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tojisun · 6 days ago

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the hand that feeds you

— “i take care of her, s’all.”

johnny mactavish x f!reader

cw: 18+ work - minors dni; age difference; daddy issues (kinda the central plot); cooking as a love language; slow burn but in high speed; a breath of angst; power imbalance; canon divergence - regular/non-military life au // amazing divider by @gildui! // 6.5k words

extra notes: this is a very self-indulgent work. there are holes in the plot, 100%, so ignore those holes pretty pls </3 also ik this is more of a captain johnny-verse but midway through, i started projecting so i might’ve written him incorrectly and im really sorry for that!!

being roommates with johnny is not as weird as it is; he’s amicable, at first, then full blown nice when days passed. he’s not loud, per se, but there’s always a constant chatter streaming from his space, like he physically can’t sit still through the silence which is great because you don’t fare any better with the stillness too, so reminiscent of how it was in the suburbs.

you moved to a neighbourhood just skirting past the inner city just because it’s a lot cheaper. but even then, rent was always high and your little box in a rundown complex wasn’t going to sustain you forever even if you wished it would. then, an opening in johnny’s townhouse was posted, almost half-price than whatever is up in the market, and it’s great despite your skepticism. hell, it’s more than great — it’s lifesaving.

your shitty job at the bookstore really can’t cover much of your expenses anymore, and sure student loans and the grant is great, but the growing debt makes you wince so it’s whatever at this point. you’re about to graduate soon anyway, pooling work experience from volunteering and club organizations, and it’s not like you can even go back to how it was.

(underway to law school, primed up before your father’s scrutiny but the burnout got to you before you could even write the LNAT. you realized that being a barrister wasn’t really what you wanted so you changed programs, midway, and switched to children’s education.

god, the disappointment in your pa’s eyes was so big, you knew to pack your shit before he could even kick you out.)

it’s… tough.

god, is it tough. none of your old friends and colleagues could stay in contact, which you don’t hold against them because most of them, by now, have graduated and entered law school. you’re straggling about two years back because of the switch in programs, and everything’s gone too tight. your budget. your social life.

your dating life.

johnny often distracts you from it all — he works in downtown, in one of those high-rise buildings often reserved for limiteds or holding companies, and has to travel off the city every three months. he makes good money, he said jovially, and you know it’s a nudge as to why your portion of the rent is cheap in the first place.

when you finally bit the bullet and asked why he put up one of the rooms in the market, johnny just shrugged and said he needed someone to house sit but sort off permanently. said something like last time he left, the pipes bursted and he couldn’t really fly back to help with the repairs.

it’s great being with him. he’s bright and bubbly, but also dependable in ways you never really thought about. like—

well, it’s all mundane things so listing them feels embarrassing, and it makes you feel as though you’re a touch-starved damsel and johnny just so happened to be the next older man to give you any attention and his time. but you can’t help it. god, you can’t help preen at the way he exists beside you.

he’s just so… beautiful, is what it is.

rugged and charming and loud and filling. the townhouse is too big for the two of you, but johnny makes it work. makes it feel like the two of you just fit into each other’s spaces.

early mornings are spent with him lilting between english and scottish, his exhaustion plastered onto him even after he’s downed two cups of coffee. he bumps his hip onto yours when he ambles out to prepare for his work, grumbling something like good morning and how’re you. afternoons are more lively and productive; it’s of you coming back from campus at six in the evening only to find him in the kitchen, fixing up dinner. it’s always something fancy and rich in flavour; something he always eats with wine on the side.

you, uh, you never thought he could actually cook, let alone feed himself well, but there he was, always a plate ready for you too like it’s expected that you’ll eat dinner with him. like spending time with him was just natural — the sky is blue, the ocean’s deep, and you and johnny fall into each other like there is an invisible string pulling you close to him.

it’s a beautiful change of pace, and there are more days now when you can breathe in a little easier, and you know it’s all because of johnny. it’s all him who pulled you out of your slump and out of that darkness and gave you the room, literally, to grow.

he’s beautiful, but you’ve said that already, haven’t you? he’s just… so good to be with.

then, johnny began picking up and bringing some home.

the first time it happened was shocking, really.

you had an early morning, something that’s so murky now in your memories so you’re unsure if it was anything uni related or work related, just that it was five in the morning and you were clambering downstairs as quietly as you could. you rounded the length of the hallway from the platform to the kitchen when you ran into someone.

“steady,” she’d said, voice hoarse and loud in her shock too.

you yelled, jumping, arms swinging because was there an intruder, and it took johnny physically subduing you for you to calm down. looking back now, you burn in embarrassment, but then you had been so worried, your body wound up so tightly in your fear.

“shh,” johnny had murmured with that wry grin. “s’just me, lass.”

your eyes danced between him and the brunette — pretty even in her rumpled shirt, with long legs and a small waist — trying to understand what was going on. you are sure johnny had told you before that he wasn’t seeing anyone so who—

“your girlfriend?” she asked johnny, turning to him with her lips pursed and her brow cocked up.

the question settled in your stomach, doing wonders to your already-fragile psyche. you’d just spent hours thinking about johnny and what he meant to you; what living with him meant. how it eased up something carved within the trenches of your being, like you’d always been waiting for someone like him.

the question was a reminder, like prickling you with icicles, leaving you to navigate the swoop. but johnny had laughed, nothing mean but so dismissive that you felt the curl of shame brandishing from the base of your spine like johnny was laughing at you.

“oh, nah,” he replied, arm still slung over your shoulders. “she’s sorta my ward, yes? i take care of her, s’all.”

that’s all. you’re nothing more to him but a ward. a tenant. not even a friend—

she hummed, then leaned over to kiss johnny, her eyes still drawn to you like she’s watching, waiting for a reaction, and when she got none, she trudged to the door. you and johnny watched as she bent down to slip in her shoes, some stilettos with red bottoms, before wordlessly disappearing into the darkened morning.

“pretty,” you chirped, trying to break the tension of whatever that was.

johnny laughed in that way that surely crinkled his eyes, only to steer the conversation away by asking why you were up early. you remembered what you had to do and you dived to the kitchen in a flurry, chatting about the deadlines and due dates — so it was a school thing — and johnny just watched, silent, humming, eyes still curved in his glee.

you left no sooner than his… paramour did and, for a while, that was that.

but your semester is coming to a close and your schedule is changing, but so is johnny’s. he’s coming home later and later, but always seemed to offer apologies in the form of easy-to-microwave meals for your dinner. they’re still homemade, probably cooked up in the morning before he left for work, and you’d messaged him to say that he didn’t need to worry about you. that, sure, you came to him amidst financial struggle, juggling work and school, and trying to decide if you would have to starve this month because of rent, but you can cook. for yourself and for him too.

johnny’s face did a terrible thing when you mentioned that in person, the first in a while after things got hectic.

“what,” you bit out, embarrassed.

“nothing,” he said, blinking like he was realizing things he shouldn’t. “s’fun doing things f’r you.”

then he clamped up, spooning soup into his mouth, some of it messily dribbling into his chin. it’s not like you were doing any better, with how your throat closed up at his words, eyes going wide.

it’s been a thing, is what it is, but neither of you two have ever acknowledged that it’s a thing. it’s been a wordless experience — of johnny taking over things when it comes to the house because of course he will, it’s his home, but he always covers things for you too. things you’re sure normal landlords don’t really worry about, but not johnny.

there’s always extra food in the kitchen, extra blankets when the weather dips. there’s even a new cooling machine for the summer even though you know johnny’s room already has an installed air conditioning. he’s even changed the seats in the dining room because he caught you once hitting your hip after an all-nighter on a project.

then, he refurbished the den to make it your office.

“you didn’t have to,” you told him, mind racing at your savings, wondering if he was going to increase your rent.

johnny just shook his head with an almost fond roll of his eyes and clapped your back, arm hovering there. “s’all yers, hen.”

everything he did always accounted for you. so why the women?

they’re all long limbed and trimmed waist, with eyes that sparkled even when all you’ve seen of them is always within the poorly-lit hallway. they have voices that curl teasingly, breathy like they’re enticing johnny for one more night. and they’ve always, always, treated you like a—

like a kid.

a burden, almost, of johnny’s.

and, hell, maybe you are. johnny’s almost twice your age; he’s also already well-established in his career, some senior position that you can’t really follow but one he talks about with fondness. he’s got land rover-money, the car in his garage big and black and almost military grade, and it looks so expensive especially beside the crappy civic you were able to snag for a cheap price because it’s got about three-hundred-thousand mileage already.

you’ve got nothing to give him, other than the lousy rent payment that he doesn’t even really need but is just asking for courtesy because it’d be so weird for him to offer a room, or two now given you have the den too, for free. you’ve got nothing on your name, and if it isn’t pity that makes johnny care for you, then you don’t know what.

maybe his string of one-night stands are right — you are just a kid.

that maybe you really are still too wet behind the ears for the real world that you go running to the next person that could protect you from it, stumbling into his life and licking up every drop of his attention, mistaking his kindness for devotion. his care for love.

you should have known, then, that the thoughts would ripple, leaving you to feel like the days are unnavigable. obsession quickly took root, growing fangs, and it ensnared you; a vice noose at what had been a pleasant coexistence.

hell, you can barely stand being with johnny because of the jealousy. it’s a shameful thing, but a part of you thinks you deserve johnny more than the others do.

you tell yourself that nobody knows about johnny’s nightmares and the horrors that spill from his lips when it’s twelve in the morning and the two of you have hit the bourbon. you tell yourself that nobody knows about johnny’s aversion to the windows in the living room; that the reason why the curtains are a deep green is not to match the new plants he’s allowed you to fill up his home but because they shroud the panels more than the cream ones had. you tell yourself that nobody knows that johnny can sing; that he can cook a mean tomahawk; that he likes reading; that his wrists were hurting so he’s currently scheduled for a surgery; that he’s soft to you.

the women don’t know this johnny, you tell yourself, nails clawing at the hems of your chest. they don’t know him the way i do.

it’s a pathetic whisper. it’s so laughable. so juvenile.

they’re right. they’re right.

(you’re just a—)

“i don’t see you anymore,” johnny murmured one morning, when things have gone quiet again, a cup of coffee sitting on the counter while he watches you throw orange peels into the garburator.

he just got back from a work trip in aberdeen, his exhaustion loud on his face. his hair is overgrown, the bottom ends of his mohawk curling along his nape. he was there for over three weeks, skirting almost close to a month — the longest he’s ever been away — and you had tried so hard not to message. not to drop casual check-ins because you’re sure no tenant ever does that to their landlord, but johnny had remained just as friendly; asking things like if you wanted another potted plant, a monstera or a dragon tree, or if you still had that swiss chocolate he brought home as a gift, or—

the list of his questions grew, but you’ve given him clipped replies, not knowing how to act right anymore since your quiet realization. even the “thing” that you thought you shared with him had fizzled at the drop of the women coming-and-leaving, and you are left to pick up the pieces.

it’s not like you’re broken or ruined or angry. god, no you aren’t.

but you feel unsteady, like now that you know that you liked him more than he liked you, you forgot how to breathe. how to live without that looming burden because your affection is nothing but a burden.

what will johnny do if he finds out? you can’t afford a new place to move into, not when you’re so close to graduating, the finish line just about to graze your very fingertips with how near it is. money is still tight, and johnny has already spoiled you rotten. has shown you how it is to live a comfortable life. and if he learns of your feelings, you would lose this. more than anything, you would lose him.

so you detached yourself from the noose, curling into yourself and using his work trip as a way to move on.

jesus — move on, huh? like there was a ‘you and johnny’ to even move on from. like there was anything there to read. like there was anything there to pull away from; twitching fingers drawing back into the spaces of your ribs, tucking yourself away from his warmth.

“i’ve been so busy, john,” you muttered, just as tired.

“yeah?” he said, still light. still jovial. “let me cook something nice for ye, huh? reward yer hard work and all.”

“i can’t.” you swallowed down the prickle lodged in your throat, eyes ducking away to avoid seeing his. “i’ve got a meeting with the club.”

(you missed the way johnny’s smile dipped.)

“oh,” he said.

you shrugged, internally wincing at your weak attempt at being normal, before gathering your thermos and your messily-wrapped sandwich. johnny was still standing by the counters when you turned around from the sink, his bulk so close to yours in ages. it had been so long since you could just reach over and feel his warmth; feel the soft pudge of what once were hardened muscles.

he’s looking at you with such sad eyes that it’s jarring to truly see because he’s looking at you like—

like he’s losing you.

“i’m gonna…” you trailed off, not really knowing how to end this truly awkward interaction.

“yeah, f’course,” he croaked out. “take care of yerself huh, lass?”

“thanks.” the smile on your face felt more like a grimace. “see you.”

he said nothing more after that, his eyes still searching; still furrowed like something’s changed and something’s happening, and it made your stomach drop because please. please don’t let him notice.

but johnny just watched as you went, his coffee all forgotten.

(something bloomed in the soft press of your heart, flickering like a young ember. you’ve never realized how longing could feel like your mouth is stuffed with cotton.)

johnny hasn't picked up since his return from aberdeen.

they’re getting a new firm so the shuffling has been brutal, leaving johnny to clamber out at five in the morning before coming back home when it’s pushing 11pm. the scruff on his face is becoming more unkempt, salt and pepper becoming more intense, but even then, he’s never looked more ruggedly beautiful as he is now.

it’s like he’s aged years and you shouldn’t be reacting so strongly to the change, but looking at johnny now makes you ache in a different way — core throbbing, throat parched and eyes stinging as you watch him. you’re so drawn to his gravitational pull, unable to detangle yourself now that it feels like he’s more back in your life than he ever was.

and you know it’ll end up hurting you. that you’ll go back to isolating yourself at the drop of a new girl in the house, the smell of her chanel or bvlgari perfume filling up the crevices that you’ve dutifully dusted every saturday morning while johnny’s out for a run. he’s made having casual lovers a cycle, one that you cannot blame him for because johnny doesn’t like you back.

but johnny’s been so attentive to you these days. he’s been a hovering presence even when he looks like he’s one blown wind away from passing out in his exhaustion, his warm hand always on the small of your back as he walks you to the door before chirping a hearty, “kick ass, bon!”

he’s back to fixing up food for you, like that blip in your schedule got him all creative because now, it’s not even just dinner. you’ve got breakfast waiting for you in the microwave, and packed lunch already in your bag, carefully tucked beside the manila folders and plastic envelopes for your capstone. it’s like he’s making up for something which is dumb and wrong because now, you’re all swooping stomach and prickling lungs.

“yummy?” johnny asked, catching you wriggling in excitement at the flavour bursting into your tongue.

your cheeks tingled, feverish, before giving him a shy nod.

he huffed, something so achingly fond, and rested his chin atop his crossed arms. you didn’t know what to focus on — the scruff on his face or the hard lines of webbing veins spilling from beneath his folded sleeves. then, he crooned, “good. that’s good.”

you ran upstairs to your room, throwing an excuse about finishing up your paper, before locking the door, and feeding your cunt two fingers to satiate the burn. the stretch was delicious, raw and sweet, and you humped your wrist, trying to douse the flames burning you up.

you thought of johnny, of the way he looked and how much nicer he’s been; of johnny and the way he was so kind to you, so caring like you’re up in his priority list again, overtaking his busy schedule and the firm restructuring, and his needs.

your orgasm felt like a ripping of reality, your mind splintering at the edges as you’re stretched thin. it felt like you’ve been pulled taut, then released with a resounding snap. it felt euphoric, like the explosion of something intoxicating. something wickedly addicting.

you knew that this could never be unmade. your affections had grown their tendrils, curling past the quiet admiration and spiralling into something unforgiving. into something greater than yourself.

“fuck,” you had rasped out, eyes prickling with tears as shame rushed into your chest. “fuck.”

you didn’t need this. you didn’t need any of this.

but it becomes a cycle — wash, rinse, repeat.

johnny continues to go unshaven; continues to pour his attention to you. and you soak it up, needy and soft, unable to turn away with your tail tucked between your legs. you fall back to the ease of how it had been, hip bumping his, morning coffee shared in the silence, dinner a filling affair once more. all that’s changed are the lingering looks, the resonating touches.

how johnny’s wide hand falls to the small of your back more often; how his fingers just slots against yours every time he passes you your cup; how his eyes rove over your face, always searching for something you dare not hope for.

the last time he flicked his eyes down to watch the way your tongue lapped at your lips, swiping away at the extra cream, johnny’s pupils had constricted before a quiet groan rumbled from his throat. your thighs had quickly clenched close as heat exploded in the pit of your belly, spreading like wildfire through your veins. the pressure on your nub made you hiccup, like a whine dragging itself from your trachea, and johnny had snapped his eyes back to yours so quickly, it made you heady.

“bon–”

“i have to go,” you murmured, clamouring to shaky legs.

you fucked yourself to a deafening point once more, ears ringing as you squirted, the gush of your slick pushing past your fingers. you had to gnash your pillow cover to muffle the moan rumbling from the base of your throat, trying desperately to be good. to not be heard. to be better.

but johnny’s burning gaze on your lips was seared into your memory, blazing on top of everything, and you imagined—

god, you imagined.

the way he’ll take you — beard rough on your chin, thicker fingers spreading you wider, reaching deeper, before finally filling you up with all of him, bullying the whole length of his cock until he bottoms out.

you pressed on your stomach, dizzy, thinking about how johnny would hit that far. you know he would. the women he’s slept with have told you, anyway, in passing, describing how he was in bed with dreamy sighs like they weren’t still reeking of sex and johnny’s aftershave.

(you still wonder why so many of them were mean, their noses tipped up every time they saw you. they were the ones that johnny chose, the ones who were fortunate enough to have been his lover, so you wonder why they still sought you out like you were competition.)

“johnnyyyy!” you moaned, loud and long, your fingers prodding at your walls, and you knew that you’d regret the wrangled cry later, but you didn’t care then, too busy swimming in the aftermath of your orgasm.

but johnny heard it anyway.

he told you that he had heard you.

it happened so quickly — one moment you were bent over the espresso machine, fiddling with the levers with bleary-eyed attempts, then the next thing you knew was that johnny was crowding you, trapping you between the warm bulk of his body and the counter, his eyes furrowed so deeply which made the lines on his forehead run much deeper.

“whu’?” you asked, blinking tiredly at him.

johnny just did this shaky breath that rattled his whole body, like he was propped up by a couple of sticks instead of his whole mass. the mood shifted with that weak inhale though, and you turned to fully face him, ignoring the beeping machine because johnny was still looking at you with those eyes.

the ones that made you feel seen, read, and laid bare before him. like he could weave his eyes past the fabrics of your shirt to peek into the very jagged shards of your heart and see the cross that you’ve been carrying. like he knew things about you that he shouldn’t.

“johnny?” you prodded again, finding his silence alarming.

“yer too young for me, m’eudail,” johnny finally rumbled out, voice thick and deep.

and it’s—

what.

your mind was pressing into your skull, trying desperately to link your synapses together; for the fog to clear and for your coherence to rise above the pull of drowsiness, but johnny was faster. like now that he’s said the first words, the rest just follow, unstoppable in their force and in their meaning.

“i told myself i couldn’t,” he murmured, still breathing shakily; gaze still too fragile. “that yer lookin’ for nothin’ like me, and that yer just tryin’ to get out there with yer career.”

he lifted a hand, fingers twitching, before balling it back down to a fist.

“told myself i’ve gotta let go. found a way to cope and shit.”

johnny took another ragged breath in, and it startled you into gulping one of your own — you didn’t even realize that you’ve held your breath as he spoke to you, your chest clenching tightly as your mind began to link the passageways together, filling you in on what he wasn’t really saying.

“but carin’ f’you was so easy. christ, it was even delightful, hen.” he chuckled, something that was somewhat raw and pained.

you licked at your lips, blinking wide eyes open. johnny tracked the movement, his nose flaring like you’ve done something more than a subconscious thing, his shoulders going taut.

“i like doing all sorta things for you. liked seeing y’eat what i cooked; liked seeing y’use what i got f’you. liked watching y’come home to me. to me.”

a soft sound echoed between the two of you, and it took you an embarrassingly long time to realize that it was a breathless whimper that petered out from the base of your throat. you didn’t even realize that you’ve curled into yourself, almost like you’re trying your best to shrink before johnny, and johnny crooned.

callused palm cupped the round of your cheek, his thumb swiping just underneath your eye. “told myself yer too young; that surely yer looking for someone closer to yer age, but bon, i heard y’last night.”

you startled in his hold, a quiet gasp piercing through the heat. johnny’s lips danced with mirth.

“s’right. heard a loud thump against the wall and ran upstairs, all worried, but guess my surprise, yes? y’were moanin’ my name so loudly, it’s like y’left yer door open.”

“johnny, i–”

“tell me,” he said, moving closer, his chest pressing against yours. “tell me t’stop, bon, an’ i will. but y’ve got to tell me. y’ve got to push me away.”

you looked at him, your eyes trembling at what he was laying out thickly, and your throat going parched at the blanketing desire rippling from him. there were so many things you wanted to ask, but his breath was tickling the bridge of your nose, dancing so close to the bow of your lips, and your heart ached.

desire coursed through you in waves, dribbling from the cup, and you lurched forward, chasing after his lips.

johnny melted into you. his hesitant touch turned greedier, more possessive, mapping your body and pulling you closer into him. his mouth devoured your own, gulping down the pleased little sighs and keens spilling from your lips. he kissed like a man starved, but you weren’t any softer; all nippy and desperate, fingers digging into his hair and fisting at the thin strands.

it was feverish, almost to a boiling point, and you needed more.

god, you needed more.

“johnny,” you mewled when he pulled away just enough to slide his damp lips along the cut of your jaw. “johnny, need you.”

“christ,” johnny sounded so wrecked, his voice rumbling deeply from where his lips were suckling on the soft curve of your neck. “i’ve been dreaming of this, mo luaidh. i knew i shouldn’t but yer so sweet to me and i– i wanted.” he said that word like it was dirty; like he’d been fighting tooth-and-nail to suppress it.

it made you tremble to hear how johnny desired you just as much. he had always felt unobtainable; always danced too far from your grasp and was always bigger than what you knew you could handle — his lovers had always looked divinely; pretty, yes, but fierce in their own right like they knew how to live without johnny; and you know they could, because they didn’t need johnny the way you do. they didn’t look at johnny like you do, like he hung the stars with those thick and aged hands of his.

but as you stood there, feeling every word punctured onto your skin, you couldn’t help but begin to cry, the tears springing from your eyes to slip down your cheeks. johnny rubbed your back, soothing and gentle.

“i wanted t’take you – make y’all mine,” he whispered.

you hiccuped, shaky from the weight of your hunger, and nuzzled close. your hands fell from fisting his hair so you could claw at the sharp corners of his shoulder blades, feeling the muscles there rippling, all taut when he bent forward and kissed you.

“please,” you began, feeling your mind thinning because you wanted more. more. more. more. “i can be– johnny, s’always been you. nobody else but you.”

you tugged him away, cupping his jaw and forcing him to look at you. and god, johnny looked so devastatingly beautiful, his eyes all furrowed and his cheeks all flushed, and his lips spit-sheened.

“fuck me,” you whispered, tired of dancing around.

he groaned, something that sounded so pained, before he was tugging you with him, up the stairs and skirting past your room and into his.

you’ve never been in johnny’s room before, just as he had never been in yours since you moved in, and until now you still don’t know what you had been expecting upon walking in, but the smell of johnny wafting through was almost gut-punching. he smelled so close, like he was everywhere — surrounding you from the ground-up, dousing every pore with him until even your mouth felt full.

and johnny, he smelt like home.

there were no more words uttered as he stripped you off your pyjamas, sure fingers making their way down the buttons, unlatching them from the hemmed slits. you watched with heavy eyes, blinking slowly like everything had been wrung out of you, leaving you pliant and soft. johnny hummed, appreciative, and mapped kisses from your heaving chest, teeth nipping at the fat, before moving on, sprinkling every expanse of your skin with such reverence.

your hands were balled to your chest when he reached the jut of your belly, his chin hovering just above your crotch. johnny flicked up his darkened eyes at you, asking silently.

you gave him a nod, not trusting your own voice too.

johnny’s eyes had turned into slits, pleased, and hefted himself up just enough to be able to fit his hands on your hips and tugged your pants down. you shivered, the warmth in his room not enough to suppress the winter chill, and it made you buck into him. johnny comforted you with a quiet shh, rubbing his palm on the pudge of your thigh in soothing circles.

you don’t know why that touch was what did it for you, but soft sobs finally spilled from your mouth, scrunching up the desire into something undeniably frail. johnny didn’t startle though, like he knew that you had been wounding up to this tipping point, and instead continued to touch you tenderly, almost like if he could, he would cradle you close.

“i love you,” you said, sniffling, because that was the crux of your vulnerability, right?

you love him. god, you love him.

you’ve loved him since the day he sat you down for dinner and told you that you’ve got nothing to worry about, not anymore and not with him around. you’ve loved him since the day he flipped the den so you can have your own space for work; don’t mind the fact that he didn’t know if you were going to even stay, just that he insisted that you deserved that room either way. you’ve loved him since that swiss chocolate, since that cup of coffee, since he’s begun filling your painfully lonely days with his care.

you’ve loved him since and now—

“oh, mo graidh,” johnny breathed out. “i love you too.” he kissed your thigh, scruff ticklish. “gu siorraidh is gu brath.”

you wanted to ask what that meant but johnny was already moving, sitting back up to strip out of his own shirt. you trailed your eyes down his body, capturing your trembling lips between your teeth at how breathtaking he was — soft with fat but still heavy with muscles, fuzzy with hair with the smattering pooling just underneath his belly button before trailing down to where they were hidden underneath his pants.

you twitched before finally braving enough to reach out and brush your knuckle over the indents of his softened abs. johnny hummed, something that curled with appreciation, before covering your hand with his and holding it there.

“all of me s’yers, hen,” he said with such finality that you felt it settle deep within the marrows of your bones.

you nodded, emotionally spent and johnny lilted something else in scottish, so soft that it was almost a croon. you let him manhandle you — pushing your hips up so he could slot a pillow under for your back; you were so malleable to his touch as he took over, bending once again for a kiss while his fingers danced past the laces of your panties and into the damp heat of your pussy.

you moaned, eyelashes fluttering when he pressed one in, so careful and slow, but you were so wet that it slid in with no resistance, gobbling it up knuckle-deep. johnny had groaned like he could feel your rising euphoria, before nosing along your temple as he wiggled the finger around, stroking at your walls. you wondered if he was going to tease but then he was pulling it out, only to plunge two in the next thrust, curling and stretching, and oh—

oh, ssss’good.

you don’t even remember how long he’d been spearing you with his thicker fingers, rough and long and reaching far, far deeper than you could with your own, but you laid there, sobbing, feeling your slick slip out, pooling, making a mess of your thighs and his sheets. johnny had moved from suckling on your neck to taking a nipple in his mouth, teeth softly gnashing at the bud. you felt like you were on fire, burning from your core, aching for a release.

“cum f’me, m’eudail,” johnny groaned, breathless himself, his cock poking underneath his boxers, the fabric all wet from where his tip was, leaking pearled pre-. “let me see you.”

“johnny, i’m gonna– i’m–!” you squealed, legs jumping, squeezing johnny’s sides as you jolted, hips twitching at the bloating ecstasy. johnny just pushed down on your thigh, not letting up with the pace of his fingers. he was fucking you so hard that his hand’s slapping against your skin, his palm grinding down on your clit just right, and the pleasure sizzled into something biting. into something that was almost painful.

it was catastrophic, pulling you into two directions. johnny’s everywhere — his scent in your lungs, his fingers deep in your pussy, his mouth hot and wet on your tits, and like this, like this, you felt yourself breaking.

ripping—

then, your orgasm was punched out of you.

your senses had gone awry — throat throbbing as you cried out, your eyes going blind as they rolled into your skull at the final curl of johnny’s fingers. white noise filled your ears, and it was like you were submerged underneath water, wading through the crashing tides of your climax.

you came back to johnny peppering your face with soft kisses, whispering something you couldn’t decipher past the croon of your name and something like you did good and so beautiful. he’d already pulled his fingers out, and used both arms to cradle you close. you felt so empty — god, that wasn’t even his cock, yet — but your body thrummed pleasantly, almost like the itch was finally scratched.

“johnny?” you puffed out, voice all scratchy and weak.

“i’m here, bon. i’m here.”

you hummed, curling into his chest, head pillowed by his arm. you wanted to ask what about his own euphoria, but johnny seemed so content just laying there with you, not really desperate or needy, so you let it go, losing the battle against your drowsiness before finally slipping into a quiet sleep.

johnny’s there for your graduation, carrying a big bouquet of only eden roses. you didn’t even know that those particular ones were expensive until someone from the graduation party oohed and aahed to their friend.

your cheeks burned when their friend chirped, “well someone’s clearly loved.”

you know that what they said would have had johnny agreeing loudly if he was allowed in the lineup because he is never one to be shy about what he feels; or not anymore, anyway. he loves so fully and openly that you still wonder why it took the two of you so long to get together, but the days since then had just been kind and filling that you have long forgotten how it was to not be with him.

they’re going to call your name soon, and your stomach swoops, excitement and anxiety mixing in a dizzying tandem.

you’re graduating with a bachelor’s degree in psychology and a diploma in early childhood education, and this is not where you thought you would be when you first started university, but it’s the happiest you have ever been. and sure much of your poli-sci courses were scrapped when you changed majors, and that’s also a lot of money wasted, but you have three job opportunities lined up already and it’s like the seismic shift in your life had finally corrected itself.

(your mom said she’s sorry that she and your pa couldn’t come, but you’ve stopped longing for their acceptance and told her it was fine.

there’s a date saved in your calendar, though, for a brunch with her and that was enough.)

you ducked into johnny’s arms when the graduation ceremony ended, careful of the bouquet he’s holding.

“congratulations, bonnie,” he says, a hearty laugh rumbling from his chest. “christ, i’m so, so proud of you.”

you never pegged yourself for a crybaby, but tears begin to pool in the corners of your eyes at the weight of his words.

“thank you,” you reply, soft and raw, and honest.

johnny pulls you in, his lips warm as they’re pressed on your forehead.

and this, just like this, you know things will only get better from here on out.

#suns #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #soap x reader #cod x reader #f!reader #read tags!!

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celestie0 · 1 day ago

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hi my friends! hope you're all doing well. just wanted to come on here and share a little updates w you guys (if you're still here lol)

i guess it's been like a month n a half since i formally went on hiatus, and it's been nice! i got kinda sick for a little bit lmfaooo which was tough to manage w school, but i'm better now

although i took time away from my blog, i still delved in writing here n there. i haven't written anything for kickoff since tbh i'm in such a slump w it. but i still have big plans for stuff that happens after ch13, so hopefully i can just push through this next chapter and get to a better place. thanks so much to anyone that is still interested in the story, it means a lot to me. i know i'm so slow w updates and the story has been going on for almost a year now, but the continued support is so sweet! even though i didn't work on writing it these past one n a half months, i still really love it and plan to finish it.

i'm not sure if many people remember that i had this sort of "apocalypse" gojo x reader au about an asteroid being set to hit the earth in three days, and reader n gojo are ex lovers n the impending end of the world makes them break no-contact...yeah i finished writing the first chapter for it and i really love it so far! it's like set in new york which is really fun haha i love stories where new york is kind of its own "character" if that makes sense...it will definitely be a limited series w only 4 chapters or so, but i kinda wanna finish all 4 chapters before i start posting it bc i don't want it to be a drawn out series in terms of posting since i think it'd be best enjoyed in frequent succession if that makes sense

as for ihm, i think i wrote the most for ihm during my hiatus. i finished three chapters for it, but they are shorter chapters (around 3-4k words). i kinda realized one of my biggest reasons for burnout w my fics were the reaaaaallly long chapters...like didn't i have a 22k chapter for kickoff or sumn lol. idk i can't remember. but anyways, yeah the mindset behind the longer chapters was bc i liked each chapter to kinda have its own conflict, build up, tension then resolution in a sense. but it was exhausting to write that way tbh lol. so i think moving forward, for ihm, i will have shorter chapters. i just don't wanna think to much about things anymore, and write from my heart, bc i have a lot of things planned for ihm, and among the criticism i've received for my writing choices vs my own vision for the story, i've realized during my hiatus that the only way i can finish ihm, or any of my storeis for that matter, is if i just.........stop giving a fuck about it. lol idk if that sounds strange to say, but like, i don't want to over-edit anything. i don't want to think too much about redundancy. i don't want to flower things up or cut stuff out. i'm at the point where imma just write a first draft, check for grammarly errors, and then post it. i guess the reason i'm sharing this is because idk if this means that people may enjoy my writing less since i will admittedly be spending much less time on it than i did before, but tbh i realized i find the most joy while i'm writing, and not while i'm editing. so i want to spend as little time on the latter as possible, and if that changes the quality of my work, then so be it.

anyways, hmm as for hiatus. i guess i'm off hiatus now? i really enjoyed being off of tumblr tbh this app has a lot of questionable content at times (esp in jjk community) and it also did wonders for my studying bc i wasn't spending time doomscrolling or shit posting anymore lmfaooo. but as for writing in particular, i think i will start to post ihm again exclusively. i can't say anything about kickoff or my other projects, but i feel comfortable to start posting ihm again.

sorry, i know that i have kept my replies and ask box off for a long time. but i will open them again once i start posting chapters because i really miss interacting with you guys.

anywho, these are my updates lol i'm like not sure how many of my readers are still here or which ones have moved on but that's ok, i'm grateful to anyone n everyone. hope to see you all soon again!

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nyeddleblog · 4 months ago

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A little piece of heaven [Part 4]

Pairing: Wade Wilson x Original Female Character x Logan Howlett. Summary: In Wade's timeline, Iris is his supernice upstairs neighbor. In Wolverine's, she's his beloved dead wife. A/N: This is a Wattpad Fic with an original character of mine that you can find here. Warnings: Deadpool & Wolverine spoilers, kinda.

PREVIOUS PART.

Chapter 4: Wine, weed and Wade.

A week went by and she didn't hear much from Wade or Logan. She wondered if his new roommate had already figured out a way to murder him or if he'd gotten trapped in another reality all over again, yet she found the quiet good enough to begin grading her tests.

She got a carefully curated collection of sweet wine, a good stash of homemade cookies and an old Altoids box that she kept since high-school, with freshly ground weed. She was going to do just fine, she just needed a bit of Chappell Roan in the background and she was good to go.

Or hot to go.

Heh.

Iris didn't go out much on weekends. She usually just put on a good show and tried to retake the work she left during the week, like then, or listened to her playlist while she baked something, like she planned to do that afternoon. It's not like she didn't enjoy people's company, she was just much more comfortable alone, or next to Wade.

To be honest, her whole ex situation had made her a bit of an introvert.

But forty grades in and she was already starting to miss human interaction. And grading over 120 students, about an hour later, made her wonder what she was doing with her life.

She really needed a smoke.

Iris grabbed her cardigan, slipped on her flats and took a hold of the little Altoids box and her glass of wine before stepping out into her balcony. It was that time of the semester where every single student appeared to have lost all of their brain cells.

"Burnout, sugarplum?" she heard Wade's voice beneath her. She let out a sigh, smiling to herself, "Missing me already?"

"Feeling lonely without you" she played along dramatically, rolling a joint. There was a faint smile on her lips as she fidgeted with it in her fingers.

Wade chuckled, his voice carrying up to her. "Aw, come on, Rainbow Eyes. I was just about to raid your fridge. You know, for research purposes."

Iris rolled her eyes at that, imagining the ridiculous anecdote he would tell her once she inquired about his absence, "You craving my questionable left-overs, baby?"

She leaned over the balcony, just to check the reaction he had to the pet name. He looked up at her, mouth agape and then, slowly, he raised Mary Puppins in his hands, enough for her to gently lick what she reached of Iris' chin. Iris giggled loudly at that, and she could hear a frustrated groan from deep within's Wade's apartment.

"He's not taking this well, is he?" she whispered.

In response, Wade looked somewhere inside his living-room and yelled, "Can you shut up? I'm trying to flirt with your wife!"

Iris eyes widened at that and she could only see her friend disappear abruptly, being yanked by a clawed hand. Mary Puppins let a small cry when she was left on the floor, and Iris pouted at the thought, staying with her joint in hand curiously, to figure out what was happening downstairs.

She heard glass break, a few things being tossed aside and some muffled insults before she could realize there were at least 20 tests ungraded. She took a long drag of the joint and came back inside, barely able to imagine the chaos unfolding.

She paused the music, attentively trying to decipher the words being said. The rampage was somewhat comforting, and much more fun than any show she was starting to finish. She finished her joint as she stared at the student's name below her. Miles Morales.

Yeah, that was probably her favorite student. At least one kid who would get into college and appreciate her efforts to educate them.

She finished her joint, careful not to burn the papers. Then, she took a sip of wine and scribbled down the the few notes that praised the kid's wit.

He'd made a great fucking essay right at the end of the test. She smiled sweetly, correcting a few grammar mistakes and underlining the beautifully phrased answers Miles had written. Too focused to hear the heavy steps on the stairs, so the ring made her spill a considerable amount of red tint over the kid's test. She inhaled deeply.

She would have to photocopy it. Couldn't take the risk of anyone finding out she drank while grading, though she was pretty sure most of her colleagues did.

"Wha... What?!" she yelled out, a pinch of annoyance gripping her voice.

"Hey, you were the one giving me fuck me eyes ten minutes ago" She heard Wade's muffled voice let out, making her roll her eyes with a grin, "Don't play with my feelings like that!"

Iris stood up from her comfortable position in the floor and made sure that her knitted shorts were covering her butt cheeks completely, because lord knows what Wade would say if he saw all of that but, thinking it a little better, she raised the waistband and let it hug her curves comfortably. Let him stare for a while.

"Quit fighting or...?"

In front of her, as she swung the door open, where both her best friend and the man of her dreams (literally, that is). Iris raised her eyebrows, wondering what could she possibly have done to deserve this amusing visit, but Logan scanned her figure thoroughly and looked away, and she was once again self-conscious of the length of her shorts.

"'Sup" she tried to appear nonchalant.

"My, my, my..." Wade let out, giving her a little spin, "Look at you, tripping and working. I bet your students love you."

She giggled, stepping aside to let them in, "My students don't give a shit."

Her friend hummed in answer and took in the sight of her apartment. She guessed that, after a week (a bit more if she included the time he was out fighting the TVA) he couldn't see the faint changes she had worked on. A few more shelves, the baby blue paint all over the walls.

It was only a matter of time, she had bought the apartment after all.

"Did you do this all by yourself, sweet cheeks?"

"Who would've helped me, Wade?" she let out, turning to the fridge and walking over to promptly search what she knew Wade was looking for, food. And, just for the sight of moody Logan right behind him, two beers.

He looked good, Iris realized as she gave him the bottle with a gentle smile. I mean, Logan always looked good but it was even better when she was herself, looking at him through her own eyes; she wondered what could her version of that universe have done to put a ring on his finger.

Her ogling was interrupted by Wade putting an arm around her shoulders. She could see the reaction Logan had at that, his jaw clenching, his fists giving a silent warning. It was a lie if Iris said she didn't like that, so she rested her head on Wade's shoulder.

It was impressive how his mouth opened and Logan was pure rage. He said something about Iris' fuckable thighs, she wasn't really sure, but she knew it was more in a playful tone, than a seductive one. Either he was trying to get himself killed, or make his friend objectify her.

"I'm going to finish grading" she stated, gently nudging Wade to the table, "Eat your food, kids!"

He grinned happily in response, getting a hold of Iris' cabinets to take out the plates he was going to wash afterwards with the rest of her dirty dishes, because he wasn't a fucking animal.

"You're a teacher?" Logan inquired.

Iris, already settled on the floor (right in front of her very comfortable couch), looked up at him mindlessly and nodded. She just had five grades left. She was so going to finish them and take a nap, but the gaze burning her skin was a bit too distracting.

"What?" she giggled playfully, "What's so mind blowing about it?"

He opened his mouth to answer but nothing really came out. She realized there was definitely something mind blowing about it, but chose against prying too much and gave him a kind smile instead, taking a sip of what was left of her wine.

She wondered if the ring in his hand had her name engraved on it.

A/N: I'm sorry if it's too serious for a Deadpool Fanfiction but, well, you're in for an angsty polyamory slowburn, with a bit of comic relief interruptions.

#deadpool & wolverine #deadpool #wolverine #logan howlett #wade wilson #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction #marvel #logan howlett angst #logan howlett fluff #kind of a soulmates au #soulmates au #logan howlett smut #wade wilson x logan howlett #deadpool x wolverine

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zujime · 1 year ago

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─── multiple characters x reader

characters included: bruno, joesph(not the old man ya'll, he is kinda bad tho ngl), josuke, jotaro, giorno, mista

c.w. when ur sad/upset/overthinking/idk, aged up, fluff, comfort, established relationship, no y/n usage, hcs, jjba, some italian pet names (2), a few swear words

- it's been a while since i posted jjba content, it's also been a while since i posted overall. this probably isn't much but for right now until i recover from this burnout, it's all i have. i hope you enjoy :)

at times like these, bruno notices almost immediately that something's up when he walks into your shared home and is met with an eerie silence. it's not long before he's rushing into the bedroom in search of you, only to find you curled up in bed—hidden under covers as you trembled and sniffled lightly. his touch is gentle when he rests his hand on your quivering shoulder, voice even softer as he speaks—asking about what's troubling you.

"what's wrong, mia cara" whether you tell him or not, he encourages you to release whatever tears remain as he holds you, giving you a shoulder to cry on and lots of forehead, nose, and cheek kisses as he tries to soothe you. once you've calmed down, he'll ask if there's anything you want—either a necessity or just something you want, he's getting it without a second thought. he just loves you so much and wants to do all he can for you.

now joesph...is kind of a jerk when he finds you crying at first. he'd baby talk you as he pinches, squishes your cheeks, and flicks your forehead or nose while laughing his ass off, but when he notices that you're not giving him any snappy remarks, slapping his hands away, or laughing with him, that's when he knows something's wrong and he's actually worried.

and when he starts asking you what happened, he almost sounds like a fly that's been buzzing in your ear for god knows how long, but you know he means well, especially when he's giving you the warmest and tightest hug he can—holding you against his chest as you let his heartbeat calm your uneven breathing. he's definitely babying you for the rest of the day and he might tease you a teeny tiny bit, but only to make you laugh.

josuke would probably think he did something to cause you to feel this way and if that's the case, bro's apologizing profusely (please, he's so sorry). whatever the problem might be, expect lots—and i mean lots of short sloppy kisses all over your face while he whispers tons of "I'm sorry" or "it's ok" onto your face. he might refrain from asking what the problem is both out of fear and because he doesn't want to cross boundaries or upset you even more.

but he'll spoil you rotten for the entire week cause he wants you—his everything—to feel better and he wants you to know how much he loves you. cuddles, kisses, hugs, naps together, movie night, whatever the hell you want is exactly what he's gonna give you maybe even before you ask. (he'd probably cry w you, on a serious note).

i think that jotaro would sit there and wait for you to tell him what's wrong so he'll know if it's serious or not—if it's serious he'll stay and listen to what you have to say, but if it's not like you're crying because something is out of stock or something, he's leaving the room and not even sparring you a second glance.

anyway, if you need any type of physical affection, he'd be able to tell from your body language or if you ask him for it but either way, he's not gonna not give you what you want...he's a really good listener, would literally sit there and listen to all that you have to say with no interruptions and he'd cuddle with you until you fall asleep cause he needs to know that you're actually okay, but he's not leaving your side. at all.

ok listen, not exactly like josuke, but i think giorno would be such a sweetheart. he'd ask if you'd wanna talk about it and would be content listening to whatever you say to him while he's holding you in his arms to bring your frantic mind to a slow so you can focus on what you want to say. would definitely cuddle with you in bed—you'll pass out in like less than 20 minutes so yeah.

mista would be so worried but at the same time he's asking who did it with sex pistols in hand (bro's ready to kill a bitch for you). "amore mio, who do i need to kill?" "mista, please don't kill anyone..." he's drowning you in nothing but love (kisses, cuddles, hand-holding, etc). he'd let you wear his hat or play with his hair to calm you down if that's what you want. you're getting spoiled. no, if's and's or but's, you're getting spoiled. want food? he's got it. wanna watch something? the tv's already on. wanna nap? he's already waiting in bed. he'd also let you cry on his shoulder for as long as you need and he'll give you back rubs too. :((

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burn-before-reading · 4 months ago

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Love in the Time of Socialism

joost klein x artist!reader

art, mush, and ramblings about life

warnings: depression (ish), burnout, reader character in some vague mental health funk

word count: 2k

a/n: slight prequel to blue is the colour of your eyes but can be read as stand alone. just same artist reader. vaguely romantic but just ramblings and getting feelings out haha. started this when I was in more of a bad mental state (lol) but im fine now so it got kinda tame by the end of it. still not proofreading anything

title from the song Love in the Time of Socialism by Yellow House

Rpf below the cut—

Normally Joost has to call you because its the only way you will actually look at your phone. Its more often that not you find yourself fixated on planning out your next project, and your friends have to force you back into reality. There was that one time no one had heard from you in over a week and thought you were dead, when you were just working. You hadn’t realized how many texts you missed and apologized for scaring your friends half to death. Especially Joost.

So now you leave your ringer on, and now they call.

Tonight, however, Joost calls and you aren’t in your studio. You are in your bed, where you have been for the entire day. and also most of yesterday. There isn’t a reason in your head specifically why this has happened. you MEANT to get up. Theres a list of chores and things to do just sitting on your desk, but you woke up late, so now nothing will get done. At some point it just became too stressful to even get up and look at it. You roll over and stare at the contact picture of him, smiling with some dumb fish eye lens he thought was funny. You debate not picking up at all.

But you can’t ignore him.

“Hi Joost.” your voice came through the phone more hoarse than intended when you answered, you don’t remember the last time you talked to someone. “Whats going on?”

“the others wanted to go out for drinks tonight, you hadn’t responded so I wanted to check you were joining us.” You could imagine him rocking back and forth on his heels in the middle of his living room while he talked, it was either that or pacing around.

“uhh..” Drinks at a bar was the last thing on your mind. In any other situation you would have loved to be around your friends, but right now you just needed to avoided as much as possible. “Not a good night, tonight. Sorry, I’ll have to join you guys next time.”

Joost felt like something was off, you sounded tired. “Is everything okay?”

“I’ll be fine I just… shit brain day. bad brain thats all. It happens.” You did your best to summarize how you felt without actually admitting anything, you weren’t sure how to explain anything anyway.

“ Oh Im sorry, would it be good, if I came over? I can keep you company, if thats okay?”

“you don’t have to, I’ll be fine tomorrow. I want you to have fun. ” you insisted, but he pressed on.

“I don’t mind, the group would understand. Have you eaten today?”

“Like… a meal? yes, or well, no. I had a soda..” You glance at the half drunk soda from the night before, now flat. “and uhhh..”

“I’ll pick something up.” You could hear him on the other end gathering things together, keys, wallet, probably his ipad.

“.. thank you. I’ll see you in a bit, I guess.”

Joost knocked on your door about an hour later. In that time you were able to get out of bed and make your way to the bathroom to change and make yourself somewhat presentable in front of a guest, and to the kitchen to make coffee despite it being 8pm.

You opened it to see Joost with a sheepish smile as he extends his arms out for a hug. “Hi.”

“Hi Joost.” you take the step to hug him, feeling his body heat contrast with the cold nighttime. “I’m glad you’re here.” the two of you head inside to your living room where he empties his bag of take out to reveal a couple different thai dishes and egg rolls. It was hard to not admit you weren’t at least a little bit hungry.

The two of you ate in mostly silence, making small talk about different projects you two have going on, or the fact that the two of you were in between projects. He done with touring for the time being and in the process of working on a new album. You loosely avoiding talking about any current work plans but mentioned one or two paintings you finished for a private gallery commission last month.

“ Just some paintings of animals and nature-ish symbolism. Honestly my heart wasn’t really in that one, but it payed the rent so.” you shrug and shove noodles into your mouth.

“Well now you have the time to work on your own stuff, right?” he commented, leaning back into your couch and looking down at you sitting on the floor instead of any of your own furniture. “Draw whatever your heart desires.”

“I mean I guess.. Im just glad to be done with the oil paints for now. I swear i think I was gonna die in my studio from all the chemicals. I dunno, I finished that whole project last month, I haven’t really been very productive since then.” you trail off and Joost gets a concerned expression on his face.

He sinks down from his spot of the couch to join you in the floor. The fluffy rug brushing against his legs as he adjusts his new sitting position.

“Its okay to take a break, you know.”

“I know I know, I just get frustrated. I never seem to have my energy directed towards the right thing. Whenever I have all those big projects from other contractors, I can brainstorm and think of all these interesting ideas I wanna work on, but I can’t because then I would get behind on the art Im being paid to do.”

“mhm.” he nods, to indicate he’s following along.

“ And then whenever Im done with those projects, I just get… tired. and my focus is gone. and Everything just feels…” you gesture the last bit with your hands, scrambling your fingers, to imply your thoughts. You aren’t looking at him, but you can still see him nodding in your peripherals. Joost always seemed to understand your thinking and explanations to things, even if you thought they were messy.

“Do you want to try painting right now?” he asks. you just shrug your shoulders.

“I don’t know what I would paint.”

“You can paint our dinner, or, or yourself, or your plants maybe?” he suggested and stands up. “Can I paint too?”

“Oh we’re actually doing this?” Not that you didn’t want to, but this self doubt had creeped into your mind again. That failing to produce something decent would prove that you’ve lost all your talent, your skill.

“yea we can have a little painting party!” he chimed, but he hesitated walking over to your studio to grab stuff, still giving you the space to reject his idea.

you looked away and started nervously tapping your fork against the table.

tap tap tap tap

“…sure. We can use my watercolors, Ive been wanting to use them more often anyway.”

the coffee table became a little more cluttered as you set up the paints for the two of you. Joost using an old set 24 pans and you using a newer set of watercolor tubes you were gifted last year and never opened. You watched as Joost immediately dipped his brush in water and started activating the blue paints, spreading it onto his paper in big random strokes.

“what are you painting?”

“not sure yet, maybe im painting you.” he looks up and smirks. you scrunch your nose up.

“why are you using so much blue. am I a smurf?” you joke and he just shrugs and points to your own paper.

“Just mess around, can’t be any worse than what im doing.”

tap tap tap tap tap tap

you fidget with your own brush for a few seconds lo get before grabbing a big mop brush and wetting your paper with clean water. Taking your smaller brush again, you pour out a small amount of yellow and mix it up with some more water. You hesitate for a moment longer before letting the brush lightly touch the surface, creating a burst of colour on the paper as the colour seeps onto the page. You make a few more random marks before switching to another warm colour and repeating the process, now watching the colours bleeds and mix into each other. You look at Joost paper and see that he is actually now trying to paint you, the blue fortunately was able to be mostly contained to the background.

“Do you ever think about what you would do if you weren’t a musician?” you ask.

“I dunno I think after this I could have a pretty successful art career.” he teases but sees in your face the question is more serious. “I don’t know. I started off with youtube, but if I wasn’t doing that… its hard to think about what my life would be like if I didn’t follow this path.”

“I always have this feeling deep down, that I made a wrong choice somewhere along the line. I was thinking about going to school for psychology, I also wanted to work with animals at one point, be a vet. I enjoy art, don’t get me wrong, but I just worry that in making it my job Ive just drained all the passion I had for it.”

You let the paper dry before staining the page with lines of dark burgundy, creating hands and a human heart. he hums as he listens, not adding anything, but simply letting you vent. beginning to piece together your mood from earlier. “I don’t have any jobs lined up right now, which is what Ive been waiting for, to work on my own stuff, yknow? I haven’t had the time ive wanted to make something for myself for a while. But now I just feel, I feel like ive been frozen.”

“things seem to be okay right now. I like what youve made. ” you look down and see the scribbles youve made with your paint. hands clasped over a broken heart. you shrug and smile softly, signing the bottom.

“Just a scribble, you can have it if you want.” You hand the paper over to him. “thank you for coming by, its… its nice being around you. Helps a bit.”

Joost takes the paper and studies it for a second. “I really like it, maybe I should come by more often.”

“If you bring the food we can have art nights whenever you want.” he holds up his paper. The blue bleeding into your skintone and hair since he didn’t wait for anything to properly dry. “I might stick to my ipad though, I don’t know why you like this paint.” he scrunches his nose at it. you laugh and it makes him smile.

You notice for the first time how bright his eyes look when he smiles, but you brush the thought away.

“Feeling a bit better?” he asks as he lingers by the door on his way out.

“a bit. like I said It was just a mood, I was gonna be fine tomorrow most likely… I still appreciate you coming over.”

“Don’t ever be afraid to call or text okay? Im always here to talk if you need. or just to listen.”

“definitely. Ive been meaning to uh, talk to someone about all this stuff anyway, you’re not a professional but ill keep it in mind.”

he grins and goes in for one last hug. you feel him slightly squeeze you and linger a little longer than usual before letting go. With one last glance he waves and head off. You see him pull out a cigarette for the walk back. It takes you a second to close the door. standing there watching him walk off until he turns a corner and disappears. Closing the door you sigh and go the clean up your living room.

You notice he left the portrait he drew of you. signed at the bottom with a smiley face next to his name.

It gets hung up in your studio above your desk.

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost fanfic #joost klein fanfic #joost klein x you #rpf #eurovision #artist!reader #vague mental state #mental health issues #whoops #mush #i hate endings #no beta we die like men

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lara-cairncross · 6 months ago

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I’m curious- and as far as I know, this hasn’t been asked already?- does anybody ever pick on Donnie? Or just straight up bully him, whether it’s physical or just verbal?

also- if another question isn’t too much- does Donnie ever go into autistic burnout? If so, how does he, and his brothers, deal with it? Surely, Donnie would feel awful and become behind in his work…

Ooooh, excellent question!

There's a bit of nuance (especially once he's older), but yes, Donnie did get picked on when he was younger. It was never "as bad" as it could've been, since Donnie had some special circumstances going for him-- Raph always being very protective of him for one thing, and being favored by the Hidden Hollow's leader for another-- but there was definitely some bullying going on, especially from other Tinker fairies. Not only were other Tinkers jealous of Donnie's talent, but he was also physically disabled, so.... yeah. People are awful.

I imagine it would've been mostly verbal bullying, but I can also picture other fairies threatening to push him off of high places just to scare him (before he designed his wing brace, ofc). Probably one of the biggest reasons why Donnie doesn't really interact/work with other Tinker fairies. Things definitely got easier for him once he was older and built himself a way to fly-- and it helps that by that point, Raph was pretty infamous for being big + strong + overprotective-- but he had a rough time as a kid.

Yes, Donnie does occasionally get autistic burnout. I always like to base his experiences off my own, so the answer to how he deals with it,,,,, is. that he kinda??? doesn't??

Can't spoil too much, but Donnie is in the position where he can't fall behind on his work. He's not allowed to. If he does, then bad things happen. So what does he do when he gets burnout? He forces himself to keep going and abandons all other activities that could drain his energy-- hobbies, family time, self-care-- and focuses solely on his work. It'll literally become the only thing he does. He only stops when one of his brothers inevitably pick up on it, and then Raph takes over by bargaining with the Higher Ups to get Donnie a break. Mikey and Leo are kinda in the dark about what Donnie's job really is, but ofc they'll still drop everything to try and help him rest (even if Donnie and Leo don't have the best relationship atm-- more on that later hehe).

there's so much I have planned for Donnie... he kinda embodies the idea of, like, "good people doing bad things for good reasons".

thank you for the questions!! :D

#rottmnt fairy au #listen i love mikey angst #but donnie angst just has so much flavor #i kin him too much to leave him alone #asked and answered

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bimir · 5 months ago

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it's not something strange or unique to say that after the last haikyuu movie, most of us got into it again, but at the same time, I know for sure that I'm not the only one who benefits the most from this re...union.

I went to see the haikyuu movie alone, and at first, it didn't hit me that much. maybe it was because I couldn't help but wonder how much I would have enjoyed it with my best friend, but we are grown-ups now and long distance.

after a couple of days, the internet was full of haikyuu content again, just like during lockdown, and because of that, I also got into it again and realized how much of a masterpiece it is.

haikyuu is well known, but in my opinion, it is underestimated and categorized by others as just a silly volleyball-sport anime. it saddens me so much that there are so many people who will never get to embrace this piece of art.

Furudate not only created a coming-of-age story, a story that inspired and still inspires generations to fight for their dreams, to engage in the complex mess of relationships, teamwork, and partnerships. haikyuu teaches you that if you really do have a dream, and if you are really ambitious, if you work hard for it, your time will come too. but it also teaches you that not choosing to be great is not a tragedy; your dreams of what a good life means can be different from the ideals of others: "life is unfair, but damn it, at the same time, it is really fair too."

so why did I go on writing about this? because I can't comprehend how haikyuu manages to be there for me at the best time—or the worst, better said—how it really took its "comfort anime" title seriously for me. I started haikyuu in my last year of high school: extremely stressed, depressed, and anxious, so scared of what the upcoming end would mean for me that I'd tricked myself into living by coming to the conclusion that I'd simply not make it to 18 if I didn't see a future for myself. it seemed only fair and the universe would do its thing, no? I know, kinda depressing and triggering, but it did help that miserable me then, it did help but not in the way I prayed it would. the universe didn't send me "death," it sent me life and hope through haikyuu. feeling so empty, so bland for such a long time, haikyuu managed to make me laugh and cry. it doesn't sound like much, but real ones know what I'm talking about. seeing their connection, their ambition, the troubles and feelings I was so desperate to put into words right in front of me saved me from my misery. I began to wish to live, to wish to be like them, to wish to fight, to wish to connect again with people.

now, after almost 4 years, I'm in my last year of uni. the main reason for my depression back then in high school was because I didn't know what to do with my life, what uni and career to choose. hell, I didn't know I would take this path until last autumn, but here I am, on my way to becoming a teacher. it's hard, really hard, but right now, after the new movie, I finally committed to start and finish the manga even though I knew bits and pieces of what happens. it was the best time to read it now. over these 3-4 years, I pondered why I couldn't start getting into the manga and see for myself what happens, but damn it was the best time to read it now. seeing them go all out on their path, learning that in order to succeed you need to fight and fight and fight, to push through, to overcome your limits, to push yourself, to not take it easy if you really want it, came at the best time as I got into a slump and a burnout from learning too much but also not learning enough. I've got to see all of the characters continuing to be pros while fighting for their way, but also choosing to let go of something they once loved in order to live a normal life.

haikyuu is like a reminder that there is more to life than just your high school/childhood years, that your path could take a 180-degree turn at any point, but at the same time, it makes you appreciate those times and not want to sweep your childlike wonder, your growth, and mistakes under a rug. Furudate was a genius for creating haikyuu, and I really hope and pray that haikyuu will continue to be there, to comfort and save future generations until the end of time.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#manga #anime #karasuno #nekoma #fukurodani #aoba johsai #hinata shouyou #kageyama tobio #oikawa tooru #kozume kenma #bokuto koutarou #miya atsumu #fly #jump #my writing #yapping

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crystallilytarot · 10 months ago

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Choose a little hat. What's in store for you in your career this year.

Pile 1 - light blue

Working in a group will be succesful, the communication, the whole community feels good here. Creativity is flowing, you will have a lot of good ideas. Be confident, you have all ability to be succesful. But at one point, there will be a better option, or just something bad will happen. After that it's possible that you will even change your job. Or it's just a burnout and you will need a little vacation. Feels like a writer's block kinda. You need a little rest to get back your inspiration. It can be that there will be some disagreement in the workplace, some gossip or there will be a new boss? It's really chaotic at that point. It feels a little long, 1-2 months even. Even if you are not going to change jobs, you will probably go to another department in the company, or something a little bit bigger change will happen. But after that things will be calm and good again.

Pile 2 - dark blue

I think there are a little healthy competition here, but it feels like everybody wants to do their best. I don't feel it's really toxic. Even if someone is a little more agressive, you will be confident in your ability. If you doubt yourself in any way, you really shouldn't. Things are very stable here, everything is good. There will be either a big project or some big opportunity, and it will be very succesful. If you want to have a higher position, a promotion, there's a very good chance you will get it! You can change jobs, if you want, you will get accepted. But if you don't want, it's okay, it's not like you needed to. You will probably have more money than before, either a higher salary or you get a promotion, but you can even buy something you really wanted.

Pile 3 - green

It's either that you will have a new boss or coworker, or some of you can change jobs too. But I think it's more likely that with that new member, things will change a little. Or something in the company will change, the business policy, or something like that, a bigger change. Maybe there will be a cooperation and it will be very good. A lot of success here, very creative period. You will be passionate or passionate again to work. A lot of new ideas. Maybe you will travel too a few times, it feels like a further training or something like that, a conference, negotiation. There are some good news too. A very stabil workplace. Good salary. Your hard work will pay off.

#free tarot #pick a card #tarot #pick a pile

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lunar-wandering · 2 months ago

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anyways as i mentioned earlier here is my absolutely nuts 'analysis' of Boboiboy having autism, and how each of the seven elementals kinda showcase a heightened version of an autism symptom-

so we're gonna go down in order (of manifestation for the elements)-

Boboiboy himself- he's just got the vibe, y'know? But also; it's been established he had no friends prior to moving in with his grandfather, which, y'know, is quite strange for a "normal" kid his age. He also tends to look at the people around him to know how to react in certain social situations (usually the person he looks to is Gopal which. Isn't always the best choice). Also the strong sense of justice is obvious (including that he goes so far as to help villains as well). (Yes this can be an autism symptom).

Halilintar (Thunderstorm). hear me out. Halilintar manifested due to overstimulation. I mean obviously the phobia of balloons is a huge factor here- but being in distress due to loud sounds is exactly one of the things that causes overstimulation for autistic people (could contribute to why he has this fear in the first place). One of the ways people might react to overstimulation is by becoming irrationally angry. Basically what I'm saying is that Halilintar spends most of his time on the edge of a meltdown-

Taufan (Cyclone). autistic joy. listen LISTEN. it's DIFFERENT from other people's joy, okay? a lot of autistic people experience emotions very intensely, it can full out take over you. also as far as i remember (it's been a while) he was the only one who had such an intense reaction to the mood changing potion- sure, the other people who had it were locked in one emotion, but none of them went as wild as he did- because he felt it a lot more intensely.

Gempa (Earthquake). i will admit, i struggled for a moment with Gempa- but honestly i think it's because he is, in my opinion, the one who's the most similar to OG Boboiboy. other than the heightened need to protect, which likely includes the sense of justice, I think Gempa is the one who masks the most out of all the elements. This is also why he seems to be the most neutral element.

Blaze and Ice. I'm doing these two together, because technically, their origin points are from the same thing: Burnout. It's just two very different responses to it. On the one side, Blaze is trying to, ironically enough considering the name, prevent burnout, by relieving stress (by doing things in the middle of night while no-one is looking and there's no pressure of social interaction). When there is too much stress, he falls into an overstimulated state similar to Halilintar's. On the other side, Ice represents the more depressed side of burnout- aka what happens after you actually burn out. It's why he's tired all the time.

Duri (Thorn). Okay so technically Thorn first manifested in battle but we're ignoring that. His tier 1 manifestation, as we all know, was mainly most definitely because Boboiboy got a concussion- but! Here's the thing; I don't think the concussion is why Thorn acts the way he does (though it's probably a part of it). I think, Thorn is just unmasked. The others all mask on some level, but Thorn just, doesn't. He doesn't really care how others might perceive him if he does 'childish' things or says things that no-one else understands because they didn't make the same connections he did, and he certainly doesn't care that deadpan telling someone their outfit is terrible might hurt their feelings, it doesn't even occur to him. He doesn't mask at all.

Solar. Again, technically manifested during battle. However once again we are ignoring that. It was established that the manifest condition for Solar (as Light), was for the elemental master (Boboiboy) to "expand their knowledge", and "read more". And, well, I know Boboiboy specifically read a bunch of science and history books and stuff, but honestly I don't think it really would've mattered what he chose to use to expand his knowledge, because Solar's main autistic trait is special interest. Because Boboiboy mainly focused on science and stuff, that became Solar's special interest, hence why he rambles off about formulas and stuff, and why he likes doing experiments. He hyperfixates on that stuff.

now. i could do the fusions... but honestly i haven't thought about the fusions enough to draw conclusions, so we're sticking with this

#Boboiboy

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turtleybeachin · 1 year ago

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Okay I have finally thought of an ask! Not sure if you remember me or not but that's okay. It kinda has to do with the summoning through pacts. I was wondering if you could write something along the lines of an MC who is usually calm, but a MC having a panic attack or is just scared and accidentally summons a brother? I'd like to request all of the brothers or even the dateables but I don't want to ask that much. Do whoever you want with this ask if you do it at all! ❤️❤️

Hi I totally remember you and never forgot this but got way too in my own head about it. I think I crawled back out now. Thanks for being patient with me. ♥ So first of all, I love the concept of accidentally summoning someone to you. Sure, the actual summoning spell is great, but the idea of panic-summoning and maybe not even fully intentionally? Amazing. I started writing how they'd comfort you but got too in my head trying to do everyone (and not feel like i was rehashing Burnout), so I have a few that are spawning future updates to Burnout (for the new side characters), and then some one-offs I'll share as I finish them as well. But! Here are some thoughts I had on alternative summonings when upset.

Characters: Everyone! :) and a GN!MC (reader) Rating: G Word Count: ~2.3k Tagging: references to MC struggling mentally/emotionally, some fluffy affection, mostly a think piece on unintended summoning. Spoiler warnings for OG game, most notably for end of season 2, a bit of season 3, and vaguely part of season 4. Nothing too big, but there nonetheless.

Lucifer's Ring of Light is a perfect fidget piece. Spinning it around your finger, rubbing your thumb along the band, pressing on the edges of the stones to let the dull pinch ground you. It's always there on your finger, always present, always twinkling in the corner of your eye as a reminder you aren't alone. It is not his any longer, but that doesn't mean he isn't still aware of it, that a little piece of him isn't still present in a little piece of its inherent magic. And when you're spinning it and digging it into your palm and distressed, he feels an echo of that pain. It pulls him to you. Perhaps, in your own way, you're admitting you need his presence, his strength, his help, and he is not about to start abandoning his loved ones now.

With Mammon's keychain of that chocolate lizard, your thumb knew all the grooves, the smooth spots and the rough ones, the little spot where paint was chipped away that you knew you shouldn't pick at but it just happened anyway, your nail catching on the rough edge. You fidget with it when anxious because you know Mammon used to fidget with it just the same, and isn't that comforting, to know that even a powerful ancient fallen angel would run his thumb along the very same ridges you do? It's almost like you can still feel the warmth of his touch there. And you can't really think your First Man ain't gonna know you as well as he knows himself, can you? That he doesn't know when you need him, when you're tuggin' on the pact like that?

Leviathan's script he gave you? You've memorized it by now. In times when everything is spiraling, you remember your favorite lines, the ones that remind you to stay strong. You recite them to yourself between shaking breaths. Because when you can't be strong and cool and calm yourself, sometimes it helps to put yourselves in the shoes of Henry, the shoes of the Romantic Lead, the shoes of the characters written to always have a happy ending. It is, you realize, the same way Levi puts himself in the shoes of the Lord of Shadows, wrapping the cool-clever-badass-strong cloak around him as an armor. There's no Lord of Shadows without his Henry, and there's no you without him. And just like how in book six, the Lord of Shadows gets accidentally bound to Henry with a spell and is able to feel when Henry's in need and the Lord of Shadows leaves his lair without knowing where he's really going just knowing that he's needed and he ends up following this magical instinctive pull to find Henry and get to him just in time to save him from his enemies who were-- ...well, let's just say that Levi won't leave you to fight your mind alone for long.

Satan wasn't wrong that cats are perfect for calming the emotional storm inside you. They're good little listeners, and their company is a great distraction from the voices in your head. Watching the little fuzzballs roll around, or nap in a sunbeam, or prowl through the grass, it distracts you from all the frustration and anxiety and worries. Whether it's watching neighborhood cats, or visiting a cafe, or popping into a shelter, you've taken to Satan's favorite hack for handling your wayward emotions. On the really bad days, it's nice to know you can vent and cry to them and they won't judge you or tell anyone your secrets. But did you forget, MC, the stories about cats that traverse the realms? They won't ever tell anyone, but they might wander from you to their favorite place in the Devildom and they might headbutt a certain blond demon's shin and chirp for him to follow them. They are, after all, very good listeners. And so is he.

With Asmodeus, you look at the photos of him on your phone, at your selfies together and how big you smiled beside him. You blink away burning tears to focus on how he looks not at the camera but at you, his body angled not to show his best side (which is every side of course) but to press always closer to you, and how no matter where you two were or what was happening your smiles were always so bright and genuine with him. When everything feels like too much and not worth it and you feel trapped and cornered by situations beyond your control, you find yourself clutching your phone and swiping through hundreds of pictures of laughter and kisses and hugs and twirls and snuggles and you whisper a promise that one day, soon, we'll be together again. Sooner than you expect, of course, because did you really think that he wouldn't feel your burning need for him across realms, hon?

Beelzebub just has to be comfort food, our precious glutton. When life without your demons is getting you down, it's the salty snacks, the sweet treats, the tubs of ice cream with the chunks of something extra to dig for like buried treasure. And whenever you indulge, you can't help but think of your gentle giant and what he'd have to say about everything. He'd be happy you're eating, of course, and then what would he think of your human world snacks? Which makes you think of your favorite Devildom snacks, and that just hits you with a fresh wave of homesickness. But somewhere out there, a realm away, one particular Avatar just gets this feeling, you know? Like the way he knows when Belphie is craving quetzalcoatl brains, or is napping in the garden. Just that instinct. And his instinct is telling him you need your favorite cupcakes. Surely Lucifer will understand how vital it is he takes these three dozen cupcakes to the human world right now. And if he doesn't, well, that argument with his brother can wait until after your craving is satisfied.

Belphegor of course is our star-gazing boy, and while you like the idea of looking into the sky to seek out any possible shared stars to look at with him, you can't always see the stars at night everywhere, and the human realm has day and night cycles that hide them for at least half the day anyhow. For Belphie, you have a pillow from him (that he either gifted or didn't complain about your stealing) that you keep with you -- not for sleeping, but for comfort. A pillow to smother your tears on the rough nights, a pillow to pummel on your frustrated days. A pillow you curl around and snuggle for a memory of contact now distant. And when you drift off in those fitful sleeps of exhaustion, you wander in your dreams to another dream unknowingly. He's with you when you rest, and the moment he can get away from Lucifer's watchful gaze, he'll be there to tug the pillow out of your arms to crawl into your embrace himself.

With Diavolo, well, he knows things. Usually it's because of Barbatos, or Lucifer, or his familiars, but you? MC, you're so much more precious than the 'usual'. If asked by anyone who doesn't know him well enough to call him out, he'd say the charm he placed on you was simply for matters of Devildom security-- after all, you know possibly too much, and that could make you a target to the wrong people! (Barbatos politely does not point out that it's because he misses you so much and wants to see what you're doing.) It's not that he wants to intrude on your life or anything, it's important you have the chance to be as wonderfully human as you are, but he just worries. Are you alright? Are you comfortable? You'd mentioned once the extravagance of the brothers' lifestyle, do you have enough income? The charm is just a minor thing, a little thing, just to make sure you're well. And when you aren't? Well, paperwork and meetings will wait.

With Barbatos, he's just such a badass god-like time lord, we don't even need a pact to be connected to him. You had brought up the idea of a pact once, and he had just given you that dangerous smirk and demurred that it wasn't so much a pact you desired, surely, as his company and his attention, both of which were already yours. It seemed like such a smooth line at the time, but you didn't realize the extent of it. How you're a bright twinkling point on every timeline for him, how you are the center of every universe he knows, how he orients himself in any reality by looking to you. So when something is wrong, when you're falling apart or in danger, it's like the spiderweb crackling of a timeline splitting. Like an itch at the back of his throat, an ache behind his eyes. The choices are to let you suffer alone, or to teleport himself to your side and help you through. Do you even have to wonder which option he chooses?

Simeon may have a complicated relationship with his blessing and his celestial light, with his place and his purpose, but one thing has never felt complicated: you. Every baked good he ever made for you was made with pure love, and every gift he bestowed -- from a little sheep plush sewn by hand to earrings made from his own feathers -- had all of his hopes and wishes and prayers for you inside them. Maybe that's why squeezing the soft little plush fills you with such warmth and comfort, and why the brush of the feather against your neck feels like a kiss. When you're struggling and upset, the gifts from Simeon make you feel grounded just a little more. And perhaps it's a prayer answered for him, too, that he just has a feeling when it's time to go visit you.

Solomon has been watching out for you longer than you know. It started in the little ways, simple defensive spells and barriers to protect you, reminding demons who looked a little too closely at you who precisely he was and what he could do. It graduated to teaching you to defend yourself, and gifting you various magical trinkets and charms to help focus and direct your growing magics. You still don't really know all the ways that he keeps an eye on you. But he does. Nothing is more important than you. When one of his spells alerts him that you're upset or in distress, well. He just so happened to be in the neighborhood, MC, and what a lucky coincidence that is!

Luke is such a literal perfect little angel baby. One who gave you his blessing, to protect you even when he can't. Everyone teases him for being so young, but he knows that you are the one human he wants to guide and shelter and protect. And sure, when he gave his blessing, it was under the assumption you might need protection from demons or fae, from magic and shadow. But that doesn't mean his blessing doesn't also guide and protect you in times of need that aren't external, MC. When you're at your lowest and feeling completely alone, he feels the pull, feels your pain, and what sort of guardian angel would he be if he left you alone?

Mephistopheles you don't have a pact with (yet?), but imagine your magic ripping open a portal to him without your conscious intent when you're feeling small and lonely and just so badly miss him and want him with you. Maybe you think of him because of the kindness he has shown himself capable of; maybe you think of him because you know he's the least likely person to tell the brothers or anyone else about you having a meltdown. And he's startled and confused when this portal opens before him, the magic somewhat familiar but certainly not demonic, and he warily steps through half-expecting some idiotic prank of one of the brothers only to find you curled up and small and fragile and all of his complaints and questions can wait. After all, clearly you can't even manage your own magic right now, so someone has to keep you from causing trouble.

With Thirteen, it's the little conversation crystal that she gifted you during The Three Worlds' Fair. Perhaps you turned it into a pendant, or perhaps it's just always in your bag or pocket, kept close as a charm for good luck and reminder of the fact you aren't alone. You don't think it would actually work across realms but still hold it tightly and whisper your frustrations or fears or doubts into it just to get things off your chest. But between your magic and hers, it does still connect, and she does hear your outbursts. And at first she just lets it happen, quietly charmed and amused you would use her gift as a secret diary. But when you're really struggling? Well. Reapers are meant to move between realms, you know. There's nowhere she won't go for you.

And Raphael is not an angel to be summoned on the whim of some human. But he is incredibly observant (even if he sometimes doesn't 'read a room' well). He is the one who reads between your lines more than you expected, more than you intended, more perhaps than you want. He sees the tension you hold, the dark circles under your eyes, the way your smiles are just a little slow and empty; he hears the silences where he expects to hear laughter or humming or conversation. And he nearly ignores it, because it's not his business, and you have plenty of other devoted fans already flocking to you, but then he realizes that in those moments you don't. In your pain, you are alone, and that is the most jarring observation of them all. So perhaps it is up to him to correct this cosmic error, and be the one to support the human who supports everyone else.

I hope you still enjoy, even if it's not exactly what you had in mind! ♥ and when i get around to the other little things this spawned, i'll tag you if you'd like.

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