#i just wanted to DRAW and WRITE you know?

[amnmesias]

𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞

word count: 6.5k

summary: On September 1st, 1971 you were sorted into Slytherin, putting you on the map as the first Potter to do so, and the first time James Potter turned his back on someone he claimed he loved dearly. You’re slowly drifting away, turning the Potter twins into a sad tale, but after one deadly incident close to Christmas break, James decides to put an end to the distance he unknowingly created. 

How can you say that you love someone you can’t tell is dying? 

cw: suicidal ideation, but hinted. scars and blood mention, nosebleed. angst, very heavy on the angst. potter!reader, fem!reader. platonic marauders and rosier twins. background jily.

a/n: sorry if this too much… just had this idea for a while and i needed an outlet. likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated. enjoy! xx 

···

You sighed, the bandage around your shoulder suffocating you to the point of tears. As much as you tried, you wanted to keep your compartment warm and toasty with the blanket over your seat and legs, but your efforts were in vain at the mere lack of human heat. The fogged window seemed an acceptable distraction as you dragged your finger around, drawing meaningless doodles as the train passed by beautiful landscapes you barely registered. 

Something shifted on your other side, and you turned to find people walking past your compartment, pointing and whispering about you and your sad state. None of them dared to open the door, making the lump in your throat grow with each breath you took. You looked down at the cassette player in your lap, hands too shaky to change the cassette into something more cheerful.

In time, you looked up to find a pair of brown eyes staring at you with both curiosity and pity, you frowned, desperately wishing your brother’s friends would stop pestering you. Their mere presence was a bitter reminder of your brother's abandonment, the pain you suffered seeing them fill your place, share laughter together like you both did many years ago. You looked away, luckily for you, Remus got the signal and made to move past the compartment; but to Remus’ ill luck, James followed his gaze and opened the door.

“Mum said Dad won’t be able to come, but will be waiting for us at the Manor.” He murmured, his eyes pointedly trying to not stare too hard at the bandages peeking through your jumper. You nodded. “She will meet us at the station.”

“Okay,” You said, not moving to take your headphones off, nor to look at him to meet his gaze. You feared you would cry if you looked at him, a reminder of the despair in his eyes when they brought you into the infirmary. “I knew that, you know we still write to each other, right?”

James nodded quickly, swallowing hard at your voice devoid of emotion. “Yeah, just… Just wanted to make sure,” He paused, quickly stepping in to fully enter and close the door behind him. You finally turned your head to him with surprise. “You alright?”

You scoffed, finally taking your headphones off your ears, “What do you think, James?” This time, he has no qualms about studying you completely, eyes skimming over your poor posture as a result of the accident. You couldn’t help rolling your eyes, your blood boiled as you spat. “Yes, I’m fine. Will that be all, or…?”

James closed his mouth and schooled his face, something desperately needing to be said. You bit your lip, your insides filling with regret but having no intention of backing away from the incoming disagreement. Something in you stirred with hope, hope that he would finally give you your place and sit with you. However, the bespectacled boy simply nodded and left the compartment. 

You let out a breath, disbelief and disappointment in your heart as you placed the headphones back in your head. A tear slowly rolled down your cheek and you quickly cleaned it, your shaky hand almost poking your eye as you desperately tried to swallow the possible panic attack you felt looming over you. The countless letters addressed to you from your mother heavy on your satchel, most of them asking you to fix your relationship with James, the other begging you to take care of yourself, you weren’t sure which ones hurt the most. 

The moment the word Sectumsempra left Snape’s mouth, a curse filled with magic so dark not even the boy could understand it, you almost felt bad for the relief you felt in your chest at the pain that took over your body. That morning still felt like a far away memory, a dream that shook you up so much you still recalled after you woke up; McGonagall’s surprised gasp and the students that were unfortunate enough to witness the moment your fellow housemate almost made you cut into pieces. You were brought up in a rush to the infirmary where your brother and his friends recovered from a rather violent full moon, James had almost passed out at the pure rage he felt when he was informed of the situation. You weren’t proud to admit that your brother being angry on your behalf was a nice memory to die with, a redemption that came almost too late. 

You weren’t even prouder to admit to the sinking feeling in your chest when you woke up to find nothing had changed, the only remains that someone still cared about you in the form of Madam Pomfrey’s gentle touches. James hadn’t stayed back to check on you, and you couldn’t blame him. To that day, you couldn’t fully stare at your reflection in the mirror without your eyes filling with tears, had it not been for Pandora, promoted to friend as of lately, you wouldn’t have been able to even put the healing potions in your scars. 

Just in time, three knocks came at the door, you turned, ready to yell at your brother or his friends to fuck off, but Pandora’s gentle smile made you pause. She pointed at the seat across from you, cold and empty, and you nodded dumbly. She stepped in, arms filled with sweets from the trolley and smiled at you as she made herself comfortable in the seat. 

“Hi, how are you feeling?”

Why is everyone asking me that?, you thought bitterly. Immediately feeling regretful when Pandora presented you with a Chocolate Frog. 

“I’m okay,” you murmured, shyly taking the sweet from her hand. She had a different color in each of her nails, you noted. “Thank you.”

Her platinum white locks fell to her shoulder as she sat back, her own Chocolate Frog in her hand. She smiled at you and picked her book, and you wanted to cry tears of happiness. Comfortable silences were Pandora’s main form of love language, you quickly learned, and you were eternally grateful for the company. You weren’t sure if you had it in you to put up with your self hatred for another moment, let alone the rest of the train ride.

You looked up from your cassette case, eyes lingering a beat too long on the compartment door. 

“He’s two compartments over,” She said breezily, noticing the hesitance in your movements. “I passed them on my way here, he seems gutted.”

“Oh, please,” You made a scoffing sound, your shaky hand struggling to take a new cassette off its box. “He just feels bad for me, but he’s going to do absolutely nothing about it.” You poked your cheek with your tongue, satisfied when you finally got the cassette out. 

“Have you thought that maybe,” Pandora started to say, fully closing her book now that she had your undivided attention, “maybe… he thinks it’s too late? You have been a bit too cold to him…”

“It’s the least he deserves,” You spat, then cleared your throat. If Pandora felt offended at your anger, she didn’t show, she never did. You looked back to the window, feeling the train had noticeably slowed down. “I just… I’m so tired of waiting for him, I don’t… I don’t know how to feel, I so badly wanted him to get close but now that he’s trying I don’t…” To your utter horror, you felt tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. “I’m so confused.”

Pandora’s lips curled in an empathetic smile, she reached and held your shaky hand, gently sweeping her thumb across your knuckles, you took a deep breath, trying to collect yourself as students began to empty the train. 

“I’m sorry,” You dared to meet her heterochromic eyes. 

She shook her head, chuckling quietly. “No need to be sorry, keeping those feelings bottled up must be so tiring, I’m sure.” You laughed weakly, and used your free hand to discretely clean your cheeks. “You might’ve accepted your loneliness a long time ago, but that doesn’t mean it has to be permanent, sweet girl. Evan would agree, though he’s more shy to actually say it. You got more people in your corner than you realize, only if you let them…” She turned to the door, and you followed her gaze where you found James and Sirius walking past with a troubling look in their eyes. Pandora stood up, “You need help with your trunk?”

You opened your mouth, but were interrupted by the door opening. “Ready to go?” Sirius asked, and you frowned.

“I can carry it, thank you.” You smiled at Pandora, pointedly ignoring his question. She nodded, and reached to give you a quick hug, gentle and careful to not hurt you. “I’ll see you next term.”

“Write me?” She smiled, passing you a small box and you nodded, eyes in a daze as you tried to read the note. She walked to the door, and smiled at both boys. “Happy christmas.” 

You watched her go, shaky hand still holding the box. James frowned, and studied you for a few more seconds before Sirius, who wanted to leave the station immediately before his parents would show up to drag him and Regulus away, cleared his throat rather loudly. 

“Are you ready to go?” He repeated, making a move to take your trunk but you swiftly picked it up. Your features a mix of anger and, if he had more time to look at you, he would also find pain. “Don’t be stubborn, I can take that.”

“I can take my own trunk, Sirius. But thank you.” You spat, then turned away from both boys. “I’ll meet you in the platform in a moment, let me just put everything away.” You pointed to your little cocoon, the blanket and cassette player tossed aside in your previous vacated seat. “Just remember to—”

“To not tell Mum anything,” Finished James for you, an edge to his voice. “We know.”

You nodded, fear settling in your chest at the prospect of your brother picking up the argument you had nights before. Him begging you to tell your parents about what happened with Snape, to prepare them for your almost deadly state, but you met him head on, not willing to back down until he dropped the matter. He had walked away mid argument, his friends staring at you both with something akin to sadness, watching the distance grow impossibly longer despite James’ recent efforts to fix it. You had cried that night in Pandora’s arms as she and her brother watched you with both sadness and regret, you, for your part, seemed blind to the fact that they had been the reason James had breached that subject with you.

The bespectacled boy nodded, and stepped out of the compartment with Sirius close behind. You took the cassette player and put the headphones back on, Billy Joel’s Piano Man a fitting soundtrack to the way you felt. You took your satchel and hurriedly put the messily folded blanket inside, made an assesment of the compartment to not leave anything behind and silently walked out of the compartment towards the platform.

You watched with a sinking feeling as your mother enthusiastically greeted James, grabbing him by his cheeks and showering him with kisses, Sirius and the rest of his friends in line to receive the same treatment. He says, Bill, I believe this is killing me, Billy Joel sang in your ears and you readily agreed, walking towards the bunch with a tiny smile and your insides filled with dread. 

Euphemia Potter’s bright smile dimmed when she met your eyes, and noted the sadness that, evident to everyone but you, radiated off your body as you placed your headphones around your neck. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out, your brother and his friends watching the exchange nervously, as she practically balanced herself over you in a tight hug.

“My lovely girl,” You were horrified to almost hear her voice breaking, the least you wanted was your mother to worry for you. “How I missed you, oh, look at you.”

“Hi, mum…” You muttered, bitting your lip as she accidentally squeezed precisely around your middle, where your most painful scar was located. “Missed you too, Dad too, of course.” You patted her back awkwardly and she pulled back.

“You’re so small, oh, my girl, please be honest with me,” She grabbed your cheeks the same way she did to James, and you successfully swallowed the lump in your throat. “Have you been eating properly? I knew that veganism nonsense simply  wouldn’t do.”

Her eyes studied you much like James did earlier, and you bit your lip nervously. You knew what was coming, and you wanted to take off and disappear from her searching eyes.

“I’m actually quite hungry…” You said quietly, hoping it would be enough to distract her. 

Your mother, however, couldn’t be deterred. “What happened here?”

Unconsciously, you met James’ eyes. “Quiddtich accident.” You replied quickly, the lie easily slipping past your lips. “Fell off my broom, doesn’t hurt, though. I’m okay.”

“Quidditch!” She exclaimed, chuckling as she turned to James who smiled in return to avoid giving you away. “Honestly, what is it with my children and Quidditch? Can’t wait to see your dad’s face— Speaking of! He must be driving himself mad waiting for us! Come, come! Dear, you need help with your trunk?”

“I’m okay—” You replied and she quickly turned to shepherd everyone out of the plaform. 

“Here,” Remus walked to you, taking the handle from your shaky hand, hard to notice to the blind eye, but he knew better, he was familiar. You frowned, and he made his voice extra quiet as he spoke, “I know you can manage but you’re going to make them worse, and by the time we get to the manor everyone will notice. It’s no problem, really.”

You stared at him, then at James who pretended to listen as Sirius and your mother fussed over Regulus, who would join you for the first time for the holidays. He gave you a tight-lipped smile and you forced yourself to look back at Remus, he smiled kindly as you nodded mutely and trailed behind the group. A comfortable silence falling between you both.

—

Potter manor seemed to stay stuck in time, with its beautiful pillars and big stained glass windows letting in colorful rays of sunshine when the english countryside allowed it. You looked through the window at your mother’s lovely garden she devoted herself to during springtime, surely to kill time when your dad was busy at work and her children away at school, her caring nature evident in the way all the flowers grew beautifully, despite the current cold weather. You sighed, and walked away ready to face your hideous fate, your secret stash of healing potions and your scars ready to be tended to.

You stopped short in front of your bed, Pandora’s present small in contrast to your belongings sprawled all over your bedding. It had her touch all over the decoration, even if the card claimed it was from both Rosier twins, the silver bow and colorful wrapping paper showing her peculiar taste. Your shaky hand hovered over the ribbon and gently tugged it to open the box, where you found a pretty aquamarine necklace along with a soft pair of green knitted mittens sitting neatly enveloped by tissue paper. You smiled and wasted no time to try and put the necklace around your neck, ignoring the fact that your shaky hands would make the task nearly impossible. 

You were about to throw the necklace across the room in desperation when you heard a light knock on the door. 

“Yes?” You managed to speak out, a sob begging to leave your lips. There was silence on the other side and you briefly wondered if you imagined the whole thing. “What?”

“Can I come in?” Sirius said quietly, and you frowned, but replied a quiet yes before turning your back to the door. “Hi,” He said as he stepped in, careful in his movements.

“Hi,” You echoed quietly, looking around the room to avoid meeting his eyes. 

Sirius stared at the necklace in your hand and the discarded box in the other, “Need help with that?”

“I’m okay,” You followed his gaze and shook your head, knowing well it was a losing battle with the piece of jewelry. “I was just untangling it,” You said, barely believing it, and by his face, Sirius didn’t seem to believe you, either.

He stepped closer to you, his movements more confident. “Let me help you,” You opened your mouth to protest, but ended up handing him the necklace, knowing it was a losting battle arguing with him, too. “Stubborn thing you are, trying to put on this tiny necklace when your hands are shaking like a leaf.” He pointed as he stood behind you.

A silence followed, and you stared down at your hands, suddenly insecure in the way they trembled, another souvenir from your fellow housemate’s attack. 

“I didn’t think anyone would notice.”

“They’re not very noticeable,” He allowed, gently tugging your shoulders to make you face him. “But sadly, love, I am very familiar with these kinds of things.” His grey eyes pointedly looked at the blood dots peeking through your bandages from your jumper. “I would change those before supper if I were you.”

You swallowed and nodded, “Thank you. Is this why you came here? Is the food ready?”

He opened his mouth, but seemed to think better of it, and nodded his head. “Yes, um… Mum told me she made you some of your vegan requests.”

“Oh,” You frowned, and he chuckled quietly at the surprise in your face. “I’ll be down in a moment… I have to…”

“I know,” He nodded, then made to walk out the door but paused on the threshold, turning to face you once again. “You know… James, he’s really trying, it’s just… He doesn’t know how to reach out.”

A beat. 

“Was it hard for you? To reach out to Regulus? After everything?”

He seemed to be taken aback with your question, frowning and very clearly about to tell you to mind your sodding business, but then his eyes got a very sad look that you despised. You both dreaded and hoped for his answer.

“It was difficult, yes, but because of the way we were raised, not because there wasn’t love, it was just very tangled with other things, confusion, anger and resentment… But the love persevered. I think… I think that’s what made it bearable, that at the end of the day we loved each other despite everything.”

You nodded, visibly not satisfied with his answer. “I get that, but… you said it yourself, it was hard because of the way you were raised so… what is stopping James?”

Sirius seemed pretty close to tears himself, feeling for you and frustrated at the way James acted. Honestly not even himself could explain the way James handled everything since you both were sorted, admittedly he hadn’t known him long enough back then to be confused by the evident indifference towards you, but as he grew to know you both, that confusion grew in significance. It couldn’t have been the same James that offered him his home without thinking twice when he learned the hell that was Grimmauld Place, it was hard for Sirius to think that James held some resentment towards his sister for being sorted into Slytherin when he himself despised Sirius’ parents for disowning him for being a Gryffindor. You didn’t seem to be particularly fond of the pureblood supremacy ideologies your house held, either; keeping to yourself and to your friends, the Rosier twins and occasionally Regulus as of lately, and the gentle way you carried yourself through the hallways. He often wondered if the Sorting Hat had made a mistake. 

“I… I don’t know, sweetheart,” He sighed. “I’m sorry if I overstepped, I don’t think this is a conversation for me to participate in.” 

“It’s alright,” You nodded, once again swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’ll be down in a minute.” You said before marching towards your bathroom, pointedly closing the door behind you. 

Sirius sighed, feeling very angry at himself for the way he managed to mess it all up in a matter of seconds. A hand squeezed his shoulder and he turned his face to meet both Remus and his brother’s sad eyes, he shrugged sadly and closed the door to your room quietly. A few seconds later, Lily walked out of her own room, immediately taking notice of the three boys sadly staring at your door and ushered them all to the dinning room, a sad look in her own eyes as she pointedly tried to ignore the knot in her stomach. 

—

You stared blankly at a spot next to your father‘s face as you pretended to listen to his very heated debate with James about where should the next Quidditch Cup be. The food long gone and conversations passed in a daze as you ate supper and managed to participate here and there and answer the questions directed to you. You unconsciously thumbed the precious gemstone resting in your chest, the repetitive action helped you make the shakiness in your hands less evident. 

You sat in a wingback chair, making a cocoon of yourself as you watched your brother and his friends happily chatting away to different topics, you watched as he occasionally grabbed Lily’s hand and kissed it, or the way he reached over his girlfriend to shove Sirius’ shoulder, mischief glistening behind his glasses. You knew you were being a killjoy, your pain almost an imposition in their delightful conversation had they noticed, if they ever did, or let them notice, you bitterly thought. 

“Oh, darling,” Suddenly you had a handkerchief shoved to your nose. You frowned, but let your mother’s hand cradle your face back. “You almost stained your jumper,” Horrified, you noticed that your nose was bleeding, a common occurrence since the incident. 

“Sorry,” You mumbled, trying to look away from her eyes, slowly filling with worry. “Don’t know what happened there, strange.”

“Good thing your mum has good reflexes,” your dad pointed, chuckling and blissfully unaware of the sudden tension in the room. “Growing up with you lot gave her reflexes of steel, she would’ve been a killer Seeker.”

“Let that go, honey,” Your mum added distractly, looking into your eyes, searching for… what? You were not sure, but her scrutiny made you nervous. “Are you okay?”

You inhaled deeply, suddenly feeling very warm. “Yes, I can take it, mum–” You made to raise your hand to take the handkerchief from her, her eyes falling on your hands.

“Are you cold?”

“What? No. I’m fine.”

“But you’re shaking.” She argued, and you found yourself slowly losing your patience at her questioning. “Are you sure you’re—”

“Can everyone stop asking me that? I said I’m fine.” You spat, shocking everyone into silence, even yourself. “Sorry, I… I’m sorry. That was uncalled for, I…Yes, I’m alright.”

Somewhere from the floor came a scoff and you felt dread recoiling around your ribcage. You lowered the handkerchief from your face to see James dryly chuckling at you, his hazel eyes holding a fire that was only reserved for… Horrified, you realized he was about to tell your parents everything. 

“James,” You whispered, pleading with your eyes to force him to take a step back. But your brother seemed done covering for you. “Please don’t.”

“James?” Your mother turned to him, who in return stood up from his spot on the floor, Lily reached out to pull him down again. “Is anyone going to fill me in as to what’s gotten into you both?”

He stared hard at you, then, “She was attacked.” 

And just as the words slipped past his lips, chaos ensued with your parents, neither of them expecting those words to leave James’ lips. The air was sucked out of your lungs, and you reached to press the heel of your hand to your sternum, as if that would help your lungs accept the air you desperately seeked. You were not sure where you got the strength, but you marched towards him, betrayal in your eyes. 

“You have no right,” You sneered, meeting his stormy gaze, he looked down at you, both your bodies pulsating with unresolved anger. “You promised!”

“I did not promise a damn thing to you. You’re my sister, and I cannot simply sit back and watch you fade away from us, can I?”

You scoffed. “It didn’t stop you before, hasn’t it?” He stepped back, as if your words alone had slapped him across his face. Your parents watched the scene with horror. “You’re my sister, you’re a liar. You made it very clear I am very much not your sister, James. In fact, I think you made it very clear to everyone that anyone can be accepted into your fucking marauders club except me.” 

“Wait, so this is why you’re so miffed with me? Because I didn’t let you in the Marauders?” James had the nerve to laugh, and you stared at him in shock. “You have officially lost the plot, grow up, I beg you.”

“James!”

“No, James,” You met him head on, stom in your eyes as you tried to find your words. “Contrary to what your ego-driven mind might think, not everyone wants to be part of your glorified freak show.” You said, not at all regretting the venom in your voice. “You left me. You… you don’t even try, you think that just because you fought for me, breaking Snape’s nose, everything would be forgiven?”

“Look at what he did to you!” He pointed, squirming a finger inside the neckline of your jumper, pulling down to show everyone the bandage in your shoulder. You slapped his hand away with anger, but he grabbed your hand and raised it for everyone to see. “You can barely function with these shakes, look, you can barely put on a necklace!”

“James, stop,” Came Remus’ stern voice from somewhere in the room. 

At this, your glossy eyes turned to Sirius, who, until that moment, had managed to sit back calmly and not let the whole ordeal get to him. He looked away as your betrayal was evident in your eyes.

“That wasn’t for you to tell, Sirius.” You said to him quietly, anger barely contained.

“Well, I, for one, am glad he told me. You could’ve gone the entire break hiding it from us had it not been for Sirius.”

“Like hiding it is such a hard task.” You snapped. “You barely notice my presence let alone a silly shake in my hands. I could’ve died that day and you wouldn’t have noticed at all, James.”

“You damn right could’ve bloody died! Go on, show them,” He stepped closer, and you barely registered his intention until it was too late. 

With the help of his reflexes, you were a beat too late to stop him from lifting the hem of your jumper, exposing some of the fully healed scars in your stomach, the biggest one cutting through your navel in a nasty gash. Your mother gasped and her eyes filled with tears immediately, your father stared in shock, despair evident in his eyes. You pushed James away with all the strength you could muster, accidentally pushing your mother in the process, and pulled your jumper back down. 

“You’re a complete, utter, dickhead, James.” You stared at him in shock, so did everyone in the room. “Fuck you, seriously, fuck you.”

“Darling,” Your mother stepped to you, but you were too mortified to even accept her hug. “How long… How did this…” She seemed desperately finding the right words to go, but a sob left her lips instead. You finally allowed the tears in your eyes to trail down your cheeks. “Why didn’t you say?”

“What would I even say?” You said desperately in between shallow breaths, your usually calm demeanor breaking. “That I was so depressed I riled him up so he could hurt me? That I didn’t even fight back? How was I supposed to explain that, mum? Tell me,” Before you could even process it, the feelings you had bottled up for months seemed to be done being held back in your chest. You chuckled humorlessly, “How would that conversation even go? That I’m so miserable, though I have no reason to be, that I walked towards the one person who would surely hurt me and enjoy it? This, exactly, is why I didn’t say. But here comes bloody James Potter who has to be everyone’s fucking hero! Are you happy now, James? Is this what you wanted? You wanted me to thank you in front of everyone that you saved my honor by hurting Snape? Well, there you go. Now leave me the fuck alone.”

Had you been less blinded by your anger, you probably would’ve waited for anyone to speak, or at last apologize for the amount of curse words you managed to say in a span of 20 seconds, but you simply exhaled deeply and stormed off towards your room, where you surely would spend the rest of your days crying away in embarrassment at the situation. Your tears fell hot and fast as you slammed the door behind you and sat on your bed, ignoring the stinging sensation in your shoulder by your harsh movements. Your hands shook impossibly harder to the point of actual pain in your joints, and pressed your face to your hands as you cried hard. Your sobs loud enough to drown the chaos from downstairs, your own doing, you thought angrily. 

The door to your room opened, your brain too shaken up and confused, you opened your mouth to speak but a pained sob left your lips instead. Remus’ brows pinched with sadness as he walked to you, your disheveled hair, tear streaken cheeks and the dried trail of blood down your nose an exact mirror of your inner turmoil. He stepped closer and stretched his arms out, an open invitation in case you didn’t want to be touched, but you desperately needed something or someone to ground you before you could definitely reach a full blown breakdown. A breakdown days in the making.

“You’re okay,” He said as you stepped into his arms. He carefully caged you in, keeping you secure as you felt your chest shreding to pieces as you let out sob after sob. “No one is mad at you, we’re not, I promise you, not your mum, not your dad, no one. You’re okay.” He whispered, close to tears himself. 

Soon, you felt a hand rubbing your back carefully, then, Lily’s gentle voice spoke, “Take deep breaths, honey,” 

“I… I can’t,” You scraped out, voice raspy and worn out. “I…”

“Do it with me,” She instructed, and you pulled away from your hideaway to meet her gaze. Lily smiled sadly as she gently grabbed your hand and raised it to her own chest, where you felt her own heart beating, “Follow me, okay? You can.”

You inhaled and exhaled deeply, and she did it with you. As she busied you with breathing exercises, Remus walked to your bathroom to grab a cloth and damp it with warm water, when he walked back to your room, you seemed visibly calmer. He silently passed the cloth to Lily and sat beside you on the bed, she looked into your eyes and gently pressed it to your lips and under your nose, no-doubtedly cleaning the blood and snot off your face. None of you dared to speak, the only sound in the room the occasional hiccup leaving your lips, the fight leaving you tired and numb.

“I don’t know what crossed his mind to do that,” Began Lily, pointedly keeping her voice monotone to not spark another collapse from you. “That was very…”

“Barbaric?” Remus supplied, him not trying to keep his anger away from his tone. Lily frowned at him. 

“Unlike him.” She said, then turned to you. “What he said, what he did… That was very cruel.”

“Yeah, well… I seem to always bring out the cruelest parts of him.” You finally spoke, and she hushed you to not strain your voice more. 

“I think he’s very angry at himself, and he stupidly managed to show it in the worst way possible.” Remus pointed, the fight leaving his body as he gingerly placed a loose hair behind your ear. “It was very obvious to everyone that you were struggling but it passed right above him…”

“He didn’t need to make such a spectacle of himself though, and me. We could’ve talked it, if he had asked.”

Both Remus and Lily gave you a deadpan look. 

“Okay, maybe not at first but why is it always me the one that has to reach out? I’m tired of embarrassing myself seeking for his attention.” 

“You’re right,” The three of you looked up to find James standing at the threshold of your bedroom, a mix of feelings displayed in his face, regret being the most evident. “And I’m sorry.”

Lily looked at you, and you met her green eyes. She frowned, are you sure? Her eyes asked, and you nodded, grabbing the cloth from her hand. Both stood up and walked to leave, Lily ignoring the pleading look from her boyfriend as she closed the door behind her. The room fell eerily quiet as you stared at each other, assessing your stances. 

“I’m sorry.”

“So you’ve said,” You mumbled, looking down at the cloth in your hands. 

“I’m sorry,” He repeated, as he walked closer, you tensed immediately and something inside his chest cracked. “I shouldn’t have… I… It wasn’t my place.”

You closed your eyes, succumbing to the tears forming in your eyes and brought the cloth to clean your cheeks. 

“I told you to not say anything, James. Why didn’t you listen? I… I don’t want mum or dad to get in between our mess.”

“Our mess,” He echoed, sitting next to you on the bed when you showed no signs of backing away again. “I did make a mess of everything, didn’t I?”

“It has always been, I was just the only one willing to see it as that.”

James frowned. “That’s not true.” He exhaled deeply, searching for your eyes. “I… I know I haven’t been the best brother to you but, but I wouldn’t say it reached a point where you feel like you can’t tell me anything.” 

“James,” You chuckled dryly, not even trying to argue again but to get him to see where you were coming from. “You don’t even acknowledge me back at school, you practically pretend I don’t exist.”

“I’m sorry.”

“See, you keep saying that, but I don’t hear reasons why I should forgive you.” 

“You shouldn’t forgive me, angel. In fact, what happened downstairs is the least punishment imaginable you could throw at me.” His chest filled with hope when you chuckled wetly. “I just… When I saw you in that cot, bleeding out and barely conscious, I felt like a part of me was being torn away… I had never felt so helpless in my life, knowing you would be taken away from me that easily and that I never tried to reach out? It’s been eating me alive, especially when you have been so calm about it, now I know why,”

You looked away, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to say that, I don’t know why I said it.”

“See, I think you did mean it. And it’s okay,” James scooted closer, his hand reached to yours in question, you placed it over his. He squeezed it four times, and you smiled despite the sadness in your heart. The mighty Potter duo, your own way of consoling each other when you were children. “Just, let me try again? Be a brother?”

“You never stopped being my brother, James, not to me.”

“To me neither, I’m still your brother, even if I haven’t shown it how you deserve it. But,” He paused, searching for your eyes, “Promise me that you’ll stop drifting away, that you’ll be in a distance where I can reach you.”

You swallowed, but nodded. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to have it get this bad, I just, I just wanted you to notice me.” Something inside you broke, and so did your voice. Thankfully, you were close enough for James to reach over and hug you gently. “I didn’t realize you wanted to talk to me, or… or get closer. I’m sorry, I’ll stay close. I promise.” You whispered, and reached out to squeeze his hand, four times. 

“I hope you can forgive me for what happened downstairs, too… I don’t… I just got so angry at myself, and… and you, but I shouldn’t have aired your pain like that.” He spoke after a long silence, voice barely contained as he fought back his own sob, not because he didn’t want to cry, but to get his feelings known. “It’s okay if it takes a while, too, I just want you to know that I’m sorry, and I regret it… I do.” I regret everything I did, it’s the bit he didn’t say, but you heard it clear in the pain in his voice.

You nodded, feeling satisfied with the heart to heart, “It might take a while, but thank you.” You dropped your head on his shoulder, and closed your eyes, finally letting your body relax against your brother. 

Your brother, who was there, willingly, hugging you. It was a nice feeling to fall asleep to, you thought as you drifted off. James looked down as your head got heavier, and noticed in your parted lips that you had fallen asleep at some point of your shared silence. He smiled, and helped you get fully into the bed, carefully placing your belongings away. 

He made to leave, but you pulled him back, your voice heavy with sleep, “Stay?”

And James, even in his drowsy state, couldn’t fight back the happiness he felt in his heart. He nodded, though you couldn’t see him, and laid next to you, your hands clasped together as you both drifted away holding onto each other, very much like you did once upon a time when you were little. 

In your desk, messily thrown along with your things by James, was Pandora’s gift, and a note in neat handwriting that said: 

Happy christmas sweet girl. Aquamarine, your birthstone, is said to possess healing properties known to cure even the most devastating of heartbreaks and tame the most powerful oceans into tranquility and peace. It also gives the bearer hope and clarity.  Love, Evan and Pandora Rosier. 

[hanasnx]

“ PROMISE, BABY, I’LL TAKE YOU TO HEAVEN IF YOU WANT IT ” — clark kent.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: writing a scene that was in my dream last night. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ dry humping ノ how clark gets you to forgive him ノ hair pulling (m receiving) ノ dry fuck mention ノ exhibitionism/voyeurism: caught during.

getting annoyed with CLARK KENT for not spending enough time with you so you act out. it takes him a second to realize you’re mad at him so he hears you out, and then gets cheeky. puts on that kent charm, wears that famous smile, impishly draws you in into his arms. he embraces you, tucks your head under his chin. you’re so desperate for his attention you’re entranced for a moment, melting into him. you close your eyes, you feel his muscle underneath his clothes, you feel small next to his big body, he smells so good—and then you get wise. “hey.” you exclaim indignantly, pushing off him. he wears an expression that looks like he knows what he was doing manipulating you. “you can’t just act like we’re back to normal.”

“i know, i know, i’m sorry.” he replies in a drilling tone of voice. he doesn’t mean it. yet he’s pulling you in again, snaking those arms around your waist while you arch away from him. he stoops, stretching a grin onto his face as he’s now eye-level with you.

“you’re not sorry at all.” your gaze narrows as you accuse him, backing up and taking him with you. both of your feet shuffle together hazardously. he trips you, and you fall backwards onto his bed, he lands on top of you, pinning you with his weight. seizing the opportunity, his mouth latches onto your neck, toying with you while he’s sucking on your pulse point. you can’t stay mad at him and giggle at the same time, getting ticklish and trying to fend off your boyfriend while he’s overpowering you.

his hands get frisky, his hips starts to grind, his sharp canines scrape against your neck while the fight in you is dwindling. “clark—!” you keen in a scold, but it sounds more like a breathy moan, and the heel of your hand bangs against his broad shoulder. his wet lips slide along the column of your neck as he mouths it, and you claw into his sweater, lashes fluttering as pleasant tingles send a shiver down your spine. before you know it, you’ve begun to pull him closer, a hard outline becoming decipherable in his pants, rutting against the inside of your thigh. that wide body of his curls around you, blanketing you as you spread your legs so his hips can slot in more comfortably. both of his large hands slide between the mattress and you, cupping your ass to draw you into him.

that hard rod finds its place in the shallow divot of your slit, and he rubs his shaft against you with every surge. the head of him bumps your clit, and when he can gracefully grind up, the underside of his cock slides against your little bud in one steady motion. the sounds that spill out of you change, evolving into a longing plea as he asks for forgiveness through his body. a wet spot blooms in the crotch of your panties, yearning for a relief that’s not confined by his jeans. his fingers dig in, kneading the globes of your backside in his excitement. he’s set a slow and deliberate pace, but you can feel the need within him pulsing through his every movement. his cock twitches, and you’re so close you can tell it knows where it wants to go, seeking you out like the nose of a bloodhound.

his tip catches on the give of your hole, interrupting the streamlined grind, making his hips jerk back so as to protect himself. he whimpers into your neck, a pitiful little sound that conveys just how much he wanted to plow through fabric and dry fuck you. if he’d just pushed a little harder, he could’ve been that much closer to feeling your silken walls. your hand flies to the hair at the nape of his neck, tangling in the raven locks to squeeze. you can feel his grin stretch against your skin, his pearly white teeth and his moistened lips and his handsome dimples. just imagining his smile makes you weak in the knees, falling limp under him.

“you like me again?” he questions, nuzzling his face into the crook of your shoulder.

“oh, go to hell.” you shoot back, but it lacks conviction, breathy from his ministrations. for just one single second, you feel proud. here’s this hot, big, romantic oaf of a farm boy, obsessed with making you feel good, with a smile that could kill, who saves people… and he’s on top of you. you’ve known plenty of girls that would maim for this kind of opportunity, for clark kent superman or not to be at their beck and call. yet he’s here for you, wantonly pleading for you to just let him in. you have something no one else does.

“oh, my god! i’m so sorry—uh, i’ll come back later—“ the humiliated voice of chloe snaps you out of your stupor, both you and clark fixing yourselves up to see the blonde head of hair retreat out of his doorway, humiliated. it was no question what you two were doing, bodies tangled together like this, and you and him exchange a brief eye conversation after you realize what your friend just caught you doing.

[creatingblackcharacters]

CBC Black History Month Challenge!

It would make me fulfilled to know that 1) we've actually been listening to what I teach here, and 2) that we care about and celebrate the presence of Black characters, Black creators, and Black fans! So, in honor of Black History Month (US), here is my challenge to you- and yes, everyone can participate!

Part #1:

Create something!

If you're an artist, you can draw a Black character (Fan, OC, Black Edit). Writers, write a blurb! If you make GIFs, make a GIFset; if you crochet, I'm sure there's somebody Black that crochets worth honoring! You're creators- get creative!

Here's the thing: I want these pieces to be happy. Happy, joyful, triumphant, powerful, victorious, loving... SOMETHING POSITIVE!

Find quotes of famous Black people to use as inspiration, if you'd like (no, they don't have to be American. Black people exist worldwide!) That'd be really nice, even!

Part #2:

Tag your friends!

There is an unfortunate social fear of sharing things relating to Blackness on this site. At least for a little while, I'd like to see some boldness, some bravery. We all deserve to be appreciated out loud. It doesn't have to be much- just a "hey, this was fun, I'm tagging such and such if they want to participate!" No pressure, but no need to coddle, either.

Keep in mind, none of this has to be complex, but it DOES have to take some active thought! You could draw a lovingly done 5th grade stick figure, and I'd value it far more than a Michelangelo-level racist piece. I want you to take what you've learned here into consideration as you craft your work. Take the time to respect your creation! Recognize how you put so much thought into this, and how it feels to have created something with such care (and then note how frustrating it would be to see something done with no effort at all!)

Just tag the page for me to see it; I'm excited to see what we come up with!

[themoonbutspooky]

the thing is, in a fair setting, non-disabled people won't use accommodations they don't need. I really believe this. They might try out say extra time on a test but if you don't need it, it'll get annoying. Sitting around in the test room for an extra 45 minutes thinking over the same things you know and don't know doesn't actually improve your test score.

There's a thousand reasons someone might need an accommodation. Maybe it takes them a long time to write and those extra minutes compensate for that. Maybe they panic under pressure and they need the extra time to regulate their breathing, and calm down enough to remember what they know. They might need long enough to double check their arithmetic or their spelling so they can show that they understand the concept they're actually being tested on not repeatedly graded down for something unrelated. More people might benefit from extra time than think they might but extra time isn't universally or inherently better.

If you're reading this and thinking "hey well I would definitely take the extra 45 that would boost my score for sure!" I hope you get a chance to see if its true. Either you'll realize it doesn't help and that's one thing you can cross off the list of things to try or it will help and well ... hi welcome to the club!

This same logic works for different accommodations. For example: my cpap is a miracle but it also sucks and is awkward to use I can't imagine someone using one if it didn't help them.

The problem is settings are rarely fair. Students are routinely asked to preform under time crunches that are impossible or nearly impossible. Extra time, then, seems obviously better for everyone. SSI seems obviously better too. After all, who doesn't want free money? But like the cpap there are drawbacks. And like the extra time on tests there are unfair circumstances that might make those draw backs worth it even to a hypothetical completely well/able-bodied/neurotypical person.

I would never tell someone struggling to keep up with mutliple jobs, family obligations, debt, etc that they aren't disabled enough to pursue any deal they think is worth it just because its their circumstance and not their biology that's putting the pressure on them. Obviously in a perfect world we'd fix the whole system or build something better but in the mean time if it helps more than it hurts it shouldn't matter why. tbh that brings up a lot of questions about how we define what is and isn't a disability in general but this isn't even my original post so I'll save it for another time.

Fake claimers are a much bigger threat to disabled people than fakers ever will be.

[pretend-i-don-t-exist]

sy trying to create a pidw au would be so funny

i feel like he'd actually commit to it to spite airplane. at first, it garnered attention bc it was from the peerless cucumber, notorious critic and biggest pidw hater, so ofc they're all curious how pidw would look like in his eyes. it was surprisingly (well not really, considering the tens of paragraphs peerless cucumber wrote during his rants, all of which have immaculate grammar and spelling— bc ofc he can't let anyone find something to nitpick on his review so they're forced to see the point!) well-written and definitely more plot-focused.

majority of the readers disappeared after the first few chapters, mainly because of the lack of smutty scenes, but those that do remain are very engaged. one of them is airplane's burner account, when he needs to separate himself from his airplane persona. he's really, really curious as to what his hater is doing to his work.

he... he actually likes it. it's not really the novel he envisioned when he was first working on pidw, nor does it contain all the elements of his original draft, but it was good. he likes it a lot better than what pidw turned out to be.

airplane spent so much time contemplating and considering before finally saying fuck it, and dms peerless cucumber to see if he can work as a co-author with him and they can rewrite pidw together. he even sends parts of the original draft (what was left of it, anyway) as incentive!

it takes a long week before even peerless cucumber replies, and by then he has written a novella detailing how much better the original draft was and him screaming very informally at why airplane had to cast it aside.

lol i need money bro im broke af and porn sells, airplane answers.

it takes another week before peerless cucumber finally answers. then live with me, his message reads. no rent. i'll pay for whatever food you want. and whatever bills you have. just write a good fucking novel, i swear to god.

airplane thinks it's a joke, until he receives the address. an actual penthouse. in the richest streets of guangzhou. there is also a request to meet up (seeing as they don't actually know each other, and sy's brothers are very intent on not getting him murdered in his sleep) and airplane, after much, much thinking, accepts.

airplane does not really know what to feel when he finally meets and talks to shen yuan— pampered third son of a very wealthy family, with two protective older brothers and an even more protective little sister— and sy is just. well. he's exactly airplane's type. the beautiful, ice prince who apparently has only shown this much emotion around airplane. sy's meimei had told him cheerfully and then threatened to gut him if he so much as steps a foot out of line. airplane is starting to feel like he's just met a mafia family.

shen yuan's family aside, airplane is actually living his best life. he no longer has to worry about money. he lives in a luxurious (gods he has never seen such a large bedroom before wtf) penthouse without needing to pay rent (!!!) and utilities (!!!) and even food (!!!). he can write as much as he wants. this must be what artists felt like when they're taken care of noble families in exchange for their art.

he does... well. he and peerless cucumber are friends now. they work on the rewrite together. airplane keeps finding out many things, like how shen yuan likes his tea with a lot of honey, dislikes milk chocolate, and prefers drawing over writing. he also runs hot during the night, when he sleeps.

how does airplane know that? well. bros gotta do what bros gotta do. it's a good thing they both like to cuddle.

[kianamaiart]

Hey hey! You’ve probably been asked this a lot but what made you want to start creating I Don’t Want To Be A Magical Girl?

Also I drew Akia in my style!

Hope you’re having a great day btw ! :0)

First of all this is so rad!!! I loooove how you drew her

And what made me want to make I Don't Want to be a Magical Girl... It was a lot of things! (im assuming you mean the pilot in general)

The idea started off as a stupid doodle/character design practice. It wasn't gonna be anything more than that. I just felt like drawing a cute character with a gun really hahaha.

It's not a particularly original premise and I didn't plan to do anything more with her (as I do with most of my ocs/designs). But I actually did really like this one and couldn't help but think of little ideas and scenarios with her. Things started ramping up in my brain more when I realized I could attach a personal story and personal experiences to it to make it feel less cliche. That's when I started designing the other characters and coming up with bios and stuff

And then that was gonna be it again. I'd maybe do a comic here and there but there was a combination of things that happened that led to me jumping in and making a pilot.

First of all, I had a two month hiatus coming up so I had so much time. I also decided to step down from my directors position to be a board artist again in the coming season. So I really wanted to get some storyboarding practice in and what better way to do that than with this character I ended up really liking? I also don't have a portfolio and I'd been wanting to make something that's very me rather than my work from an existing show.

I'd offhandedly mentioned to my editor at disney that I wanted to do a board for these characters and she told me she'd help me make an animatic if it ever came to that. I couldn't pass up that opportunity! Now, since it was gonna be an animatic and I didn't want it to just be my scratch, I reached out to a bunch of VA friends to see if they'd be interested and they were!

Then other than having that support, just seeing my friends work on their own personal projects has been really inspiring and made me want to also do my own thing! Me and my friend group had just made a whole video game for our friend as a bday present which was so creatively fulfilling and made me realize like "oh my god we're artists we can literally just make stuff".

In the past I'd been so afraid to share my original work and for similar fears I've never wanted to showrun despite having the opportunity to pitch. While it's flattering to be wanted there was this pressure that felt like "oh you HAVE to make something, you're wasting your talent otherwise." (lol this is ironically the thesis of idwtbamg). And as a qpoc, i'd felt this extra layer of pressure to have to make something perfect on all fronts because if i fail in any capacity, i'm failing my community. it'd just be another another reason for people to say "ah queer media and work centering poc just can't succeed." then on the other end, i can only do and write what i know and feared that other people in my community wouldn't resonate with it or would feel like it's inaccurate to their own experiences.

but that's an exhausting way to feel and i've finally decided for myself that i'm just gonna tell stories that are authentic to me and it will reach whoever it needs to reach~ this realization was kind of the final step i needed to push myself to go all in. and now we're here!

[velarisdusk]

Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off

word count: 1.9k author's note: i had the idea for this one literally AS i was writing the last one im annoyed i didnt write it right after bc i know i had GREAT ideas that i literally cannot remember anymore sigh ✦ . AU Masterlist . ✦ ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

The venue hums with the kind of energy you’d expect for a band as big as Wings of Illyria, the low chatter and country rock playing in the background almost drowned out by the buzz around the meet-and-greet booth.

Cassian, the life of the party you always imagined him to be, is already surrounded by fans, effortlessly drawing people in with that easy grin of his. But security is quick to move in, ushering people away with practiced calm, the crowd reluctantly shifting to make room for the band’s massive presence.  Rhysand sits beside him, polished and smooth as ever, his gaze flicking between the crowd and the band’s merch, playing the role of the charming frontman like he was born for it. But Azriel—Azriel looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

You spot him leaning back in his chair, a half-smirk barely visible beneath the dark fringe of his hair, eyes scanning the room with a look that says he’s mentally checked out. The cigarette tucked behind his ear, defying the “No Smoking” sign above the booth, is the least surprising thing about him.

You can’t help but notice how effortlessly Azriel leans into the atmosphere, the way his posture seems to say he’s both above it all and fully in control of the space around him. The black leather jacket slung over his chair, the way his fingers casually thrum against the table, it’s all effortlessly cool. But before you can linger on him too long, a voice cuts through the room, sharp and high-pitched enough to make your teeth ache. 

The girl in front of you is practically vibrating, her hands shaking as she clutches her phone to her chest like it’s a lifeline. “Oh my God, oh my God,” she whispers to her friend, barely able to hold it together. “What if I say something dumb? What if they laugh at me? What if Az doesn’t even look at me? I have to tell him how much I—”

It’s the way she says Az—not like she’s just a fan, but like she’s personally on a nickname basis with him—that makes your eye twitch. You don’t want to judge, but fuck, could people just enjoy things without this level of intensity? She’s decked out in enough Wings of Illyria merch to make you wonder if she owns anything that isn’t branded. Her denim jacket is practically a billboard for the band, from the patches to the pins to the shirts she’s stacked under it, all so bright and loud it’s almost cartoonish. She looks exactly like the kind of people you’ve seen mocked in those “fan stereotype” posts, and it grates on you more than it should.

You bite back a sigh, trying to ignore the discomfort gnawing at your nerves. It’s not her fault, right? People can like things however they want. But as you stand there, you can’t shake the tightness in your chest, the buzz of unease you’ve been carrying all day. You hadn’t gotten much sleep last night—too busy running through every possible scenario, obsessing over the idea that maybe, just maybe, you’d misinterpreted the song. What if it wasn’t about you at all? What if you’d been foolish to even think it was? You’d spent so much time convincing yourself this was the right thing to do, that you could handle whatever confrontation came with it. But now, with the weight of it all on your shoulders, doubts have started to creep in. 

To each their own, you remind yourself, trying to shake the jittery feeling in your stomach. 

The line inches forward, and you shuffle along with it, caught between your own nerves and the chaos around you. Every second stretches and the girl ahead of you is still whispering furiously to her friend about all the reasons this moment is life-changing for her. You try to tune it out, focusing instead on the distant hum of the music overhead, and the faint shuffle of feet, the air heavy with anticipation.

And then, it’s your turn. 

Cassian is the first to notice you, his smile broad and infectious, like he’s genuinely thrilled to meet every single person who steps up to the booth. “Hey!” he greets warmly, his voice loud enough to carry over the din. “You excited for the show?”

“Yeah, definitely,” you reply, shifting your weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks.”

Cassian beams like you’ve just made his night. “That’s what I like to hear! First time seeing us live?”

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Second. Saw you guys in Orlando last year.”

“No shit?” he says, leaning forward slightly. “That was a great crowd. One of the best on that leg of the tour. You catch the whole set?

“Most of it,” you admit. “I got stuck in traffic and missed the first couple of songs.”

Rhysand, who’s been quietly observing, chuckles at that. “Typical,” he says, his voice smooth and amused. “Traffic in that city is practically a right of passage.”

“Right?” you say, laughing despite yourself. “I swear I left two hours early and still barely made it in time for ‘Bloodlines.’”

Cassian gives you a mock sympathetic look. “Tragic. That’s one of my favorites to play live.”

“It’s a good one,” you say, your nerves easing just a little. You glance between the two of them, noting how Rhys’s sharp gaze is fixed on you like he can tell there’s another reason you’re here. 

“So,” Rhys says, tilting his head slightly. “What’s your favorite track?”

How the hell—

“I mean, the whole album is great,” you say, “but ‘Sear My Skin’ has been on repeat lately.”

It’s a calculated choice, and you don’t miss the quirk of Azriel’s brow in your peripheral. 

“Interesting pick,” Rhys says, his smirk widening. “That one’s been causing a bit of a stir lately.”

Cassian chuckles. “Yeah, Az really knocked it out of the park with that one.”

And there it is—the perfect segue. You glance past them, finally letting your gaze settle on Azriel, who’s been silent this whole time. 

He’s leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable as his dark eyes meet yours. For a second, the noise of the room seems to fade, and you realize your heart is pounding in your chest, 

“Azriel,” you say, his name coming out steadier than you expected. “Can I ask you something?”

He quirks that brow again, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “You just did.”

Cassian groans dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. “Come on, man. Don’t make it harder than it needs to be,” he mutters.

Azriel ignores him, his gaze still fixed on you. “What’s the question?”

You take a breath, forcing yourself to hold his stare. “The song—’Sear My Skin.’ Is it about me?”

Rhysand doesn’t bother hiding his laughter, leaning back in his chair like he’s settling in for a show. Cassian’s drink nearly slips out of his hand, and he mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, Oh, shit.

Azriel doesn’t react immediately. He just stares at you, his expression unreadable, until the silence stretches so thin you think it might snap. 

“Who are you?” he asks finally, his tone maddeningly calm. 

You blink, thrown off by the audacity of the question. “You seriously don’t remember me?”

He leans back, shrugging one shoulder. “I don’t remember half the women I sleep with.” Cassian chokes on his drink, Rhysand’s grin stretching wide enough to show teeth, but you’re not about to let Azriel off that easily. 

“Pressed against the door, your lips trace the ache?” You quote the line pointedly, crossing your arms as you glare at him. The memory rushes back—how he’d tasted on your tongue, how his hands had threaded through your hair before all hell broke loose. “Sound familiar?”

“It’s not that deep,” Azriel replies, his tone dismissive, though his gaze sharpens ever so slightly. 

“Really?” you counter, your tone dripping with incredulity. “Right before I finish, your body’s all I feel, breathed in your ear ‘you feel too good to be real.’” Your voice rises, your chest tightening as the words leave your mouth. “You literally said that to me while you were balls deep in me against a wall.”

Azriel freezes, his lips parting slightly as a faint flicker of surprise breaks through his carefully guarded expression. For a split second, it’s almost satisfying. 

Cassian’s reaction is anything but subtle. His chair scrapes loudly against the floor as he doubles over in laughter, nearly spilling his drink again. He gasps, pounding the table. “Yo, what the fuck?!”

Rhysand isn’t fairing much better, his laughter barely contained as he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his amusement still sharp but with a more controlled edge than Cassian’s, to his credit.

Azriel’s jaw tightens, and he finally breaks eye contact, glancing down at the table. “Okay,” he mutters, the word barely audible over the laughter. “Maybe it’s a little about you.”

Cassian claps a hand over his mouth, trying and failing to muffle another loud “Yo!” Rhysand smirks, watching the two of you closely. 

But you shake your head, not about to let him off with just that. “A little? Really? You practically narrated the whole thing—I deserve royalties.”

Azriel raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that response. “Royalties?” he repeats, half-laughing, but still avoiding eye contact.

Before he can properly respond, a security guard steps forward, tilting their head toward the door, a silent gesture that your time is up. 

You roll your eyes but shoot Azriel a teasing smile. “Guess I’m out of time for royalties. But I’ll be expecting them in the mail.”

As the security guard ushers you forward, Rhysand speaks up. “Well, nice to meet you, Sear My Skin,” he says, voice dripping with humor. 

You grin back at him, a little cheeky. “My name—”

“It’s (y/n),” Azriel interrupts, dragging a hand over his face as he speaks, his tone casual but something darker in his gaze that would’ve stopped you in your tracks if not for the man guiding you away.

You blink at him, and can’t help the smile blooming on your face. He remembered you. Really remembered you. 

Just as you’re about to take another step toward the exit, Cassian shouts from behind you, “Wait, wait, wait!” His voice is a mix of urgency and excitement. 

You turn around, confused, as Cassian's already talking to someone behind the merch table. The team member nods, already moving to grab something and hand it over to you. Cassian looks at you with that mischievous grin you’re so used to seeing on video. “We’ll set you up for the show. Don’t leave without saying hi to us again, yeah?”

You look at the woman heading your way and take the slip she hands you, your heart stopping when you read the words Backstage Pass. You’re not sure what’s happening, but the thrill of it courses through you. “Uh—Yeah, thank you?”

“Anytime, princess,” Cassian says with a wink, leaning back in his chair as he makes a show of lounging. 

You glance at Azriel one last time before being nudged along by the guard. He looks back at you for a moment, unreadable as ever, but there’s something in his eyes. But he says nothing, and it’s enough to make your chest tighten, a mix of anticipation and confusion bubbling in your stomach. 

[queenofthequillandink]

Apparently adding onto these DPxDC posts is what's getting my creative writing brain going lately.

Danny tells Damian a lightly sanitized version of events as Danny Fenton The Civilian would remember them. He'd prefer to keep the lying to an absolute minimum and Damian deserves to know. He's usually calm when stuff like this comes up; being a Gotham citizen is a lot like being an Amity Park citizen. You just get used to handling shit. Danny's so used to Damian taking things in stride that sometimes, he forgets his boyfriend is just a civilian.

So Danny expects a calm admonishment about being more careful walking home, maybe an insistence on letting Damian call him a cab or an Uber the next time they're out and about late.

He's not expecting his boyfriend to go full Ghostbusters on the situation.

"Damian, I'll really be fine. Got kidnapped by some bogus cultists, the Batclan showed up and kicked ass, all cultists are now in prison awaiting trial. How many cults can one city have?"

"There are 63 individual cult or cult-like sects identified as operating within Gotham City limits," Damian replies, serious as he is with most things. Damn, Amity only had 18 last time he checked. Though it's a much smaller city, so that's probably why. "Even if you think it's foolish, I would prefer you wear this charm. I took the time to have it affixed to an accessory I thought you would like."

Danny does like the braided leather cuff bracelet Damian's presenting. Unfortunately, the small metal amulet inscribed with runes is the real deal, instead of being new age bullshit that Danny wouldn't have a care in the world about keeping on. Trust Damian to find the one spiritual shop in the city that knows its stuff. The bracelet hums with power he can already feel itching all over him from here, and he hasn't even touched the stupid thing yet. Damn, it makes Danny feel like a complete asshole to turn down the gift Damian clearly put so much thought into.

"Babe," he says gently, putting his hands on Damian's wrists. He can't grip any closer to the bracelet. "I appreciate it, I really do. But I'll be fine. You don't need to worry."

Damian frowns harder. "It won't hurt you to wear it." Unfortunately, false. "You can't just keep it on for my sake?"

Would that I could, Dames. Danny looks away, a little ashamed of the card he's about to pull. But desperate times. "It, uh. It reminds me of my parents, actually," he admits softly. "They had stuff like this all over the house. I'd prefer not to be reminded, if I can help it." The worst part is, it's not even a lie. They were more into the high-tech side of ghost hunting, not the occult, but the buzzing, unwelcome feeling sets his teeth on edge and reminds him of the home defense system that shot him 7 times out of 10 when he tried to enter his parents' house.

Damian sucks in a breath through his teeth. Danny hasn't divulged much about the home life he and Jazz are running from, but Damian knows enough to know how touchy a subject it is. Reluctantly, he draws the offered bracelet back. "My apologies. I did not mean to remind you of darker times."

"Hey." Danny smiles slightly, reaching out to touch Damian's face. "It's okay, you didn't know. But I'm serious, you know. One-and-done kidnapping. You don't have to worry."

Damian scowls, looking away. "You cannot promise that.

Danny kind of can. He can escape pretty much any Rogue in this city whenever he wants to. Penguin's guys have unknowingly had him three separate times, with the longest capture lasting exactly 37 seconds.

But he can't say that, so he just turns Damian's face back to his, gently. "Hey. I'll take other precautions, okay? I'll always call you when I get home. I'll let you pay for a ride when it's a late night. Is that okay?"

"I suppose it will have to do," Damian huffs, folding his arms.

"Okay, good. I know you're worried, and that's fair. And I really appreciate the thought. Maybe I can take the bracelet without the charm? I do like it, you were right."

As Damian unhooks the amulet and stuffs it in his pocket, Danny breathes an internal sigh of relief. Damian's just got to let his mother hen instincts out, be overprotective for a little bit, and then things will go back to normal. He can handle a week or two of hovering! And he gets this cool new bracelet too.

~*~

Damian's first attempt at getting an anti-possession charm on Danny may have failed, but he doesn't come away from the conversation empty handed.

At first, he worried that the strange reluctance to wear so harmless (to Danny's knowledge, at least; Constantine does good work, no matter how obnoxious he is) a trinket was a sign of the King of the Dead's influence even now.

But his pattern of speech hadn't faltered or changed and the awkward shame and embarrassment of his reveal was real, as far as Damian can tell.

No, far more interesting is the revelation that Danny and Jasmine's parents are somehow involved in ghosts and the occult. Could they be the reason that the King of the Dead is interested in Danny as more than a one-time vessel?

Damian has been trying to respect Danny's privacy and not pry into his past. Richard says it's an important part of a relationship, to trust a partner to reveal their personal secrets when they're ready. Unfortunately, it appears that Danny's past has just become case relevant, and that makes it fair game as far as Damian is concerned. He'll just have to make the intrusion up later, once Danny is out of the King of the Dead's clutches for good.

DP x DC Prompt.

Deadserious

.

>Danny had a problem. He thought he handled it well. He couldn't tell his civillian boyfriend of his half-dead status.

He definitely couldn't let him find out by being summoned by some culty wannabes who wanted to rule the world.

Easy solution: Volunteer to be the sacrifice, turn his eyes green, and act like a Royal prick and powerful being. Get rescued by one of Gothams 50 vigilantes. And claim no memory.

Boom, secret identity underwraps.

He didn't expect everyone to treat him so fragile after.

>

Damian also had a problem. That problem, being his civilian boyfriend, was obviously possessed by a spirit of the ghastly ghost king and was utterly clueless about it.

And it was all his fault.

Danny Fenton was the next June Moore/ Enchantress. Except he was hosting one of the most powerful beings in the universe.

And that lovable idiot had no damn idea about it.

[parkerslatte]

One Year

Thanos/Choi Su-bong x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: usual squid game stuff. blood and gore. injury. mentions of suicide. mentions of addiction. drugs. soft thanos. slight canon divergence.

Summary: After an argument about money and debts, Y/N left Thanos. A year later she meets him again in the games yet he does his best to ignore her. During the game of Mingle, Y/N gets thrown out of her room and Thanos comes to her rescue.

Squid Game Masterlist

“Are you being serious?” Y/N asked, sitting down on the chair in disbelief. 

Su-bong paced in front of her exasperated. “It was meant to make us more money! You can’t blame me for trying.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I told you when you first told me about it that it was a stupid idea. Not only did you ignore me, but you invested more than you said you were going to. And not just your own money, you took some of mine too!”

Su-bong rolled his eyes and Y/N chuckled. How he could be annoyed with her was beyond her. “I can’t believe this. I really can’t.”

“I can do something,” Su-bong said, a hint of desperation in his tone that he was clearly trying to hide. “I can start writing songs again. I can–”

“Don’t lie to me or yourself,” Y/N snapped. “You have been saying that for the past year.”

Su-bong scoffed. “You try to do something like that again when you are turned into a laughing stock!”

“And who’s fault was that?” Y/N said. “I was the one who advised you to not take those pills before the performance and you did it anyway. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

“Aren’t you meant to be my girlfriend? Isn’t it your job to support me?” Su-bong questioned. 

“I do support you, but I know when to draw the line,” Y/N replied. “I don’t support you basically gambling your entire life savings and mine all on what was clearly a scam from the start. I don’t support you going out every night getting high using pills you bought with my money. And as far as I know, you are supposed to support me too.”

“I do support you,” Su-bong defended, clearly offended. 

“Give me one example where you supported me over the past year,” Y/N said. Su-bong remained silent, giving Y/N the answer she needed. “The fact that you can’t even name one explains it all,” Y/N said. “You weren’t there for me when I was fired from my job. When my father was sick. When I broke my leg and could barely get around.”

“I can support you,” Su-bong said, grasping Y/N’s hands. “I can get us money. I can get it back–”

“No,” Y/N said and pulled her hands from his. Despite how she felt in the situation, she couldn’t help but miss the warmth of them. But she knew that what she was about to do was the right decision for her. “I can’t do this anymore. Not only did you continuously lie to me, but you stole money from me dragging me down with you.”

“Y/N, please,” Su-bong begged. “Don’t do this.”

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line. There was a time when they had had this conversation before. Then she had stayed and Y/N was coming to realise that it was a stupid decision. Despite it all, she did still love him. But she couldn’t forgive him–not this time. “Are you begging me only because you have nowhere else to go or because you still love me?”

There was a brief moment of hesitation. It was at most a few seconds but those few seconds were arguably the most important. “Of course I love you!”

Slowly, Y/N nodded. “I see.”

“Y/N, please,” Su-bong begged. “I’ll get a job. Fuck, I’ll get two jobs. I can fix this.”

“You are over one billion won in debt!” Y/N exclaimed. “Do you really think a few shitty jobs are going to fix that anytime soon? At least my job pays a decent wage but it is still nowhere near to pay off my own debts which you forced me into. No, I’m done this time,” Y/N said, keeping a steady tone despite the way she wanted to cry out and forgive him instantly. “Please leave. I’ll have your things sent to you.”

“You can’t kick me out!” Su-bong exclaimed. 

“You don’t rent this apartment, I do,” Y/N said, avoiding his gaze. “Please leave Su-bong. You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

He scoffed. “I can’t believe I ever loved you.”

Y/N’s gaze remained fixated on the table before her until his footsteps grew distant and the front door was opened and slammed shut, plummeting the apartment into silence. The moment she knew she was actually alone, Y/N allowed the tears to flow. She knew that this decision was for the best, after all their relationship over the past year had been far from a whirlwind romance. Y/N couldn’t remember the last time they had even slept in the same bed. 

But somehow she already had the urge to run out and tell him to come back and that they could work everything out together. Y/N’s hands gripped the arms of the chair, grounding herself. She couldn’t do that. Leaving him was for the best– even if she didn’t believe it just yet. 

***

The platform began to move, the number of players in the room was considerably less compared to the first round. She was standing on her own as she looked at the puddles of blood on the floor. There had yet to be someone Y/N had become allies with, the group she was with for the pentathlon were already a small alliance of four and she only joined them because they needed a fifth person. Everyone else already seemed to have their own group apart from her. 

It wasn’t that Y/N hadn’t tried. The moment she had seen her ex-boyfriend run up to that voting button and confidently chose to continue the game, she had tried her best to speak with him. Despite the fact that she was the one who broke up with him, it was nice and comforting to see a familiar face, even if that familiar face was high out of his mind every single time she tried to speak with him. 

Four different times Y/N had tried to speak to Su-bong and each time he wouldn’t give her the time of day. It irritated her more than she cared to admit though deep down she couldn’t blame him. After all she was the one who had kicked him out. 

She glanced at him from across the platform and noticed him already staring at her. Upon noticing this, he quickly looked away from her. If she made it through this round, she would make him speak to her whether he wanted to or not. 

“Two players,” the voice called out. 

There was no hesitation as Y/N grabbed the person closest to her and began to drag them to the yellow room right before her eyes. The round was carnage as people pushed and shoved and fought each other to get to a room in time. There were 126 players left, only 100 would be able to make it through the round. 

Just as the person she dragged opened the door, Y/N spared a glace in the direction Su-bong ran and found him and Player 124 dragging people out of the way of the door before running into it themselves. Y/N turned back to her room and slammed the door behind her just as Su-bong looked in her direction before he slammed his door closed. 

Once the door was closed, Y/N allowed herself to breathe and finally relax for a moment. She looked at the person she had dragged. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you when I dragged you, did I?”

Before the woman could even muster a response, the door was forcibly pushed open and a firm grip squeezed Y/N’s arm, pulling her out of the room as an older man forced his way inside. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Y/N yelled, kicking and hitting the man as he tried to push her out of the room. 

“I’m not dying today!” the man hissed. 

Y/N pulled her arm from the man’s grasp and before he knew it, a fist was flying at her face, her vision blurring immediately. A force pushed Y/N outside of the room and she fell to the floor. 

“Fuck you!” Y/N yelled at the man inside. 

Y/N glanced around at the clock and panic instantly rose within her. There were ten seconds left on the countdown and all hope left her body. There was no possible way she was going to find a partner and a room in time. Y/N slowly stood to her feet, already accepting her fate.

There were a few people still on the platform either hurt from someone or accepting their fate. Others were still trying to force their way inside rooms and fight for them. Slowly, Y/N closed her eyes. At least in her final moments she wouldn’t have to see the carnage surrounding her. 

Before Y/N knew it, she was quite literally swept off her feet. Her eyes opened and immediately recognised the mop of purple hair and she let out a small noise of surprise. Without a moment of hesitation, Su-bong ran into a blue room and slammed the door behind him just as the door locked, breathing heavily. 

As the gunshots sounded out, his grip tightened on her as he slumped down to the floor, Y/N still in his arms. 

“Su-bong?” Y/N muttered, still in disbelief that he had saved her. She stood from his hold and shakily got to her feet. 

“Why were you just standing there?” Su-bong asked, raising his voice. “Do you want to die?”

“I was thrown out of the room,” Y/N said. “There wasn’t enough time to find someone else and find a room.”

Su-bong stood to his feet, his eyes wide. “Why wouldn’t you at least try?”

“Why would you care?” Y/N said. “Evidently from the way you have refused to even speak to me here, you wouldn’t care whether I lived or died.”

“Of course I care!” he exclaimed.

“Then why haven’t you spoken to me since we’ve been here?” Y/N questioned. “I have tried so many times to speak with you, thankful to see a familiar face, and you have shut me down every single time! Is it about the drugs you’ve been taking? I know that I don’t like it when you take them but honestly right now I don’t care. All I have wanted to do is speak with you.”

Su-bong scoffed. “Now you want to speak to me? What about the past year? You never wanted to speak to me when I reached out.”

“The circumstances were different and you know it,” Y/N snapped. 

“How?” He asked. “I’m just doing exactly what you’ve been doing to me.”

Y/N sighed, forcing herself not to roll her eyes. “For once, imagine being in my place. Imagine supporting your partner for a year after their career took a plummet, you start paying for everything. Food, clothes, sometimes even their drugs when they begged you.”

At that statement, Su-bong glanced down at the necklace hanging from his neck. 

“Then you find out that they had an amazing idea to invest in crypto that turned out to be a scam,” Y/N continued. “Not only did they stupidly invest their entire life savings, but then you find out that they have been taking small amounts of money from your account too. Now leaving themselves in debt as well as you. In between all of this, imagine them going out early in the morning and either returning high out of their mind where you need to stay up and take care of them all night or they don’t return at all and you spend the whole night worried about where they are and if they are even alive.”

Y/N took a step closer to Su-bong. “Imagine if our positions were switched. You wouldn’t want to speak to me again either. But you have no idea how hard it was for me, because despite it all– somehow I still loved you. You fucked me over and I still loved you.” A shaky breath left Y/N. “So, I’m sorry if I didn’t want to talk to you. I’m sorry if I ignored you for a year. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help you, but I needed to put myself first for once.”

The silence in the room was deafening. The gunshots had ceased and the guards were clearing up the bodies. The numbers who hadn’t made it sounded through the speaker but Y/N didn’t listen as she only stared at Su-bong who hadn’t met her eyes the whole time she spoke. 

Slowly she took another step towards him and brought her hand up and placed it under his chin and forced him to meet her eyes. “You always did have trouble making eye contact when we were having a serious conversation.” His pupils were blown wide from the pill Y/N had watched him take before the game. “Why did you save me?”

Su-bond blinked once, then twice as if he was confused by the question. “What?”

“I watched you run into a room with your friend, pulling people out of the way for it. You were safe. Why did you risk your life to save me?” Y/N asked. 

“You were watching me? Señorita, I’m touched,” Su-bong said, his tone flirtatious. Y/N knew this behaviour all too well, sometimes she used to fall for it. 

Y/N frowned. “Be serious for a minute. I don’t want you to be ‘Thanos’. I want you to be Su-bong. My Su-bong.”

Surprise seemed to fill his eyes and he seemed to unconsciously lean into her touch as his eyes flicked to the side. “I watched you run into a room, I thought you were safe so I entered a room. When I looked out and saw you were standing outside, I ran out without thinking.”

“Did you know that there was a room available?” Y/N questioned. 

If possible, the room became quieter. “Why did you do it?”

“I couldn’t leave you out there,” he admitted. “I couldn’t leave you to die.”

“But you could have died in the process?” Y/N questioned. “How stupid could you be?”

Su-bong’s eyes met Y/N’s once more. His pupils were still dilated but Y/N could see his true emotions shining through clear as day. Vulnerability. 

“Do you know where I was when that man in a suit offered me that card?” Su-bong said, his voice strangely quiet. “I was on a bridge ready to jump and take my life. So I don’t care if I die in these games. But if you died, I couldn’t handle that. When I ran out, I thought that we would either both live or we would both die.”

Su-bong’s hands slowly moved until they held onto Y/N’s waist. The feeling of it so familiar but so foreign. “I tried to convince myself that I didn’t care about you, that if you died, I wouldn’t feel anything. I tried to convince myself that I was angry at you for turning your back on me. But when I saw you standing outside that room prepared to die, I realised that none of that was true. I still love you, baby. Even though I’m pissed that you joined these games.”

“It’s not like I had any choice,” Y/N shrugged as she cupped his face gently, her eyes stinging. 

Su-bong glanced down guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Y/N said, her thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “Someone who wasn’t sorry wouldn’t risk their life to save their ex-girlfriend who kicked them out with nowhere to go”

A huff of a laugh left Su-bong as he dipped his head down resting his forehead against Y/N’s. “Looking back, I can’t blame you.”

Y/N’s eyes closed as she savoured the feeling of his closeness. If she imagined hard enough, she could pretend that they weren’t trapped in a series of deathly games. They would be in her apartment, her doing her own work while Su-bong worked on a new song, happily sitting side by side. Just how it was for four years before his career blew up and things spiralled from there. 

“Vote to leave,” Y/N whispered. “We can get out of here and we can work things out. I know that you said that you…don’t care if you die in these games, but I don’t want to watch that. If we vote to leave, we can pay off our debts together and work things out between us– properly this time.”

Suddenly a warm pressure captured Y/N’s lips. The feeling was one she had missed. Her body fell into his as she wrapped her arms around Su-bong’s neck as she deepened the kiss. His arms wrapped around her waist before he turned their bodies until her back was pressed against the wall. 

Y/N pulled away and allowed herself to look into Su-bong’s eyes for a brief moment before she leaned in once more. The kiss held a hint of desperation behind it, as if one of the guards would enter the room and gun them down that very second. Su-bong’s hands slid from her waist to her hips, giving them an experimental squeeze. 

A content sigh left Y/N as she threaded her fingers in his hair and Su-bong smiled into the kiss. He pulled away, breath mixing with hers. “Jump, señorita,” he muttered.

“I always hated you calling me that,” Y/N mumbled against his lips.

“You loved it,” Su-bong replied as he picked her up and her legs immediately wrapped around him as he deepened the kiss. 

It wasn’t until now when Y/N realised how much she had missed him and how perfectly they fit together. It had been a year since he had last touched her this way and it was as if no time had passed. 

“I missed this,” he muttered, lips attaching to her jaw before peppering soft kisses down the side of her neck. 

“Me too,” Y/N sighed, tilting her head back as she savoured the feeling of his lips on her skin. She could only wish that they were in her apartment, gradually making their way towards the bed. 

Instead Y/N was brought back to her harsh reality. 

“Attention players, the game is now over.”

The door clicked and unlocked and Su-bong reluctantly detached his lips from Y/N’s neck.  They stared at one another breathlessly. Y/N’s legs were still wrapped around his hips and her fingers were tangled in his hair– only messing the strands up even more. 

Slowly, Su-bong set her back on her feet, hands slipping up her body to her waist. The footsteps of the other players broke the two from the daze they were in as Su-bong slowly stepped back, allowing Y/N space to step away from the wall. 

“We can get out of here together,” Y/N whispered as she slipped her hand in Su-bong’s. “Please vote to leave.”

The door was opened and a guard stood in the threshold, gun clutched in their hands unafraid to use it. Y/N and Su-bong slowly stepped out of the room and joined all of the other players as they exited the game. Neither of them spoke though their hands remained clutching one another tightly. 

“Thanos!” Player 124 said as he nudged Su-bong’s shoulder. “What was that for? If it weren’t for those pricks outside the room, I’d be dead.”

“You’re alive aren’t you?” Su-bong said the tone of his voice shifting to something more distant. A tone he never spoke to Y/N in. A tone that she knew was purely for other people.

Player 124 glanced at Y/N and his eyes trailed down to where her hand was linked with Su-bong’s before his eyes fixated on the red patch stuck to her jacket. A quiet huff of acknowledgement slipped past his lips. “I hope this bitch won’t make you change your mind about playing one more game.”

Su-bong’s head whipped around fast to face Player 124. “Don’t fucking call her that, man.”

Player 124 laughed. “Whatever you say. But remember. One more game.” He slipped back into the crowd of people– significantly smaller than when they had first entered. 

“You need to make better friends,” Y/N commented watching Player 124 leave with distaste. 

“And you need to make friends,” Su-bong defended as he pulled Y/N along with the rest of the crowd. “I’ve seen you sadly standing around on your own since we’ve been here.”

“Sorry for not wanting to get attached to anyone in a place where I could die,” Y/N replied. 

Su-bong huffed a laugh and squeezed her hand. “You have me now.”

“Only until the vote?” Y/N asked, her heart dropping slightly.

There was a brief moment of hesitation as he glanced down at the blue patch on his jacket. After a while he slowly nodded and Y/N let out a soft sigh of relief. 

“Only if you promise to not kick me out again,” Su-bong muttered as he threw his arm around Y/N’s shoulders, keeping her pressed to his side. 

“I promise,” Y/N replied as he pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “Only if you promise to work things out between us.” Y/N glanced at his necklace. “That includes your addiction. I know it will be hard, but I will be with you every step of the way.”

Su-bong looked at the cross necklace hanging from his neck and let out a long sigh. “Okay, señorita. You have a deal.”

“I told you not to call me that,” Y/N muttered.

“I know that you love it,” Su-bong said. “You always did. Especially when I–”

“Let’s leave that talk for when we are out of this hellhole,” Y/N said, lightly shoving him away from her. 

A quiet laugh left Su-bong as Y/N looked up at him, a small spark in his eye shone brightly. It was the first time she had seen it in years. Y/N’s lips twitched up as she savoured his touch, hope filling her heart for the first time she had woken up in this god-forsaken place. Y/N linked their fingers together once more as they walked through the colourful staircase for what would hopefully be the final time. 

[nicodrawings]

Every once in a while I’ll find myself watching something that makes me go “wow, there was a whole group of people that came together to make something beautiful.” It’ll remind me of why I want to pursue animation. That’s how I feel about Craig of the Creek. I feel like I’ve already talked ad nauseam about my love of the show but I really just wanted to say thanks again to the creek crew for creating such a magical show. From storytelling, to writing black characters in such a humanizing, compassionate and loving way that warmed my heart. Words can’t even fully describe how much this show means to me.

To anybody who worked on the show if you read this. no matter how big or small your contribution was to the show, I hope you walk with pride in your heart knowing that you worked on something special. I wish you all nothing but the best moving forward.

This won’t be the last time I draw Craig and the creek kids lol but I wanted to take the time to draw what I think of when I think of cotc.

Truly, thank you for showing how beautiful life can be.

I’ll see you tomorrow at the creek ❤️

[cei1ne]

—You suffer from anemia yet your boyfriends as supportive as ever, just in his own way

დ .•*”Summary: You suffer from anemia but you don’t let it stop you from becoming a hero, yet, your boyfriend’s a stubborn mess and forced you to rest.

༺ღ༒Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x GN!Anemic!Reader

☆࿐ཽ༵Tags: High school; Relationship; UA; GN!Reader

＊*•̩̩͙Warnings: Cursing?; Anemia; Overprotective boyfriend

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Word count: 3.8k

‧͙⁺˚*･A/N: Someone requested this but it was anonymous and my tumblr was bugging lately! It just got deleted but I still had lots of fun writing this and I hope you’ll have just as much fun reading this! And I didn’t know if they meant headcanons or Scenario so I just did both!

Headcanons: Katsuki Bakugou x GN!Anemic!Reader

1. Worry Masked by Irritation: Bakugou would constantly mask his concern for your condition by pretending to be annoyed. He’d grumble about you being “too weak” but would secretly go above and beyond to ensure you’re healthy.

2. Diet Control Freak: He’d take control of your meals, researching iron-rich foods and sneaking them into your diet. If you tried to resist, he’d shove a plate at you with a snarky remark like, “Eat this before I lose it.”

3. Hyper Awareness: Bakugou would become hyper-aware of your signs of fatigue or dizziness. If you so much as swayed while standing, he’d immediately drag you to sit down.

4. Loud Protector: If anyone dared to tease or question you about your condition, he’d explode (figuratively and maybe literally). “You got something to say?! Say it to me!”

5. Gentle in Private: Though Bakugou is explosive in public, in private, he’d show softer affection. He’d tuck blankets around you, carry you to bed if you overexerted yourself, and grumble softly, “Don’t push yourself, idiot.”

6. Hates Seeing You Weak: Seeing you too tired to get up genuinely unnerves him. He’d pace, bark orders, and eventually sit by your side, silently holding your hand.

7. Acts of Service: Bakugou would do small things like fetching water, helping you stand, or taking on your chores. Of course, he’d act like it’s no big deal. “You’re lucky I’m not a total asshole, huh?”

8. Research Master: He’d secretly learn about anemia from every available resource and even consult Recovery Girl or doctors. He wouldn’t tell you about it, though; he’d just start doing things that showed he knew what he was talking about.

9. Training Adjustment: He’d modify training sessions for you, subtly encouraging you to take breaks without making you feel weak. He might even offer to spar lightly to “keep you on your toes.”

10. Blunt Reassurance: If you ever felt self-conscious about your condition, Bakugou would bluntly shut you down. “You’re not weak. You’re mine, and that’s all that matters.”

Rest is for the Weak (But Not for You)

The morning started like any other. The dorms buzzed with activity as Class 1-A prepared for the day ahead. You had been one of the first to wake, though not because you were particularly eager. A familiar heaviness sat on your chest, and your limbs felt as though they were weighed down by lead.

It was nothing new. This was your normal.

“Y/N, you doing okay?” Mina’s cheerful voice rang out as she caught sight of you rubbing your temples. “You look kinda pale.”

You gave her a small smile, brushing it off. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”

“You sure? I can grab you something from the cafeteria real quick if you need it!”

“Thanks, Mina, but I’m good,” you said firmly, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself.

She hesitated but eventually nodded, skipping off to join the others. As you gathered your things and headed toward the training grounds, you could feel the weight of someone’s gaze on you.

Turning your head, you locked eyes with Bakugou.

He didn’t say anything, but his narrowed eyes and furrowed brow made it clear he’d heard the exchange. You pretended not to notice and hurried to catch up with the others, hoping he wouldn’t press the issue.

_________________________________

The training session was supposed to be routine—a series of combat drills designed to test reflexes and stamina. You had been paired with Midoriya for a sparring match, something that usually wouldn’t faze you.

But today, every movement felt sluggish. Your punches lacked their usual strength, and your dodges were just a fraction too slow. Midoriya, ever the observant one, noticed almost immediately.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re feeling okay?” he asked, concern etched into his face as he blocked one of your weak punches.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, dodging to the side as he retaliated.

But the dizziness was getting worse. Your vision blurred at the edges, and the sound of your own heartbeat roared in your ears.

“Y/N—”

“Stop holding back!” you snapped, cutting him off.

Midoriya flinched but complied, though his hits were clearly pulled. You hated it—hated the pity in his eyes, the way he seemed afraid to fight you properly. You wanted to prove you could keep up, that you weren’t a liability.

And then your knees buckled.

_________________________________

“Oi! What the hell are you doing, Deku?!”

Bakugou’s voice rang out across the gym, loud enough to make everyone pause. You barely registered the sound of his boots stomping across the floor before he was standing between you and Midoriya, his crimson eyes blazing.

“I-It wasn’t his fault—” you started, but Bakugou cut you off with a sharp glare.

“Shut it, dumbass,” he growled before turning back to Midoriya. “What the hell were you thinking, letting them push themselves like that?”

Midoriya opened his mouth to respond but quickly decided against it, his expression shifting to one of resignation.

“And you,” Bakugou snarled, rounding on you. “What the hell were you thinking? You could’ve hurt yourself!”

“I’m fine!” you snapped, trying to push past him.

But Bakugou wasn’t having it. He grabbed your arm—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to stop you in your tracks.

“You’re not fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re done. Sit down before you pass out.”

_________________________________

Bakugou practically dragged you to the edge of the gym, ignoring your protests as he deposited you on a bench. The other students watched from a distance, their whispered conversations filling the air.

“Bakugou, you’re overreacting,” you muttered, crossing your arms as he crouched in front of you.

“Overreacting, my ass,” he shot back, his tone sharp. “You’re pale as shit, and you can’t even stand up straight. Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

You glared at him, but the dizziness made it hard to keep your head up. Bakugou noticed immediately and let out an irritated sigh.

“Tch. Stay here,” he ordered before stomping off.

When he returned a few minutes later, he was carrying a water bottle and a protein bar. He shoved them at you without a word, his scowl deepening when you hesitated.

“Eat. Drink. Now,” he barked.

“Bakugou, I don’t need—”

“Don’t argue with me, dumbass!” he snapped, his voice louder than necessary. “Just do it!”

You flinched but complied, taking small sips of water and nibbling on the protein bar.

________________________________

When the session ended, Bakugou didn’t give you a choice about walking back to the dorms together. He hovered close, his sharp eyes scanning you for any signs of weakness.

“You didn’t have to walk me back,” you muttered, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment.

“Shut up. You’re lucky I didn’t carry your ass,” he shot back.

The two of you walked in silence for a while, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife. But as you reached the dorms, Bakugou’s voice softened.

“You need to take care of yourself, Y/N,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.

You glanced at him, surprised by the shift in his demeanor. “I do take care of myself.”

“Bullshit,” he muttered. “If you did, I wouldn’t have to babysit you all the damn time.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the exhaustion caught up with you, and you leaned against the wall for support.

Bakugou was at your side in an instant, his hand on your arm as he steadied you.

“See? This is exactly what I’m talking about,” he grumbled. “You’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”

_________________________________

Once inside your room, Bakugou made himself at home, pulling a chair up beside your bed as you sat down.

“You’re not staying,” you said, giving him a tired look.

“Like hell I’m not,” he retorted, crossing his arms. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t do something stupid.”

You sighed, leaning back against the pillows. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re an idiot,” he shot back, though there was no real heat behind his words.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the tension gradually fading as the weight of the day settled over you. Bakugou’s presence, as much as you hated to admit it, was comforting.

_________________________________

The silence in your dorm room was a strange thing. Bakugou wasn’t one to enjoy stillness, yet here he was, sitting in your chair like he belonged there, arms crossed as he glared at the wall. The occasional sound of his foot tapping against the floor was the only thing breaking the quiet.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” you said finally, unable to take the tension anymore.

“Too bad,” he replied curtly.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “You’re seriously overreacting. I just got a little dizzy.”

He turned his sharp gaze on you, the intensity in his crimson eyes making you freeze. “A little dizzy? You couldn’t even finish training without almost eating shit in front of everyone.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” you muttered, looking away.

“I’m not saying it to piss you off, dumbass,” he snapped, leaning forward slightly. “I’m saying it because you’re being reckless.”

You stared at him, surprised by the raw frustration in his voice. Katsuki Bakugou was never one to sugarcoat his words, but there was something different about the way he spoke to you now—like he was genuinely afraid for you.

“I just don’t want to hold anyone back,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bakugou’s expression softened for a moment, though his scowl quickly returned. “You’re not holding anyone back,” he said firmly. “You think I give a crap if you can’t keep up sometimes? You’re not weak, Y/N.”

The words caught you off guard. You’d always thought Bakugou saw weakness as unforgivable, that he’d look down on anyone who couldn’t match his relentless energy. Hearing him say otherwise left you speechless.

“Tch. Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink. “I’m just telling the truth. Now shut up and rest.”

_________________________________

Despite Bakugou’s insistence that you stay in bed, word of your condition had spread among your classmates, and it wasn’t long before a few of them came knocking.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Mina burst into the room, her usual enthusiasm dampened by concern. She carried a small bag of snacks, which she set on your bedside table with a flourish.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, they’re fine,” Bakugou interjected from his seat, his voice dripping with irritation. “Now get out.”

“Bakugou, be nice!” Kirishima appeared behind Mina, giving his friend a pointed look before turning to you. “We just wanted to check on you, Y/N. You scared us a little back there.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said, guilt creeping into your tone. “I just… overdid it.”

“You think?” Bakugou muttered under his breath.

Kirishima chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, we’re glad you’re okay. Just take it easy, all right? And don’t let Bakugou boss you around too much.”

“Too late for that,” you joked, earning a glare from Bakugou.

After a few more minutes of chatting, Mina and Kirishima finally left, though not without a promise to check in on you again later. As soon as the door closed, Bakugou let out an irritated huff.

“They don’t know when to leave,” he grumbled.

“They’re just worried,” you said, leaning back against the pillows. “You don’t have to be so rude.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need a damn audience while I’m trying to take care of you,” he shot back.

You raised an eyebrow. “Trying to take care of me? Is that what this is?”

“Shut up,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing again.

_________________________________

That night, long after Bakugou had begrudgingly left your room, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. His words from earlier echoed in your mind.

“You’re not weak, Y/N.”

It was such a simple statement, yet it meant more to you than you could explain. For as long as you could remember, you’d been battling the fear that your anemia made you a burden. You hated the idea of being someone others had to take care of.

But Bakugou didn’t see you that way.

You weren’t sure when he’d started paying such close attention to you, but his protectiveness was undeniable. It was infuriating at times, but it also warmed your heart in a way you couldn’t ignore.

_________________________________

When you woke the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the smell of food.

Groggily sitting up, you saw Bakugou standing by your desk, a tray of breakfast in his hands.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice still heavy with sleep.

“What’s it look like?” he replied, setting the tray down on your lap. “You’re eating before training today.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “You made this?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “It’s just eggs and toast. Not like I cooked a five-star meal.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you picked up your fork. “Thanks, Bakugou.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, looking away. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

As you ate, you noticed how he lingered by the door, his usual impatience replaced by something softer.

“Are you gonna watch me the whole time?” you teased.

“Maybe,” he shot back.

_________________________________

Over the next few weeks, Bakugou’s concern for you became an undeniable part of your routine. He started carrying snacks and water bottles with him during training, shoving them at you whenever he thought you looked tired. He adjusted his own training schedule to keep an eye on you, even if it meant sparring with someone else so he could watch from a distance.

And while he never outright said it, his actions spoke volumes.

One day, after a particularly exhausting training session, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the gym, your legs dangling over the side as you tried to catch your breath. Bakugou appeared beside you, handing you a cold water bottle without a word.

“Thanks,” you said, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip.

“Tch. Don’t mention it,” he muttered, sitting down next to you.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the sounds of the gym fading into the background. It was moments like this that reminded you just how much Bakugou cared, even if he’d never admit it.

“You’re not weak, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice softer than usual.

You turned to look at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone.

“Thanks, Katsuki,” you said quietly, using his first name for the first time in weeks.

He didn’t say anything, but the faint smile that tugged at his lips was enough.

[emptymanuscript]

XD!

So, laugh rule but also:

What’s kinda throwing me is that I think this is actually pretty close to the central thesis of the actual mystical/religious tradition/lineage I’m actually in.

Like, the belief is absolutely that the god we call God is real (as are many other gods and other things) but that the fundamental idea of Divinity vs Mortality is not real. That the fundamental purpose of most religious thought is so the Divine can keep us in our place, even though we’re perfectly capable of doing what they do and achieving apotheosis into being without a difference. The problem with God is that He thinks He’s it and the problem with people is that we think we aren’t.

And, yeah, the fundamental task of the novitiate (initiate? I’m always fuzzy on those. The person just starting out who knows enough to look but enough, yet, to do. Early level apprentice who is learning the ropes sort of person) is to Self Create.

Like that’s the most necessary part of the tradition. You’re supposed to study your little butt off (obviously why I am drawn to it XD, studying everything as a religious devotion? Sign me up! I am a B+ child and I want you to love me teacher XD). But the purpose of the study is to find the hidden resonances, what is actually true, that is not actually recorded in full anywhere because you are divine so only you can fully define you.

It’s self definition by using the other. I am that. I am not that. I am like that but not in this way, etc. Just using metaphysical principles rather than your social group.

Or, I suppose, in ADDITION to your social group.

My actual biggest criticism of my tradition lineage is how often we’re inconsiderate assholes. Not just that we’re not nice people but that we’re not nice people in and on principle. For whatever reason (some I know and some I don’t) the first thing we seem to say we’re not is good, kind, and caring. Like, the exact thing we would want in our own deities and berate the Demiurge (the god who thinks He is God because He was the deity that did all the original creating as far as He is concerned) for not being is what we’re not going to do, too.

Which I get as an act of anger and provocation and boundaries. But I really don’t understand as a mature decision for the path of one’s life. I hear it’s better to reign in hell than serve in heaven but nothing I see demands that that is the actual choice at hand.

There IS a lot of worship. And, yeah, I think part of the draw to my tradition/lineage is that it speaks to lonely weird people who are happier surrounded by books than crowds. But there’s nothing actually NECESSARY to the path about starting a cult, claiming that you’re evil, and then proving it by manipulation and lies. But somehow, those are all the famous people writing the influential texts.

Like, why not be the sort of person you wish that a deity would be. Be your own dream fulfillment. And instead of putting yourself up at the top of a pyramid of something icky, just be the sort of person that other people like hanging around.

Of course, that may just be me being a novice. Wizards aren’t exactly known for their EQ. We know the forbidden names of gods and a whole mess of trivia. My current joke is that if you want to find one of us, go looking for a party. Go to the weirdest one you find. Like, these are not the cool kids, you get me? Look at the people who are up against the wall, not partying. Find the most boring person out of them. That’s your most likely candidate to be a Wizard.

If they are, the questions to ask are ones that lead you to awareness of their humility and sure confidence in themselves.

The more confident they are that they know the secrets of the universe, as a whole, for everything and everybody, the farther back toward initiation they are. The more they need to fight for their own self definition and boundaries, the closer they are to being in the “middle” of their journey. It’s not really the middle it’s simply that you’re very self confident at the very start and very self confident at the end. But the majority of the journey is taking a hammer to the ego when we’re often the sort of people who don’t have a lot of ego defenses to spare.

Which means defensiveness and love/worship cravings are rampant. A great area to promote Narcissistic impulses.

That’s actually a big warning I’ve run into a few times now. That a lot of people simply break and become these megalomaniacal monsters who are just completely full of themselves and their arcane power. They become Demiurge like. They think they’re it. You’re just a prop to them and their power trip fantasy.

Mostly, I hear the solution to be this gray ascetic humility. That the world is illusory and transitory and that includes me and my feelings. So you become this immovable, unimpressable center point. Nothing bothers you. It’s why I talk about my own lineage as shit-eaters. Because that’s a literal example from them. That you should be able to have the same experience and same emotional impact whether you have the best meal of your life or eat literal feces. All that matters is your will and willpower and, yeah, power… so you can enact your will.

Can’t say I like the idea. I do not particularly want to eat feces. I like enjoying food. And this dichotomy strikes me as false. You either reject life or are conquered by it. Meh. I like dialectical thinking not dualistic thinking. And the entire point is to make something new. Something you. Not to simply repeat the old lies and oppression.

If you’re a god, great. Namaste. In all humility and seriousness. I see and acknowledge the divine in you. I welcome it. But as a living, breathing, experiencing person who participates in the world with other people, I would ask some questions:

What are the benefits of your worship to you?

What are the benefits of your worship to your worshippers?

How are you the same as your worshippers?

How are you different from your worshippers?

What are the drawbacks and costs to you that come from your being worshipped?

What are the drawbacks and costs to your worshippers from worshipping you?

If you put yourself in the place of one of your worshippers (pick a few at random) would you feel the benefits and costs weighed out in your favor?

If you put one of your worshippers in your place (pick a few at random) would you come to the conclusion from the outside, with a godlike view of the whole situation, that it weighted out to an activity that was ultimately favorable to them?

For the worshipper you have put in your place, would you be satisfied with how their worshipper’s lives would work out for them in the care of that other?

What would be the benefits to you of rejecting the idea of being worshipped all together?

What would be the costs to you of giving up that particular place at the center for just being one of that particular group you get along with?

DO you actually get along with your worshippers when they aren’t worshipping you? Or do you only like them for their worship? Are they the people you would surround yourself with if you weren’t in this group together?

What benefits might they get from being let go from worshipping you? From being let go from the group?

What would it cost them if they were to stop worshipping you? What would they necessarily lose if they left the group?

Looking at the balance of your answers to these questions and comparing it to likely possible alternatives (NOT the best, NOT the worst, NOT the strangest), is worshipping you the best thing for your worshippers?

Looking at the balance and considering the likely possible alternatives for yourself, is being worshipped in this way the best thing for you?

Looking at all the answers that you’ve written out, and being honest with yourself, with the full divine view of what is and what could be, is this situation what you actually want? Would that answer change if it was for someone else? WHY? WHY is this the best arrangement? Or WHY isn’t this good enough? WHY does it matter who the worshipped is versus an alternative versus the worshippers? WHY? WHY? WHY? There is a reason that children demand this endlessly. It is the most necessary question to understand their lives. That doesn’t really change when a child grows up and realizes their own divinity.

They say you gotta worship god because he created stuff, but I created myself, and my epic boobs, and I'm real, so aren't I better than god? Maybe I should be worshipped. Much to think about

[mrsnishimuraaa]

hii! can u write reader’s first time with gentle/comforting soft dom riki ?? 🫠🩶

first time

riki x fem!reader (est relationship)

thank u for the rq 🫶🏼 also not proof red soz xo

riki becoming your boyfriend was truly one of the best things you think might have ever happened to you, the two of you wanting to take things slow purely because you treasure each other so much and wouldn’t want to mess anything up for silly reasons.

so on your 8 month of being together anniversary you had decided you were ready to take a big step forward, the two of you were so comfortable with eachother but wanted to wait to get intimate until the time was really right.

“are you 100% sure y/n just tell me if you don’t want to anymore kay?” riki mumbles into your skin, placing wet yet loving kisses around your neck and collarbone. “i trust you ki, it’s okay” you hum to him, stroking a hand through his hair as he nips away softly at your sensitive skin.

his hands reach for the bottom of your tank top, giving you a look of question, you nod and he slides the fabric over your head gently. “knew you weren’t wearing a bra” he chuckles softly as his places a kiss on your lips, making you crack a smile at him. continuing to kiss your skin, one of his hands gently massages your breast, straining soft whimpers and hums out of your mouth “ki..” you breath out softly, god he’s so gentle with you, yet at the same time he has you feeling so good.

hands reaching to lightly tug at his t shirt , he lifts himself a bit to help you discard the clothing. revealing his gorgeously built frame, he smiles at you before he dips down to pull you into a kiss. the passionate movements of his mouth send shivers through your body but it dosent last long before he pulls away. his hands trailing your waist down to the hem of your panties.

“can i take these off pretty?” he coos as you nod up at him, he slides the lacy fabric off you and throws them onto the floor, his eyes scan over you laying bare before him. “so wet f’me hm?” his hands massage your thighs gently “of course” you reply shakily in anticipation.

riki bends over to the nightstand, pulling a condom out of it before kicking his sweats and boxers down and off his body, his length rock solid and you whine slightly at the scene of it, he notices your reaction and brings himself to stroke your hair, pushing the loose pieces behind your ear in care. “you ready baby?” he gently pulls you toward the end of the bed more “remember tell me to stop if it’s too much okay?” he presses a kiss against your forehead before aligning himself to you.

slowly pushing in little by little, you wince at the stretch it’s causing you, sucking in a sharp gasp as he bottoms out deep in you. “shh it’s okay” “i’m here baby i’m here” he brings his body down to kiss you softly on the lips, pulling away to caress your cheek with his soft hands. “take your time tell me when your ready” he stills himself completely, giving you the time to adjust to his massive size as he watches your face precisely, searching it for any sign of pain.

a few minutes pass and the pain and stretch subsides “m-more ki” you exhale deeply. “mkay love” he slowly pulls back before gently pushing back in, earning a small breathy moan from you “doing so well for me baby” his thumb draws circles over your exposed hip as he slowly drags his length in and out of you, small whines falling past your lips as the pleasure starts to take over you. “ah- faster” the moment those words fall past your lips, he sighs of relief knowing the pleasure has hit you.

the speed of his thrusts fasten to a decent pace, “good girl, shit- your such a good girl” his thrusts are ready yet he still has that caring looking in his eyes, head thrown back as your walls suck him in repeatedly. “deeper riki” you bite your lip , yearning to feel him deep as inside of you that he can go. “yeah? fuck-“ he delivers a slow yet oh so deep stroke that pulls a moan you would almost classify as pornographic from you, he stills in that spot, letting you take in the feeling of him buried deep inside you.

“is that it baby? feel good?” he realises he’s found your g spot there at the way you squirm and try to fuck your self onto him. “yes! please ki” you clench around him as he picks his pace up again “let me take care of you hm? relax pretty” the deep strokes he gives you could almost send you insane, a familiar feeling in your stomach starting to brew as he constantly hits your g spot. “mm riki im gonna cum!” your knuckles go white from the harsh grip you have on the bedsheets below you “oh yeah? cum on my dick, c’mon just let go”he encourages you, bringing a hand to rub your clit at just the right pace.

it dosent take long before your moaning strings of his name and squirming beneath his strong frame, your body naturally wanting to run away from the strong feeling of your orgasam that takes over you, he holds you still as he buries himself deep inside of you, filling up the condom as he breaths deeply into your neck with a grunt and a low ‘fuck’.

slowly pulling out and throwing away the used condom, he props himself to hover above you, kissing your nose with a praise “you did so well baby, that feel good?” he asks you as he plays with your hair gently, you nod in response smiling up at him, you wonder how you got so lucky in life to have such a caring boyfriend.

“cmon beautiful let’s run a bath, get you cleaned up hm?”

[bluem1lls]

hiii!! are u gonna write a part two for that one se mi x guard reader angst? )(⁠ﾉﾟ⁠0ﾟ⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠~(⁠ﾉﾟ⁠0ﾟ⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠~

✧₊⁺ what am i supposed to do without you?

✦ synopsis: you don't leave her mind, not after everything you two went through. so when she finally sees you again in a date with someone else, she knows it's time to talk.

tw: minors dni, jealous se-mi, fluff, smut, fingering/oral (r!receiving), a bit of angst

authors note: hiiii, sooo after the poll, this one won!!! so finally, part 2 of guard!reader x se-mi. also im sorry for the lack of update, im super busy with work and also a bit blocked, but tysm for all the requests! i hope u like it!💓

⋆｡°✩ "fuck" my head hits the wall as he pushes me.

"i did warn you, didn't i?" he said as i nodded weakly. "and what did you do? you helped a player. not only helped her, you saved her."

"it won't" i tried to regain my breathing. "it won't happen again"

"you got attached!"

"i'm sorry." i whisper to my uncle as he turns around. i know he's mad.

"if he finds out he'll kill you."

"he probably saw the cameras already" i say to him as my uncle frozens in place.

"you didn't know? you didn't... see him?" he asks as i stared confused. "he's out there. playing"

my eyebrows raise in surprise. "playing?" a shiver runs through my spine to even imagine what he would do to se-mi to survive his own game.

"listen to me." he speaks to me in a serious manner as i bit my lip. "i'm gonna delete the footage and you're gonna leave this fucking place and you won't look back"

"w-what? but.. mom and.. dad-"

"i don't want you here ever again. they'll understand" he says as he presses the button, erasing the videos as i bit my lip hard enough. i'm probably drawing blood.

"are they.. releasing her?" i ask as he turns around. he stays still, letting out a sharp breath. "tomorrow. they voted and they chose to stop playing"

a sigh of relief leaves my body as i turn around, putting on my mask.

"t-thank you" i whisper as he gives me a head nod. i know damn well how he is. and i also know he's doing this for me, and it's not easy. he places his black mask on, matching with his black suit as he sits down on his couch. staring once more at the cameras.

⋆｡°✩ i sigh as i get home. i softly pet my kitten after picking it up from my mom's.

i sat on the couch, exhausted. my head hurts, i miss se-mi and i feel miserable. i thought i was doing the right thing, but now i lost my job and i lost my.. friend? my girlfriend?

my head on my hands as i try to not cry.

⋆｡°✩ it's been two months.

i know she's okay, i made sure of that. but she hasn't texted, called or even came to see me.

and she seems to be okay without me (yes, i stalk her instagram), but i'm not, and that's exactly why i let this happened.

"sam.. no. i'm not ready.." i stare at her.

"look at her! she's a cutie! it's only one date. i know you two will get along great and if you hate her then i swear i'll leave you alone but please. i'm your best friend and i hate seeing you like this, maybe if you try to move on.. it'd be for the best" she begged me as i sighed.

"just one." i say resigned as she shouts in excitment.

and now i'm regretting that, because sam keeps talking about this girl while all i can think about is her.

⋆｡°✩ "where did you said you worked at?" she says as i sip my gin tonic, almost choking on it.

"uh.. next question" i reply with an awkward smile as she chuckles.

"you're so cute" she gives me a smirk. "sam said you were really pretty and.. she wasn't wrong" she says, softly caressing my face, her gaze roaming all over my features.

i stare at her nervously giving her a soft smile. she pulls away, turning around to order more beer for her as i cross my legs and let my eyes wander around the place to distract myself.

it's a pub, and although it's dark i can see the purple details it has. the bar fully equipped with all the finest alcohol, se-mi sitting on one of the stalls of the bar.

my eyes widen.

what?

my stare focused on her as i feel the air being knocked out of my lungs. she catches me staring, her cold gaze lingers on mine. i can see her surprised expression, quickly turning into a cold one as her eyes go to my date. she takes a sip from her beer, her eyes never leaving mine. i can feel the girl besides me talking but i honestly, i can't even pay attention.

"so was it good?" she asks, snapping me from my thoughts as my gaze leaves se-mi for a second to focus on her.

"huh?"

"the drink.. was it good?" she says as i give her a very forced smile while i nod.

"so good. hey, would you mind bringing my coat from the hanger?" i smile at her as she nods. she quickly gets up to get it as i stare at the ceiling.

what do i do? i leave? do i run to the bathroom to hide? should i talk to her? i keep going like nothing happened?

as i remove my stare from the ceiling, i see her standing up in front of me, making me let out a shaky breath.

guess she decided for me.

she stares at me up and down, her eyes roaming my body. she extends me a drink with her right hand while her left is holding hers.

"gin tonic for you.. like always" se-mi says as i slowly take it. her fingers caressing mine for a second, making me shiver. "you look.. so beautiful"

"don't do this.. please" i beg her in whispers. she drinks her beer while her gaze stares at me intensely.

"i just want to talk to you." her eyes flash with.. guilt? as she speaks.

i stare at her in disbelief with wide eyes. "no? i'm on a date!"

she scoffs. "please, you kicked her out. i know you that much" she says in a low, hard tone. "we really need to talk. please"

my eyes roamed her face, i bit my lip thinking about it for a second as i get up, grabbing my purse as i let her guide me to the way out.

i stop where the hanger is as i see the girl with my stuff turned around. i touch her shoulder as she turns at me with a smile. "hey, i'm so sorry but something came up and i need to leave. you're.. amazing, and incredibly sweet" i speak as her expression falls.

"oh.. do you want me to come-"

"no. b-but thank you" i say to her quickly as i can see her defeated stare. i grab my coat, walking to find se-mi at the door. we get into her car in a weird tense silence until we get to my place.

i leave my stuff on the couch as i turn to stare at her, her hands on her pockets as she bites her lip piercing.

"why.. were you with her?" she breaks the silence as i stare at her in disbelief. is she actually asking me that like a jealous girlfriend?

"why? oh i'm sorry. i didn't realized that after you broke my heart i had to ask for your permission" i dry chuckle as she scoffs, annoyed, but her eyes are filled with guilt and remorse as she stares at me.

"i'm sorry. i.. i know why you did what you did. and maybe i didn't understood at first, and it took me a while.."

"you never called back. you never texted, you never came to see me, you didn't cared to know how i was-"

"i couldn't talk to you! not after... the games. i asked sam about you every single day. i begged her to not tell you anything, but god, there hasn't been a day in where you left my mind" she says, frustrated. her jaw clenches as i stare wide eyed. fucking sam.

i sigh as i lean myself against the wall. my hands cover my face. "what was i supposed to do? i thought you ghosted me. i thought you hated me se-mi. so i tried.. to just.. move on" i say as i bite the inside of my cheek with anxiety. her cold gaze stays on me as she takes a step closer.

her eyes burning with jealousy, darkening as her stare roamed through my body. "did it worked?"

my chest tightens as i slowly shook my head no. she closes the distance betweens us, trapping me against the wall as i let out a small gasp, feeling her hands on my waist. the cold silver rings making me shiver.

she speaks in a low hiss. "it didn't? you know why it didn't worked?" one of her hands leaves my waist, her fingers softly lifting my chin. "because you never stopped being mine" she says as my heart thumps on my chest. our breathings getting a little more ragged.

"why are you doing this? after two months se-mi... it's been two months." my eyes fill with tears as she caress my face with her hand.

her lips twitch a little as she hears my weak reply. "let me make it up to you"

her hands lowers to my neck as she closes the distance between us. our lips smashing together as we both let out a small moan. my hands roamed through her body desesperately until i wrap my arms around her neck as her other hand lowers to grip my hips.

my body melts into her touch, the kiss becoming hard and desesperate, expressing the way we missed eachother. our pent up anger and frustration explodes as our bodies pressed together.

"i love you so much" i whisper in a shaky breath in between kisses, her arms tighten around me as she keeps the kisses going.

"i love you so much too" she replies, her lips never leaving mine as she lifts me up, her hands on my thighs as she carries me to my room. she softly positions me in bed. i lay as she gets on top of me. i kiss her hungrily as she moans. she breaks the kiss to lower herself, her face meeting my center as she lifts my skirt. her tongue licks over my panties, spreading the wet patch as i whimper. my hands grip her hair as she moves them aside, circling my clit with her tongue.

"missed this so much" she says, giving a kiss on my clit as she teases my entrance.

"please" my head falls back as i beg her. i can feel her smirk as she pushes two fingers inside, going back with her tongue, picking up a faster pace as i moan.

she thrusts deeper and faster as my moans get louder. when she feels me clenching around her fingers, her tongue swirls around my clit. she smirks, pleased to have me trembling under her touch.

"gonna cum please, please, please" i cry out as my fingers pull her hair making her hiss. her lips around my clit as she sucks, making me whimper.

i feel the heat on my lower stomach snap, i clench around her fingers once again as my eyes roll back and i finish with a long and loud moan. she licks me clean until i'm whining, overstimulated.

"oh baby, this is just the first round" she cups my face as i stare, half-lidded.

⋆｡°✩ i stopped missing her, because she stays right by my side. after a few months, she finally asks me to be her girlfriend, which the question feels odd giving the fact that we're almost living together at that point, but i say yes nonetheless (of course).

⋆｡°✩ and when we sleep, she has nightmares all the time. i try to wake her up gently, with soft kisses as i hug her. we end up falling asleep together, always cuddling to feel eachother.

and i have mines too.

i can feel her shaking me slowly as i gasp. "it's okay-"

"i thought i lost you" i murmur, still sleepy but teary.

"you didn't. i'm right here" she says in a cooed whisper. she hugs me tightly, pressing me against her body as i grip her shirt, scared that if i let her go, she'll disappear.

⋆｡°✩ and we try to overcome the trauma of the games, the deaths, and it's hard, but somehow with her by my side, it becomes easier.

⋆｡°✩ and as we spend all our weekeds in bed, i can't help but wonder what would've happened if i was honest from the beggining. but right now she's here, laying in my bed, caressing my hair as i close my eyes and my head rests on her chest..

and i wouldn't have it any other way.

even if i'd had to go through it again and again. i'd do it for her.

[meemoop]

I have the rare chance of reaching out to many people at once, so let me take advantage of it!

For those creative types—those who love reading, writing, and drawing—what do you do for a living? How did you get there? What did you study? ALL FIELDS WELCOME TO SHARE!

Is there anyone here in the book industry? And I have no idea what to do with my life, I want to know your careers to expand my horizons; there has to be SOMETHING out there for me that’s not impossible (my delusion is being a writer LOL). I want something creative and interesting and in-demand���.

So, let me know in the comments or DM me (please don’t send asks, my inbox is so full rn)! I just want to hear everything! I’m having an existential crisis (I work in finance…)

[pencil-n-pen]

here after reading your Spencer Reid fic. I was wondering if you could write Spencer x autistic!reader where r gets overstimulated and basically having a meltdown and Spencer like helps her ig? Idk if that makes since, but thank you!!

BUZZ

masterlist

anon you have no idea how excited i was to see this ask. i even showed my bestie. thank you sm for the ask !!

summary: police precincts are overwhelming. Spencer knows just how to help :)

cw: detailed depictions of a sensory overload, hurt/comfort

this is pretty short, sorry !!

i am autistic and will be drawing on my own autistic experiences and what helps me during meltdowns :)

۫ ꣑ৎ

The lights are buzzing.

It’s hard to ignore. The policeman/detective/whoever he is who’s filling the team in on the case smacks his lips in between sentences. This is equally hard to ignore.

The tag on your neck has moved up from a small itch to what feels like a small stab everytime you move your head.

The muscles in your neck jump and twitch in the urge to shake— to firmly overcompensate for the feeling, to establish equilibrium.

But you know where that goes. One shake becomes two, and then everyone’s looking at the FBI agent having “some sort of fit”. You squeeze your hand until your nails dig scarlet crescents into your palms and focus on the pain instead.

But it doesn’t work. The lights are still buzzing, and the guy has stopped talking but now everyone else is talking and it’s louder and all the conversations sound like the same volume, all digging sharp claws into your brain, right under your scalp.

Your entire body itches— absolutely writhes with the feeling of wrong, wrong, wrong, too much.

Your hands twitch and jerk at your sides. You’re to focused on stopping the rest of your body to stop them and it hits you all at once that you have to get out.

But you don’t know where you are in this precinct and you don’t know where to go to find quiet and not the bathrooms because what if someone flushes the toilet and did you bring your earbuds you can’t remember it’s loud and you have to get away—

A tall figure steps in front of you, effectively cutting off your field of vision save for a specific pattern of dark maroon gingham. It’s a button down, and a black tie, and a grey suit jacket.

Your skin itches marginally less now that you can’t see anything, and then large, careful hands slot in place over your ears, applying pressure just shy of hurting.

With the sound gone, or at least muffled, your lungs don’t feel quite as constricted, and your body feels less like an open, raw nerve.

You suck in a careful breath, and then another, and then another until you think you can probably pass for normal now.

You tap Spencer’s arm once, and slowly, as to not shock your rattled brain, takes his hands away from your ears.

“I have your earbuds. Do you want to go to their secondary briefing room? It’s nice. I scoped it out.”

He leans down when he says it, eyes searching your face but not making eye contact. He’s mentally cataloging your expressions to see if you’re still upset. You’re familiar with this process by now.

“Yeah,” You force the words out of your mouth like pulling teeth and he frowns a little. He always knows when you overcompensate.

He takes your right hand in his, squeezing intermittently to keep your focus on him and leads you through the precinct, expression and body language stating very clearly:

Stay away.

You stare at your shoes the entire time he leads you to the briefing room, skin prickling at the idea of how many people saw your not-well-concealed freakout.

You should’ve found this room faster, so you could’ve been alone and no one would have seen—

“Stop beating yourself up.”

You snap your head up to glare at him. “Stop profiling me.”

He’s standing next to you, still not trying to make eye contact, though your hand remains firmly in his.

He shakes his head, then reaches into his pocket and produces a pair of earbuds.

Emphasis on a pair, not your pair.

You stare at where they lie innocently in the palm of his hands. “Those aren’t mine. Mine have a chip right there from when I dropped them getting out of the car.”

“I saw a pair when I was out the other day so I got them. So you’d have a backup. They’re the exact same make and model.”

You blink, unable to tear your eyes away from them.

He bought them. For you. Because sometimes you forget your earbuds and can’t get to them in time. Because he knows you prefer earbuds bc they’re more casual and subtle than noise cancelling headphones. He bought them.

He pushes them towards you again, and you give in, because who can say no to that? It’s easy from then to plug them into your phone and start up the playlist of music you have saved for these specific situations.

He steers you to one of the tables in the back, turning the lights off as he goes, and tucks you both, side by side, into the two chairs in the furthest, quietest corner.

His hand never leaves yours.

ʚɞ