts into a small smile, and you're absolutely fucked because his eyes crinkle and all you're reminded of is a cute little cat. How did he go from charming to sweet in five seconds? You blame it on the dimples. Or the eye mole.

"You're... welcome?" you say, scratching your neck awkwardly, "Sorry, I just came here to ask if you had a spare towel."

"I do actually," he says, turning off the water and handing you a fluffy white towel, pure like his endearing smile.

You mutter thanks, quickly wiping the remaining water droplets on your skin, but by now you don't even feel cold anymore because of the man standing in front of you. He's too hot to handle, quite literally, and if it weren't for the fact that you just took a shower, you'd probably be sweating. If you knew public showers contained fine specimens, you wouldn't have held a grudge for so long.

"Thank you again, um..."

"Juyeon."

You stare at the towel in your hands.

"No seriously, I'm sure I would've frozen if it weren't for you," you respond, clearing your throat, "if you want, I can wash this towel for you. It would be no problem at all, really, I can give it back to you the next time you're at the beach."

He hums in thought, grabbing his phone.

"Or you can just give me your number. You can text me back when it's clean and we can meet up somewhere. You live in the area, right?"

Is this gorgeous man actually asking you for your number? You try and convince yourself that this isn't romantic at all and that he's just trying to make this convenient for you. Why would he even like a creep spying on him showering, right?

"Yeah, sure!" you ask, punching in your number, "Do you want me to save my contact with just my name? I can add beach towel weirdo after it."

You’re going to murder your brain and its impulsive thoughts, and maybe even your loud mouth. You probably shouldn't have asked that because he can add a degrading nickname by himself, but he's currently drying his hair with another towel and he looks so attractive that you don't want him to stop. Maybe if hot men didn't reduce you to shambles, you'd actually be in a relationship by now.

He chuckles, and you're hoping he isn't making fun of you inside his head. However, he just shakes his head no, flinging the towel over his shoulder.

"Just your name. You can add a little heart after it if you'd like."

"A heart? Why?" you voice out, or at least you try to with the best of your ability because your throat suddenly feels parched.

"Cause you're cute. I don’t just ask everyone who borrows a towel for their number, you know."

"Oh." you whisper, and maybe it's finally time to listen to the delusion in your brain, "So you suggested meeting up later so you can... see me again. Romantically."

"You're a little silly, you know? It’s okay though; it’s adorable."

"I'm sorry, it's just, you make me a little lightheaded. I'm so much more composed normally, promise."

"Don't worry," he grins, poking your cheek, "I like you when you're flustered. I'd love to see more of it, but only if you want to, of course."

Before you can even respond, you’re interrupted by yelling from the distance.

"Y/N!" you hear, and you both turn to see Karina waving at you from her convertible, "What's taking you so long?"

You turn back to him hurriedly, not knowing what to say. The whole situation already feels like a dream, and you’re scared it’ll fade away as soon as you acknowledge it, or even worse, simply be some form of amusement to him. You’re hoping that you’re not just a joke to him.

"Um, I have to go," you whisper, clutching onto the towel, "but yeah, I'd love to, um,"

"Go on a date with me?"

"Yes. That."

You wave quickly, your brain going a little too haywire to say anything more, and you rush to Karina's car. She's staring at you with a raised eyebrow, but you don't answer because what you hear next resolves any questions she has.

"Text me later, pretty!" Juyeon shouts from the shower, and you feel like the ground is going to swallow you whole as Karina's eyes widen.

It definitely doesn’t seem like it’s a prank anymore. Not when he’s announced his interest for the whole beach to hear.

"Tell. Me. Everything."

"Well," you start, hearing her rev up the vehicle and the wheels start turning, "he's really hot, for one. Also, he asked me on a date. Am I dreaming?"

"See, this is why I’m always right. I told you the shower was a good idea!"

"Yeah,” you respond, leaning back in your seat, “I just didn't know it would be this good."

[celestiall0tus]

Court of Miracles - Chapter 14 - Emergency

Beginning || Previous || Next

            Luka groaned as he moved. He raised his hand to his head as he opened his eyes. He gasped as he saw the black and purple hair that covered his forearms. Panic set in as he looked down at his legs to see a pair of black goat legs like a satyr. A gasp escaped him as he made a goat bleat. He covered his mouth and felt the beard scruff now on him.

            “Oh, thank goodness. You’re awake,” Marc said.

            Luka looked over as Marc knelt beside him. He tilted his head as Marc reached out and hesitated to touch him several times.

            “Is everything ok, Marc?” Luka asked.

            Marc’s face flushed. “Huh? Oh. Oh! Y-yeah. Just… trying to be respectful.”

            “Respectful? What do you mean?”

            “Uh, well, you see… you… I just… I can show you. Uh, do you… do you need help standing?”

            “Please.”

            Marc held a shaky hand out for Luka, who took it. Luka staggered up to his feet. He took an awkward half-step and tripped. He collided with Marc and sent them both to the floor. He gasped and pushed himself up as he looked down at Marc’s red face. He opened his mouth when a sensation washed over him. It was sweet, yearning, and tantalizing. It awoken a strange hunger that wasn’t there before. A hunger that demanded he gorge himself on this feeling.

            Luka looked down at Marc with lited eyes. He reached a hand up to Marc’s chin when Marc’s eyes widened, and he scrambled out from under Luka.

            “Gotta go! Meeting. Here. Mirror wall!” Marc blurted.

            Luka lingered a moment longer after the door slammed and Marc left. The sensation waned, but the hunger remained. He knotted his brows as he looked up at the wall Marc warped. His eyes widened seeing the chiseled, muscular body he sported instead of the lanky one. Hair covered his neck, part of his shoulders, and down a small length of his torso before it petered out. His long hair was cut short to a shaggy mess that sported a pair of ram horns with a pair of red amber eyes in the mess of it all.

            “Look who’s finally awake,” Ziggy said.

            Luka startled as Ziggy materialized. His eyes widened seeing her dressed in a black halter crop top with a large boob window, skin tight black pants, and thigh-high black boots. She leaned against Marc’s desk as she tossed an apple about.

            “Ziggy? Shouldn’t you be with Jagged?” Luka asked.

            “Not anymore. My place is with the shifter and newest heir,” Ziggy announced.

            “Heir?”

            “Right-o. You’re the goat heir now. Velze’s word, Luka.”

            “What about the snakes?”

            “Ten guesses who Velze named.”

            Luka’s eyes widened as they sparked with hope. “So, what now?”

            “Now your little cicada is going to announce you to the whole court, Jagged joins the Elders, and you’re stuck with me.”

            “That’s… not so bad. Could you help me, please?”

            Ziggy nodded and helped Luka up. She showed him how to walk as a satyr and helped him along until he got the gist of it.

            “So, how’s it feel to be one of us?” Ziggy asked.

            “It’s… different. Uh, would that happen to be one of your apples, Ziggy?”

            “Why, yes. You hungry?”

            Luka nodded. Ziggy tossed him the apple and he took a large bite out of it. She watched him devour the apple and the puzzled look when he was still hungry.

            “You seem confused. Still hungry?”

            “Yeah. Are you sure it was one of your apples? I had your food before. Horribly tempting, but also filling.”

            “You saying the apple wasn’t tempting?”

            “No. It still was, but I’m still hungry. When I’ve had your food before, I felt full after just one bite, but not this time.”

            “Consider it the first of many changes, Luka. We’ll cover them shortly, but we need to get you ready to be presented as the goat heir. Let me just.”

            Ziggy trailed off as she snapped her fingers. Luka turned human with the new muscular body, shaggy black and purple hair, red amber eyes, and ram horns. He looked at himself in the mirror in his old snake-themed clothes. She stepped into the mirror and curled her lips.

            “Oh, that won’t do. What is this?”

            “What’s wrong with it?”

            “Let’s see, the snake details, its far too modest for that of revelry, especially a shifter. Nope, we do this first.”

            “I don’t think-,” Luka started.

            “Hush! You are to be presented as my heir. You must look the part, Luka. Now, relax, and allow me to work my magic.”

~~

            Adrienne took her seat in the council room with the rest of the heirs. She drummed her fingers against the table while the other heirs chattered amongst each other. She scanned the room for any sign of Luka or Sass but didn’t see either. She bristled when she saw Anarka stand at the end of the table near Jagged.

            “What is she even doing here?” Adrienne hissed.

            “Well, this is a decision in terms of the snake heir, right? She would need to know if she’s joining the Elders,” Mylene whispered.

            Adrienne’s breath caught. She had forgot that it wasn’t fully officialized that Luka was the snake heir or that Anarka was to join the Elders. Was this more than just Juleka’s behavior? If it was, then where was Luka? Where was Juleka? She frantically looked around again when Marc took his seat.

            “Greetings, everyone. Uh, I have… lots of news. Uh, I just… I don’t know where to start,” Marc stammered.

            Felix rolled his eyes. “We’ve talked about this Marc. Just say it.”

            Marinette lightly swatted Felix’s shoulder. “Leave the poor thing be. Can’t you see he’s under a lot of pressure right now. It almost makes me wonder what happened.”

            Marc tensed up at Marinette’s knowing, mischievous look. “R-right. Well, we have a… we have a lot of news. Uh, first, and to get it out of the way. Velze declares that Juleka will not be punished. He also declares that the idea of weaving traditional customs with new ones that Psyche and Ondine pushed is allowed so long as the new customs reflect what is being celebrated.”

            Murmurs of approval passed through the court while Ondine frantically waved her hand around.

            “Yes, Ondine?” Marc asked.

            “Can I help with some of the new customs, pretty please?”

            “Y-yes. I would suggest you work with Juleka on that.”

            Ondine grinned and bounced. “Oh, I will. I can’t wait.”

            “Which, speaking of Juleka, where is she?” Marc asked.

            “Still in the greenhouse, locked away where she belongs,” Anarka blurted.

            Marc gave a nervous chuckle. “R-right. Uh, well, we’ll just make sure the news gets back to her. But! There’s been another decision made.”

            “What decision?” Felix demanded.

            Marc took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Juleka has been named the snake heir by Velze himself.”

            The court erupted into chatter while Anarka’s face fell.

            “What do you mean she’s been named the heir? What about Luka?” Anarka demanded.

            “A-about that. You see-,”

            Marc was cut off when Ziggy materialized in the center of the table.

            “Ziggy? Where’ve you been?” Jagged asked.

            “I’ve been preparing something special, and I want to be the first to invite you all to a special party tonight. In honor of a special pair of someones that are worth celebrating!” Ziggy announced.

            “Hell yeah! Who are these people?” Jagged cheered.

            “Our lovely snake heir, Juleka, and, presenting my newest heir declared by Velze himself, Luka Stone!” Ziggy cheered as she pointed towards Marc.

            The court gasped as they turned to look where Ziggy pointed. Luka stood between Marc and Nathaniel. Adrienne’s jaw dropped as she took in Luka’s new appearance. He was a whole head shorter than he was before and his beautiful long black and turquoise hair gone for a rough, glorious mess of black and purple with ram horns tangled in there. His simple snake clothes traded out for a black studded cropped leather jacket, his chiseled, muscular chest bare except for a set of black studded harness straps that hugged his breasts, a pair of belts crisscrossed over his hip, black pants, and knee-high biker boots with purple laces.

            Adrienne gawked at Luka’s new form as she fought with her own feelings. She had loved the Luka that was a snake. The tall, lanky, awkward man with the long hair he cared poorly for. This Luka that was smaller, toned, and sexualized felt alien to her. She was still drawn to him, but she wasn’t sure if it was because it was her Luka, or because of some other reason. Her mind raced with questions until she moved to stand but was grabbed by Wayhem. She gasped as he yanked down on her arm.

            “You’re not going to him, are you?” Wayhem hissed.

            Fear tore through Adrienne. “I-!”

            Adrienne was cut off by Jagged’s whooping and hollering. She chanced a glance as Jagged ran up and hugged Ziggy and Luka.

            “This is amazing! Look, Penny, I have an heir! We don’t have to worry about fucking to get me an heir.”

            Luka cringed at the thought while Penny’s shoulders dropped but she forced a smile.

            “B-but, Jagged, sweetie, what about an heir for me?” Penny pressed.

            “Ah, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. I’m sure there’s someone who likes that fat ass of yours. If not, maybe you’ll get lucky and Velze will just name a new heir. Sure, it’d be Lowborn, but that’s standard now, right?”

            “Jagged, that’s-,” Luka started.

            “Ah, this isn’t about her or me, it’s about you! And Juleka too, but she’s not here. And tonight we’re going to celebrate! And you’ll all invited!” Jagged declared.

            “Oh, Jagged, one more thing. Luka’s a shifter just like Juleka,” Ziggy commented.

            “He’s what?” Felix demanded.

            “He’s shifter?” Marinette asked.

            “Prove it!” Wayhem ordered.

            Ziggy shot Wayhem the side eye while Luka looked at him and Adrienne. His eyes never left Adrienne as Ziggy used her powers to shift him into satyr form. Adrienne’s eyes widened seeing his satyr form. She glanced over him but found herself on his eyes full of despair and were pleading. Guilt gnawed at her as she broke free of Wayhem, ran up to Luka, and threw her arms around him as Ziggy reverted his form.

            “Is it really still you? Are you still the Luka I know?” Adrienne begged.

            “Why would I change just because I’m a goat instead of a snake?” Luka asked.

            “I just… you’re so… different. I just-,” Adrienne started.

            “Oh, please. You must just be foaming at the mouth over all this, Adrien. What would you want more than a more attractive toy to play with?” Felix mocked.

            “How dare you! I-!” Adrienne attempted.

            “I agree with Felix. We all know better, Adrienne. You don’t love anyone in this court. We’re all just your playthings. This false concern you share for Luka is sweet, but you aren’t fooling anyone. Especially me,” Wayhem added.

            “I-,” Adrienne said.

            Jagged pulled Luka away from Adrienne and glared at her. “I have to also agree. I didn’t care too much when he was a snake because snakes, but he’s a goat now. We can’t be held back by one creature, and that’s all you’ve done. Well, that arrangement ends now.”

            Luka sneered, grabbed Jagged, and threw him against the wall. The court gasped while Luka scooped Adrienne up in his arms. Everyone gawked while he glared at everyone with dark, dark eyes.

            “Enough! All of you! Do you fucking hear yourselves? Do any of you have any right to fucking judge Adrienne or myself when none of you are any better? Do you all seriously want to air all your dirty laundry that I’ve had to listen to as a lowly little snake therapist?”

            Silence.

            “I didn’t fucking think so. Then let’s get one thing fucking straight. Adrienne is my partner. I love them more than anything and I’m fucking sick of you calling me their toy, their prize hoe, and whatever else. They are my partner, and I love them! If you cannot or won’t respect that, then fuck around and find out fuckers!”

            Silence.

            Luka snorted and left with Adrienne in his arms. Adrienne curled up in his arms and nuzzled her head in the nape of his neck. He carried her back to her residence in the peacock district to their room. He set her down on the chaise and knelt in front of her.

            “Are you ok?” Luka asked.

            “You… you stood up to the entire court. I… I never thought you would do that. Not that I’m complaining or upset with before, but I never thought I’d see it.”

            Luka chuckled and looked at the floor. “I didn’t expect it either. I just… I got angry. I’ve been angry before, but not like this. It was all-consuming and hard to contain. I tried to maintain some composure, but seeing you in pain hurt me all the more. I couldn’t keep up appearances at that moment. I had to let it out. I’m sorry.”

            Adrienne slid from the chaise into Luka’s arms. “Don’t apologize. I… I’m still shaken by it and worried how it’ll come back to me. I mean, you know how my parents are and… and the Elders, but I’m just glad not to hear any more of that today.”

            Luka looked up at Adrienne with the same dark, dark eyes that were now full of sorrow and regret, but something Adrienne wasn’t familiar with.

            “Luka, are you ok?”

            “Huh? Oh, just… just tired, I guess. This whole everything has been… draining.”

            “Luka, why did you do it? Why did you change like this? And why didn’t you tell me first?”

            “I… I’m sorry. I just… I felt awful. I felt useless. I felt powerless. Anarka wanted me to stay as the snake heir, but I knew I wasn’t suited to be the snake heir. It didn’t fully hit until I ran into Ondine and spoke with her. Well, I talked, and she listened. Hearing my own words and considering her questions, I saw the truth of it. Then I looked into the waters of the swans and saw my soul was a goat, not a snake. That’s when she told me about Velze changing hybrids like me to be the other half of their blood. I just figured it was the best for the snakes, Juleka, but most of all… myself.”

            “Oh. Well, I can’t fault you for that, but it is… difficult. I admit, I’m worried you’ve changed from the Luka I fell in love with, and I’m scared. I love you and I don’t want to lose you.”

            Luka held Adrienne close. “My darling peacock, my beautiful, handsomest creature, I could become a different person to the world, to those that never mattered, but I will always be the Luka you fell in love with. The man whose heart will always belong to you and you alone.”

            Tears welled in Adrienne’s eyes. “Even… even as others will pursue you and fight over you now as a goat? To seek out your companionship? Even then?”

            Luka smiled softly. “Adrienne, have you forgotten already? We promised each other that our bodies could be shared, but our hearts would always belong to just us. That didn’t change then, and it won’t change now. Even if the entire court wants a little slice of me, you’ll always have the whole cake.”

            Adrienne giggled and then smirked. “Perhaps I could get a little sample?”

            Luka grinned and kissed Adrienne. A delightful shock passed through her as she melted against Luka. He pulled back as she moved closer for another kiss but stopped as their lips grazed each other’s. She locked eyes with him and saw a spark of light and a hunger she was familiar with.

            “Would you like another sample, or the whole cake?” Luka teased.

            Adrienne grinned. “You delightful tease. I’ll take the whole cake, but don’t forget the extra frosting.”

            Luka snorted and laughed before he kissed Adrienne.

            Adrienne smiled and sighed. She held Luka closer with each kiss. Pleasure flooded her as he explored further, and her worries seemed miles away. Bliss warmed her as she happily surrendered herself.

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[quiet-admirer]

I got an ID photo taken today and it was an entire experience that I needed to write out. I think it wants to be a zine or part of a zine or a loose comic or something, but I don't have zine energy right now and I don't know when I will, so I'm just posting it like this:

Badge

Today I had my photo taken for a new ID badge at work.

I didn’t necessarily need a new photo: I’m transferring to a new position internally, and could have used the one my employer has on file, but the old one was from 2017 and it felt like it was time.

The 2017 photo is a very specific snapshot of time in my life. I had been maintaining a steady weight after eating disorder recovery for about a year, and I’d never been that big before. My eyes are half closed in the photo and my hair is at an awkward length of beginning to grow out the buzz cut I gave myself in 2015 to erase everything and start again during a turbulent mental health time. That work photo was taken shortly before I started Adderall and lost about 20 pounds, and years before I started HRT and gained about 60 pounds. I have a small kind-of double chin in the photo, but it’s the kind that goes and comes with posture or a smile.

I have a double chin now. Maybe if there’s a trick of the light in a photograph it might go unnoticed – a privilege, I know – but it’s always at least a little present now.

This morning, I make a mental note to remind myself to maybe try stretching my neck a little or raising my chin when I'm in front of the camera. I want to protect myself from the possibility that the long-buried disordered thoughts will use this photo as a chance to get their hooks in again if I’m surprised by how fat my face looks in the photo.

A line from a Touché Amoré song, “Reminders,” loops into my head.

“I tilt my chin up in photographs, a subtle way to reinvent the past.”

It isn’t until I’m getting dressed to leave the house that the words reach me.

I think about a comment on an Instagram video of a dozen or so high schoolers having fun sitting around a table together that was captioned as having been taken in 2003. It was some little outburst about how they all looked so slim and happy, unlike today’s teens who are fat and depressed and chronically online.

I think about the photos I have of my mom when I was a kid, where she’d stand in the back, pull us in front of her. I think about the photos I don’t have of my mom when I was a kid.

I think about all the gaps in fat existence – fat joy – in our collective historical records, and about the social media accounts who have to go out of their way to bring images of fatness to the surface.

I’m determined by the time I get in front of the camera.

I smile and I keep my head in its neutral, comfortable position.

There’s anticipation instead of apprehension when I go around to the other side of the computer to see my face.

It’s so severely washed out by the harsh white lights that I can’t quite make out my double chin. Or my acne, which I decided not to cover up with makeup today either.

(When I was in college, I had my photo taken for the yearbook. There was a check box on the form to opt into having photo correction of “blemishes.” I didn’t check it off, even though it was an anxious decision. My acne was what it was, or I was trying to teach myself that it was what it was. I cried when I got the photos back. They’d edited out my acne anyway.)

It occurs to me that the lighting’s probably on purpose.

But the photo still looks like me.

The lighting can’t hide my round face, the way my jaw and my neck blend together in a gentle slope instead of a cut edge.

Even if I had tried to disguise my double chin, I wouldn't have been able to hide my size. I decide that I like that about my face – the only part of my body I still get self-conscious about sometimes.

The song "Reminders" by Touché Amoré is an expression of frustration that the Systems That Be fail to provide us with the care and protection and support we need. A music video for the song was released in 2020, made from stitching together clips of family and friends of the band with their pets during the isolation of COVID-19 restrictions.

Maybe it was silly to think of my employer as an avenue for defiant fat self-expression and maybe my work-issued ID with my inerasably fat face on it is a drop in an important bucket. But I'm turning around and putting these words down and showing them to a community of other fat people. And I'm looking at my own face in the mirror with the knowledge that I'm slowly inventing a future for myself where there isn't any trick of the light or tilt of my chin that can omit my fatness.

[dialalagirl]

Hi!! I’m not sure if you’re still doing matchups for the diaboys but I’ve always wanted to do one so here’s mine :)

Appearance: I’m on the shorter side, only 5 foot. I do ballet and so because of that I have more of a pear shaped body type, though I am on the much slimmer side since I only weight about 100 pounds (a small insecurity of mine haha). My face is heart shaped, with more angled features. I also don’t wear makeup often since I don’t like the way I look with it on (it gives me imposter syndrome). I have hazel eyes and medium length brown hair which is cut with layers and curtain bangs, which is usually loose or up in a claw clip.

As for clothes, I tend to stick to a baggy/relaxed style but when I do dress up it’s kind of all over the place since I love styling myself differently. Though I usually stick to a light academia mixed with coquette? I’m not sure how to explain it but I especially love wearing graphic baby tees and low rise flared jeans with a pair of converse I’ve worn to death. I especially love pairing my outfits with cute bags especially leather ones or tote bags.

Other appearance related things) I love my eyes ❤️, Especially my eyelashes (they’re so long and lustrous thanks to my mom’s genes). I also love wearing gold or silver jewelry. I’m just always wearing jewelry when I can, you can hear me from a mile away with all my bracelets rattling lol.

Personality: With people I’m not close with I tend to be more soft spoken and quiet but I actually yap a lot with people I’m close with. I especially love long conversations, even if I’m the only one talking. I am an introvert, even if I’m able to talk to people normally (I’m not necessarily shy), I just hate big crowds, parties, etc. I usually have no interest in making new friends unless I’m super interested in the person. I prefer keeping my social circle small. I tend to be blunt at times which can be interpreted as being mean, which is a personality trait I’m trying to work on since I’ve been trying my best to be a kind person as of late. My friends have described me as: empathetic, curious, loyal and honest, but especially oblivious. I’m super bad at reading social queues and whatnot…especially with flirting so I appreciate it when people are upfront with me. I hate people who are liars and who are stuck up, I think humility and honesty are two very important personality traits and I can’t tolerate people who are plain rude and egotistical.

My hobbies/interests: I love reading (Fave books are The Metamorphosis, The Brothers Karamazov and Heaven), drawing, watching movies (personal faves are Paprika, Perfect Blue, Blue Spring and Inglorious Basterds), dancing ballet, playing piano and guitar, writing (I have a penpal, and I journal / scrapbook), and I LOVE listening to music I especially listen to Jazz, alternative rock, and classical music. Which is a really weird combination of music genres…I know.

Other random stuff: I’m super awkward with physical affection and hate giving it unless it’s like the specific five people I’ve given mental permission to.

I’m an INTP and a scorpio, so do with that what you will (even though I don’t really believe in that stuff…)

My fave Diaboys are Shu 🤭🤭 and Yuma.

And finally, I felt I would just add this in but my fav places to be besides my room are art galleries, thrift stores, stationary shops and book stores.

bibbity bobbity boo, I grant thee the following diaboy for you: Subaru. pour quoi? because:

his favourite look of all time? au naturel. trust me when I say that your relaxed style gets him sweatin’

no need to be insecure about your petite built and stature ‘cause it’s got this this boi both terrified and ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) at the thought of breaking you. be prepared to have to replace a LOT of jewelry sets 

his antisocial self meshes quite well with your introversion. your lack of shyness is surprising but pleasantly so, as he finds himself divulging more of himself with you without realizing

your honesty, humility, and distain for egotists slowly allows him to mellow out somewhat and start to trust you and possibly others again. he never understood how much a burden putting all his walls up and driving people away was until he met you. he cannot put a name to the relief he feels— all he knows is that he never wants to never let you go

your tendency to be oblivious (especially with regards to flirting) = teasing ammo AND an excuse for him to protecting your cute ass from all who would try to take advantage of it. perfect

this blushing mess relates so much to your awkwardness with physical affection and is the first to understand that it requires trust 

he too is a Tarantino fan :))))

I feel Subaru is secretly an art nerd and would LOVE pursuing the galleries with you and stationary shops for cute stamps, though you bet that he will try his damnedest to deny it

Hope you are happy with your matchup~

[seedsofdoubt]

Ｍｙ Ｌｏｖｅｌｙ Ｍａｉｄ— Ｏｈ Ｗａｉｔ… Ｔｈａｔ’ｓ Ａ Ｂｏｙ

⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.

chapter 13

masterlist

The air was thick with tension as the final test of the day, the ball throw, loomed over the group.

So far, (Y/N) Tokitō had performed with unnerving precision, acing every test without breaking a sweat. From the long jump to the grip strength challenge, his movements had been calculated, almost graceful, yet carried a quiet ferocity that left his classmates speechless. 

He neither celebrated his successes nor gloated about his performances, instead standing silently at the edge of the group, as though he were watching but not truly present. In other words— he stood as stiff as a raging boner on 3 honeypacks.

Note : Something my bf did once and then told me about once I woke up from my nap and bragged about how he could now control it— it being his boner like the avatar. In short, he’s special…ed but special nonetheless.

His classmates couldn’t help but buzz with questions and curiosity about the mysterious new addition. They all had quirks, and some of them were powerful, but (Y/N) seemed to operate on a different level altogether.

Bakugo, for one, looked ready to explode, his fiery glare fixated on (Y/N) with a mix of suspicion and seething frustration. Izuku stood beside (Y/N), quietly observing, knowing better than anyone that his classmate’s abilities were not as simple as they seemed.

From within the crowd, a red-haired boy with a broad grin pushed forward. His fiery personality was as evident as the spiky hair on his head, and he approached (Y/N) with a hand outstretched, his movements full of confidence and cheer.

“Yo, that was awesome, man! I’m Eijiro Kirishima. Nice to meet you!” he said, his tone radiating friendliness. “You’ve gotta have an insane quirk to ace all these tests like that. That’s seriously manly!”

(Y/N) glanced at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He neither shook Kirishima’s hand nor offered a reply. Instead, his gaze slid past the red-haired boy as if he hadn’t spoken at all.

Kirishima’s grin faltered just slightly, though he didn’t seem offended. Before he could try again, Izuku, standing nearby, jumped in nervously. “Ah, sorry about him! He’s not really the talkative type.” Izuku offered Kirishima a nervous smile, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m Izuku Midoriya, by the way, and this is (Y/N) Tokitō. It’s nice to meet you!”

Kirishima’s grin returned at full strength, and he crossed his arms, looking at (Y/N) with newfound curiosity. “Man, you’re mysterious! What’s your quirk? I mean, the way you’ve been tearing through these tests—”

(Y/N) didn’t respond, his attention still fixed on the testing field, his posture relaxed but focused. The silence stretched for a moment before Kirishima’s gaze shifted to Izuku, waiting for an answer on his behalf. Izuku opened his mouth, stammering slightly as he tried to think of what to say without revealing too much, but before he could get the words out, Aizawa’s voice cut through the conversation.

“Tokitō. You’re up,” the teacher called, his tone as dry and unimpressed as ever. “Hurry it up, problem child. We don’t have all day.”

Before stepping up to the throwing circle, (Y/N)’s gaze briefly wandered across the training ground. Though he hadn’t been permitted to carry his sword on campus, his instincts demanded a substitute. A small glimmer caught his eye—a sturdy stick, roughly the length of a katana, lying near the edge of the testing area.

He walked over, his movements lazy and almost cat like, he picked it up with a quiet certainty. For anyone else, it was just a stick. But in his hands, it became something—a tool, an extension of his person, or in this situation a substitute weapon in place of his katana.

As he returned to the testing circle, he picked up the ball without a word, holding it loosely in his hand. His movements were measured, and though he didn’t radiate the explosive power of someone like Bakugo, there was an undeniable weight to his presence. He rested the stick casually against his shoulder, as though its presence gave him balance, and turned his focus toward the task at hand.

The group of students fell silent as (Y/N) once more stepped forward, the eyes of his classmates following him with eager anticipation. The weight of their stares didn’t seem to faze him. He moved with a calm, deliberate confidence, his sword-like focus making it clear that he was entirely in control.

He picked up the ball without a word, holding it loosely in his hand.

The class continued to watch in rapt silence as (Y/N) stood at the ready, his gaze locked on the distant horizon. Then, softly, so quietly that only those standing close by could hear, he murmured,

“Fourth Form: Blessed Mist.”

And then, nothing. The world seemed to hold its breath.

• 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢 : 𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 •

The Fourth Form: Blessed Mist is a technique in the Mist Breathing style, which (Y/N) has mastered through rigorous training. Mist Breathing is known for its reliance on swift, unpredictable movements and creating illusions to disorient opponents. Blessed Mist embodies these principles by blending immense speed with precise, controlled force to enhance attacks or actions.

What is the Fourth Form: Blessed Mist?

The Fourth Form: Blessed Mist is a technique designed to amplify both speed and control by cloaking the user in a dense, swirling mist that obscures their exact movements. The technique creates the illusion that the user is moving in multiple directions at once, making them difficult to track. While primarily a combat technique, it is highly adaptable and can enhance the effectiveness of various physical tasks.

Capabilities of Fourth Form : Blessed Mist :

1. Burst of Speed : The user generates a sudden surge of speed that makes their movements almost imperceptible to the naked eye. This burst is not only visually disorienting but also allows for rapid and powerful actions to be executed in an instant.

2. Control over Momentum : The swirling mist doesn’t just serve as a visual distraction—it allows the user to channel their movements with incredible precision. This ensures that every ounce of effort is directed toward the intended target, whether it’s cutting down an opponent.

 3. Illusion of Multiplicity : The mist creates afterimages of the user’s movements, making it seem as though they are striking or acting from multiple directions at once. This effect confuses opponents or observers, leaving them unsure of the user’s exact location.

4. Force Amplification : The momentum generated by the user during this technique is highly concentrated. By combining speed and precision, the user’s attacks—or in this case, the throw—carry much more force than what is physically apparent.

• 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢 : 𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙚𝙣𝙙 •

The world stilled as the words left (Y/N)’s lips, “Fourth Form: Blessed Mist.”

The stick in one hand, the ball in the other, (Y/N) moved. His motion was seamless, almost ethereal, his body flowing like mist itself.

Smooth like butter…so fucking smooth.

His classmates blinked, some rubbing their eyes, as his outline seemed to blur, like heat rippling off a summer road. Before anyone could process the shift, (Y/N) swung the stick with precision.

The motion itself was mesmerizing—effortless.

The moment the stick connected with the ball, the air cracked. 

A shockwave erupted outward, blasting a gust of wind across the field. 

Dust swirled and scattered, and the grass near his feet rippled violently under the force. 

The sound was deafening, a deep, thunderous roar that resonated through the training ground, making some students flinch and others cover their ears.

The ball didn’t fly—it disappeared into the horizon. For a moment, it seemed as though it had been swallowed by the mist (Y/N) had conjured, vanishing completely. The air itself seemed to shimmer and distort in its wake, a residual effect of the Breathing Technique.

A faint, silvery mist lingered in the atmosphere, curling and twisting in elegant patterns before dissipating.

It wasn’t just the speed or power behind the swing— the ball had been thrown with such an uncanny force that it carved a faint path through the air, mist-like energy spiraling behind it as if to brag about being the cause of such phenomena. The aftershock of his swing sent leaves from the nearby trees scattering, and the distant hum of the ball tearing through the sky felt like the final note of an unseen symphony.

The group stood frozen, wide-eyed and silent, as the distant sound of the ball finally crashing into the ground echoed faintly from beyond the testing field. For several seconds, no one moved, too stunned to even speak.

Still holding the stick loosely at his side, (Y/N) turned back toward the group with the same calm demeanor as when he’d approached. His expression betrayed nothing—no pride, no smugness— after all this was someone who had done this countless times before in the past.

[that-cheer-up-anon]

Birthday life update

I didn't get my whole birthday week off like last year, but I did get Friday (cabaret circus) and Saturday (sibling dinner) for my birthday, and on Monday night my lil sister cut my hair (it was her birthday gift to me).

Friday night my partner and I went to a cabaret circus, which was really fun bc I got to dress up (I'll make another post of my outfit) and it was my first time going to a sexy/nsfw event. I have never been more happy to be bi/pan. I hope they come again next year ❤️

Saturday we went to a souffle pancake place that had a promotion where you could get a keychain of their mascot. The plushie keychain is HUGE! Definitely bigger than your actual key collection. I got the brown sugar boba pancake and my partner got the tiramisu pancake.

Afterwards we went to an Indian store and got some authentic fresh Indian food for pretty cheap. SOOOOOOO GOOD! Originally we were gonna try a burger but I'm so glad we had the Indian food instead. I also bought a Kajal eyeliner.

Went to EB to pick up a game my partner ordered and also for me to see what I could spend my $10 EB birthday coupon on. Unfortunately it could only be used on something at least $50 and the only thing I wanted was a big Snorlax plushie, which even w the coupon would be $80. I had to say goodbye to Snorlax.

We spent a lot of the day cleaning and moving furniture to make space for my birthday dinner w my siblings. It was a lot but now my partner has a desk in aircon and the dining area is so much better.

Had my siblings over for a Korean bbq at home. We all pitched w ingredients and drinks. It was so fun! I haven't hosted anything at my place before, and this was the first big family gathering I've had since leaving my parents. My relationship w my parents is still strained, but my mom wished me a happy birthday and helped w organising the cake. My titas made a black forest cake and their cooking is still the best.

My partner and I bought an ube cake from a Filipino bakery (which wasn't as big or as good as my titas' but that's asking for the impossible) and it was good too. We didn't eat it at that dinner though bc everyone had enough from my titas' cake. We are still getting through the ube cake.

One of my brothers had to leave after dinner so we didn't have as many players for Pico Par 2, but it was still really fun.

On Sunday my partner's family was having a day where we painted paint-by-numbers, which was fun. We didn't finish them but I hope we can pick it up again.

Monday night I got my hair cut. It was stupid long and honestly getting too unmanageable. It's kinda at an awkward length bc I needed it long enough to tie up and go under a hair net for work, but I'm happy to get that weight off my head.

I'm 27 now!

[twelvemonkeyswere]

today on final pride day I'm reminded that time my classmate at uni got a pixie cut after having it shoulder-length her whole life. she was very happy with how it looked and how daring she'd been by cutting it so short.

I, a short hair enthusiast, had been growing my hair and it was shoulder-length at the time. I told her how cool her hair looked, trying to be supportive. then tried to connect with her by telling her my hair was currently the longest it had ever been, that I've always worn it super short, and got confused for a boy frequently.

but her response is what makes me smirk even all these years after. she looked at me with disbelief. I'm short, stout, soft. I'm smiley and kind. and she said, incredulous, "Really???"

she'd only ever seen me with long hair, she knew I was shy and awkward. she assumed, somehow, that it all made sense in her head, and that I'd always been a pudding of a woman with only softness, no edge (as if short hair was *only* defiance, and could not be affirmation). I'm very confident about my hair and gender expression, luckily, so I took no offense. but it was funny to me how something that was daily life for me, something that simply came naturally to me, was something she thought she was able to accomplish only because she was cool, because she was taking a daring risk and making a statement with her pixie cut. she couldn't picture me doing the same thing, because I'm not cool or stylish or daring.

I invented myself in a small backwards rural town, surrounded by dogs and sugar cane. I was always disheveled and polite, wore the ugliest cargo shorts known to man and never missed church. everyone always thought I'd never get a husband and I still don't have one, but I don't have a wife either, like they all assumed. people of all kinds told my mother I was too naive and would get pregnant the moment I stepped outside my home for college, but I only ever came back with new projects or kittens. my own grandmother thought I'd fail somehow even if she never said it to me, because how could someone like me, weird and goofy and clad in oversized sweaters, succeed.

my classmate, like them, could not envision anything else for me, because it didn't fit who she thought I was based on how I looked. and to me it was funny because from an early age I was inventing genders that nobody around me even had words for. words I never needed, and still don't really need, because I was never any other word but "me."

I've been on this earth for 30 years, and I haven't always been true to myself. But I'm trying to go back to that center, trying to be myself as fiercely and as honestly as I can. Because I was able to succeed in many ways, just as I was. And there is no reason why I shouldn't be able to do it again.