#i've never driven that far in my life

[hood-ex]

Oh hell yeaaah just got offered a job in Montana. Love how that worked out lmao. Quitting current job tomorrow and offered new job tonight.

[six-of-ravens]

not to beat a dead horse, but I think the primary reason why I simply Cannot with greek mythology is that in ~2017ish this genre of posts became popular that was like, "greek gods as modern day aesthetics" and the first couple I saw were fun, but....then it became clear that EVERYONE was just using the EXACT SAME stereotypes and...yeah. I saw like 30 of these posts. I considered deleting tumblr for a while over these posts. they were SO annoying and blandly surface-level but everyone making them thought they were sooooooo hyper-intellectual hashtag dark academia.

and of course right after that there was a boom in greek mythology content, presumably started by TSOA and that one videogame about Hades teenage son having to talk to allt he other gods or something... idk all I remember about that game is it's the first time I ever heard the term "roguelike" but it seemed too boring to warrant such an interesting genre title WHATEVER. ANYWAY. so now whenever I encounter greek mythology media I'm like, "do you have real, well-formed opinions, stories, and a knowledge of history, or are you just enamored with picturing Hades as a motorcycle gang zaddy and Athena as your hashtag dark academia queen mommy, and decided to slap some aesthetics together into something vaguely resembling a story?"

[bunnys-kisses]

sibling situation

simon 'ghost' riley

cw: smut & plot, mactavish!reader, size kink/difference, missionary sex, unprotected sex, marriage & babies (at the end), romance, simon's found family

this rabbit runs on reblogs & comments! feed the rabbit!

simon knew that johnny had a sister. you had been brought up in conversation tons of times. after the death of your parents, you and johnny were really all each other had. but johnny left for the military right before turning eighteen and you struggled to put yourself through university. it wasn't the easiest life and simon could understand, he had his own scars of his childhood.

"so, why are you dragging me out here again, johnny?"

"get ya out of that shoe box flat. got a little more leg room where i am."

johnny had driven the car all the way to edinburgh with a promise that a little time away would do wonders for the other man. simon had his ear talked off about how london was just too big, and while edinburgh was a city. it would be a break from the intense metropolitan of london. if need be the two of them and you could go on a getaway to the countryside.

"this better be good, johnny."

"ah, don't worry! i promise, you'll have the time of your life!" johnny reached over and slapped his friend on the back, "plus, you have to meet my sister."

the flat that you shared with johnny was well kept. of course it was, your brother was out most of the year with an automatic deposit for rent and when he was home, it was so ingrained with the military that things were kept tidy. and you on the other hand enjoyed tidiness as well.

even if cleaning the place in his absence felt a bit much sometimes, you still at least picked up your socks off the floor, put the clean dishes in the cupboard and washed out the carafe of the coffee maker. but you had worked over time to make sure everything was perfect, not for your brother (he could clean himself), but rather the mysterious guest that he was bringing.

you didn't want his lieutenant to think you lived like animals!

when the knock on the front door came, you happily welcomed them. your gaze was captured away from your grinning brother and rather the larger man beside him. he wore a black medical face mark, but you could see the tiredness in his eyes. the mop of blond hair and a slight scar over his eyebrow.

"oh, kid, this simon. simon riley, my lt." johnny smiled, patting his fellow solider on the arm.

you shot him a glance, "i'm almost thirty, johnny. i'm far from a kid." you were a bite fiery, simon liked that.

johnny beamed back at you, "but you'll always be my little sister. gotten into trouble while i was gone?"

you let both men in and replied, "well except for yelling at those stupid kids from the secondary school about smoking in front of my window. nothing else really happened."

johnny dropped his bags on the hardwood floor and kicked off his boots. he put them correctly by the door before he stretched his arms over his head, "where's that guy you were seein'. teddy or somethin'?"

simon stood a little straighter. of course you had a boyfriend, look at you!

you waved your hand, "oh, he's long gone. i guess cousin nikki's words are true." you looked at your brother, "never date a man in finance. turns out he had more than one bonnie in his pocket."

johnny dropped his shoulders and remarked, "never liked the guy anyway. seemed a little uptight, would never survive a gathering of the mactavish's." he laughed.

simon felt odd in the space. seeing the siblings interacting. he thought of his own brother for a moment. instead he just followed suit and took off his heavy boots as well.

you looked at simon, "i hope it's okay that you take the couch. this place is only two bedrooms. the couch." you gestured to it, "does pull out so hopefully you'll have enough room. but, if you don't, tomorrow my lovely brother can give up his room."

"my room!" johnny replied loudly, "i've still got sand in my crack for the mission and you're givin' my room!"

you shot your brother a glance which johnny coward from. no words had to be said. johnny knew that it would be the right thing to do. after all, simon was his guest.

the afternoon went by slowly, and you and johnny moved through the small kitchen like a team. johnny was good at dicing and you were good at keeping an eye on the sauteeing vegetables.

"simon." you said which made simon look up from his spot at the small dining table. your eyes met and you pushed some hair out of your face, "two things. one, there should be a headband on the table it's soft and used for make-up. i need to get this hair out of my eyes. secondly, johnny never said that you had any dietary issues. is there anything i should avoid? i just sort of got our normal grocery order."

simon perked a little bit more, "oh i don't have any allergies or anything, ma'am." he gave a small nod, "i could eat anythin'."

you nodded, "okay, excellent!"

the blond found in endearing. it was almost hypnotic watching you put together the vegetables with the hearty pasta sauce. you worked a stove top like no other. the only problem was that your brother kept getting in the way of his sight of you.

been a while since a woman cooked him a meal.

simon got up quickly and gave you the headband. it was soft and pink colour with two sewn on cat ears made of the same material. you put it on and simon's heart skipped a beat. you were just so beautiful.

dinner of pasta, toasted buns and salad were served with a bottle of grocery store wine. the three of you drank, ate and chatted. you and johnny had most of the conversation while simon enjoyed listening.

he figured out that he could listen to you talk forever.

"well, i'm tired." johnny said as he rubbed his eyes. he finished the rest of his wine before he got up. he patted you on the top of the head, "i'll do the dishes in the mornin'. thanks for dinner, kid."

you rolled your eyes, pouring yourself another glass, "i'm not a kid."

johnny chuckled then looked to simon, "she'll get ya comfortable for the evenin'. i'll see ya tomorrow." before his tired steps headed towards the bedroom. soon the door closed and the sound of his body hitting the bed could be softly heard.

you leaned back in the kitchen chair, one leg draped over the other with your arms crossed. you admitted, "it must be hard to date. finding someone who understands your world."

simon stretched out a little more in his chair. he eyed the empty wine glass in front of him, "i try not to think about it so hard."

"i've heard stories about you. the terrifying ghost. there one moment, gone the next." you then reached across the table to drag a finger down the inside of simon's wrist, "i wonder if i had you in my bed tonight, if you'd be gone by morning."

your admission made simon's dark eyes grow a little wider. he said, "well, i have nowhere else to go."

you smiled a little, "must be lonely. i know it's lonely for me. to feel close to someone."

simon asked, "do you want to sleep with me miss mactavish?"

you chuckled lowly, as to not awake your brother in his room. you leaned back a little once more and gazed at him. you were definitely johnny's brother. the look in your eye said it all. you tilted your head a little to the side and asked, "is it that obvious, mister riley?"

the sound of wooden chairs against the floor as the two of you made your way to the bedroom. you took simon by his tattooed wrist and got him into your room. the door was shut a little louder than you hoped. you turned on the light and simon was already working the belt of his jeans.

you were quick to get your t-shirt off and you saw simon's hungry gaze on you as you became free of your clothes. his eyes raked the exposed skin and thought you looked like a dream.

"like what you see, simon?"

he nodded, "more beautiful than the photos, ma'am."

you covered your mouth while you giggled, "no need for the formalities. if my brother is underranked by you, then i'm sure as hell as a civilian."

simon got a hold of your waist, "you deserve a little more respect than your brother." then pulled you in for a soft kiss. even with his scars that you had seen over dinner. you thought he was beautiful.

it made you warm all over as you pulled the dark t-shirt on his shoulders. he helped you get out of it. and your hands pressed against his chest. you admired the scars, the tattoos, the overall beauty of him.

"i wish my brother had said his lt was hot prior. i would've tried to get with you sooner."

simon picked you up by the waist, your legs wrapped around his waist as he brought you to the bed and sat you down. he then started to work at the button of your jeans. once they were off, he cupped the bulge in his pants.

you slipped out of your simple purple panties and the white bra you wore. you then laid out on your bed with your hands behind your head and you giggled softly.

simon was absolutely smitten by you. he had come to the conclusion that when they were talking about the beauties in scotland. they meant you. and only you. once you were both naked, he got onto the bed.

the bed was a bit smaller than he had hoped, but you two could fit into it thankfully. he was worried that his large, bulkier frame would inch you off of the mattress. but it was a lot easier when he got between your legs. his achy erection, bright red at the tip, begged for attention.

you swallowed a little, "i wonder if it'll fit."

"then you tell me if it does. got it? you mactavish's have a habit of not showing pain." simon gave you a pointed gaze.

you covered your face for a minute, "okay. talk about my brother ends here. i don't want to hear about him while you're balls deep inside of me."

simon chuckled lightly and leaned in for another kiss. he said softly, close to your lips, "if it's anything, love. you're much more a looker than he is."

you held onto his blond locks and pulled him in for a hot kiss. you made a small noise when he shifted your hips up against him. to get a better angle of his cock inside of you.

"simon."

he said softly, his voice still gravely, "beautiful, beautiful girl. i don't know what that last boyfriend of yours was thinkin'. why want another when he could have you. but, i guess that means more for me."

your cheeks grew hot and simon pressed his cock up against you wet slit. you felt your heartbeat race at the anticipation of what was to come. you tensed up at the feeling of his cock being pushed into it.

"i got ya, i got ya. you feel so good there, love."

you nodded, "it's been a while. sorry if i'm too.. tight."

simon loomed over you like a comforting shadow. he gazed down at you, but there was a softness to his tired eyes. you didn't realize how pretty his eyes were. a deep dark brown, that lured you in while in the soft lighting of your bedroom.

he started to move against you and you let out a small moan. the bed squeaked a little bit. thankfully the frame didn't hit the wall. you two had to be somewhat quiet. even if your brother could be heard snoring in the room next to yours.

the sex between you two was quick, but not rough. the idea of bruising such a beauty made simon feel disgusted. you were meant to be cherished. he wanted to know everything about you.

"you are quite handsome, simon."

"thank you, love." he said softly as he held onto your thighs and moved against you. even in missionary you looked beautiful. the slight bounce of your breasts in time with his movements. he wanted to kiss all your soft parts throughout his visit in your sweet home.

he could get used to a warm meal and a warm cunt to bury himself into every night. maybe johnny was right, staying with you was better than being in london.

maybe he could get used to scotland.

he knew he could fit easily into the chaos of the mactavish family. if he could handle johnny, then he could handle you. at least he could fuck one of you quiet.

you felt your heart hammering at the feeling of it all. your noises were so sweet that it made simon need to bury himself deeper inside of you. he needed to feel all you could offer.

call him a sick puppy, but his brain was now wired to need you. you were a hit of a feeling that simon was so painfully unfamiliar with that it almost scared him. but as he admired the sight of you under him.

those soft lips partially opened, your eyes closed. you looked like an angel, and he swore he found heaven.

"beautiful." he said softly, his rugged voice made you feel like honey. gooey and warm, filling.

you came with your hands in his shaggy blond hair. your back arched as you felt the heat through you. you moaned a little louder than you hoped for as he continued to thrust up into you.

panting breaths between heavy thrusts as you laid spread out on the bed, letting simon move quicken his pace to reach his climax. he could feel it on the tip of his tongue. and with a few more heavy thrusts, he finished inside of you. his cheeks flushed and his mouth hung open in a heavy pant.

"fuck, simon."

"beautiful." he said absently. not able to think of much else besides your beauty. you were the kind of woman that simon was into.

he pulled out of you and rested down beside you on bed. you chuckled softly, your head still a little full of post orgasmic bliss. you got the covers on top of you and cuddled him naked.

clothed would be a worry in the morning.

when morning came, simon tried to slink back to the couch before johnny woke up. but when he exited your room and entered the main living space. he found johnny sitting there at the kitchen table. he was leaned back into his seat. simon caught sight of the pistol on the worn wooden table.

"so, si." johnny said, looking away from his paper to look at his fellow solider, "what are yer intentions with my sister?"

it had been a very long time since simon felt the stone of dread in his stomach. he tried not to show it across his scarred face. simon could instantly recall every military statistic that johnny had. there could be a million and one ways that the scottish solider could kill simon. and it wasn't like simon could do anything, he couldn't kill your brother.

there was a brief moment of silence between the two of them. neither made a motion or noise. simon wondered what was to come next. no amount of training could've prepared him for this.

but johnny broke the silence with laughter, "i'm just messin' with ya! the gun's not even loaded. just wanted to scare ya." he leaned forward in his seat. he looked at simon, "i don't care how my sister sees, but i have to be a little bit intimidating, don't ya think so, si?"

simon chuckled nervously.

johnny's suddenly expression dropped and he put down his paper in favour of the unloaded pistol. he pointed the front of it to simon, one eye closed as if he was going to shoot the blond in front of him. he said, "but if you break her heart there, simon. i won't be so forgiving."

the doorway to your bedroom opened with a loud creak and your voice rang through the apartment the three of you were in, "I swear to god! john michael mactavish! you better not be intimidating him!"

-

"you're seriously crying?" you asked your brother as you watched him gently take a hold of your newborn. your brother was a military man for christ's sake. he was weeping like a baby.

simon loomed over his colleague, protective over his newborn. his stern brown gaze read simply, "don't fuck it up, soap." he was ready to jump in if johnny fucked it up.

you were resting back in the hospital room, you just had your child with simon. you two had been married for a little over three years. it became habit for simon to come with johnny post-missions. the drive up to the city and you waiting for them.

a hug for your brother, a kiss for your lover.

now you were watching your brother cry at the sight of his nephew. the chubby little boy bundled up in a blanket. unaware of his weepy uncle. you looked at him with a slightyl stunned expression.

you probably cried less when you finally pushed him out. you didn't want to tell him the news because you thought he was going to cry more. while your son's first name was oliver, his middle name was john. after the crying mactavish in the hospital room.

"he really takes after us." john remarked when his cries died down.

you chuckled, "he sure does, johnny. now hand him over before you drop him." <3

[the-ancient-dragons]

Meet the SwiftScales!

They're a Fantribe designed by myself and the wonderful @oh-dear-charlie (they exist solely because of her, so if you liked my first fanfic series you have her to thank!)

Details, explanation, and closeups below; otherwise, next week are the PineWings! See you then!

Fun fact: the SwiftScales came about because my friend and I mistook the "design a fan character" contest for book 10 for a "design a fan tribe" contest. We did this and one thing led to another and all of a sudden I was staring at a 100k Word doc...

I might do the proper WoF-style dragon guide description later, since I'm planning on redoing their base, so for now I'll just give you the quick basics:

Built for tight turns and deep dives, the grey-coloured SwiftScales are masters of both sea and sky. Hunting trips can last months long as they fly the seas in search for food. When they find a suitable shoal they join birds in diving for fish. They catch just about anything they can carry, from huge nets of mackerel to the largest tuna. Their sense of direction is never wrong, so no matter how far they stray from home they can always find their way back.

Home for SwiftScales used to be on Pyrrhia, before the Scorching, but they were driven out when neighbouring tribes wanted their territory. The SwiftScales, who spent more time out at sea than on the continent, didn't have any qualms leaving. They landed on a new continent on the other side of the world. They named it 'Ventus' after the frigid winds that never seemed to stop blowing.

They stayed there undetected for five thousand years (I was great at planning when I was 14) until... well, I could explain, but then we'd be here forever. You can read the full 5-book story here, but that is completely optional. Like I said, I was 14 when I started writing this, so the quality isn't the best until maybe the third book.

That's enough off-topic. Like I said, I've got more life studies coming your way next week, with a fantribe called the PineWings. Perhaps you remember a certain Hemlock? >:)

[pastafossa]

"Waking Nightmare" (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic)🌧️

Time for the next prompt for my Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! This is for day 7. Took an extra day to work on it cause this is a very angsty one, since our prompt was 'Nightmare' and I went with the classic, 'he accidently swings at you while asleep' trope (many thanks to @sunflowersandsapphires and @shouldbestudying41 for helping me with our chats on this one!). You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Wordcount: 5.2k

Warnings for this chapter: BIG angst warning on this one, along with a warning for being hit (not intentional), nightmares, guilt, blood, Matt's convinced he committed DV so that is discussed.

It began, like so many disasters did, with a series of small fractures. 

What started as a horrible week turned out to be the harbinger of a truly terrible month for Matt. Despite near-constant, frantic late nights of casework at Nelson and Murdock, the firm lost two important cases in short order. Both cases had been a long shot when it came to success, but that had done little to soften the blow to Foggy, Karen, and Matt—especially Matt, who’d made promises to client families that he’d been unable to keep.

Matt’s work as Daredevil hadn’t gone much better. A new gang had moved into the Kitchen and set up shop, staking out a territory drenched in blood, ash, and terror. Matt had thrown himself into that fight with the same determination that he always did, and while he’d made serious progress breaking down their operation, there had still been losses. As far as he was concerned, the lives lost in the past month—the three targeted victims in the burning apartment complex he’d been unable to reach in time, and the two store clerks shot and killed in their shops before he could make it to them—were caused by his own personal failings. Despite your best attempts to convince him otherwise, the perceived blood on his hands had only driven him to devote himself even more ferociously to his work at night and during the day.

That devotion snowballed rapidly into a lack of sleep, often the first casualty in Matt’s life when things got stressful or busy. The exhaustion only sent him spiraling further into bouts of anger and a retreat behind his emotional walls. He snapped at you whenever you tried to talk to him about it, shying away from the kind touches he felt he didn’t deserve. While a quiet apology almost always came later in the night, soft and full of regret, it didn’t change the fact that you could see him beginning to splinter and crumble beneath the pressure he’d placed on himself, your Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders. You’d gone through this with him before, the periods in which it all seemed to go wrong and he refused to strap on the lifevests you stubbornly threw to him over and over again. As best you could tell, when these storms came there was no other option but to simply plant your roots deep and ride it out with him, ensure he knew he wasn’t alone. And when he finally fell to pieces, giving beneath the weight, you’d make sure he had a loving hand to help him glue his bloody, broken pieces back together. 

You’d thought that fracturing would come from something on the streets. Another death, maybe, or sheer exhaustion. 

You’d never expected it to happen here.

Not at home. 

“You’re going out?” You watched him dig through his father’s trunk for his suit, his back to you. He’d only just returned from another late night at the office. The only reason you were seeing him at all was because you’d woken up thirsty, heading out to the kitchen to get a glass of water. The distance between you both abruptly felt so much farther than a meager ten feet, so much harder to cross. Still, you tried. “It’s almost two. Some rest might—” “Don’t,” he said tightly, yanking his mask out and tossing it back onto the couch. He pulled out the rest of his suit next along with his billy clubs. His movements were unnaturally stiff, almost robotic. “I need to…” He sucked in an uneven breath, reaching up to run an exhausted hand through his dark hair.  After a moment, he dropped his hand, going back to what he’d been doing. If anything, your implication had only made him more determined, his voice now resolute and closed off. “Our appeals aren’t going well. The city’s quiet for the first time in a month, but that might not last. I need to go out. Just for an hour or two. Go back to bed.”

You gnawed on your lower lip in thought as he stalked over to the couch. Without his shirt, it was so much easier to see the lines of stress and tension cutting their way through him like winding roads, his muscles drawn up tight and hard. The bruising along the canvas of his back and ribs stood out with every neon flash of the billboard beyond the windows, adding a layer of blood red to the spiraling waves of deep blue and sullen indigo painted on his skin. That he’d been hurt even with the protection of the suit told you just how bad it had gotten out there. He needed rest, desperately. You both knew it. But you couldn’t bear the thought of trying to keep him here, forcing him to listen to the sounds of the city without being able to do anything about it. It was a promise you’d made to yourself, once, and you intended to keep it.

“Ok, D.” You kept your tone gentle. He’d hear you even across the room. “Ok. Come back safe.”

Some of his tension eased at your agreement, and he slowed where he’d been opening up his suit, preparing to step into it. Had he really thought you’d fight him? 

“I…” He shook his head after a moment. He turned until you could see him in profile, that same red light now highlighting the dark, bruised shadows beneath his eyes. But for just a moment, there was the barest softening in his expression, a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. You knew this look, this hand stretched out through the bars of the darkened prison cell he’d found himself trapped within. “I love you,” he said softly. “So much. I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m sorry.” 

“I know. Don’t worry about me for now. We’ll work it out. Just be careful tonight.” You tilted your head as he took a few tentative steps towards you. You took your own small step, cautious like you were approaching a stray who might run if you moved too quickly. He lifted his hand once you were within reach, the back of his fingers stroking lightly, tenderly against your cheek. You turned and brushed your lips fondly against his fingers, your eyes fluttering shut as you soaked in the warmth of his skin. It was the most intentional touch you’d gotten from him in a week, outside those moments in his sleep when he held you close, and god, were you grateful for it, something in you easing at the return of his affection. It meant he was coming out of this, swimming back up to the light and out of the void he’d been lost in. Sometimes you wondered if him denying himself your touch wasn’t just another way he punished himself when his darker thoughts seized hold of him. “I love you, too.”

“Go back to bed, sweetheart.” He tipped your chin up so he could place a tired kiss on your forehead before he let you go and returned to his suit. His motions, at least, seemed more settled now. “I’ll be back in an hour if it’s quiet, I promise. I’ll find a way to make it up to you this weekend.”

You left him there in the living area, more content than you’d felt in weeks. Sure, the past month had been shit for you both, but you were coming out of it now just like always. You fell asleep comfortably with that knowledge, cradling it inside you against your heart as you drifted off. 

You weren’t sure what it was that woke you later. Not at first, anyway. The bedroom was dark and quiet, save for the usual sounds of the city at night that leaked in through the closed windows. Matt’s arms weren’t around you, but it was possible he hadn’t gotten back yet. Without any other signs of danger, you gave a soft huff of irritation. Figures. Waking up over nothing. You shifted your head around on the pillow until you found a nice cold spot, closed your eyes, and began to drift back off. 

Then you heard it again behind you.  

Your brow furrowed, eyes blinking back open.

Right, now you knew it wasn’t just a dream. 

The sound you’d heard wasn’t quite a moan. It wasn’t a word, either. Hell, you didn’t know what to call it, exactly, but it definitely wasn’t a happy noise, that much you knew. This sounded… almost pained, hitched and edged with something like panic. You blearily rolled over to get a better look, still half-asleep.

Apparently Matt had gotten back while you were asleep, the shadowy outline of him curled up on the opposite side of the bed. He was also facing away from you, which was… odd. Most nights, he slept with you in his arms—or him in yours on particularly bad nights. That he’d either consciously or unconsciously placed this much distance between you would have stirred the smoldering embers of worry if you’d been more awake. It wasn’t right that he was over ther, curled in on himself, small and isolated, a lonely island in the sea of silk sheets. As you watched, he twitched restlessly, before making that same small, pained noise you’d heard before. Or was it scared? 

Nightmare, you thought sleepily. That explained the distance. He’d probably just rolled away in his sleep. You yawned, untangling yourself enough from your cocoon of blankets that you start crawling over towards him. Clearly this was one of those nights when he was the one that needed to be held. You weren’t entirely sure why your presence helped to soothe his nightmares, but for whatever reason, your arms around him and your breathing against his back, your heartbeat pressed against his back, was often all he needed. Even if he woke up when you got over to him, he’d have an easier time falling back asleep with you holding him. He always did. Especially after such a terrible month. 

You yawned again when you finally settled down behind him, throwing one arm over his waist and spooning affectionately up against his back. He stirred slightly at that, his body going tense and hard, his chest resonating with a soft growl. But he quickly quieted, soothed at the sound of your voice.

“It’s ok, Matt,” you said sleepily, breathing slowly, intentionally against the hard line of his back. “You’re ok, sweetheart. Just a bad dream.” You tucked your legs up behind his, nuzzling over onto his pillow, hunting for him even as your eyes fell shut again. You’d kick yourself later, for what you did next. 

Without thinking, you leaned in… and brushed a firm kiss against the back of his neck. 

Just like that, the peace, the calm was shattered. 

A wild snarl filled the air, followed by a sudden, blinding explosion of pain across your face that lit up the black behind your eyes like a skyline of fireworks. Before you could even cry out, you’d been thrown clear of the bed. You only just avoiding cracking your temple on the corner of Matt’s nightstand. But what your head missed, the rest of your body didn’t. As you slid across the nightstand and came crashing to the ground, you brought down every last object on the nightstand with you, glass and metal shattering somewhere far away from where you were, the whole of the world gone thick and quiet. 

Things got fuzzy then, a sickening carnival maze of light spinning in your vision every time you blinked. Your dazed thoughts were thick, slow to come together. But, still, you tried, because something was very, very wrong. 

Matt. 

Yes. You needed to find Matt. He was probably out on the streets still. It was the only way someone could have broken in just to hit you like an asshole. You weren’t sure where you were crawling too exactly, but away from the threat felt like a good start. As you moved, something hot and wet began to pour down your face in steady streams, irritating and coppery whenever it made it into your mouth. Fortunately, that was a distant problem. You could worry about whatever was on your face later. Your only concern at the moment was holding your attacker off until Matt could get here and kick some fucking ass. 

A pair of feet slammed against the floor, someone calling out, panicked and frantic. The sound was far too garbled for you to understand it immediately, but what it did tell you was that your attacker was still close by. There wasn’t anything around you that you could easily use to defend yourself, or at least, there wasn’t until your hand bumped into something long and metallic. You snatched it up, ignoring the sudden appearance of pain in your palm as you did so. You dragged it with you, metal squealing across the floorboards as you scrambled on your hands and knees. In seconds, you’d made it out of the bedroom and into the living area. 

Good. When Matt came through the rooftop door, he’d have less distance to cross to get to you. You’d also be able to see your attacker better in the flash of the billboard lights, though the flashing sea of red light made your eyes water and burn. But you could also feel your vision clearing, which was great. You’d need it. 

A shaking, trembling hand brushed against your shoulder. 

You rose up swiftly on your knees, metal rod clutched tight in both hands. “Get away from me!” you snarled, putting every last ounce of strength you had into your motion as you twisted and swung. 

And Matt—

What?

—snapped his hand up, catching the lamp rod just before it could hit him in the face. 

“...Matt?” you asked shakily, unable to hide your confusion. “It was you?”

“This can’t be happening, no, no no no,” he choked out tearfully, his breath coming panicked and wild. His tone was so ragged you almost didn’t recognize the voice as his. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re bleeding, I-I’m sorry, I’m so—”

The lamp rod fell from your paired grips. Hands shaking, he brought them up tentatively towards your face. He stopped just before he could touch you, hovering them a breath away from your skin. The first of his tears began to trail down his cheeks, his expression twisting in what you alarmingly recognized as grief. You’d seen him cry before, but never like this. “God, I-I didn’t know it was you, I’m sorry, I thought you were…”

He was… apologizing. But that didn’t make sense, no matter how much you tried to force the idea to settle into your dazed mind. It couldn’t have been Matt. You weren’t afraid of Matt. Matt didn’t hurt you. He didn’t hit you. Those were facts, as irrefutable as gravity, as reliable as the rise and the fall of the sun. You didn’t understand, just like you didn’t understand why he wasn’t holding you. He always did when you were hurt. “You… you hit me?”

The low, agonized noise he made was inhuman. It was the sound of a wounded animal, of someone who’d just been carved open. His hands drew back from your face, dropping down towards your hands where they’d settled on your thighs, though he seemed just as hesitant to touch you there. Tears dripped down from his face, joining the droplets of thick, deep red now scattered across the floor. Had you left all fo that there? You really… were bleeding, weren’t you?

“I-I… I didn’t mean to, I swear I didn’t,” he whispered brokenly, his breath hitching with what was almost a whimper. He grabbed one of the blankets off the chair next to him, the one you loved to curl up under with him. He slid it as gently as he could around one of your hands—oh, you were bleeding there, too, just a little, goddamn cheap lamp—though he avoided allowing his skin to brush against yours. “I was… having a nightmare, and I thought-I thought you were someone else, they had you and I was trying to-to get to you but someone grabbed me and I—God, you have a concussion, your nose is-is bleeding. I have to call Claire, get away from you b-before I… I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry—”

Finally, the idea settled into your mind, the world abruptly righting itself. 

The nightmare.

Well, that made sense.

You still weren’t quite thinking right, thoughts thick and fuzzy like wisps of cotton, a massive, throbbing ache in your head and face that only got worse every time the billboard lit up. But you you’d been right. Matt didn’t hit you. He hadn’t hit you, because he hadn’t known it was you. Hell, he’d even apparently been trying to save you, at least in his nightmare. It seemed simple enough to you, an obvious accident. But it didn’t seem quite so simple to Matt. You reached for his cheek. “Matt,” you soothed, your words only a tiny bit slurred as he sniffled and wrapped the blanket tighter around your hand, applying firm pressure to stop the bleeding. “It’s ok, Matt. You didn’t mean it.”

But the second your fingertips brushed against his skin, he threw himself backwards and out of your reach, his dark eyes wild. “Don’t!” he spat.  You faltered just a little, suddenly unsure. But you quickly shook it off, shakily climbing to your feet to follow after him. Your own injuries felt secondary in that moment, because this… this was the wound, the disaster that might do you both in if you didn’t find some way to stop it. Your bloody nose and hand could wait. “You didn’t mean it, Matt. It was an accident.” 

For every step you took forward, he took one back, the two of you performing some twisted, heartbreaking sort of dance across the floor. Eventually you cornered him against the wall, hemming him in. He was almost shaking as you stepped in close. Your hand rose and this time around, you successfully managed to cup his jaw, trying to press your affection, your calm into his skin. “Easy, Devil-Man. I’m ok,” you murmured. You swiped one thumb over the trail of tears sliding down his cheek, a new one appearing each time you’d cleared away the last, an endless stream of them falling from his grief-stricken eyes as they darted sightlessly around you. “This wasn’t your fault. Help me get cleaned up and then we’ll talk about it, ok?” 

He hitched a soft, quiet breath when you tugged his head down, his forehead pressed to yours like he’d done for you so many times before. You breathed with him for a moment, trying to ease him down.  He swallowed hard, his eyes fluttering closed as you stroked your thumb against his cheek, and for a moment, you almost thought you’d managed to fix it. 

A breath. 

His jaw clenched, and your heart sank.

This time when his eyes opened, all traces of warmth in them were gone. Whatever door you’d once pried open was now shut, slammed resoundingly in your face. “No. It’s not ok.” He brushed your hand away, sliding out from between you and the wall without so much as a pause. He reached up to wipe away his tears, the motion sharp and edged with tension. “Where are you going?” “I need to call Claire to come look you over,” he said flatly, heading for the kitchen. “I’ll use my burner. Mine was on the… the nightstand.” The brief crack in his voice, a brittle chip in the armor he’d just tried to throw up around himself, only confirmed what you’d hoped you could avoid.

“Matt,” you said softly. “Don’t lock me out like this.”

He may have been aiming for calm but he couldn’t hide what he was feeling, not entirely anyway. Not when his hands were still trembling as he felt around on the kitchen counter, acting like he hadn’t heard you. “I’ll call Foggy, too. Once they’re here, I’ll go.” 

“What?” You watched in disbelief as he kept hunting along the counter. With every second that passed and he failed to find it, he grew more frustrated, more angry. He quickly turned his back to you, body stiff like he was expecting a sudden blow. “You’re you’re leaving me?” “I hit you,” he spat viciously, another seething wave of emotion bubbling up through the cracks of his voice like acid, bitter and toxic and just as liable to burn. Here it was, here it was: the self-loathing, the disgust, the burning hatred. He drew in a sharp breath, shivering as he did. And on the exhale, he seemed to have regained control. His voice rapidly returned to that same cold, emotionless monotone, though he kept his face out of your view. Whatever expression he had would give him away, you were certain of it. “I almost broke your nose. You have a concussion. You cut yourself trying to get away from me. I’ve put men in the hospital for a lot less. You’re not safe with me—”

“That’s horseshit,” you huffed, starting towards him on wobbly legs. You had to stop and grab one of the chairs just to keep your balance and halt you from pitching over onto the floor. Not that it was a concern; no matter how upset Matt was, he’d catch you. But still, you falling would only make things worse. You forced yourself to breathe through the roiling in your stomach, unsure if it was the concussion that was making you nauseous or simply the knowledge that he was trying to leave you. But you wouldn’t let those fucking voices in his mind—ones that probably sounded like Stick—drive him away from you. Not without a fight. At least your nose seemed to have stopped bleeding. That was a good sign. “It was an accident. We both know it. This just—it happens something with nightmares, including non-vigilantes, Matt. I’ve woken up scared and smacked you in the face more than once, and you know it.” 

“You didn’t throw me across a nightstand or give me a concussion.” He barked out a bitter laugh. The hateful sound filled you with dread, as did the heartbreaking resolve beneath it. He’d already made up his mind, convinced himself of what he’d done. “I always knew. That’s what they all said. That I was cursed. That I had the Devil inside me. That all I wanted was to hit someone. This is who I am. I wanted to believe it wasn’t true, but deep down, I knew. And now I hurt you. I can’t let that happen again, even if it means I have to leave to keep you safe.” 

“Matt,” you said desperately, managing to make it to the couch, bracing yourself against the arm of it. If you could just get to him, you could fix this. You knew that. “That’s not true. Let’s just talk about this.”

Matt ignored you again, snatching up his keys and starting towards the hall. “I can’t find my burner,” he said. That tone, flat and empty of all feeling, was so much worse than anger. You’d take anger any day—you’d take grief, or hurt. Emotion meant you had a way in, that he’d opened himself to you, baring all the parts of him left vulnerable and raw. This tone, though…You couldn’t help but feel like you were banging your bloodied fists against a door abruptly chained shut. “Keep pressure on your hand. I’m going next door to ask for their phone so I can call Claire. I’ll only be gone for a minute, then I’ll be back. I’ll find somewhere else to stay once she’s here to take care of you.”

No. 

No, he couldn’t leave you over an accident. Your heart rate shot up, rattling against the lump in your throat. You almost felt like you couldn’t breathe, panic crushing your lungs in their grip, something that made him him stiffen. And you-you couldn’t let him leave, not like this, not when he might not come back. There had to be something, some way to reach him and keep him from destroying, burning down the best thing in both of your lives. And there was only one method that might work in a moment like this.  

Holding up a mirror.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed. 

And Matt… froze in the hall, a mere three steps from the front door. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, more firmly now. You didn’t bother to hide the waver in your voice. You drew in a slow breath, exhaling just as slowly. It wasn’t blood running down your face, now, and he’d know it. “I’m sorry for scaring you. For touching your neck in your sleep. I know how vulnerable it is, and how you feel about it being touched by anyone other than me. I didn’t think about what touching that might feel like during a nightmare.” 

“Stop apologizing,” he growled, his shoulders drawing up tight. “They’re not the same thing, and you know it.”

But despite his objections, he hadn’t moved. He hadn’t left yet. Hell, maybe he’d found he couldn’t. Not when you were injured. You’d take it if it meant you had a chance.

“Aren’t they the same?” You reached up with your good hand, sniffling a little as you wiped some of the blood off your face. “According to you, they are. It doesn’t matter what I meant to do, right? Just that I did something that led to me hurting you. And this is hurting you. I can tell.” You choked out a wobbly laugh when he flinched. You used that break in his armor to edge closer, praying you didn’t stumble and fall, losing the ground you’d just gained. “Do you remember when I slipped and dropped that bowl last month and it shattered and cut your feet?” 

“That’s not—”

“I had to pick shards of porcelain out of your poor bare feet. I felt horrible.” Another step. Then another. “Remember when I smacked you in the face during my nightmare last January? Split your lip and everything.” You caught one hand against the shelving unit by the hall, taking a split second to breathe, more tired than you wanted to admit. “You told me those weren’t my fault. You even fucking laughed about your lip. But if this accident is your fault, then all those times are my fault, and so is this one, if you think about it. So I’m sorry, Matt.”  

“I hit you,” came his voice, trembling and uneven. You had a feeling those three small words were your target, spiraling on loop in his mind, their sharp edges tearing into him over and over again. His head slowly dropped, his body curling in on itself as you stopped a few feet away. He shuddered then, and without being able to see his face, you couldn’t tell if it was shame or just… hurt. “Don’t apologize when I hit you. I threw you across the room. I-I hurt you.” 

“Oh, Matt,” you whispered. You took another step, at last coming within touching distance where you might be able to reach him. “It was an accident, sweetheart. You didn’t mean it. You didn’t know it was me. But… but if you want to talk about hurting me, let’s talk about this here.” He stilled when he felt the first gentle touch of your hand against his back. Warm, unafraid, tender. 

“If you’re worried about hurting me, this is how you’d do it,” you said softly, trailing your fingers down the line of his spine with all the love you had in you. “By leaving, Matt. By leaving me here without you when I love you more than anything or anyone else in the world. Don’t do that to me. Please.” This time the sound he made was a broken sob, one hand rising up to fist in his hair. He sank slowly to the ground. You sank with him, winding your arms tight around him as he finally broke, shattering beneath the weight of his guilt. When he didn’t reject your touch, you quickly shifted around him, climbing into his lap. His arms found their way home around your waist, clinging to you tight as you rocked him in your arms, his face buried against your neck, tears flowing hot to join the blood still clinging to your skin. “I’m sorry.” His voice was thick with sorrow, each breath one he had to fight for.  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I never wanted to hurt you, I don’t want to hurt you, I’m sorry—” “Listen to me. This was not your fault. I promise, baby,” you whispered, lifting his head to press your forehead to his like you had before. His eyes were shut, but they fluttered open just for you, as he finally, finally let you back in. You could almost see the torment swirling in them, the guilt, but that was alright. If you could see those shadows, you could fight them. “You were asleep, Matt. You were dreaming. You can’t control what your brain does then. If it thinks there’s a threat, it’s going to react without your input. Do you know how I can be so sure you won’t hurt me? How this all just proved I’m safe with you?” His blank gaze shifted around you, one shaking hand coming up to trace your smile in open disbelief. 

“Because the second you woke up, you were horrified.” You leaned into him, running the fingers of your good hand through his hair as he let out another shaky, breathless sob. “The second you woke up and realized it was me, it just broke you. You would never choose to hurt me, Matt. You're not a violent person, even if you've been taught to use it out there. A bad man doesn’t react like you did. A good man does. You are a good man, do you hear me? And if you leave?” You found his hand with your good one to lace your fingers together and squeeze, his eyes fluttering closed, as did yours. “I swear to God I’ll go stand in an alley in my pajamas and scream that until you have to come protect me from every mugger in the Kitchen. Which will only prove my point that you’d never let anything or anyone hurt me.”  He choked out a quiet, watery laugh, letting you bring his head back down to your throat. His tearful groan at the affection just made you cling to you tighter. “I love you,” he hitched out. “I love you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I’m so sorry. God forgive me, I’m so, so sorry.” 

“I love you, too, Matt,” you whispered, burying your face in his hair. “It’s not your fault. Don’t let your nightmare knock us out this easily. Get back up. Stay, and fight for me, for us. Can you do that for me?”

You felt his eyes fall closed, and for the first time since he’d woken up, you heard a different kind of resolve in his voice: one that was far more familiar, far more welcome, solid and warm and steadfast, a strength you’d happily build your life upon, as he let your love seep in through the cracks to at last chase away some of the dark.

His breath eased out against your skin, soft and familiar. “I… ok. I can do that.”

“Good.”

[unabashegirl]

Different 13 — college hs

Harry's quiet, routine-driven life changes one weekend when he meets Y/N through a mutual friend at her party. She comes from a superficial, materialistic world with absent parents who believe money solves everything. Despite their differences, something clicks that night, and Y/N can't stop thinking about him.

Author's note: hello everyone,I hope you are all doing well! I wanted to thank everyone who has donated to my Ko-FI "help me pay for medical school". It has really touched me especially how kind everyone here can be. If you are able please please help me. I am desperate. I've run out of options.

If you don't know what I am talking about here is a brief summary: As many of you may know, I’m currently in medical school, only a year away from graduating. Unfortunately, I’m facing a financial hurdle that might prevent me from enrolling this January. My father’s passing due to cancer has left my family in a tough spot, and my mom has been working tirelessly to support me and cover my school expenses. The reason this is so urgent is that if I miss this semester, I’ll fall behind significantly due to changes in the school’s syllabus. The semesters after mine follow a completely different curriculum, meaning I wouldn’t just be delayed a semester—I’d be delayed by over a year and a half. I’ve been thinking long and hard about how I can keep moving forward, and I’ve decided to ask for your help. Any support, whether through donations, or simply spreading the word, would mean the world to me. I’m incredibly grateful to have this amazing community.

--> Ko-Fi link for donations. (You can even donate a $1)

--> Patreon

---> different masterlist <---

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of rape, sexual abuse and physical abuse.

“I am done” Y/N frowned as she shut her book closed. “My brain is going to explode if I continue” Harry smiled as he caressed her back gently. “Can we go get some dinner or something?” She suggested to everyone.

“Keep talking,” Mitch said as he looked up from his laptop. “I am genuinely starving”.

“Can I go too?” Sarah asked, not wanting to interrupt the plans if it was a couples-only plan and she and Mitch had misinterpreted.

“Obviously” Y/N smiled, “I know this place where they sell tacos and burritos close to campus. Does that sound good?”

“So good” Mitch had already started packing, knowing that if he continued studying nothing would stick and he would just be burning neurons for fun.

“I left my car. is it all right if we walk there? Is not that far” They all nodded and started their journey to the food truck that Y/N had pumped up so much.

Y/N had texted James and Sebastian to meet them after their gym session, so she wasn’t surprised to run into them when they arrived.

“There you are” James smiled as he pulled her into a hug. “How was the library?”

“Good” She smiled and hugged him back.

It all happened so quickly that no one in the group had a chance to react. Y/N hadn’t even been able to introduce her lifelong friends to her boyfriend when Brian walked up with his jaw clenched and his eyebrows frowned.

“Look who is here” He smiled as he noticed Harry. Their hands were intertwined, and Harry carried both of their backpacks. “Why are you here, huh?”.

“Brian. Don’t” Y/N hissed she noticed James moving up front to face him. She was nervous about how everything was going to unfold. The last thing she wanted was for a fight to break out between her friends and boyfriend against Brian.

“So, this is what you are fucking, huh?” He poked Harry’s chest harshly, emphasizing on YOU. Harry didn’t say anything and remained quiet. He had no desire to fight. He was also very serene at alarming times.

“You are a fucking idiot” James chuckled as he stepped in front of Y/N and Harry. His body was tense, and he stood proudly with his head up. James had never been a fan of Brian. They were teammates, but Brian always ran his mouth in the locker room and spoke of whomever he was doing. Brian had obviously spoken about Y/N and had referred to her as easy.

“I wasn’t speaking to you. So, I suggest you shut your mouth and get out of my face” Brian commanded him only reminding him of that night. “Before I shut it for you”.

The comment that brought him back to that night. An image and a night that still haunted him. James had been downstairs enjoying a few drinks, celebrating a victory in beer pong. He had also been the first in the room and to think that he had gone to look for them because of a hunch.

--->FLASHBACK<----

People danced against one another to the rhythm of the loud music that made the house vibrate. Sebastian walked past James too intoxicated to even notice him. Earlier they had won a football game which coherently had been celebrated with a party, organized by a sorority. They had arrived with Y/N and like every other party she had disappeared with Brian. James yanked Sebastian by the back of his yellow shirt.

“Bro” Sebastian grind, realizing that it was his best friend. “There are so many hot girls” He breathed then leaned in, “Let’s go get some” he whispered and so his breath fanned James’s face. He could smell the alcohol on him from twenty miles away. Sebastian rarely partied as hard, but he had recently broken up with a girl, which had hurt him severely. James laughed and pushed him back lightly, trying to get his breath away from his face.

“You need a fucking mint. Not a girl, man” James joked as Sebastian threw his arm over his shoulders as they looked through the crowd of people. “Have you seen Y/N?” He asked over the loud music.

“Saw her a few hours ago. She was heading upstairs with Brian. Even she is getting some!” James frowned and couldn’t keep his mind from drifting to the stories that people talked of Brian.

“A few hours?” He asked again, but Sebastian was too distracted eyeing some random girl to answer him.

Something grew within James that night. Perhaps it was an instinct of protection. So, since he was far from shy, he started making his way through people and up the stairs to the second floor. He dodged people and pushed them around in hopes to find her. James looked for her one last time when he was at the top of the stairs but there were so people, and Y/N was tiny, that it was useless.

He eventually gave up and walked up the stairs and towards the master bedroom. He didn’t need to search the other bedrooms because he knew Brian was too self-absorbed to settle for less than the biggest room in the house.

James stood outside the door and thought about it multiple times, but something in his gut told him to get into the room. So, he quietly opened one of the doors and found them.

Brian was holding her and not in the delicate matter that she deserved to be touched and handled. He held her by her hair and his fist was in the air, above her, ready to deliver the third blow to her face. Y/N was looking up at him, drowning in tears and blood. Her hands were trying to scratch her way out of his grip, but she was unsuccessful.

In a matter of seconds, James had gripped him by the back of his neck and had ripped him off her like a band-aid.

“What the fuck?” Brian slurred as he was thrown on the floor. James was finally able to get a better look at Y/N. He would never forget how scared and vulnerable she looked. His blood boiled and was quickly on Brian. James’s fist repeatedly met with his face and blood started splattering everywhere. Y/N cried and screamed as she tried pulling James off, Brian.

“SHIT” Sebastian's drunkenness evaporated in seconds as soon as he walked in. There was blood everywhere and not only from Brian and James but also Y/N’s. Her dress straps were down, and the bottom was riddled up to her waist. Her throat was red from the marks made by his tight grip on her. She had arrived in a tan bodycon dress, but now it had a huge strain covering the front and it had been overly stretched by Brian’s brutality.

Sebastian was finally able to get James off, Brian, but not without breaking a sweat.

“Enough” He yelled as he helped him off the floor. “Look at Y/N. She needs us more than ever” James looked up and noticed the crying mess that Y/N was and how broken she was.

“Is he breathing?” James asked as he approached Y/N slowly not wanting to startle her or scare her.

Sebastian kneeled down by Brian and checked that he was still breathing before nodding back at James, who was taking his jacket off just so he could take his shirt off too. He gathered it up and pressed it against her broken nose then pulled on the jacket to cover his naked torso.

“Fuck baby” he hissed as he watched her wince, “What has he done to you?” He whispered as his eyes watered, hoping that it hadn’t happened before. James and Sebastian didn’t expect an answer from her. They just helped her to pull her dress down and pull the straps of her dress up.

“Please take me home” She begged between hiccups. James nodded but stood back. He felt too dirty of his blood to be able to touch her. Sebastian wrapped an arm over Y/N’s shoulder and protected her body as they both escorted her out of the party. James also gave deadly stares to anyone that looked with the intention of asking what had happened.

“How could this happen?” James whispered to Sebastian after they had comfortably settled Y/N in the back of the car and made sure that she was able to lie down. Sebastian sighed and ran his hands through his air. Still very perplexed by the situation. “God only knows what he would’ve done to her if we hadn’t walked in” he mumbled as he started the car.

“I don’t even want to think about it” Sebastian shook his head, hating the evident pain that Brian had caused Y/N. They could tell that Y/N would never fully recover from it.

Sebastian picked her up and carried her upstairs after parking in her apartment. James made sure to prepare her a bath and they both helped her get her feet in the bath before leaving her to her own privacy. They all took their own independent showers and scrubbed their skin until it was red in the hopes that it would wash away the memories too.

“Hi,” James gave her a small smile as he stood by the doorframe. He had thrown on some pajamas that they kept in her house since freshman year.

Most of the lights were already off, except for the light that the TV emitted and her bedside lamp.

“How bad is it?” He asked just as Sebastian sat down by the feet of the bed. She wore a set of matching pajamas; her pair was wet and brushed back. Y/N was finally clean, but her nose worried her. The bruising had started forming and the blood on her lip had dried up.

“I think he broke my nose” Sebastian inhaled heavily, “It wasn’t good a noise anyway” she shrugged, knowing that her parents would probably pay for plastic surgery to get it fixed as soon as possible.

“I’ll call my dad tomorrow so he can check it out for you” Sebastian’s father was a very prestigious plastic surgeon that had applied multiple Botox injections to her mother.

“You need to get some rest.”

“Please stay with me” She was embarrassed, but she couldn’t sleep alone. Y/N made herself in the middle and cleared space for them.

James makes sure to turn off the TV and the lamp. All three lay in the darkness, but none of them said anything. However, none of them were able to catch sleep.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian asked as he grabbed Y/N’s hand.

“I don’t know” James responded and looked over at Y/N.

“You?” he asked as he ran his finger over his bruised knuckles. He knows her answer before she is able to say anything. James could tell that she wasn’t okay and that she was scared. She doesn’t respond to James but only allows the tears to stream down her cheeks. Y/N cried silently for a few minutes until a soft sob escaped her mouth.

So, James turned to his side and gathered her in his arms. None of them say anything or do anything. James just held her for hours until she cried herself to sleep from exhaustion.

Later, Sebastian woke up in the middle of the night and realized that nothing that they had lived that night had been a dream. So, he joined them and threw an arm over Y/N, hugging her and cuddling her from behind.

--> END OF FLASHBACK <---

“I thought I had made myself very clear when I told you to stay the fuck away from Y/N” James stepped up to Brian, “Were you too drunk that night to remember?”

“I could care less what you want me to do” Brian wasn’t going to walk away without causing a scene. People from the university had gathered around them and were closely listening in. Brian didn’t feel as confident to face James’s anger, but he couldn’t back down. People were watching and to Brian, his reputation mattered more.

“I swear to God that I won’t hesitate to break your fucking face in front of everyone” Their foreheads were almost touching, and Brian tried to stand tall, but James was too intimidating, “Step away and go home” he hissed.

Brian raised his eyebrow and tore his eyes from James’s stare. He noticed how many people were around them. He was considering leaving after he remembered how James had left him that night. Brian was actually lucky that James hadn’t killed him. So, he walked away, leaving them alone.

“What the hell was that?” Mitch asked completely taken back by Brian’s unfriendly behavior. “What a prick”. He laughed.

“Sorry” Y/N frowned as she finally looked up at Harry, who had released her hand midway through the altercation.

“I am James” He smiled and shook everyone’s hand, “I’ve known Y/N since birth” He added watching how uneasy Harry was. James could tell that Harry hadn’t liked something and it had been James’s closeness to Y/N. To be fair, James did have a crush on Y/N, but that was way back in high school. He now loved her, but only as a sister.

“And I am Sebastian” he smiled, “So who wants some tacos?”.

--> chapter 14

[tsumuus]

hiiiiiii i hope youre doing great. ur fics and smaus are all so good i just love them! for your follower event, i was wondering if you could do the song "sailor song" for izuku😓 again, ily and ty so much!!

₊✩‧₊˚ izuku midoriya + prompt 3 ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚ sailor song ˚₊✩‧₊

The rain poured in sheets outside the large windows of UA's teacher's lounge, each drop tapping against the glass like a soft reminder of the world outside. You sat at the far end of the room, a book in your hands, though your attention had long since drifted. Your eyes flickered to the clock on the wall, tracing the slow-moving minute hand, when a familiar figure caught your eye.

Izuku Midoriya entered, soaked from the rain despite his umbrella. His dark curls clung to his forehead, the water dripping from his hero notebook, which he still carried even though his days as a pro hero were over. He caught your gaze and smiled- a soft, knowing smile that held a warmth you were too familiar with.

Midoriya had always been focused, a man on a mission ever since high school, but now there was a different air about him. He was quieter these days, more contemplative. Losing his quirk hadn’t dulled his spirit, but it had changed his course. The boy who once dreamt of being the greatest hero now stood in front of students, teaching them the principles he had learned through his own struggles. You admired that about him- his resilience.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice soft yet carrying the same nervous energy you remembered from years ago. He walked over to the window seat across from you, shaking the rain from his hair before sitting down.

"Long day?" you asked, closing your book and giving him your full attention.

"Yeah," he sighed, leaning back against the cushioned seat, staring out the window. His green eyes, once always so full of determination and fire, now held a softer glow. They flicked to you, and for a moment, it seemed like he wanted to say something, but the words lingered unsaid in the space between you.

The silence stretched for a few beats, only broken by the rhythmic patter of rain.

"I've been thinking..." Midoriya's voice trailed off, his gaze now fixed firmly on his lap. You tilted your head slightly, waiting for him to continue.

He shifted uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting with the edge of his notebook. "You know, my entire life, all I've ever focused on was becoming a hero. Ever since I was a kid, that was my dream. I didn’t think about anything else." His eyes lifted to meet yours, and something in their depths pulled at your heart.

You nodded, understanding all too well. He’d always been driven, and his passion for heroism had consumed most of his life, leaving little room for anything else. And for a while, you had accepted that. You had been content with the friendship you shared, never daring to hope for more.

But somewhere along the way, your feelings had deepened. You had fallen for him, the same way someone falls asleep- slowly, then all at once.

"I knew I had feelings for you back in high school," he confessed quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I always told myself I didn't have time. That I needed to focus on becoming a hero first, on saving people. And now..." He paused, glancing out the window as if searching for the right words. "Now, I can’t be the hero I wanted to be. But that doesn’t mean I can’t go after what I want."

Your breath hitched slightly. His words hung heavy in the air, thick with the weight of unspoken emotions. You had known Midoriya for years, and this was the first time he had ever been so direct, so vulnerable.

"I've spent my whole life wanting to be someone for others, someone strong enough to protect everyone," he continued, his voice steadying. "But I've also wanted to be loved. I want to be able to say it, to show it- without shame, without fear of losing focus. And I think... I think I’m ready now. For this." His eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his confession sinking into your chest like an anchor.

Your heart raced as you processed his words, the rain outside a soft backdrop to the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

"Midoriya..." You breathed his name, your voice trembling slightly. His eyes widened, anticipation and nervousness written all over his face.

"I’ve felt the same way," you finally admitted, your voice soft but steady. "Since high school, actually. I just didn’t think you ever noticed me like that. And when you became so focused on your hero journey, I didn’t want to get in the way. So I stayed quiet." You smiled, a small, bittersweet smile that mirrored years of quiet pining. "But I’m glad you’re telling me now. I’m glad you feel the same."

A mix of relief and disbelief washed over Midoriya’s face. His hand hesitantly reached for yours, fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against your skin. The touch sent a spark through you, one that you had long suppressed, now igniting the air between you.

"You deserve to be loved, Izuku," you said softly, squeezing his hand gently. "Loudly and proudly, just like you’ve always dreamed."

His face softened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Midoriya allowed himself to smile fully- no nervous laugh, no awkward stutter. Just pure, unfiltered happiness.

"I don’t want to waste any more time," he whispered, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "I want to be with you, if you’ll have me."

You felt a warmth spread through you, a sense of completion that you hadn’t realized you’d been waiting for.

"I’ve been waiting for you," you replied, your voice steady and sure.

And just like that, the weight of years of unspoken feelings melted away, leaving nothing but the two of you, finally free to embrace the love you had always wanted but never dared to reach for.

a/n timeskip izuku bc i lowk lobe teacher izuku. also made the reader a teacher bc i wanted to so i did :) very vaguely based on the song and im sorry for that. but i rwally do love this song so ily for requesting it. i tried to incorporate like the way i percieve and interpret the song into this so hope you liked it!!

₊✩‧₊˚ 555 follower event ! ˚₊✩‧₊

main masterlist

[not-your-bro]

what i did and didn't (but mostly didn't) like about until dawn remake's character trait changes

hello friends and fans. i am super excited to welcome all my pals back to the latest episode of Laura Yaps About Until Dawn Remake. i've talked about the prologue here and here, and i plan on talking about other elements of the game (visuals, gameplay, narrative changes) whenever life and time allows.

before i go off about the character traits, thanks to @claarria for posting this handy side-by-side of old vs new. super helpful! i'll be using those images here.

and generally speaking, let it be known that i think the font change is so fucking ugly 💖 like god bless but it is so bad 💖💖 and they've made the layout so much less dynamic by just listing all the traits straight down, bullet point style?? it is all very microsoft powerpoint core and it sucks. anyway. onto the characters, in order of appearance.

sam

off topic but very importantly, how did they fuck up sam's face THAT bad?? ballistic moon sapped the life out of her and now there is literally nothing behind those eyes. HOMEGIRL WAKE UP 👏👏

one trait change here: adventurous -> brave. not wrong, but super redundant, because brave is one of the character stats in the menu, so like. at any point when i'm playing her, i can pop in the menu and see exactly how brave she is. it's pointless to put it here.

chris

one change: methodical -> loyal. and honestly. this one slays i can't lie. like yeahhhh 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

i know everyone loves to hate on chris now, but he pushes to help sam even when it puts himself at risk and he goes to the shed to get josh even though josh just traumatized the hell out of him lmao. boy is loyal asf and i'm more than happy to see it replace methodical.

jess

big changes here. i'm not jazzed to see confident go. i always thought smg included it purposefully, because this is how jess is trying to come across, even though she's actually insecure.

and imo trusting fits her far better than, say, driven. based on em's comment about her grades (and the fact that jess doesn't deny it lmao), i don't think she has much drive or ambition at this point in her life. she's always struck me as the kind of person who doesn't have a big dream or passion, and as high school graduation approaches she would feel sort of aimless? like she doesn't know where to go next.

i don't mean these as negatives, btw. jess is a top 3 ud character for me. i just don't think she's driven. and i think she is irreverent. and that's fine. 💖

emily

one change: persuasive -> forthright. like sam's change, this isn't wrong. emily is definitely forthright. but i don't like that we're shifting her further from mike (more on that later), and this change makes her use of words seem less purposeful. like she says what she wants just for the sake of it, instead of: she knows what to say to get people to do what she wants.

matt

matt's trait changes make for a much different impression. motivated and ambitious have been swapped with obliging and dependable, which shifts the focus from himself to others. we're drawing attention to an agreeable, go-with-the-flow personality, rather than the fact that he's got big dreams for himself (get that scholarship, bud).

i'm not sure i'm the biggest fan, because it kind of makes him seem like a doormat? it's possible that he never talks to emily about how she treats him, and he does film the prank on hannah even though he doesn't seem like he would. still...i guess i wish there was more of a mix here. he can be obliging and dependable, but he doesn't have to be, depending on your choices, and this really makes him feel like everything he does is for the sake of others.

mike

i appreciate ballistic moon pulling these shots back a little - some of them were really, like, up the character's nose lmfao. but bro those traits are unreadable against mike's skin 😭😭

anyway, mikey gets a complete overhaul. i've been over brave with sam. it's a waste of a slot. and it's not that mike isn't driven or charismatic. i mean, he is definitely charismatic, given his popularity in fandom. even i have this feeling of 'man, i should not be charmed by him' <- is definitely charmed by him. but i think we're losing a lot by separating him from emily, with whom he used to share 2 out of 3 traits (intelligent and persuasive). i always thought that said a lot about why they would be drawn to each other and start a relationship - but also why that relationship wouldn't last.

if i were to give mike any new trait, it'd probably be impulsive, which i think is a great fit for him. mike may be intelligent, but when it comes to decisions, he's a man of action - a doer, not a thinker. which is just as likely to lead to a bad outcome as it is a good one.

ashley

one change here (forthright -> sensitive), but god does it fucking suck. SENSITIVE?????? be fr. is ashley sensitive or is she traumatized nonstop for eight hours? she was upset when she was chained to a wall and thought she was going to die! when she thought her friend died! when she thought her other dead friend's ghost was trying to communicate with them! when she was put in a life-or-death trap a second time! that sure was sensitive of her!

if i could revert only one trait change, it would be this one. 0/10.

josh

must be said that josh's shot is much better in the remake. it could not have been worse, like i will never understand how anyone looked at that half-closed eye and open mouth and was like yeah that's a good first impression LMAO. so, cool with that.

tbh i also like josh's trait changes? this is another total overhaul, but honestly, at the risk of getting booed offstage, i'm happy with this. if i'm being real, complex was always a waste of a slot. like...yeah? i hope so? all of your characters should be complex to some degree. it feels like a weird shade to the other characters to point out one guy, specifically, as complex. so the rest of them are simple, then? 🤨 it's not that i would argue against josh being the most complex - i do think he is (though i realize my stance on that means little because i'm up this man's ass). it's just weird to draw attention to it.

as for the other traits, yeah, josh is thoughtful and loving. for sure. but i feel like these are sort of...level 2 traits. ykwim? and the new traits are level 1. if you hung out with josh in a casual way, in a group setting, remake traits would be more likely to spring to mind, to match that initial impression. i think you'd have to look more closely or spend more time to clock that he's thoughtful and loving, because outside of his sisters, i don't think he's particularly straightforward or overt in the way he conveys those things, and he wouldn't draw attention to them. maybe i'm leaning too hard on the version of him i've fleshed out in my mind, but josh is the kind of guy who would, like, remember one offhand comment matt made about liking a specific brand of beer. months later, at the next lodge trip, it's there in the fridge, and josh says nothing about it. but he remembered, and he got it. that's josh's brand of thoughtfulness. in my opinion.

none of these six traits are wrong, i just think the new ones are better 'first impression' traits for him.

[nouearth]

servicing justice: superman [1]

pairing ; kal-el / clark kent / superman x m!reader. fandom: ; dc, superman. word count ; 2144. series ; servicing justice. genre ; smut. rating ; m. warnings ; bigdick!superman. blowjob. gloryhole. handjob. mouth-fucking. oral (reader giving). sexworker!reader. note ; yeah, okay. maybe i've been watching too much of a certain video genre, ahem. but i hope you guys enjoy my first smut! it's been a WHILE since i've written one, so i know it's rusty, HAHA. looks-wise, i mostly had maws's superman in mind (because the art style is so good and so himbo), but feel free to imagine it with any superman!

it isn’t the most comfortable position to be in. you’ve been kneeling on the floor for quite some time now, waiting for your assigned client. your palms begin to sweat to a minimal but uncomfortable degree. did i fuck up already? you ask yourself as your mind clouds with questions, doubts, and even judgement regarding this new job.

“jesus, what did i get myself into…” you recall the long process it took for you to end up here. the intensive (and ridiculously long) process of reading and signing multiple forms and documents almost had you backing out of this opportunity. though looking back at it, it was understandable since it’s quite unheard of to be… a sex worker for superheroes.

for an incredible pay, your privacy will essentially be stripped away starting from today. all phone messages, calls, and social media activities will be monitored during your venture as a sex worker, and that post-graduate life was not going to pay itself. for the most part, so far everything seemed… great? being driven to work by a chauffeur, having your own personal room and health coverage provided, and most importantly… eating free lunch was not bad at all.

or maybe you’re just naïve.

all you had to do was kneel and suck a few superhumans off. as the newbie, you were told that you’ll be starting on gloryhole duty due to privacy reasons; at least until you built enough camaraderie. though, you didn’t even mind since there would certainly be less strain on your body.

you couldn’t help but snicker at the mere thought of an entire league of superheroes holding a meeting regarding this subject matter. especially since almost everyone in the world, including you, holds these superheroes in such high regard.

“meeting is adjourned until 9 am tomorrow! until then, please help yourself to some delicious food trucks from outer spac-“ your humorous imitation of a noble superhero is silenced when you hear the door opening. within your private booth, all that blocks you from meeting your approaching client is another door with a hole cut through.

your curiosity is piqued when you catch a sight of the man’s physique through the hole. plaid shirt and jeans aside, and assuming he had to underdress, he’s huge. maybe because you’re kneeling right now, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve never been near a superhero before, but you couldn’t help but be in awe at the size of the man. your eyes complete a full body scan by the time he approaches the door and before you could say something, he does.

“sorry i was late-“ a gentle voice echoes behind the door. contrary to his soft voice, the man’s large hands work aggressively at his belt, unlooping the leather with impatience yet eagerness as he anticipates the mouth that’s been waiting for his arrival. “there was this whole thing with this cat in this tree and then this school bus got hijacked- not my best day, unfortunately.”

“i’m sorry to hear that. sounds like a stressful day, yeah?” your voice is compassionate. you felt bad for the unnamed superhero and a part of you wanted to continue the conversation further, but your job isn’t to listen to their feelings. it’s to pleasure.

“yeah…” a huge sigh of relief expels from the man’s dry throat when he pulls his pants down. frustration stains another one of your client’s sigh, clearly troubled by the restrictive fabric guarding his erection. you watch with parted lips as he couldn’t help but give himself a needy stroke through his tight briefs, fondling his balls then beelining his palm to the very plump tip of his cock. your own cock hardens at this scene, and you find yourself doing the very same. mimicking his impatient hand to tend to the sensitive pressure below, you tiptoe the fine line between frustration and pleasure as your tightening pants and briefs define what it means to be an absolute nuisance. “very stressful.”

it doesn’t take much time before you’re faceful of cock and somehow, you manage to salivate more than you did a minute ago. the man’s throbbing erection is brimmed with thick pre-cum, stress practically leaving his body with every drip. it’s a heavenly sight that’s enough to make you stick your tongue out just in time to catch the substance into your mouth, not wanting to waste a single drop. the salty taste always catches you off-guard yet at the same time, it puts you under a spell. a tantalizing spell that commands you to drag your warm tongue over and back the underside of his thick shaft, completely avoiding the plump glans to have his cock leak even more… stress.

the taste of his musk drives your palm further into your erection, palming at whatever you could as you preoccupy yourself with teasing the man. you almost felt bad for him. contrary to his build, his whimpers are… so small, so weak. you notice his hands grip over the top of the barrier, and it turns you on upon realizing how this supposed hero could become so fragile at the simple taunt of your tongue.

“please…” the superhero whimpers out, needlessly fucking the air in hopes of granting his cock some type of friction. you’re amazed, and a little proud, by how much pre-cum he’s been leaking by now, and it all goes right onto your tongue. the wet muscle follows the natural curve of his cock to meet up with the wet and plump head. his hips buckle into the barrier and feeling it shake, you keep him steady by wrapping your hand around his shaft. you’re addicted at this point. addicted to the salty taste of his pre-cum as your tongue licks and explores into the slit of his cock, while at the same time, your hand works at his large cock in slow, but steady strokes.

“oh christ-“ he breathes out, repeating the same two words under his shaky breath as you continue to pleasure him with your tongue and hand. after a few licks, you pull away to give your tongue a break. in doing so, your grip tightens around his shaft to pace your strokes quicker. when you find a moment where your wrist needs a break, you let your client catch his breath. his cock throbbing more and more with every passing second when your tongue and hand aren’t exploring him, and you bask in the sight of it. you believe you deserve a medal at this point. not for doing a great job (though, it doesn’t seem too far-fetched), but for having control. you haven’t even sucked him off yet, but you’re content on remaining just like this for a while longer. though, that wouldn’t be fair for the superhero.

before he could whimper out another plea, your warm mouth finally wraps around the head of his cock and your ears perk at the sound of his low moan almost instantly. your hand returns to its rightful position around the lower base of his penis as you cycle your tongue over the glans, satisfying your need to taste his musk once more. seconds later, your hand lets go when you push your head farther, taking in an inch more of the hero’s cock. your knees dig into the floor as you push your head more and more, stretching your mouth with his cock until you feel yourself gagging.

“fuck.” you sniffle out when you pull back. perhaps you were challenging yourself too hard. you think to yourself as you catch your breath, using the remaining moment to sloppily jerk him off with your saliva. part of you wanted to challenge yourself to deepthroat him, impress your client on the first day. but you already know you wouldn’t be able to take it… at least, for now.

“you could hurt someone with this, y’know?” for some reason, you thought you needed to crack a joke as if there was an awkward silence that needed to be filled. maybe you just wanted to hear him talk again. his voice is warm and inviting, somewhat fitting for a superhero or even a television host as the moment you hear his voice again, you felt safe.

“i have before- oh god.” you lube up his cock with your spit as you continue to jerk him off, refraining yourself from fucking his slit with your tongue again to concentrate on his words. “which is why i don’t do this much- sex and stuff… it’s all troublesome, really.”

“yeah?” and just when you talked yourself out of challenging yourself, you feel the competitive spark ignite inside of you again. “well, i guess you just have to find the right one. could be anyone, even people you just met.” you try to play it nonchalantly, hoping that double-handing his wet cock would distract him.

he was beyond speechless at this point, moans drawn out by means of your sloppy strokes. you swear you can hear his heartbeat behind the barrier when you lean your head closer to suck him off again. you moan along with him, drawing out every breath of yours as you bob your head up and down, taking more of his cock every time you come down. your hand twists and strokes the remaining few inches that isn’t violated by your tongue and mouth, following your mouth like a reel as your intent to make him cum is fervent more than ever.

it hurts. your mouth hurts by how large your client is and tears brim in your eyes as you hold yourself back from gagging. but you don’t stop yourself because you’ll know it’ll be worth it. your endeavor to please him to the fullest has you drowning out his groans into white noise and you can barely register the fact that you’ve been on paused for a while now. you find yourself in a closer position than before, where your mouth is open, lips fully pressed around the carved hole as the superhero fucks into your mouth, fucks into your gags like you’re his personal flesh light. you didn’t care how dirty you looked, how you had saliva and spittle dripping out from the corners of your mouth and onto the floor. who would see? and you didn’t care that you were too preoccupied to touch your dick right now, because you know you’ll be thinking about this very moment for the rest of your life. and right now, you didn’t know if you wanted to be covered in his cum or to have your mouth be filled with it.

remaining in this position, you glance your teary eyes up at his grip over the barrier again. the strength in his grasp forms small cracks in the material of the barrier and that was the sign you knew you fulfilled your sense of purpose.

“christ, i’m going to come-“ your eyes shut again and you breathe through your noise, bracing for impact. he pushes his cock down your throat and hits that sore spot one last time before unloading his cum into your mouth with a stifled groan. warm, hot seed quickly fills you up and you pull your head back an inch to fully enclose your lips around his cock, ensuring none escape your lips.

in a heartbeat, you swallowed it all. his warm cum coats the back of your throat like medicine and you moan around his cock at the taste, intoxicated. you made sure to lick every inch of his cock clean, calmly slurping any saliva and cum that threatens to leave your mouth as you pull back up with a soft pop, swallowing the remaining remnants of his stress away.

“t-thank you. i needed that…” he pulls his softening cock out, careful in avoiding the hole as he was still sensitive. “did you need a tissue or anything? i think i have one somewhere…” you can hear him rummage through what you can only assume would be his bag and you find it charming, a quiet laugh leaving your swollen lips as you lean back onto your elbows to take a breather and stretch your legs out.

“no, no. i’m okay. i, uh, don’t think i wasted a drop.” you proudly brag, only for him to respond with a shy chuckle. you watch him tidy himself through the hole from a leaned back view, occasionally tilting your head in various angles to see if you could catch a glimpse on who the mysterious superhero is, but the barrier remains an obstruction to your view.

“well then, i… uh… thank you for your service.” he covers up the silence with another laugh and you join in, re-adjusting his pants and belt before turning his back towards you and heading out the booth. “i’ll try not to be late next time.”

© nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[phantomrose96]

I think one of my least favorite Reddit personalities is what I'm gonna call Destitution Superiority.

It's a pretty disturbingly popular mindset I encounter frequently on Reddit. The kind of people who are like "Yeah I always save 75% of my income and I do this by never buying any single thing I do not need" "I've cut out 100% of processed sugar from my entire diet and it's great for my body" "I spend (absurdly long) time at the gym and eat (absurdly few) calories every day which I weigh and count it's really turned my life around."

And the thing is like, I believe them when they say doing this makes them feel good! I believe this satisfies a primal need for accomplishing a difficult task, for being proud of their efforts, for feeling superior to people who are simply too "lazy"/"impulse-driven"/"ignorant" to do the same.

...But by god. What's the end game? Do these people want to hit 80 years old and look back on their entire life pride which was just... self-deprivation? Do they want to look back and think "thank god I never once tried a delicious piece of cake" "thank god I missed my friend's birthday party so I could hit my gym goals" "thank god I'm dying with millions in the bank which I never let myself use or enjoy in life"

They're defining themselves by what they refuse to let themselves have. They're seeking accomplishment in being less, and doing less, and consuming and spending less so they can soak in the ephemeral brain chemicals that say "you did good by denying yourself this experience." And what happens when they crack? When day 487 of no desserts they feel weak and have a cupcake and hate themselves? And they go back to their hivemind which tells them they were simply weak and need to get back on the horse. It's sad. It's sad to watch.

And it is so very dangerous for how easily people will get sucked in. How extremely easy it is to blur the lines between "healthy, responsible behavior" and "cultish adherence to denying yourself pieces of your own life." They don't recognize that line themselves. Because if you try to bring this up with them, they deflect as if you were suggesting they plunge themselves deep into the opposite obsession. "Oh you think I should just spend every single dime I earn and end up in debt and broke?" "What are you suggesting I just let my health go because it's easier to sit on the couch every day."

No. I just think the narrative around "responsible" behaviors of finance and health needs to address the far-too-pervasive phenomenon of people overdoing it with cultish adherence, and locking themselves out of life, experiences, and joy, because the chemical rush of choke-hold control on their life--(or worse, the fear of slipping and being seen as one of the irresponsible others)--blinds them to the fact that they earnestly want to shrink the one and only life they have to live.

[ruiniel]

What You Choose

Fandom: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Pairing: Rengoku Kyojuro x f!reader

Count: 2K

Rating: T (M later)

On AO3

Summary: I recently watched/read KNY and have emotions. Likely done before, but wanted to get this out of my system so wrote it down. Rengoku survives the fight with Akaza, but some battles are not so straightforward.

Tags & Warnings: Rengoku lives AU, multichapter, blood, injury, pining, angst, second person POV, demon slayer!reader, tsuguko!reader, alternating POV, Oblivious Rengoku Kyojuro, for a while at least, Death, Mild Gore, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut

All characters depicted are 18+

I.

Everything fades. His body is going numb, his vision blurs as he stares down at his reflection in the dark pool of his own blood, unable to lift his head. The cries of grief surrounding him become dim and scatter like dying leaves from his consciousness.  

I've done my duty, I've given my all.

The last he remembers is a small, clawed hand and a sudden, blooming flame bursting through his shattered torso, scalding him from within in ways his own fire never could. 

I see... So this is what it feels like… to burn. 

The balmy weather outside has no effect on you, seated at the side of the infirmary bed, your head in your hands. 

“Perhaps you should go and rest. There’s been no change, and we’ll be sure to inform you of any developments.” 

Aoi’s words are void of their usual sternness. You’ve heard them before, and yet—

“I’m fine, I really am.” You gaze back at the prone figure lying motionless beneath crisp white sheets. His gold and crimson hair is messy, and you’ve never seen him so pale, his features so sunken. The bandage covering his left eye is stained red in places, the usually smiling lips dry and bloodless.

Aoi sighs but says nothing else, and soon her departing steps echo against the walls.

I can’t. I can’t leave his side. You wish your thought could reach him, down to whatever place he’s struggling in now. You ball your hands into fists over your knees, a poor attempt at holding your composure. Please, come back. Please.

Weeks have passed since the mission on the train, since your group has returned with wounded bodies and spirits, though none in such a critical state as your mentor. Rengoku Kyojuro has not awakened since, and in contrast, since the nightmares the demon has placed upon you in that baleful encounter, you’ve not been able to sleep more than two to three hours every night. Every time, waking up in a sweat, the memory of what happened always the last image you remember. 

“How is he today?”

You’re drawn from your thought by the gentle voice of the person you feel like you owe a life of debt to, and turn to gaze into the tired, worried eyes of Tanjiro Kamado. He stands by the bed now, glancing down at the Hashira. The slow rise and fall of his chest is the only sign that he is still alive. 

You shake your head as Tanjiro takes a seat. “How is rehabilitation training going?” 

Tanjiro smiles, still staring at the bed and its unresponsive occupant. “Almost done, I feel my strength returning to what it used to be and more. I admire how well you’ve upheld yourself, though,” he murmurs. 

It’s true, for some reason, you’ve been the least scathed of them all, needing much less medical care than the rest. No, you know the reason why. “It’s because of him,” your words escape you. “If… if he hadn’t trained me as he did, if he hadn’t driven me so far beyond my limits, I don’t know if I would have survived for as long as I have in my role.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard. They say Lord Rengoku’s methods are… harsh to say the least.”

A smile tugs at your lips as a known pain pricks your heart. “But… but I’ve been remiss in thanking you, young Kamado—or rather, your sister. If she hadn’t…”  Your throat tightens; you don’t want to break down, not here, not before Tanjiro and not before him, no matter he can’t hear it. 

“Please, please don’t worry, it was a stroke of luck and quick thinking on her part, I only brought the box closer—”

“... she healed him! I saw the flames engulfing him, I saw the wound close. I don’t know how she did it but… Nezuko is someone... very special.”

Tanjiro lowers his head in humble acknowledgement. “I will tell her.” Then, as though remembering something, he reaches into his pocket and hands you a small bag. “Here, I’ve not seen you join meals very often and… well, please take them.”

You don’t have the strength to refuse, and take the bag from his hand, meeting his kind smile. “Candies…”  You thank him before placing them on the bedstand, and after a few more moments of sitting in comfortable silence, Tanjiro takes his leave. You watch him depart, endeared by his manner and honesty. He has a good soul, a strong will—perhaps the strongest you’ve known, apart from…

You stare back at your mentor, memories of the past flooding behind your eyes.

Five months prior

“Good! Again!”

You’re panting, your total concentration breathing nearly failing as you evade another deadly arc of the Third Form: Blazing Universe. 

The sun has westered and a bluish twilight sets over the lands, but your mentor still has you parrying his unwavering techniques, before making you attack using combinations of them in turn. 

“Lord—lord Rengoku—”

His blazing speed cuts your words short as your blades clash, and you stare into bright, golden-rimmed irises. He’s smiling, as usual, with a devilish spark in his eyes. There is a sudden flutter in your stomach, overriding the fatigue in your burning muscles. “Come now, don’t tell me you’re beat! You’ve come so far after only three years!” he says as you fall back, lunging for another attack the following second.

The sudden weakness you feel when you’re close to him has you confused, because it was not there before. It all began in the past year: whenever he stares at you in a certain way, whenever he touches you during training or meets your eyes, something gnaws achingly at your chest. It’s as though you need something from him, but have no idea what it is. 

“I knew it from the moment I took you on as a successor,” he says, merciless in his offensive. “If you—” Parry. Lunge. “—carry on like this—” Attack. Jump. “—you’ll reach a Hashira level of skill in no time at all!” 

You don’t have the chance to reply, though his words feel like honey coating your senses. At first, he’d been sparse and strict, keeping to instructions and nothing else. But you struggled, worked harder than you had for anything in all your life, and it seems he acknowledges this fully now. 

“Now—Ninth Form: Rengoku!” 

That means you must attack, and he must deflect. But—Ninth Form?! “I—I can’t, I’m… I’m too exhausted for the Ninth!”

He bursts forward with Unknowing Fire, forcing you to duck and curl your body, rolling away into the dust, rising on one knee. 

The Flame Hashira turns, pointing his weapon at you. “Is that what you plan on telling the demons?”

“Well, no, but—”

“At no point during a battle will you have the luxury of biding your time. If this were an actual encounter, you’d be dead.” He no longer smiles, his face turned cold, eyes glinting like molten steel.

You feel the rush of shame like fangs biting into you, fueling a horrible need to prove him wrong, to rise up to the challenge in his voice. With a hiss and a groan you grip the handle of your katana tightly, breathing and striving to light that spark in your heart. 

With a cry you speed forward, clashing with him in a desperate lunge. 

“Ha!” The smile returns as you grit your teeth. “Better!”

His face is so close to yours again, so close you feel the rush of his breath on your cheek. 

Your knees feel weak again, and you close your eyes, pushing forward in an attempt to skew his balance. 

What the hell is happening to you? 

“Faster, the fire is still weak! It must rage!” the Hashira says, grinning like a madman now, and where once you enjoyed the path of learning and reaching your full potential, now his attitude brings forth an ache that confuses you and leaves you anxious.

Even so. Your blades sing against each other as you lunge back in a high jump, landing in a lowered stance with one palm braced against the earth. Your uniform is wet on your back, and you’re closer to your breaking point than you've ever been.

But the thought of disappointing him, now that feels unbearable. So you do what you always do: you push yourself more, more, harnessing all your strength into one melting core, bathing your heart in it and firing up your veins. 

You attack.

He laughs outright. “Not bad, but—” Your swords clash, fiercer than before. “I know you can do better, and you can be faster.”

“I’m doing all I can!” you yell, at the end of your tether now. It’s not the first time, nor will it be the last. But he takes no offense, he never does, and that's one of the things you appreciate about him. “But you—you make it impossible! You always want more, even if you know I’m not ready for it!”

It must be the fire rushing through you that has you speaking this way, daring to say such words despite knowing full well what you were in for, when you accepted to become his successor. 

“Wait until you’re ready, and you will never improve!” the Flame Hashira throws back.

A growl leaves your throat as you fall back then speed towards him again, trying the Second then the Third form in succession sloppily but you’re past caring. 

Your arms feel as though they will tear and your bones might splinter as you crash against his unwavering stance, and you meet his scarlet-gold gaze as he speaks softly, his voice imbued with warmth: “You can surpass the impossible. I believe in you.” 

Your eyes widen, that damned ache ringing through your body like a weakening poison and—

For one split second, your stance weakens, and you’re thrown back, losing your balance and falling heavily onto the ground. 

Rengoku stares down at you, tilting his head to the side with a strange look on his face as he sheathes his katana. 

Your vision sways, your lungs might burst. You barely clutch at the helping hand extended to you, aiding you to your feet. He grasps your shoulders. “What happened there just now? Your focus melted like wax.”

“I…” You can’t look him in the eye. His hands on you diffuse heat, permeating through your clothing. It feels good. It scares you. “I don’t… know.”

“Tomorrow, again,” he says, releasing you. “Please do better. Remember we’re doing this for you, but foremost for the people.”

“Understood,” you murmur, biting back tears as you watch him walk away.

Midnight has arrived when you end your reverie, thinking about that emotion that took root in your body and spirit, growing stronger as time passed. And you never dared tell him, never dared facing it nor can you explain why. You take a deep breath, leaned with your arms folded on the edge of the bed, your forehead resting on them. You never told him, and now… 

And now with each day I’m losing hope.

Your shoulders are shaking, and your eyes sting. There is no one else here but you and him, the long chamber of empty beds the only witness to your breakdown. 

You’re so absorbed by despair, you don’t perceive the faint movement, or the hand gently placed on your head.

“... Why are you crying?”

You choke on a silent sob, blinking in shock at the low, throaty voice, broken with disuse. Slowly, you raise your head.

He's staring at you, a bleak smile on his lips, and you're utterly, incomprehensibly frozen.

“You… you’re awake?” It feels like the dumbest of questions: your body knows the truth before your mind catches up. 

“That… depends. Are you really here?” he asks in turn. 

You nod, biting on your lower lip and wiping your eyes with your sleeve. “Yes, yes I am.”

The smile wavers for a moment as he grimaces in pain. “Oh, I see. Then… it seems… you’re not rid of me yet.”

All the gods in all the world couldn’t keep the emotions flooding you at bay, and you shake your head as warm tears flow down your face. 

PART II

[foundheavenly]

“I've returned”

Disclaimer: English is not my mother tongue so please be nice :)

Words: 750

Plot: You have been married to Sukuna for centuries until the moment you had find your end. But you're back, reincarnated in a different body, and it's now modern time.

Pairing: sukuna x reader

Theme: angst, comfort, worship, devotion, reincarnation

You had been his wife for years and even if Sukuna hadn't really liked you at the first place, looking down at you only as a pathetic and annoying human being, he had learned to get along with you. And with time, the king of curses had learned to love. You had find a way to get underneath his skin and cold attitude. At first, he even hated you for it. He never truly understood how you could do that.

But then you had died and he had been left lonely for the very first time. With your loss, he had become crueler than ever.

A century have passed and he is now back as the strongest curse, possessing the body of a teenager, Yuji Itadori. Sukuna just wants destruction and murder for Jujutsu Society. However, he wasn't ready to see you, in the crowded streets of Tokyo, reborn.

You have awaken in a world far different from the one you remembered. The air was different, the sounds unfamiliar, and the surroundings alien. As you gathered your bearings, you realized that you were in a new body, a vessel that felt both strange and yet strangely familiar. And you didn't know how it could even possible.

Memories from centuries past flooded your mind. You were once known as the queen of curses, and you had shared a love that transcended time and death with Sukuna. You had been inseparable, bound by a connection that defied the mortal coil. Until the day you met your end by the hands of one of the strongest sorcerer from your time.

But you had been given a second chance at life. As you navigated this new existence, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. It was then that the memories of Sukuna and your centuries-long bond resurfaced.

Driven by an inexplicable force, you sought him out. In this bustling city of skyscrapers and technology, you knew you had to find the one who had been left alone for so long. The one who had showed you unconditionnal love and devotion. Your heart, now beating in a mortal chest, quickened with anticipation. Because you could feel him around, his loneliness and rage echoed through the surroundings.

It didn't take long to sense his presence. Sukuna, the ancient being you had loved for eons, was still there. As the wind blew through your hair, you felt a strange yet strong sensation down your spine. You felt like someone was watching you. You looked around quickly and, to your surprise, it was him. You frowned as you became aware of this new, young body he was in, but you didn't care. You could feel it in the depths of your being. You felt an overwhelming sense of affection coming through. You wanted to rush to his side but you control yourself.

As your eyes met, recognition flickered in his red gaze. Time seemed to stand still as the weight of centuries bore down on you. There was a mixture of surprise, disbelief, and a spark of something deeper—something that transcended the boundaries of time.

He continued to stare at you, his expression unchanging as always. But you could feel it. He was relieved to have you back. Then he titled his head.

"Sukuna" You whispered as you were quite shocked, the name carrying the echoes of your past. "It's me. I've returned."

His eyes softened with a mix of emotions, and a slow, genuine smile spread across his face. The void of loneliness that had haunted him for so long began to dissipate. In that moment, you knew that your love, forged through centuries, had endured and would continue to defy the constraints of time.

A sly grin played on his lips as he looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes. "My queen" He uttered, his voice a rich resonance that sent shivers down your spine. "Time may have changed our forms, but my devotion to you remains unchanged."

He extended a hand, and you took it without hesitation. As your fingers interlocked, the familiar warmth of his touch enveloped you and you couldn't be more relieved to have find your home again.

[hallowpen]

There was a lot of destructive criticism surrounding My Marvellous Dream is You, but I actually thought the series was quite good despite its shortcomings. I'm a lot more forgiving than most when it comes to Thai GL series, and that will have absolutely affected my viewing experience. But... every time I would see a comment that just read "This is boring/terrible/stupid" without ever elaborating, I felt very much like Khun Pu's character from Be My Favorite hehe

*WARNING*: There will be minor spoilers for the final episode of My Marvellous Dream is You, should that be something you wish to avoid.

I will be the first to admit, that I was very skeptical about this series in the first handful of episodes. So let's just get my personal negatives out of the way first... I think, by now, it's no secret that I do not support where a lot of Thai GL adaptations source from. So, this series already had an admittedly disadvantaged subjective expectation from the get go. It wasn't really surprising to see pacing issues within the first 5ish episodes, that seems to be a common occurrence in Thai GLs produced by IDOLfactory. Whether that is a result of the novels the series have thus far been adapted from OR from a choice in direction is up to you. I, personally, think it's a bit of both. Where I believe certain productions struggle in letting their narratives breathe, I find the complete opposite problem to be true with IDOLfactory. There were a lot of plot points that needed restructuring or to be removed entirely in order to have a stronger cohesive story that focused on the main characters' relationship more so than it did.

Now, while I stand behind my opinion that the series could have benefited from tighter and better organized storytelling, a lot of the groundwork was there to make a decent character driven narrative. And that's what I've chosen to focus on. Wan and Kim are both deeply flawed characters. There were so many inferences to be drawn from character relevant visuals and their joint backstory that truly informed their current dynamic.

The👏🏾character👏🏾focused👏🏾visuals👏🏾in👏🏾this👏🏾show!!!

One of the most interesting parts of watching a series, for me, is having to pick up on certain character cues in order to understand and delve deeper into the core of their behaviors.

Wan and Kim share a trauma, and it's easy to see how they both became so dependent on one another to fill the void their fathers left.

In flashbacks, Wan is presented as egoistic and headstrong since high school. She is also shown to be extremely protective of Kim before she even realizes her feelings. Kim, on the other hand, is a bit more sensitive. She cherishes Wan's attention and affection to a point where she would be willing to play a little dirty in order to keep it for herself.

All of these emotions become heightened once they are forced into adult life with adult problems. Wan is struggling with her mental health. While trying to balance fame and the repercussions her actions might have on her career, Wan must also deal with her mother's alcoholism... which has essentially caused her to check out from Wan's life. Her need to have Kim by her side, and never leave her, has become less protective and more possessive. Kim's desire for approval and affection has led to an over devotion of herself to Wan and constant worrying about disappointing her mother. She's neglected her own wants and needs for so long, that she's afraid putting herself first would be considered too selfish...too much like her dad. Her mother's cancer diagnosis further pushes Kim to continue to place her mother's wishes over her own desires. Even though comments about Wan and Kim being 'annoying' or 'frustrating' were aiming to be negative... they weren't exactly wrong. The audience was supposed to feel that way. Heck, even the surrounding characters called out their behavior on more than one occasion. Because in an effort to not lose one another, Kim and Wan fell into a cyclically unhealthy dynamic where their actions and reactions were actually pushing each other away. Their inability to communicate their true feelings to each other beyond their (unbeknownst) shared dreams prevented them from making any true progress toward a romantic relationship that they both so desperately wanted, but were each terribly afraid to pursue. Their feelings for each other were put up against the reality that their love being unreciprocated could spell the end of their relationship altogether. There was an added pressure of being unfairly compared to their fathers, where any romance between them might be found 'unacceptable'. Couple that with societal views of same-sex relationships, and you can understand why these two were so hesitant to reveal their truths.

(Quick sidenote: I did not agree with the idea that what Kim and Wan did was exactly the same to what their fathers did. They did not leave and abandon their families. Marwin didn't make it easy for them, and given the glimpse we saw into his family's cruelty, it made all the sense in the world to have him react in the way he did. Kim and Wan were at least willing to stay and face the hard consequences of their choice, no matter the outcome.)

I think them having to work through all of their issues made the moment of Kim and Wan finally deciding to be together that much more satisfying... And that was the point Kru A was trying to make when he explained his direction for their relationship on social media after hearing viewer feedback (He was subsequently rudely criticized by interfans for that decision, to the point where he alluded to the fact that he might take a break from directing... but that's a whole other discussion).

That final scene of them being married purposely not clarifying whether it was in a dream or in reality alluded to the fact that their shared dream world and their real life were no longer at odds, finally. I thought it was very fitting.

The frustration caused by KimWan's lack of communication reminded me of a similar dynamic between Team and Win in Between Us, a series that suffered from a lot of the same problems (not enough focus on the two leads and irrelevant plot points). However, those characters and the actors that portrayed them didn't receive even half the amount of negative reactions. They existed, trust me, but there were a lot of positive reviews to balance it out. I'm not going to get into what that means, because I think you can make the inference for yourself.

All in all, I don't think this series deserves to be completely written off. Is it perfect? No... but an effort was made, and it wouldn't hurt to make the effort in return to understand the vision. Fay and May did an incredible job for their first go around as main leads. And I hope they get the chance to develop their craft further.

[kinardsevan]

BuckTommy/911 fic masterlist

as promised, here is your master list for everything I've written so far (and will continue to update as it changes):

(Divide added because this is getting kinda long now)

UPDATE: UNDER CONSTRUCTION - (this list is getting fairly long, so it may grow in to separate pages as I work on it in the coming days/weeks)

The Song Lyric Series:

Just as the title suggests, these have mostly been lyrically driven. The intention is for them to remain looser than a story, but so far it's been the same plot. (subject to change)

what if there's a little boy that needs a safe place :

Chapters: 1 Rating: M Warnings: n/a

“I’m sorry Evan,” Tommy stated genuinely as he watched Evan drop his towel and then redress. “I honestly don’t know what to say.” Evan huffed, unable to hold all the feelings in any longer. Everything felt so tight—his chest, his throat, his stomach. He couldn’t keep it all buried inside against Tommy’s lack of an answer. OR. The one in which Evan is not okay with a drunk rando flirting with his very beasty, very sexy boyfriend and it leads to professions of love.

they all led me to him (he's one of the good ones:

“I might’ve mentioned fucking you properly earlier this evening,” Tommy says, and even in the midst of wanting the older man to tear his body apart, Evan knows that this moment is as serious for Tommy as it was for Evan earlier. “Yeah,” Buck rasps, unable to stop himself from grinding his hips against Tommy. “Please do so.” “I’m not going to,” Tommy replies softly. OR. Tommy wants Evan to understand just how in love with him he is. Chapters: 1 Rating: E Warnings: n/a

i'll be here (and you can lay by my side) :

Chapters: 2/? Rating: E Warnings: graphic depictions of violence

When Tommy has to look back on this weekend in the years that come to pass, he won’t have the words to express how things went from so right, to so wrong. He’ll struggle to even find a way to comprehend the trauma inflicted by having his soul shredded right in front of his face and absolutely unable to prevent it. And at its worst, he won’t even have words to explain it all. OR. part 3.

Multi-Chapter Stories

your arson's match, my somber smile (the love of my life): Chapters: 4/? Rating: n/a (subject to change) Warnings: graphic depictions of violence

In that moment, the nanosecond in which he had crystal clarity, only one thing mattered to him. As his feet finally slipped out from under him, just before the warped metal came swinging down at another angle, he looked Bobby in the eyes. “Tell Tommy I love him.” And then the world was black.

guilty as sin (i choose you and me, religiously): Chapters: 1/2 Rating: T Warnings: n/a

Buck and Tommy's first kiss, as told through Tommy's POV.

Never Til Now (Rolling Up The Welcome Mat) Chapters: 5/? Rating: M (for themes) Warnings: n/a

"Maybe there’s something about tangibility, about holding the real thing versus just the idea of it, but it cracks something open in him that hasn’t existed in a long time. Because all of a sudden, he can’t imagine not having this. Not getting to see Evan like this, every day. And it’s barely been thirty seconds." - In March 2025, with plans to propose, Tommy realizes Evan wants kids. the problem is, Tommy doesn't. In November of the same year, in a happenstance exchange, he meets their baby girl. (OR, we take a trip through a dual timeline in which the idea and reality of having kids drives Evan and Tommy apart, and then brings them back together.)

The Devil Doesn't Bargain Chapters: 12/? Rating: E Warnings: Rape/Non-con, Self-harm, Suicidality (discussed and attempted), PTSD, Anxiety, ALL THE TRIGGER WARNINGS

Tommy Kinard lived a whole life before he walked into Evan Buckley's life, and it's not one that he's offered up much of so far. Until Evan starts asking questions. Trigger warnings for sexual assault, abuse, and so forth.

you're the only one (who ever gave a damn) Chapters 2/2 Rating: M (for themes and mild sexual content) Warnings: Rape/Non-con

“I um… I don’t know,” he admits softly. “C’mon, Tommy,” Eddie replies. “No, not like that,” Tommy says, looking back up at Eddie. “Not like I don’t have a real excuse. I don’t know like…like I really don’t know, Eddie. I was drunk. I remember being at the bar with you and the other guys, and joking about you and Evan sparring the next time we were going to train, and then…” He pauses, shakes his head. “Nothing. I woke up in a house I didn’t recognize.” Eddie stares at him, coffee cup in hand and mouth slack, and Tommy waits for the judgment to come. He’s fully prepared for Eddie to tell him what a dick he his for going home with some other guy and having drunken sex. But Eddie doesn’t speak. Eventually, he’s quiet so long that it makes Tommy uncomfortable. “Look, I know you’re over there judging me-..” Eddie blinks a few times, shaking out of his reverie as he lowers his coffee mug to the counter. “Tommy, man, that’s not cheating,” he states matter-of-factly.

a set of empty bones chapters: 9/? rating: E warnings: rape/non-con, graphic depictions of violence

“You’re not even paying attention right now,” he growls. “Look, Eddie,” Evan tries, lifting his hands up in surrender. Eddie’s eyes trail from his eyes down to his lips, his chest, and then back up at him, and Evan doesn’t like the way it feels. Something about the entire moment feels uncomfortable to him. Eddie sets the bowl on the counter and puts his hands on Evan’s ribs, pushing him back towards the fridge. “Eddie, man, what’re you doing,” Evan stammers nervously. BTHB: "you can scream all you want", lacerations, betrayal

Minis:

the rhythm of your heartbeat: Evan has night-terrors. Tommy has to contend with them.

you are the reason: post 709 buck/bobby conversation in which Buck makes it to Tommy's.

Connecting: 709 deleted scene. Evan is getting dressed before the medal ceremony, and Tommy's pretty sure he's going to make them late.

oceans deep, rivers wide: Evan has a realization after a work incident. Tommy concurs. burn it to the ground: Tommy knew the first time he kissed Evan Buckley he was burning his whole life to the ground.

for a thousand years (and a thousand more): In which Tommy tells Evan what it was like falling in love with him. 30 Day Fluff Challenge: Concept list found here

Prompt Minis: here

Others/Oneshots:

something stronger than me (i can hardly stand up, i can hardly breathe): Chapters: 1/1 Rating: E (for language) Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, TW: Self-harm, TW: Suicidal ideation

It had been years since he’d been down this low. At least, that’s how he’d been presenting it to others. But in the darkness of his apartment, where his boyfriend couldn’t see his legs because their schedules were conveniently not aligning ever since Gerrard’s arrival…his thighs were coated in fresh wounds.

The Saboteur: Chapters: 1/1 Rating: M (for language) Warnings: TW: homophobic language, TW: harrassment

Five times Tommy Kinard is faced with having to file a complaint against Vincent Gerrard, following his reinstatement at the 118.

take me to the other side Chapters: 1/1 Rating: E (for themes) Warnings: n/a

“So what’s on your mind,” Tommy asks him. “Are you imagining a specific scene? Or a particular want you’re thinking about?” “Not a scene, necessarily,” Evan says, twiddling his thumbs. He’s struggling to piece together the words in the right way to convey what he’s actually wanting. “Okay,” Tommy says, accepting his answer. When Evan doesn’t speak again right away, Tommy prompts him. “I want…?” Evan gulps. “I want…I-i want you to t-t-tie me up."

you're the only one (in the dark, i see) Chapters: 1/1 Ratings: T (for language) Warnings: n/a

He closes the door behind Tommy, his hand still resting on the handle for a beat as he stares at Tommy’s back. He wants answers, and if this is his last chance to get them, then God damn it, Evan’s going to get them. - Tommy breaks up with Evan after Gerrard's return to the 118. Evan is not okay with this decision.

BuckTommy Week 2024

Day 1, Date Night: Rating: General

clay wheels and no ghosting: Tommy and Evan attempt ceramics and talk about things.

Day 2, Emergency: Rating: M (suggestive language)

Under the Weather: Evan and Tommy fall ill

Day 3, Bad Weather Days Rating: M (Graphic Depictions of Violence) Chapters: 2/2 its hurting (but it ain't dead) : Tommy is pissed. No one called him to ask him if he was cool with this idea, and it really doesn’t matter to him in the moment that they didn’t actually have to. It was Evan. They had allowed his boyfriend to put himself in the line of fire without bothering to even ask if that was something he was alright with. He wasn’t even forewarned; just showed up to a scene where they’d been asked to send extra support in plain clothes. But if he’d known…oh, if he’d known…

[vsaintsin]

Writeblr Re-Intro

Yo! I'm V Saintsin. Or V or Vin or Saintsin or whatever you want to call me that sounds right on your tongue. I'm a self-proclaimed Social Media fumbler who got a late start to the party and has never quite figured it out. I hate how hipster and edgy it sounds to say "I'm bad at social media" but like I used to work with some people who actually managed the social media accounts for the business we worked for and there were rules and whatnot and damn, I think online media is just not my medium. That being said, here I am! Hah

I'm an author and general mess who's hoping to be the miracle man (somebody who makes a living writing silly little stories). I do use a pseudonym but please hear me out when I say I didn't realize how edgy it sounds, it just has some sentimental value to my personal life. I'm so sorry that I sound like I'm in my emo phase HAHA

About me -

He/Him Transguy from the American Midwest (arguably the south, depending on who you talk to, but the older people still say "Sodi-pop" and "ope").

I'm dysautonomic, bendy, permanently sleepy, and a survivor of Crappy Doctors Who Suck At Doctoring.

I like DnD, Pathfinder, Baldur's Gate 3, Cyberpunk, Dragon Age, and other things in that vein.

I do make art of my stories and characters (Tablet is currently not working so I'm in a dry spell).

My writing background is predominantly ancient, dusty RPs from as far back as the foopets days and fanfic writing on Quizilla - I am an old and wizened elder of the net.

My formal education was music performance and behavioral neuroscience, I don't really know how I got where I am.

This is not my first rodeo with tumblr but it is the first time I have anything to SAY instead of just lurking.

In the event of malfunction, you can put me outside for 5 minutes and I'll probably factory reset.

My existence as I know it hinges on a massive number of sticky notes plastered throughout my room.

What I'm lookin' for -

Idk, whatever? I'm down for most things. Did you write it? Cool, let me see. I'm not too bent on genre or anything, just fascinated by the art of storytelling.

A bit tentative with fanfiction but that's just because if it's not a fandom I'm familiar with I am rather clueless about what the hell is going on and if it's a fandom I am familiar with I HUNT DOWN THE DEEP LORE.

I like art a whole lot, including fanart. Also art advice, love seeing things from different perspectives and learning something new.

Mutuals, really, for any reason. Building better connections on here, getting to know people. I am hideously bad at this but I try.

What I write -

Science Fiction with heavy subjects that matter to me - trigger warnings on a story-by-story basis.

High Fantasy (eventually books I think?) characters and their backgrounds for DnD and Pathfinder - I have been tempted to share these to help people get ideas or just for free use?

Things that I delete because I have crippling imposter syndrome and publishing makes me nauseous (doin' it tho).

Stories that I hope will make people feel less alone or that people could relate to, stories that I wish I had when life was worse and I was reaching out for anything I could find to keep me afloat, stories that try to be critical of things that SUCK in a way that's any helpful.

Lots of curse words and cussing (that's just how people talk 'round here), dubious science, things that I hope might make you cry but in a good way though.

Character-Driven stories that revolve more around the development of the person and less around the plot itself if that makes sense.

I've put blurb things below for my primary project/series which features a grumpy, queer, 37-year old chain smoking Frenchman and his misadventures with life and love and unbridled rage. If any of that sounds cool stick around and hang out? (This part is a plug bc I did a thing and I'm proud of it) And if my books sounds interesting the first one is 99 cents on Kindle and you just need a phone and a free app to read it!

THE SECRET OF LIFE (Published) - Sci-Fi/Psychological Thriller, Bi M Lead, Lovers to Enemies, AI but the oldschool cool kind not the real world thing that's stealing our future

Carlisle-Trystan Antoinette is a mercenary on a hard road, navigating life and death itself in an infinite cycle started by powers above his understanding. He has one mission - warn The Dianican Space Station of the coming threat and put a stop to a war that would encapsulate the whole of the Sol System before it can ever begin. Unfortunately for Carlisle, reality is a tenuous thing, made up only by our understanding of it. At least, according to his Psychiatrist, who tells him that there is no war, that he was never a mercenary, and that what Carlisle is experiencing is a severe but manageable psychotic break. Stripped of his combat enhancements, his bio monitor, and everything he's every known, Carlisle has a decision to make. Does he give in to the thoughts and memories, so real that he can almost taste them, or does he live a life of comfort and ease, returning to a husband and daughter that he left behind?

TWs: Domestic and War Violence, suicide, rape, medical trauma, grief, drug use

THE SILENCE OF ANGELS (Due 2024, TSoL 2) - Betrayal and Rage, Learning how to love again slow-burn romantic subplot, Learning how to Dad, A general inability for any one thing to just go right

(Quick Rough Blurb that offers no spoilers for TSoL) Making connections isn't easy for somebody who's accustomed to burning bridges. Isolation has always been Carlisle's mantra for surviving his life. Playing a role comes second nature, pretending to be the man that everyone else wants to see in him. When an old friend is murdered Carlisle finds himself as the primary suspect with all evidence pointing to him so clearly that even he calls to question what he is capable of. Unwilling to believe that he could commit such a heinous crime, Carlisle sets off to find the truth of his friend's death - was Carlisle framed or does he truly have the capacity to bring such harm upon those he loves? Old and new bonds will be tested, faith broken, and the future of everyone called into question as lines are drawn and sides are picked.

TWs: Violence, mentions of SA, graphic character death, more grief, more death

I don't know what else to say... Later!

[macabrecake]

Devilish Intentions

➛ Pairing: Incubus!Leon S. Kennedy x Female! Reader

➛ Warning: Just pure smut and demon shit meaning- minors back off

➛ Note: I've been dead on here for so long and I'm really sorry about that so hopefully this little treat I had saved in my W.I.P.'s makes up for it! Everyone please stay safe and Happy Halloween! 🎃

"Mmh, Leon!~"

Another breathy whimper emits, earning you a low dangerous chuckle from the demon towering over you, before his claws dig deeper into the sweet, supple flesh of your hips and slides into you again. Hitting that sensitive spot inside you once more.

The gasp that escapes you is sudden as your hands frantically latch onto his blackened arms in a feeble attempt to keep yourself grounded, and shyly peek up at the beast.

In all his breathtaking glory.

The thin layer of sweat covering his beautifully toned body that moves with enigmatic vigor. Casting him in a light shimmer that mirrors the subtle shine of the ebony horns resting atop his head, abound with locks of sand blonde fringes that softly flutter with every little groan and huff that utters from soft pale rose lips. Hellfire red irises hold your gaze from the depths of night filled eyes. Clearly proud by what he sees.

Don't be shy.

Please keep looking at him.

He loves your eyes.

They confess so much to him. How good he's doing, how badly you need him. Your moans, your wails, and all your sweet melodies in between keep him alive. However, eye contact satiates his hunger the most. And he's starving for more.

Leon's eyes travel downward to take in the view of your breasts bouncing with every steady thrust he sends into your weeping hole. Unable to stop from pulling his bottom lip between his fangs in a smirk at how prominent his marks stain your skin. Evidence of his possessive nature. He doesn't care though, the different pink, purple, and red hues look so stunning on you. A gorgeous painting of his own design.

But the real masterpiece is what he sees when he looks down…

There.

The points where you both connect with a rhythmic slap. Where your shared arousals splatter every time his throbbing cock disappears back into your soft pink slit. Amplifying just how truly wet your cunt sounds. That's what gets him to moan with delight, what sends his demonic wings trembling with glee. You wrap so nice and tight around him. Almost too small for him in fact, given how a slight bulge appears in your lower belly every time he sinks back inside you.

Leon's eyes light up even brighter at the sight, almost deranged with excitement. Because holy fuck that's hot.

You're in shambles.

A perfect mess.

All for him.

He praises you for that, by leaning down to place his lips upon the hollow of your throat. Teeth like his close to such a vital area should scare you. Yet it only sends a blissful shiver down your spine and makes you let go of another airy moan. Leon hums at that, feeling your sound vibrate against his lips.

"Louder my little dove." He utters sweetly into your heated flesh before his lips work their way up to yours, so close to kiss you yet still so far away, and releases a hoarse whisper. He can't hold himself back any longer, and he knows your coil is close to snapping as well.

"Let Heaven and Hell know how good I make you feel."

Who are you to deny such a request? Especially when he's not exactly giving you a choice. Leon's large hands creep down from your hips to cup your ass, then lifts you a few inches off the bed. And abruptly pounds your dripping pussy harder. Driven with animalistic need as he heavily pants into your ear.

The new angle and speed hits so many spots inside you with such precision it pulls the most euphoric scream from your shuddering frame that clings to him for dear life. The demon doesn't mind one bit. That sound is what he'll commit to memory as he squishes you close to his body.

Leon never let's go, even when you cum. And you cum hard around his heavy cock, gushing all over him and onto the sheets beneath you. A growl rumbles within his chest at your walls clamping down on him so tightly. He can't stop himself from burying his face in the crook of your neck with another harsh bite while he brutally fucks you through your orgasm. Promptly earning him a squeal at your release being drawn out. "Ah!~ Oh F-uck Leon!"

You sound so cute like that.

Leon practically purrs into your skin when his own high is finally reached, making him go still and lightly shudder. Your quiet whimper tells him all he needs to know. You're completely stuffed. So full to the point his cum will ooze out of your visibly pumping cunt once he pulls out. He smirks rather proudly at that, knowing that'll be such a pretty sight to behold.

But he doesn't move yet, not wanting to disturb the way your smaller frame embraces him, like he's your favorite teddy bear. Leon can't help but smile at that and softly bump his nose against yours, "Did I break you, sweetheart?" His sultry tone rumbles out rather teasingly. Letting his smile burst into a sharp toothed grin at the sound of your tired little breathless giggle, "Maybe a little."

The warm sound of a chuckle resonates from Leon as he rewards you with a small but loving kiss, allowing his wings to furl around you while he holds you close, fending off the autumn chill that sweeps through this blissful Halloween night. With his hunger now greatly satiated, all he wants to do now is hide his treasure from the world.

Hell will not have you, and Heaven doesn't deserve you.