#if this doesn’t make sense uh i’m sick so that’s why

[sleepiestslooth]

saw this tweet and it made me think about how gentle lloyd’s teachings skills are and how too easy he was on arin

to me i feel like lloyd needs to learn he has to be more critical and “mean” to arin and let him figure things out on his own without the constant “you can do it i believe in you! :)” assurance because it doesn’t tell arin what to do to actually fix his issues with learning complete spinjitzu or using his object spinjitzu

remembering how wu treated the ninja in the early seasons he was always very critical of them and constantly reminded them of how important it was that they figure out how to master their powers and how to improve them. as funny as it is to poke fun at how wu was always super vague and secretive about things for the most part that’s what inevitably always helped the ninja understand how to master abilities on their own little to no guidance

egalt’s critical and harsh teachings is what eventually helped nya and kai figure out how to do the rising dragon technique on their own without constant reassurance that it’s fine if they mess up. because them constantly messing up the technique wasn’t fine- they were on a time crunch and they needed to learn quickly which led to nya comparing it to an old game they use to play together and using that to help guide kai into completing the technique

arin being taught with ras’s lesson was the thing that got him to fully understand how to do proper spinjitzu and i can’t blame him for being sour with lloyd about it when he was amazed by his ability to do it

in some circumstances whoever is the teacher needs to add some level of stress to the task at hand and not coddle their student in order for them to learn what they need to do to fix whatever issue it is that’s plaguing them, which is the opposite of what lloyd is doing

he’s being too nice to arin, sparing his feelings and not giving criticism where it’s needed in order for arin to figuring it out by himself. this constant need to reassure arin that everything, including his failures, is alright was the exact thing holding him back from understand what he needed to learn

[tacticalprincess]

a/n i need him in ways that wouldve gotten me lobotomized in the 50s…

himbo!könig wanted your first time together to be special. after all the months of work he put in getting you to take him seriously, all of his dumb attempts at courting you, he wasn’t going to fumble his chances with you now.

he’s usually pretty confident in himself, almost to the point of delusion, but something about you makes him so nervous, and he can’t wrap his head around someone like you genuinely being interested in a goofy guy like him :( that’s why he misses all of the opportunities you give him to fuck you, always taking your hints and attempts at seducing him the wrong way…

“it’s so hot in here, köni.” “are you getting sick, liebchen? should i turn the air on?” “no, i think i’m wearing too many clothes…” “…you don’t look overdressed to me.”

at some point you start to question if he actually does want you in that way. but the way even the slightest touch from you has him popping boners is enough to shake you out of those doubts. everything about you seems to turn him on. he’s convinced you were plucked straight from his wettest dreams, and he can’t stand to be in close proximity to you for too long without being affected. but he thinks he hides it well enough— always covering the proof of his arousal with a subtle pillow over his lap whenever you’re around.

of course he wants to make the move, but he wants to do it properly. it happens the night he takes you to a small town carnival. he planned on kissing you on top of the ferris wheel, but he unfortunately surpassed the weight limit. instead he holds your hand on the rollercoasters and you feed each other fair food. he insists on stopping at every game until he’s won you too many stuffed animals for you to carry and eventually you’re forced to leave.

he’s shaking in his boots by the time you get back to his place, tripping over the mess on his floor and stumbling over his words. sensing his hesitancy, you’re the one to lead him to his room, your hand wrapped around his large finger.

“are you sure, maus? we don’t have to, i have DVDs–”

“shut up and fuck me, köni.” you huff, already fully naked and exposed on his bed. “please.”

he plans to take it slow, he really does. getting the chance to please you, to be let inside your hot body for the first time, is a privilege he doesn’t take lightly. he wants you both to savor it, he has to make it good for you :(

instead, he absolutely loses himself the moment his fat, pulsing cock sinks into your gummy cunt. he goes full caveman, your headboard slamming against the wall with the force of his thrusts for all your poor neighbors to hear :( all thoughts leave him when he’s sheathed inside of you except for how perfect your sopping pussy feels around him, borderline animalistic as he uses your smaller body as a fleshlight. the sounds of his heavy balls smacking against your ass accompanied by your pretty whines and moans only spur him on.

he fucks you in missionary so it’s more intimate, but there’s nothing romantic about the way he’s mounting you. you thank god for making you flexible as he’s pushing your knees up to your ears, seemingly trying to push his cock deeper than your small cunny has room for, stretching your poor cunt past its limit. you swear you can feel him all the way in your stomach, mushroom tip bruising your cervix with each thrust.

you don’t even notice you’re sobbing until he does. “are you okay, liebe? does it hurt?” he asks through heavy pants. “fuck, i’m sorry. i don’t think i can stop myself, you just— you feel so fucking good. you’re so… warm… squeezing me so tight. just- just hang in there for me, ja?”

your brain can’t work for long enough to form words, rough thrusts drawing nothing but high pitched staccato “uh-uh-uh”’s from your throat. you’re drunk on the feeling of his thick cock splitting you open, the way his heavy body squishes yours, barricading you in so you’re completely engulfed by him. his hairy stomach ruts against your sensitive, puffy clitty until you’re clenching around him, your sudden orgasm draining the cum out of his tight balls. “so good. fuck, you’re so perfect. best pussy i’ve ever felt.” he fucks you through the high, mindlessly overstimulating you both until you have to physically push him off of you.

you might’ve created a monster…

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 14: Sickfic

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Sickfic (🌼)

Summary: Matt doesn't like admitting when he's sick, but his behavior says more than a thousand words.

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of vomiting, sickfic (the flu, to be more precise), Matt being a mess, established relationship, mentions of nudity (nothing sexual, but Matt's Devil is on display)

Word Count: 1.1k

A/n: I always wonder what it would be like for Matt when he gets sick because my senses are out of whack when I'm sick, so he must be in hell, right?

Read Me On AO3!

Matt Murdock doesn’t get sick.

At least, that’s what he tries to tell himself. 

His immune system is strong, and people with a strong immune system don’t get sick. Except, his logic is incredibly flawed, and when he does get sick, he refuses to admit it until he’s quite literally on the brink of death. You’ve learned this the hard way over the years; he turns into a feverish, disoriented, ridiculous man-child whenever he’s down with something.

The door falls shut behind you, a bag from the local pharmacy in one hand and chicken broth take-out in the other. Matt managed to catch himself the flu—again. You told him that is what he gets for going out in the dead of night, but he never learns.

“Honey, I’m home!” you sing. 

Though instead of finding your boyfriend wrapped in a burrito of blankets in bed, where he should be, he’s standing in the middle of the living room, trying to wrestle the Daredevil suit over his clammy skin. So far, he has only managed to get half of it on, and—oh no, why—his pants are on the floor. No pants, and yes, no underwear. 

From the looks of it, he is as hot as he is cold.

“Uh,” you frown, “hello? What the hell are you doing out of bed?”

“I have to–” Matt tries to catch his breath, failing to find the opening in the fabric. “The city. The city needs me.”

He’s so congested you would have laughed at him any other day, but not today. 

“Nuh-uh. Your bed needs you,” you retort. “And for God’s sake, Matt, put your pants back on!”

He tugs on the suit again, but it’s like watching a toddler trying to put on a pair of socks. He’s too weak, too sweaty, and too feverish to even know which way is up.

“I don’t… need pants,” Matt argues.

“Yes, you do.” You put the bags down by the coffee table and grab his boxers off the floor. “Normally, I don’t mind seeing you naked, but you’re sick, and sick people need pants.”

He frowns at you, head tilting in your direction. “No… Is someone knocking?” 

You pause, trying not to laugh. “That’s my heartbeat.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

His hand drifts up toward your chest on autopilot, and the moment his fingers brush against the swell of your breast, you stop him. “That’s my boob,” you say.

God, he’s exhausting. If you didn’t love him so much you would turn around and run. The last time he tore off all his clothes, he ended up on the roof while it was snowing, trying to cool off. It sounded as though he was holding a seance, and you swore you would never make the mistake of leaving the rooftop access open again, not when he’s sick and doesn’t know what he’s doing. His senses get cloudy, and he starts to hallucinate. 

Fun times.

Matt’s hand stays there for a moment. “Soft,” he murmurs.

The groping stage is new, but you find it more endearing than anything. You take his hand away. “Remember what I said?”

“No?”

“Underwear,” you tell him, lips curling into a smile, “Then straight to bed.”

He retreats like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“Alright, come on. You’re dizzy.” You start to guide him toward the bedroom. Maybe you can finally convince him to get some rest. 

“No, I’m not—” Matt takes one wobbly step and immediately starts to tip forward, legs giving out underneath him.

You catch him just in time, which is a feat because he is heavy, keeping him from face-planting into the coffee table. “Yep. Definitely dizzy,” you say.

He groans. Happens every time. “I don’t get sick,” he insists.

You drag him over to the bed. “You sure about that?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Sure.” You lower him down on the mattress, and for the first time today, he lets you. “Let me just get you your medicine, okay?”

“No!” he whines. 

“Yes.”

He makes a face like a petulant child. “Tastes bad.”

You sigh. “Do I need to wrap it in peanut butter for you?”

He doesn’t answer, just grumbles something unintelligible. You grab the bag from the living room and the jar of peanut butter from the kitchen. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” you scoop up a spoonful of peanut butter, “I have a dog.”

But it’s the only way he will take the cough syrup. It’s the only way he will swallow the bitter taste of the ibuprofen. And it is the only way Matt will even eat something when he’s sick. “Eat this,” you say, “and I’ll let you go back to sleep.”

Matt, still half-delirious, opens his mouth obediently, taking the spoon into his mouth. “It’s not even… that good,” he says.

Liar. You chuckle. “Lie back, c’mon.”

The bed creaks under your weight as you climb in beside him, pulling the covers up and over him. He hesitates, torn between telling you for the hundredth time that he is not sick, and he never gets sick, and just melting into your embrace like a candle on its last bit of wax. His body aches, his cheeks are burning, and he can barely breathe without breaking into a fit of toe-curling coughs. He’s miserable, and he has to admit it. He has to admit it so he can rest—so you can get your boyfriend back.

He loves you to death. 

You brush your fingers through his messy hair. “Come here,” you say.

Matt presses his face against your chest. “I hate being sick,” he says.

It is the most honest he has been all day.

“I know.” You press a kiss to the top of his head. “You’ll feel better soon, I promise.”

“Don’t wanna get you sick.”

“Shh,” you shush him. “Just rest, baby. I’ve got you.”

He clings to you, his breathing finally starting to even out. He snores, and he wheezes, but he falls asleep, finally, still holding onto you like his life depends on it, and you are right where you need to be.

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @ethereal-blaze @littleagxs @ravenclaw617 @lucienofthelakes @steve-chandler

[loveinhawkins]

ao3

A gnawing sense of foreboding creeps up on Steve as they head to Eddie’s trailer, armed with weapons.

He tries to outrun it through action: ensuring he’s the first one to go through the Gate; jumping back and forth between The Upside Down and their world whenever someone forgets something, “It’s okay, I’ve got it!”; triple checking that the cables for Eddie’s amps are long enough; searching for the slightest thing than seizing upon it with an enthusiasm bordering on desperate, “Hey, we could use this, right? Better take it, just in case.”

But that only works for so long, and then Steve’s just standing in Eddie’s kitchen, the real one, staring blankly at the cupboards, all out of distractions.

Out of time.

He hears a grunt of exertion behind him, then an unsteady landing, a muffled curse. Eddie.

“Jesus Christ, Steve. Wanted to fit your aerobics routine in?”

He’s teasing, so light-hearted despite it all; Steve can’t stand it.

Keeps his back turned, gut twisting, opening the cupboards then slamming them shut, thump, thump. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for. He never has.

“Uh, so I was thinking,” Eddie continues, like Steve’s not doing anything weird, “that I could stretch out the, um, the song? My playing? Could buy you some more time, anyway.”

“Sure, great,” Steve says shortly.

He thinks—with a numb kind of calm—that he’s going to be sick.

He gets to the bathroom, tries to shut the door, but his grip slips on the handle.

Turns on the faucet, scoops cold water from his hands into his mouth, and it helps until it doesn’t, until he’s almost choking on it, and he’s been here before, the feeling familiar: a shadow looming over him, just waiting, waiting, and he knows it’ll pass, it always does, but he can’t stop thinking of Robin, it might not work out for us this time, and what if, what if—

He can hear Eddie knocking on the doorframe, just out of view—as if he’d seen Steve’s failed attempt at shutting the door and wanted to respect it.

“Hey, man, you okay?” Then Eddie mutters to himself, “Obviously not, get a fucking clue.”

Steve’s laugh is strangled but real. He wipes his mouth dry and shuts off the water.

“You don’t need to talk to a wall, dude,” he says.

And Eddie steps into view, leans against the open door. His eyes flicker across Steve’s face, and Steve doesn’t want to know what he’s noticed, so when Eddie opens his mouth hesitantly, he speaks first.

“We should—they’re gonna wonder where we are.”

Eddie pauses on the verge of speech; Steve watches him reevaluate whatever he was going to say.

“Well,” Eddie says, gesturing to the bathroom, matter-of-fact, “we could be peeing.”

Steve manages a chuckle. “You’re an idiot.”

Eddie grins like he’s saying yup, that’s me, like he’s won a prize.

Steve has seen him wear something close to that expression not even an hour ago: when the kids had started a line to use the bathroom in the RV, and Eddie had snorted, giggled with a childish kind of delight, “You—ha! You all look like you’re on a field trip,” before joining the line himself—calling out that he hoped their plan accounted for bathroom breaks because, “There’s no way I’m pissing in the alternate dimension,” and that had made Nancy break, laughing in a way Steve was certain he hadn’t heard since ‘83.

Eddie steps into the room and shuts the door quietly. Steve gets why: his breathing’s still all wrong, and if Dustin happened to see him, he doesn’t think he’d ever forgive himself.

“Sorry.” Steve sucks in a breath, tries to hold it. Loses it in an exhale that shudders at the edges. He speaks through the tail end of it, hoping that’s enough to conceal the sound, “Gimme, like, two minutes.”

“Make it ten,” Eddie says.

The way he says it makes it seem like it’s already a done deal; he must’ve spoken to Robin and Nancy before he tumbled through the Gate.

Despite himself, Steve feels a wave of relief: just for a little while, he has time; it overpowers the shame, leaves him sinking down to sit on the closed toilet seat.

He closes his eyes, just breathes. In… out… in…

He doesn’t realise that Eddie’s sitting down, too, until he hears the clunk of his boots, the rustle of clothing as he moves.

“Sorry,” Steve says again, and it annoyingly still comes out a little shaky, like he’s in the pool and he’s left it too long to snatch a breath. “You can go back, man, I’ll… I’ll be right there.”

He opens his eyes to see Eddie shaking his head, sat with his back against the bathtub.

“Stop apologising,” Eddie says, and then it’s as if the seriousness of it is too much for him, because he adds, with a self-deprecating smile that Steve hates, “I get it. You’re walking into the dragon’s lair, I’m just putting on a concert.”

“Don’t,” Steve says, and he doesn’t intend for the word to come out as sharp as it does, but that doesn’t change the fact that he means it. He means it.

Eddie’s smile fades.

“Don’t,” Steve repeats, quieter. Not quite an apology.

Slowly, he moves off the toilet seat, until he’s sat next to Eddie. There’s just enough space that they don’t need to touch, but Steve presses his shoulder against Eddie’s anyway, like he can somehow pass on everything he means through that alone.

Eddie sighs, presses back for just a second. “Don’t what?” he asks. He sounds tired all of a sudden.

“Don’t—don’t joke like that,” Steve says. “Like you’re not—” He swallows. “Like it’s not dangerous.”

There’s a pause. Eddie reaches across and puts a hand on Steve’s knee. Squeezes briefly and pulls back; already Steve finds that he misses the warmth of him.

“Hey, don’t worry,” Eddie says. There’s no joke in this, not a trace. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to Dustin.” Another smile. Gentle. “Swear on his mother.”

I’m not worried about that, Steve wants to say, but of course that’s not true; he’s tried hard not to look at Dustin directly ever since they arrived at the trailer, because his throat would start to close up alarmingly whenever his gaze lingered, and he knows the kid’s doing that whole semi-aloof teenager thing lately, but a part of him still wants to hold him tight and never let go.

It’s more that the shape of Steve’s worry is different to what he thinks Eddie’s imagining, covers more than Dustin’s safety alone—that the cold dread in his stomach brings him back to the tunnels in ‘84; to clutching Dustin, who was so small, Steve desperately trying to shield him with his own body, thinking the kid’s thirteen, only thirteen, this isn’t fucking fair; and that if this had to end one way, all he could do was pray that he’d be the only one to…

And Steve hadn’t wanted to die, but he was suddenly facing it anyway, and Christ, looking back at it, that was crazy, the whole damn thing was crazy, but it all made a twisted kind of sense at the time.

Eddie must spot that his train of thought’s gone down a dark alley because he knocks their knees together, but he doesn’t say anything. Just breathes, slumped against the bathtub; it’s probably the first time he’s been still—truly still—in a long while.

He must be exhausted, Steve thinks.

The gnawing feeling digs in, grips his heart.

“I can hear you thinking,” Eddie says quietly. “Listen, Steve, I know I’m new to, uh… all of this shit, but I’m on it, okay? Got it all up in here,” he taps the side of his head, “trust me—”

That’s not what—I trust you, of fucking course I do, but—

“—no deviations, and—”

“Plans change,” Steve says, and he hears himself, the calm decisiveness, just get ready; Dustin’s scream carrying across the junkyard, Steve, abort, abort! “Just… just promise me.”

“Promise you?” Eddie murmurs.

Steve feels the words on his tongue, the weight of them. Don’t do anything stupid. 

He swallows them down—afraid suddenly that if he really puts a name to it, it’s going to happen.

Fuck it, he’s exhausted too, and for a long moment he evades speaking: gingerly rests his head on Eddie’s shoulder. Feels his body heat, the swell of his breathing.

Eddie doesn’t tense up, just lets him rest there. 

If I kissed you, Steve thinks, drained, would you stay?

He doesn’t say it. Instead he lifts his head and asks, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Eddie chuckles. They’re still so close, Steve can feel his amused sigh.

“Tomorrow? I’ve not really… like, hopefully I’m not in jail. Anything else is a bonus.”

“We’ll fix it,” Steve says fiercely. “Trust me.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Eddie says, grinning fondly, but he sounds genuine. “Shit, man, I think you could do anything.” He gestures outside. “Got the fucking dream team out there.”

“We solved a secret Russian code last summer.”

Eddie laughs. “Did you?” His eyes sparkle with mirth.

You’re beautiful.

“Gospel truth, I swear,” Steve says. He tries to stay light, but he makes the vow anyway. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

I have so much to tell you.

They stand up, and Steve doesn’t know who’s the first one to move—just that they both probably sensed the time dwindling.

And maybe it’s that, the inescapable thought that something’s coming to an end that does it. Steve doesn’t know for sure, just knows that his eyes are burning suddenly—mortifyingly���with tears. He looks up at the ceiling, hurriedly trying to push them back, but Eddie notices anyway.

“Steve, what is it?” he whispers, with a look of utter devastation.

Steve shakes his head. “Just being stupid,” he says, voice brittle, cutting himself off before he can say something ridiculous.

God, Eddie, let’s just stay here and grow old.

“You’re not stupid,” Eddie says, heartfelt—he stops just short of touching Steve; he clearly wants to help so badly, but he doesn’t know how.

Steve wants to tell him it’s fine. He doesn’t know either.

Maybe nothing can help this.

They leave for the Gate in unspoken agreement; at first Steve finds comfort in the sight of Eddie dangling on the rope, not quite in either world. Like every possibility is laid out before him.

I’ll tell you tomorrow.

But there’s a near imperceptible shift as Eddie keeps climbing, and Steve needs to look away, anything to avoid the pit in his stomach: the suspicion that the path’s already been chosen.

[shutupineedtothink]

More ep 7 thoughts, now that I’ve watched it twice and processed 🫠

Bookending the episode with Lilia’s fall but first it’s down and then it’s up - sick, twisted, beautiful, devastating, I’m crying

The soundtrack really goes hard in this ep

The wildest part about the “ex best friend” line is all of those things are equally insane - ex, ex best friend, or best friend. Like ma’am what hex were you living in

Babysitter is likely a reference to the comics, but interesting also in terms of WV because we saw Agatha babysit the twins only once I think. Does this mean she actually spent more time with them than we know?

Wow once again Kathryn Hahn is doing so much work in this first scene with Billy, she’s going from snarky to wary to calculating to hurt to i don’t even know. She’s doing a masterclass in face acting.

When they start to climb toward the castle, Agatha has her hands clasped behind her back and initially I was just like ma’am, why are you like this, but then I realized oh. Her hands are tied right now.

Waning moon for the Crone trial babyyyyyy called it

Fun and fast transition to get us into the trial, since we know the deal by now

She’s based on me you know — sooooo, tragic, misunderstood, secretly suffering her whole life, constantly judged by others, uh huh uh huh

Prove it - he really doesn’t believe a word she says! And she looks so hurt by it!

The way Agatha sits in the chair omg girl please chill

This is such like an Indiana Jones trap I love it

God I love Lilia’s visions, changing the perspective to hers, the blurring around the edges - sometimes you don’t need to do much, but it’s hella effective

Actually a lot of good camera tricks in this ep I’m not going to point them all out

It’s about limiting beliefs baybeee - once again the writers showing they know their psych

I’m sorry that tea leaves to the underground transition??? Spectacular

“Well tell me what more I should see when I look at you. No, I mean it” - hey nonviolent communication, how’s it going 🤌

God can you imagine how scary it would be to have these visions as a CHILD

Did you not see imminent impalement in your future?? Lol why did this get me

I get the fake nose on Agatha but idk maybe I could’ve done without it

Teenager his full name LOLOL underrated joke

Dory OMGGGGG

Jen being the ultimate Lilia champion this ep and I love it. Also seems to contradict her behavior even more in Agatha’s trial, but she’s still more snappy with Agatha here too

What are you wearing, I don’t wanna talk about it - bruh every line. EVERY LINE.

Did I mention the transitions are killer

Your task is not to control but to see. - I, I can’t keep writing down every line but

I love that as soon as Jen knows what’s going on, she’s totally on board, just asking Lilia for intel, like yep this is normal now

Ahhh the spell book. Interesting that Lilia finds it.

Ohp - I wish Lilia was here. Ask and you shall receive - see the Billy’s Road theory

She calls him baby again 😭

Is snappy dialogue one of my biggest joys on this earth? I think it is

Proper tarot takes time and care. And leads to large gaping wounds - …. You mean like internal wounds? Like trauma? Like you have to bring up the trauma to heal it? Uh huh uh huh cool cool cool cool you said it Agatha not me.

The Magician, the ability to turn all of your goals into reality - Agatha immediately side eyes him. Bruh.

I’m a forgotten woman. Then remember yourself. 🤌🤌🤌

I was falling. I will fall. - CAMERA. MOVEMENT.

What will you do with your remaining time 🤝 all we can do is decide what to do with the time that is given to us. Iykyk.

The subway baybeee get that House of R theory

God this tarot spread scene is so epic.

Ok Jen being the path ahead… I gotta come back to that

Agatha is the obstacle yep that makes sense (but the obstacle is the way)

Windfall - Billy, miraculous transformation uh yep ok

Destination - Death. Such a good reveal, even if I already knew it. Once again the power of good writing. In the end all roads lead to me. UGH WTF

NOT THE GREEN VINES SPELLING A BIG OL “R” WHEN THE DOORS OPEN

The original green witch…. Ok so she is in the coven… but also Billy’s in the coven? It’s a shared black heart? Or it means you can go one direction or the other… hm.

Ughghghghhh her just giving them each what they need before she sends them onward. She’s the GOAT.

Did I mention the music????

This whole scene is so EPIC. The tower upright fuck it up queen

Oh my God Lilia took her power back 😭

We didn’t see a body unlike Alice I’m holding onto that “see you at the end” lyric with all my might at this point

Time in a bottle was sick and twisted and beautiful I love it

I just… can’t believe this is something I got to witness. Like it’s so good I’m mad about it.

A few other quick thoughts:

Jen being the path ahead… if she was birth in the first trial (see my maiden mother crone trial theory), then maybe she’s also REbirth? It’s a circle sewn with fate… we’re going back to the beginning but emerging from the Road this time. Eh??

Patti…. PATTI!! Where’s her Emmy? Where’s the show’s Emmy???

Not only was this a better time travel plot than the rest of Marvel as I said in another post but it’s also better than time travel in Doctor Who for the last 10 years and that pisses me off low key.

Not to jump ahead but buckle up kids cuz if we’re following the loose structure of WandaVision then ep 8 is our flashback/reliving the trauma episode for Agatha and as much as I was destroyed by this ep I am so not ready for all of that.

Anyway. What a masterpiece. I’m DONE.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 22

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

A man shows up shortly after. You think it’s the judge but you vaguely recognise his thick gray hair and his stance. Steve greets him happily and introduces him as Bucky; the other witness. 

He nods at you and your mom as he crosses his arms and subtly checks his watch. He’s not dressed as nicely as Steve; he has no jacket but he wears a button-up and slacks. You wonder if he’s just as surprised by the whole affair or even if he has the context to be. 

Your mom and Steve barely know each other. It’s only been a few weeks since he moved in. Isn’t marriage supposed to be a big thing? Something you do after at least a few years. Well, how do you know? All you know of normal life, you learned from TV and everyone knows that’s not realistic. 

The judge arrives and introduces herself as the Honorable Valentina de Fontaine. Your vision is blurry as she begins by reading from a piece of paper. Is this how it really is? No romance, no fairy tale, just a stuffy city hall room and a judge with a script. You don’t know why it’s bothering you so much. 

It’s just too fast. It’s too surreal. It just doesn’t feel real. 

You can barely process the words as Steve and your mom stand before the judge. Their vows are lost to the void of your confusion. That man, Bucky, stands near, intently listening but showing no emotion. He senses you looking at him and gazes back at you. You quickly turn away and self-consciously pull at your dress. 

You don’t move until your asked to sign. You take the pen but have a hard time getting a grip on it. How strange it all is. You manage to sign your name on the paper to verify your presence and step back. The declaration of man and wife echoes in your ears. 

What does it all mean? Steve is... your stepfather now? Is he still going to live next door? Is he going to move in? Do you have to go? Where? What about your mom? She’s still sick. None of it makes sense. 

The judge congratulates the happy couple. The do seem happy. You bend your arms over your chest and clutch the sides of your neck. You chew your lip awkwardly as your mom and Steve beam at each other triumphantly. 

“Uh, right,” Steve snaps out of it, “so, we’re going to do lunch. How about it, Buck, you wanna join?” 

Bucky looks dully at his friend then glances at you. You notice how your mom clings to Steve’s hand. All of this is so fast and so much. 

“Sure, why not, I can drive this one,” Bucky says, “so you two love birds get at least the drive to yourself.” 

“You don’t gotta do that,” Steve smiles. 

“Don’t mind,” Bucky insists, “you two must be so excited.” 

“Honey,” your mother keeps her voice low, “it’s alright, they can meet us at the restaurant, right? I mean, we’ll need to talk about a few things on the way.” 

“Sure, uh, sure. There’s a reservation so you can just give my name,” Steve’s voice evens out, “see ya there. 

“Mm, sure. Starving anyway,” Bucky mutters and turns to you, “coming?” 

You look at the man then your mom Steve. Your mother gives you a look that says get out of here. Best that you don’t ruin the happiest day of her life. It truly does seem to be. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her anything close to elated but she’s just smiling and latched onto her husband. 

Her husband. 

You turn and follow the other man from the room. He slows his gait until you’re walking beside him. He’s quiet as you tread through the maze that is City Hall. As you get to the parking lot, he points you without a word. You go to a car and hear the locks slide back. 

You wait until he gets in the driver’s side before you open the passenger door. As you buckle in, he checks the mirror and turns the engine. He sighs. 

“Must be strange,” he comments as he reverses out, “new dad and everything, huh?” 

You’re quiet but make yourself eke out a noise, “mhmm.” 

“Sorry, I probably don’t make it any better,” he steers casually, “why don’t you save us both the trouble and find something to listen to?” 

He turns on the stereo with a button on the wheel and you flinch. You hesitantly lean forward and search the stations. You don’t want to make him listen to anything too out of his preference and you’re a bit too embarrassed to search for what you really like. You settle on a station with old songs you recognise vaguely. 

“Talking Heads, nice,” he comments. It takes you a moment to realises that’s the band’s name. 

You nod and look out the window. He doesn’t press further. He doesn’t try like Steve to manufacture the conversation. He just lets you be. You can appreciate that. You watch the buildings pass by and flutter your fingers against your legs. 

As the car pulls in behind a restaurant, you feel another lurch in your stomach. You’re both hungry and terrified. It’s a nice place and you’ve never been anywhere nicer than an Applebee’s. That was when you were eight and your grandmother took you out for your birthday. 

You let Bucky take the lead. He gets out, you get out. He crosses the lot, you cross the lot. Right there at his side. He’s a stranger, you don’t know him, but his presence is almost reassuring. He has a confidence you could never fathom. Besides, what choice do you have? 

You step inside and he steps ahead to meet the hostess. He gives Steve’s name and you trail after him as you’re led further inside. You see other diners dressed nicely for their meals. You look down at yourself and the faded polka dot dress. 

You sit and wait. You’re on edge, waiting for Bucky to say something, anything. To ask you a question. So what about your mom? You take care of her? She’s sick, huh? 

He lets you be and orders a coffee, asking if you want something at the same time. You just ask for water and sink into the chair. Your eyes wander over the floor and up another table. Another woman stares at you. You try to ignore her as the server nears and puts down the coffee and water, a small divet between his brows. 

As you sip, you hear your mom’s crow above the din. You glance over as she walks ahead of Steve. The settle in and order drinks as Bucky greets them. It all still feels so disjointed, like a dream. As if the little pieces of reality have been stuck together haphazardly. 

"There's the happy couple,” Bucky muses dryly. 

“Says the eternal bachelor,” Steve retorts, “sound jealous, huh?” 

“I’m quite happy, actually. Got my own space, my own bed, my own everything.” 

“Sure,” Steve chuckles, “sounds amazing.” 

“Any plans for the honeymoon?” Bucky asks though he sounds disinterested. 

“Probably will have to wait a while. For now, we’re just gonna sort things out,” Steve turns and looks at you, “you’re quiet, kiddo, what’s going on?” 

You shake your head and sit back as the server returns with a coffee for your mom and a grapefruit juice for Steve. You wait for him to leave but he doesn’t. You stare at the table and he clears his throat. You look up at the man as the table stills. 

“Excuse me, miss, um,” he keeps his voice low, “this is a nice establishment so I’m going to have to ask you to cover up.” 

You bite your lip and your eyes go wide, “what? I don’t...” 

“You can put a napkin over your chest,” he suggests. 

Steve lets out a heavy breath and your mother mutters under hear breath. 

“I...” you look down and try to pull your dress up, “I’m sorry.” 

“Here, take my jacket,” Steve stands strips off his jacket, offering it up. “Thanks, you can go.” 

You accept his coat with a quavery thank you and he sits after the terse dismissal. With your head down and your body on fire, you pull the jacket around your shoulders, hiding in it. It smells like his cologne. Your eyes tinge and you roll them back to keep from crying. 

“Wow, that was rude,” Steve says. 

“Well, she shouldn’t be wearing something so inappropriate,” your mother snorts. 

Bucky shifts awkwardly and you turn your face away, humiliated. 

“Her dress is just fine. That guy has no right to be commenting on her body. We’re paying customers,” Steve snarls, “makes me wanna just go.” 

“It’s okay,” you sniffle, “really.” 

“It’s not okay,” Steve insists. 

‘”Oh, honey, don’t be so dramatic,” you mother snickers, “if she didn’t want people to comment, she’d cover up.” 

Steve is quiet as Bucky sips from his coffee. He clinks it down and you wince. 

“I think you both should let her speak for herself,” he says bluntly, “and if she doesn’t wanna talk about it, move on.” 

You blink and slowly peek over at the man. He doesn’t glance back or even acknowledge you. He just sits back and swirls his mug. 

“I always hated places like this,” he scoffs. 

[shade-e-e-es]

Hours later, Doc is still fuming as he thinks of all the ways he should give it to that stinky mutt. To cool off he decides to go on a walk.

He quickly finds out it does not help. As is his nature as a creeper, he walks silently, ears perked for any sign of sound.

He picks up his pace as he hears the dull thud of someone chopping a tree. It’s either Etho or Beef making a project in the middle of the night.

Or it’s an intruder.

He’s hoping it’s an intruder because then he can attack something, as messed up as that sounds.

And oh the joy he feels (and fury) when he sees the red shirt and brown tail of Ren Dog.

The bushes rustle as Doc moves to step out. He only pauses for a second as Rens ears perk and he starts to growl, his swing stopping as he adjusts his hold on the axe. A battle stance.

Fine. A fight.

… maybe he should try and. Talk a little before he blows this guy up.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING, MAN?” Doc hisses.

He expects Ren to rush him. To growl and attack even if it’s just with words. It’s how he acts during the day, after all.

He did not expect the smile, the tail wagging, and the excitement.

“Doc! My dude!! Jeez man you scared me!! I thought you were a freakin skeleton or something!! Sorry, didn’t mean to growl at you like that!!”

Doc stares blankly. What. Why is he.. so excited. And before he can even open his mouth to hiss out something about taxes or his tree, Ren continues.

“I’m really genuinely sorry about the tree. I’d have come and asked if I knew you were awake. I can never tell what your guys’s sleep schedules are! Besides Bdubs. Always know when he’s passed out!!”

“Seriously like that dude will pass out the moment the sun goes over the hills even if we’re trying to talk to him! It’s a bit funny though so it’s fine on our end. Guys gotta sleep! Oh- right. I can pay you back and stuff for the tree. I tried to pick a smaller one far away from your projects so I don’t mess any landscapes up. I’m also going to replant the sapling and all that!!” Ren shifts from foot to foot, a smile on his face, a wag in his tail. His eyes almost sparkle as he stares at Doc.

And it.

This doesn’t make sense to Doc. Why does.. Ren doesn’t act like this! He’s! Quiet. He’s grumpy. He acts like he hates every single member of the nHo and yet here he is raving about Bdubs in a joking way to Doc of all people.

“What.” Doc says.

“Oh. Uh.” Ren chuckles a little. “Sorry. I am. Nervous, NOT ABOUT YOU!! I just don’t want to be away from Iskall for too long. See I’m here to get wood to make a fire over in our camp. Iskall has a fever and we both agreed that staying at the resistance base would be better than going to our houses. Too much movement. But I.. suck at taking care of sick people. So I’m doing what I know best! Chopping trees, making fire, cooking soup!! (If you happen to have any notes on making soup please let me know. I lied about knowing best on it.)” Ren leans in, whispering the last bit.

He’s so animated. He can’t stand still. Doc is.. flabbergasted!!

It doesn’t compute. It just.

“Why are you. Being. Nice???”

“Wha?”

PT 1 | PT 3

[ju1cyfru1t]

Hiii pooks! 😙 I love❤️ ur writhing sm

I’ve been having such a spider man phase after watching the new spider verse movie and I was wondering what would the turtles think when they figured out reader being NY’s Spider women or spider person like they haven’t told thier turtle bf about it and stuff (live for the drama😵‍💫)

Always love you and def feel free to ignore!

I LOVE THIS thank you pookie 🤭 hope u like it 🫶🏻🕸️ u didn’t specify so I’m gonna assume you meant the rise turtles!

Rise! Leo, Mikey, Donnie, Raph x Spider-Woman! S/O

ROTTMNT x Reader

fluff! :D, fem! reader, contains swearing, not proofread

Leo

- He may not be the brightest mutant, but he is observant

- Probably interrogated the info out of you

- -> “Y/N, where exactly were you last night?” “Oh, uh…I was with, um, April.” “That’s funny…considering April was with us!”

- It didn’t really shock him to find out you had a big secret, what did shock him is what that secret is

- He’s also a little hurt that you didn’t tell him. Don’t you trust him??? But that wasn’t his biggest concern

- “Wait, so like…spider woman as in like, big mama kind of spider woman?” NO-

- You would have to really explain it to him

- But let’s be real, he still wouldn’t understand so you’d have to show him by like climbing up the fucking wall or something

- But he really does think your powers are super sick

- Laughs when you try to explain your spidey senses -> “wait, you’re serious?”

- ^ calls them your “tingly thing”

- maybe you can web his fucking mouth shut

- LOVES your suit, thinks you look stunning and super awesome

- “You know, I always said that was your color Y/N!”

- Invites you to patrol with them! (then he doesn’t have to do as much)

- thinks you’re so hot when you fight (NOT IN A FREAKY WAY YOU FREAKS) and hypes you up

- freaks tf out if he ever gets a web on him, including if you were to swing with him to get out of harms way

- doesn’t ask for them, but he can’t deny he likes the iconic Spider-Man kisses

Mikey

- would just straight up ask if you’re hiding something. Dr.Delicate touch DOES NOT PLAY ‼️

- Of course this would be something you’re hesitant about, but he would remind you that you can confide in him

- Def was not expecting THIS.

- He is asking you a million questions all at once, and will sit nicely and listen as you explain with starry eyes (stop lookin at me with them big ole eyes)

- You’re #1 fan and biggest hype man

- Thinks you’re the coolest person ever fr

- Wants to swing around on your webs with you. Around NYC, in the lair, in Donnie’s lab, on missions, it doesn’t matter he WANTS it.

- THE ICONIC SPIDER-MAN KISSES ALL THE TIME ITS HIS FAVORITE WAY TO KISS YOU NOW

- weirdly interested in your webs 🕸️

- Compliments your suit anytime you wear it around him; thinks your mask is so so cute

- ^ in his free time he’ll sketch and color new suit designs to show you (also just drawings and paintings of you in your suit)

Donnie

- isn’t going to pry any secrets from you; but he does secretly wish you’d come to him on your own.

- so you can imagine his gratitude and relief when you finally tell him what’s up

- Doesn’t really say anything about it, but he doesn’t get why you didn’t just tell him sooner. I mean, you do know he’s a hero too, right?

- he’s fascinated, he’s never seen anything like your powers before. especially because you’re not a mutant.

- really just asks questions about how it all works. Your webs, how you stick to surfaces, your enhanced senses, the whole deal yk?

- He did NOT like big mama’s webs, and he doesn’t really like yours either I’m so sorry.

- ^if he needs them, would ask to use some like he did with Big Mama’s

- It’s not you I swear he just can’t do it

- you could like climb all over his lab ceiling and walls and scare the shit out of him tho

- ^ “Y/N get down this instant! WE TALKED ABOUT THIS-“

- admires your enhanced senses and intuition of danger

- is absolutely gonna make gear for you, as well as offering to make upgrades to your suit

- wouldn’t really directly say it, but he really likes the design of your suit. it just fits you so well. (he IS going to make a purple one for you)

- would scream if you ever just dropped down in front of him to kiss him spider man style

- ^ traumatized; it’s not his favorite thing but he doesn’t mind terribly

Raph

- might take him a while to notice if something is off about you. Leo or Mikey would probably have to directly point it out for him to realize fully

- Isn’t going to beat around the bush and just asks why you’re acting lowkey shady

- really shocked, might take him a second to process even if he doesn’t really know exactly what you mean at first

- honestly he understands why you keep it a secret, just a little saddened that you kept it from him

- He’s gonna need you to really explain your powers

- “…where do the webs come out of tho?”

- would deepen your bond and connection. you can really relate to each other carrying a deep burden and the pressure of responsibility.

- AMAZING DUO with his strength and your agility

- very good hype man

- takes you on most missions and patrols, thinks you’re a really valuable asset to the team

- also calls your spider senses your “tingly thing”

- it’s not that he doesn’t like your webs, something about them just make him nervous. Refuses to let you swing him on them unless he’s in immediate danger.

- does NOT let you crawl around the lair walls, he’s scared you’ll hurt yourself

- ^ “Y/N! You’re gonna hurt yourself, GET DOWN!”

- really thinks you look so pretty in your special suit, he just doesn’t know how to say without feeling like he sounds dumb. He would DIE if it was red.

- “ I really…er, like your costume.”

- very supportive! he gets the struggle of protecting the city, but is happy you get to do it beside each other. :D

- he likes the spidey kisses, they just really fluster him

——————————————————————————

y’all I’m sorry if there is any misinformation in this don’t flame me but I haven’t seen atsv yet

[mrzombielover]

- slow ride ch2

feat. sinner!adam x fem!hotel worker!reader

previous chapter || series masterlist || next chapter (wip)

warnings: NSFW, more substance use in this one, a bit of angst?, readers emotional issues

a/n: i feel like my writing sucks esp in this chapter cause im sorta rusty and sick so i cant even tell if this makes sense but oh well😭😭😭 anyway pls send me hazbin reqs!!!!! having the worst brainrot lately esp for this horrible man!!!

wc: 2.9k

“I'm not breaking up inside / I'm much to proud to moan / Baby, please come home”

Oh my god. What did I just do? Why did I do this?

You turn your head to look at Adam where he’s lying on the other side of the bed, and find his expression closely mirrors your own. Pure disbelief is written on his features, and you grimace, turning to look back at the ceiling.

After a moment, you sit up, grabbing your box of cigarettes and a lighter off your bedside table. Once lit, you swing your feet off the bed to reach for shirt and now ripped panties, standing up when you’re partially dressed. You hear Adam sit up behind you.

“Soo, that was… uhhh…” He trails off, mouth hanging open as he thinks of what to say.

“Let’s… not speak about this again,” You say carefully as you turn back to face him.

“Yeah. yeah, i’m good with that,” He says quickly, finding his robes off the floor. You’re surprised he doesn’t say anything about the smoke.

You cross the room to get your pants off the floor, pulling them up as Adam grabs his jacket. You pull up your fly, and look up to see Adam’s staring at you with an expression you can’t read. His eyes flicker to your lips, and he starts to lean closer.

“Kiss me and i’ll cut your fuckin’ tongue out,” you say as you turn your head away.

“Oookay then. I’ll, uh, see ya,” For once, he has no snarky comment or crude joke to make as he straightens up and leaves your room.

After that, you told yourself never again. It happened once, it’s out of your system, it’s done. A one time thing.

But then it happens a second time.

“It’s a disgusting habit! All your clothes, your whole room fuckin’ reeks!”

“Are you tryin’ to get me to loose my temper here? ‘Cause i’m about to shove you out that fucking window!”

“And look how angry you get, you fucking fiend, it’s been like 2 hours!”

“Why don’t you mind your goddamn business?”

You raise an arm to hit him, but he catches your elbow, twisting you around so your back is to him and he can hold you in place. You struggle to break from his grip, when suddenly-

“Oh my god,” You deadpan, but your voice doesn’t come out as disgusted as you expected at the feeling of something hard poking into your lower back.

“Okay, this is not my fault-“ Adam says quickly.

“You- fucking perv!” You spit, but your words hold no weight when he flips you again and lifts you up, placing you on the counter and you make no effort to struggle. You spread your legs so he can slot between them as items pushed out of the way cascade off the counter, falling to the floor with loud crashes.

You then told yourself that would be the last time. But not even you fully believed yourself. And once it happened a third, fourth, and fifth time, you just accepted this is something that happens now. You’re not proud of it- some of you hates yourself, but another part of you finds a a sick, primal pleasure in it. It’s the only guaranteed way for you to get him to shut up, if only for a few minutes. The fight for dominance- fuuck you’re messed up, huh?

Thinking of the humiliation you’d feel if any of the others found out- oh god, how could you look Alastor in the eyes again- you change absolutely nothing about your behavior around Adam. On the surface, nothing has changed at all. You two still bicker and argue all the time, if anything, worse than ever. Yet the other members can feel something’s up, that something changed. Adam’s insults feel more hollow. He always said shit just to rile you up, but there was usually an undertone of truth to his words. Not anymore- it’s all stupid shit that everybody can tell he doesn’t care about. Nobody says anything about it, though, until-

“What the fuck are you smilin’ for?” Angel’s voice makes Adam jump as he enters, sitting down on the couch beside him.

“What-? I wasn’t smiling,” Adam quickly denies. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh my god- are you’re gettin’ laid?” Angel grins, sitting up. The look on Adam’s face tells him everything, and he can’t help but laugh. “Oh, you so are! No wonder you’ve been in such a good mood lately,”

“Uh, duh i’m getting laid, I’m Adam, I’m the origin-“

“Yeah, yeah, original dick. But that’s not what I mean and you know it.” Angel grins widely, and Adam can feel his face heating up. Oh god- why is he blushing? Since when does he care? He pushes the thought from his head.

“…You don’t know her,” Adam decides to say, crossing his arms and turning back to face the TV, hoping Angel will just leave it at that.

“Try me,” Angel leans closer, looking intently at Adam’s expression. When Adam says nothing, Angel laughs again.

“Oh my god I so know her,”

Adam grits his teeth but says nothing as Angel laughs.

“Okay, fine, don’t tell me who you’re havin’ weird secret kinky sex with,” Angel shrugs, turning to face the TV. “I’ll find out eventually,”

That makes Adam sweat.

You can’t help but laugh, nearly spitting whisky everywhere while Husk chuckles to himself. Sure, it’s a bit trite, ranting to the bartender about your shitty day while he pours you a stiff drink, but Husk could always make you laugh about it, and call you out on your bullshit if needed. He was real, and you liked that about him. Plus, it beat drinking alone when none of your other friends wanted to party on a Wednesday.

“-and not a crazy bitch like I’m a crazy bitch, crazy like she lit her mom’s hair on fir-“

“Husk holy shit!”

Both of you look in the direction of Angel Dust’s voice as he runs from the hallway towards you both. He leans over the bar, eager to share whatever news he had.

“Adam’s fucking somebody- somebody here!”

You choke on your whisky, spitting it back into the glass. Angel and Husk both look at you with a raised brow.

“My bad,” is all you say. you can’t think of anything else that would play it off, so you just quietly wipe off your face while Angel recounts his encounter with Adam. You feel an eye twitch- you could strangle that prick for being so conspicuous.

“You’re quiet, Y/N,” Angel says in a teasing tone.

“I just could not care less if I tried,” You say back, firmly but with a shrug, and you hope it suffices as an acceptable explanation, and that you come off as your usual apathetic self. You finish your whisky, and luckily, Angel doesn’t give you any more shit. Slightly unsettled by that interaction, you avoid Adam for the next few days.

Late one evening, everybody’s gone up to their rooms and the hotel is quiet. You’ve already eaten, smoked, brushed your teeth and put on pajamas, but there’s nothing good on TV and you’re bored and high and just want a task to keep busy. So you wander aimlessly into the kitchen and find yourself doing the dishes that Charlie was too stressed out to do earlier.

As you scrub brown charred bits off a pan, you find your stupid weed-addled brain wandering to Adam. You haven’t fought with him in a while, mostly because you’d run away before he had the chance to start, but still. It feels weird, being so calm lately. No wonder you’re bored. It’s the way things used to be at the hotel, before he arrived. You guess you hadn’t realized how used to his presence you’ve gotten. Gross. You cringe at the thought.

Luckily, your phone starts to vibrate on the counter, giving you a distraction. You pick up and hold it between your ear and shoulder without looking at the caller ID.

“Yo, where are you right now?”

Of course.

“Adam? What the fuck, when did you get a phone?” You snort. When you realize you’re smiling you clear your throat and force your face to relax.

“Whatever. Can you come upstairs?”

You pause. He sounds slightly odd.

“What, like, to your room?” You raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

“ohmyfuckinggod- can you not be difficult for fucking once and just do what I ask?” Then, as an afterthought, he adds “Please?”

Damn, okay. You don’t say anything for a moment, thinking maybe you’re just smacked and he’s being normal.

“Suuuure… Just uh, gimme a minute,” You say carefully, putting the dishes down. Then, he hangs up on you. What a dick.

Unbeknownst to you, while you’ve been thinking about him, he’s been thinking about you way more.

You’ve been avoiding him- obviously. Not unexpected, but it pissed him off to no end. He’s fucking Adam! Who are you to ignore him? Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on him, anyway?

By now, the others have started to accept him- including them in their plans, drinking with him, no longer leaving a room when he enters- so he doesn’t really need a chaperone anymore. Despite this, it still feels wrong. Even in a room with every other patron of the hotel, he’d started to notice when you weren’t there.

He didn’t even notice he was starting to miss you at first. It wasn’t until he and Charlie were seated at the bar, and he drank more than he probably should have, that he mentioned you were avoiding him.

“What’dya, miss her?” Husk asked.

“Awww, Adam!” He still remembers the look on her and Husker’s faces. “You are starting to change! That’s so sweet of you!”

And then because she was drunk she kept rambling about it for like 30 minutes, but he doesn’t remember the rest of what she said, just the utter humiliation he felt. He shut up for the rest of the night to avoid spilling his guts any more, but Husk- the annoying fucker- still gives him knowing looks every now and then.

And after Nifty had washed his sheets, and he’d noticed that his pillows lost the scent of cigarettes, perfume, and shampoo you’d left behind, he knew he was royally fucked.

The worst of all, though, is that he feels helpless to feeling these emotions- and even worse, he doesn’t want to stop feeling them. Before he’d even noticed it, he was thinking about you all the time, and he was fine with it. The embarrassment was killing him, even though, supposedly, nobody knew.

On this particular night, he’d probably had just a tad too much beer with his dinner, because when he’d returned to his room and flopped on his bed, there was a little bug in the back of his brain that kept whining about how empty it felt. He tossed and turned for a bit, just wanting to sleep it off, but he eventually gave up, reaching for his phone.

“Adam?” Before you’re finished knocking, Adam jumps up to get the door, pulling you inside quickly. You make a noise of surprise as he scoops you up immediately, not saying anything as he carries you to his bed.

“Damn, needy, huh?” You laugh. This time, it’s him telling you to shut up as he tosses you onto the bed and crawls over you.

You sit up slightly to help him get your shirt off, and then his lips are on your neck, trailing down to your chest as he unclips your bra.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” He says with a casual shrug as his hands run up your torso to grope at your tits.

“mm,” You hum, arching your back into his touch. “missed this?” You smile sarcastically. Missed you, he thinks.

“Sure missed these,” He pushes the thought away and grins back, squeezing your chest for emphasis. He pulls back briefly to rid himself of his own shirt, then bends back down to press more kisses to your flesh. He looks up, staring at your expression as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth, reveling in the whimper he’s rewarded with.

“fuckin’ perfect tits…” He mumbles into your chest before nipping at your skin. You let your eyes shut as his free hand slides down, under the band of your shorts and his finger brushes the hot skin beneath, skimming over your lips. Adam thumbs at your clit through your panties, relishing in the whine he rips from your throat.

Impatiently, you shift your hips up to slide off your shorts and panties, then reach to tug at his belt loops to signal he should do the same. When he looks up and sees the desperate look on your face, he decides not to keep you waiting, and pulls back to rip off his pants and boxers.

You guess avoiding him these past few days has affected you, too, because you’re surprisingly desperate. You sit up, wrapping your fingers around his cock, smearing his arousal across his length, and whatever he had been planning to say dies and comes out a needy garble of nonsense that makes you snicker.

To your surprise, he has no quip as he crawls over you and pushes himself between your legs. He bites back a gasp when you rub the head of his cock between your folds, a groan following a moment after as he begins pushing into you.

Your thighs are trembling by the time he’s fully inside of you, and you wrap your legs around his waist weakly while you adjust to the stretch.

He sits up fully, and from this view, you look stunning. The way you're laid back on his pillow, tears pricking in your eyes, he thinks you look more angelic than anything he ever saw in heaven.

“fuuuck,” He groans, letting his head fall onto the bed as he starts to move his hips.

“Adam!” The way you whine his name is truly sinful, and he feels his dick twitch in response.

“holyfuck, ‘s so big,” The slight burn makes you regret your impatience now, and his face makes you regret stroking his ego. You make a point to ignore his self satisfied laugh, focusing instead on how his cock stretched you open, making you to tighten and release around him. You turn your head, looking at his wicked fucked-out smile that grew wider and wider as his movements got deeper.

You can’t speak, you just moan helplessly as your hands search for anything to grab onto to steady yourself. You throw your hands around his neck and bury them in his now dark wings, in the way you always did. You gripped the feathers tightly and let out a moan and oh, god, he’s not going to last long, he thinks, with you gripping the sensitive feathers like that. He groans again, then his lips find your shoulder, where he leaves messy, open-mouthed kisses trailing towards your neck.

“so fuckin’ sexy, so, so good for me,” you barley even register that he’s speaking, with your entire focus being on the way he moved in and out of you.

“you’re- so beautiful,” he says between grunts. your eyes widen.

“wha-ahh-“ before you can question that, a particularly hard thrust makes the words die in your throat, and you’re clawing to his biceps again.

A warmth of pride erupts in your chest at the way his breathing has turned labored and his grip on you tightens. An arm snakes around your waist, the other under your head, pulling you impossibly tighter against him as he continues to desperately pound into you. The proud smirk you wore is wiped off your face when you feel one hand releases you and his hand trails down, eventually pressing a thumb your clit, rubbing small circles that make you moan and twitch beneath him.

You can’t even warn him before your whole body erupts. You spill over, you lose sense of where and who you are, all the while, Adam pounds into you, strokes you inside and out. You vaguely hear a sudden crash and him mumbling, thanking god that you came before him because seconds later, he’s spilling his own cum inside you with a broken wanton groan.

Adam stills for a moment, panting as he holds you close. When he rolls off you, he keeps one arm around you, pulling you against his chest. Huh. That’s new.

Neither of you say anything. That was… different, than you’re used to with him. You furrow your brows as you think, and find yourself confused. The cogs in your head turning something terrible in your mind, questioning his intentions.

Once you’ve caught your breath, you sit up, pushing away his arm as you go to find your clothes. He frowns, watching you pick your shirt up from the ground and pull it over your head. You looked guarded, like a cornered doe, like you were just waiting for the chance to sprint away.

Adam grabs his own boxers from the floor and pulls them on, quickly crossing the room to where you were. He looks down at you, and feels an odd, tightening in his chest, something he’s felt a lot since falling to hell.

He leans against the door, putting on a cocky smile.

“Soo… this was like a booty call, huh?”

“…Yeah, whatever. See ya,”

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ｂｅｓｉｄｅ ｙｏｕ ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!jisung x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Summary: Han adores you and there's truly no one else he'd rather ditch a party early to cuddle with.

♡ Genre: fluff 

♡ Word Count: 1k-ish

♡ Warnings: mention of anxiety, brief non-sexual undressing

Han sits on the floor in front of Felix’s couch with his head cradled by the softness of your thighs. You run your fingers through his hair, stopping every now and then to carefully massage his scalp. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in, and slowly lets it back out. When his eyes open again he doesn’t feel as smothered by the party raging around him.

Suddenly the music’s muffled, the lights have softened, and the crowds push away until there’s only you. His darling. His love. His sweet baby. His reputation for being a social butterfly has come to mean that people expect a lot of him. With expectations come pressure and with pressure comes anxiety. But sitting here with you is his safe place. You are his safe place. 

He takes you by the wrists, weaving his fingers between yours, and lays your arms over his shoulders. “Why ya lookin at me like that? Hmm?” you tease, nuzzling your chin against his velvety hair. Han smiles, those pinchable quokka cheeks perking up, “Because you’re so beau-ti-ful.” There’s something charming about the incredibly British way he says that word.

Beau-TI-ful. So beau-TI-ful. He’ll say it in any accent you want, any language he can learn if you ask him to. In his eyes, you’re a work of art worthy of praise in every possible way he can offer it. And every time he does, without fail, you get this warm fuzzy feeling in your chest. The one you're feeling right about now.

You kiss him on the forehead, trying to hide that sweet smile of yours even though he wishes that you wouldn’t. “I wish we were home so we could cuddle” you sigh and he’s already on his feet, helping you get your things together. Typically he makes it a point to say goodbye to Felix but now all he can think of is lying in bed with you, his arms snug around your gloriously chubby figure.

Getting you back home is his only objective. Han leads you out into the night, fingers still interlocked with yours and tries his hardest to remember where he parked the car. Crossing the street, your heel catches on a piece of gravel. “Shit” you mumble, nearly losing your balance. Han spins around, wide eyed and worried sick that you’ve gotten hurt somehow.

He kneels down right away, inspecting your ankle for broken bones, “Are you okay? Does this hurt?” “Baby, I’m fine. Don’t worry. I shouldn’t have worn these stupid heels anyway.” Despite your assurance that you’re alright, he continues to examine your ankle, even checking the other one to be double sure.

You’re his favorite. The thing he wouldn’t trade for every star hanging up above. If anything ever hurts you, even something as small as a paper cut, he has to take care of it. Make it all better. “Just, uh, stay here, okay? Don’t move!” he instructs, moving you back onto the sidewalk. “Han…” A quick peck on the lips cuts you off before he’s racing to get the car.

You aren’t nearly as fragile as your boyfriend acts like you are but it makes you feel special that he cares so much. Han pulls the car up beside you, hopping out to help you into the passenger’s seat. His sense of urgency makes it seem like you were injured in battle. “I said I was fine” you giggle, “It’s really not that serious.” Han pulls off your heels, taking a few seconds to massage your “poor little ankles”.

On the ride home he asks a million times if you’re comfortable. Is the seat the way you like it? Is the music okay? You tell him that it’s perfect because it is. It always is. 

You shift the focus from yourself by asking about his music and the spark it sets off within him is visible. “Oh my pretty, pretty baby” he squeals, resting a hand on the gentle meat of your inner thigh, “I have, like, so much to tell you! So much!” Han talks a mile a minute, squeezing your thigh a bit tighter each time he gets to a detail he’s really excited about.

Before you know it you’re pulling into your garage and he’s almost dragging you up to the bedroom. You don’t have to lift a finger to change out of your clothes because Han’s already plucking them off of you and replacing them with your comfiest pajamas. “You want tea? Water? A snack?” he asks, hopping into a pair of sweatpants. 

“What I want is…” You collapse onto the bed, bringing him down with you, “This. This is nice.” Han lays his head on your stomach, hands sliding up the side of your shirt to squish your love handles, “If you ever get rid of this I’ll cry.” You roll your eyes, "Oh please.” “I mean it, it’s my favorite.” “You say every part of me is your favorite.”

Han scooches up to kiss you on the nose, “You can have more than one favorite. Like here…” Lips brush against your neck. “And here...” Fingers trail down your spine. “And here…” Han could go on like this, worshiping everything from the nape of your neck to that ticklish spot behind your knee, for the rest of the night. 

And he does. Even going so far as to double back to make sure he hasn’t missed anything. When he’s finished, he cuddles up behind you, no longer content with being the little spoon. “Can we just stay like this forever?” “Mmm, maybe…” you mumble, rolling over to rest your face on his chest.

“Maybe?” You can’t see his face but you’re positive there’s a look of utter offense on it. Draping your leg across his waist, you kiss underneath his chin, “Yes, we can. Forever. You are my favorite after all.”

[darlingsfandom]

So I have an idea, I like men who look for silly excuses to see their girl, you could write something like that with,Cillian,maybe as if she had a pet and he sends her messages with the excuse that he misses the pet ...but he actually can't even stand it (if it could be a cat it would be better, I'm not much of a dog person) because it gives him a little It's embarrassing to say that he misses her since they are in the first months of the relationship,at the end if you want you can add some smut but mainly I would like him to be a fool in love!!🤭

(If you want to write it with some role that Cillian had, that's fine by me too!)

xoxoxo <3

It’s a great idea! I have cats and dogs !

They say that fools rush into love and cillian was indeed a fool for you. He thought about you when he woke up , during his meetings, when he was masturbating which made sense of course he’d picture his beautiful girlfriend ! But you were on his mind all the time.

It had been three weeks since he had last seen you and not by choice. He’s been busy with meeting after meeting to get this movie deal down and ready to go. You were occupied with your own job as a vet which you still can’t wrap your head around how you got so lucky to even meet Cillian but you were happy you did. Who would’ve guessed a sick cat would’ve brought together but it wasn’t even his cat! It was his sisters cat! You loved that cat!

You were at work sitting at your desk when your phone started to ring.

“Hello?”

“Ello beautiful !” You could hear the excitement in his voice .

“Hi Cillian! How are you my love?”

“Good good, I was just calling because I was wondering if yer were busy tomorrow?” He chewed his bottom lip.

“Uh no, I’m free. Why? You want to take me on a date?” You teased while writing something down on the paperwork in front of you.

“I no , just wanted to see your cat! It’s been awhile and you know I love your cat!” He slapped himself with the palm of his hand.

“Oh, yeah that’s fine. Saturdays I usually order in and watch a movie with Marsh anyway.” You felt a little disappointed that he’d rather see your cat but something told me that he was lying.

“Okay good I’ll umm I’ll see you tomorrow around six!”

“See you around six !” And with that you hung up your phone to get back to your work. On the other end Cillian was beating himself up! He doesn’t even like cats like that but he didn’t want to seem desperate or needy or in a way that could scare you away. It had only been eight months since the two of you started dating and he couldn’t even begin to think of the idea of letting you go.

The next night Cillian showed up right at six! You answered the door in a sweater and leggings that showed off your curves.

“My gorgeous girl!” He wrapped his arms around tightly which made you giggle as you wrapped your arms around him.

“Hello handsome.” You pecked his lips a few times before he walked you backwards until you hit the couch. The two of you fell backwards and with Cillian on top of you, you could wrap your leg around his waist.

It was just a kiss. It started that way slowly building up as his lips nipped at the side of your neck making sure to suck hard enough to leave a love bite.

“Cillian!” You gasped as his hands went under your sweater and squeezed your tits.

“Not my fault yer not wearing a bra.” He teased you before placing his lips against yours. Your tongue licked along his bottom lip allowing him to open his mouth so you could easily slide your tongue in. A moan slipped out as his fingers toyed with your nipples. “I’ve missed ya.” He spoke as he pulled away from the kiss.

“I thought you missed the cat.” You arched your eyebrow at him to which he pursed his lips together.

“I missed the both of ya!”

“Nice cover love.” You pulled him back in for a kiss that turned heated fast before a different sound filled the room. Cillian looked up above you and sitting on the window seal across from the couch was the fluff ball you called Marsh. Marsh was sitting there meowing and you knew what that meant.

“I’ll be back.” You sat up on your elbows as Cillian sat back with a pout. “It only takes a few seconds, I have to feed her. She’s my baby.” You walked down the hall and got her food. Soon she the cat heard the food being poured she hopped off the window and made her way to her bowl. Cillian sat there letting out a sigh as he waited for you. You came back with a smile on your face before sitting down in his lap. “So… did you really want to come see my cat or did you just make that up to see me?” Your finger booped his nose making him chuckle.

“I wanted to see ya, I just didn’t want ya to think I was being needy or sumthin!”

“Oh honey, I’ve missed you ! You don’t have to make silly excuses to see me. You know I alway want you around.” Your hand rubbed his back as he kissed your temple.

“I love you.” Fell out of his mouth and your jaw dropped.

“Did you just say what I think you said?”

“I think I’ve just fucked up!” Cillians face turned to pure anxiety .

“I love you too.” You smiled softly while he let out a sigh of relief. He was nervous for nothing after all.

[lawrencespen1777]

Hello! I hope you are doing okay :)

I’ve just recently found your blog and must say that I’ve definitely enjoyed your dialogue prompts!

Are you okay with writing requests? In case it’s fine for you, could you please consider writing a dialogue where two characters have to stay some kind of a hotel, because one of them is too sick and feverish to travel?

No pressure, I understand if you don’t want to write this!

Sincerely yours, anon with whumperflies.

Anonnnnnn, I know you said dialogue but I got carried away. Obviously. Hope you enjoy. This has been my favorite to do so far. You keep requesting. I’ll keep writing. Your prompts are good. ;)

Hotel Hell

“How you doing?”

W shivered unresponsively underneath the jacket he’d donned as his makeshift blanket. C hoped that meant that he’d finally drifted off.

“I’m alright,” came the quiet voice.

“Still feel nauseous?”

There was the sound of a thick swallow. “Yep.”

C burned away their nervous energy by drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Can I…do anything?”

“Pull over.”

“What?”

“Pull-“

W had the back of one hand pressed firmly against his lips. The other hand fumbled with the door handle of the still moving car.

“Wait, wait, wait I’m going! Give me a second!”

W was exiting the car even as it slid to a stop on the side of the highway. C followed soon after. The spray of vomit trailed from the car to a large tree where W stood doubled, steadying himself with one hand on the trunk and the other braced on his knee. He heaved again, bringing up another slough of last night’s partially digested dinner.

C stayed by the car. Doesn’t make sense for them both to be puking. “You good?” C called. A shaky hand returned a thumbs up although W remained doubled. “Okay. I’m uh…I’m gonna sit in the car. Just…take your time.”

It was 10 minutes before W shut the door behind them again. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s not a problem.”

W sighed and leaned his head against the cool glass. “It feels like a problem.”

“Hey.” C pulled W’s arm so that he could see his eyes. “Really. It’s-shit.”

“It is shit.”

“No not that. I mean you.” He pressed the back of his fingers to W’s temple. “You’re burning up. Why didn’t you tell me you had a fever?”

W shrugged. “I just want to get there.”

“Well it’s not happening today. We’re gonna stop somewhere for the night so you can sleep it off…-in a bed,” he finished, sensing W’s impending objections. “I’m not pulling over every 10 minutes for you to puke. Sorry about it.”

It was almost an hour before they reached the motel that would be their home for the night. C pulled into a parking spot underneath a street light that was long burnt out. “That’s promising,” he muttered, then noticed the paint peeling off the walls. “Great.” He shut the car door behind him and heard W do the same. “At least it still has all four walls right?” He glanced over at W who had his head resting on the car. “Hey, you alright?”

W swallowed a few times. “Yeah but…I think I’m gonna th-row up again.”

“Okay just…hang out alright? I’ll go grab the key and be right back.”

For a motel that barely registered on the not haunted list they sure required a lot of information from their “guests”. “For the security of all,” they’d told him. Here’s a thought: streetlights that work.

Fifteen minutes and a quarter of a century later he rejoined W in the parking lot. “Sorry it took so long. They wanted my grandmother’s maiden name before they’d give me a room key.”

“C.”

“Yeah?”

“I think something’s really wrong, man.”

“…okay. Like what?”

“I don’t know. I’m really dizzy. I’m freaking out.”

“Don’t freak out. You’re alright. Let’s just get in the room. You can drink some water. Eat something small. You’ll feel better.” He took W by the arm and guided him towards their ground floor room. W leaned against the wall as C pulled out the room key, but C could definitely see him swaying. He fumbled with the lock. Who has manual keys at motels anymore?

W was swallowing hard and breathing harder. He stared at a single fixed point on the sidewalk, but didn’t appear to be looking at anything. He stumbled sideways and C dropped the keys in an attempt to catch his arm. Then, without warning, W retched again. He tried to cover his mouth with his hand, but the vomit won. It spilled out onto his shirt and dripped down his arm, splattering onto his pants and shoes as it hit the ground in one sickening wave followed by a second. “I’m so-,” he choked as another heave brought up a thick slurry into the hand that he’d forgotten to move.

“Jesus.”

“I’m so sorry.” W was a mess with vomit covered clothes and tears streaming down his cheeks. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” His voice hitched again, but he only spat out bile.

“Don’t be. You’re-yeah-something’s wrong.” He pushed open the door and held it with his foot. “Do you think you’re done for a second?”

W waited a beat, then nodded.

“Can you walk straight?”

“I think so.”

“Okay so we’re gonna have to burn those clothes. Just take them off and while you take a shower I’ll run down to the 24 hour store we passed on the way in and see if I can find you…something…to help all this. Are you gonna be okay for a few?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah I’m okay.”

“Okay. Fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes.”

Twenty-three minutes later (why is everyone so slow in this town??) C was working the finicky door key again. W opened it for him and his pale skin immediately stood out against the lamp lit room. “You’d make a good ghost.”

“I would’ve been one if you’d taken much longer.”

W rolled his eyes, but was relieved to hear some sarcasm come back from the dead. “This was all they had.” He threw W a pair of basketball shorts and a plain white t-shirt.

“It’s fine.”

“I also got a thermometer, Tylenol, and Dramamine.” He laid each item out on the bed in succession.

“Dramamine? Isn’t that for like seasickness?”

“We’re close enough to the water.”

W took the pill bottles to the bathroom sink where he downed them with questionable tap water out of a plastic cup. He grimaced at the flavor and tossed the cup into the trash can.

“I also got you,” C rummaged in the grocery bag, “Everyone’s favorite. Peanut butter crackers.”

“Mmm,” W shook his head. “Mm-mm. Nope. Can’t do it.”

“You gotta eat something.”

“It. Won’t. Stay. Down. Were you not outside half an hour ago?”

W’s cheeks tinged with the slightest red. C pretended to not see. “Alright we’ll give the meds a minute to sink in. Then you’re trying them. I paid three bucks for these.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“…three dollars?”

“Yeah it’s the only store in this godforsaken town. They know they got you.” C opened up the boxed thermometer and tested it on himself. “Good news. I’m fine.”

“Fantastic.”

“I knew you’d be excited. Stay still.” C held the thermometer up to W’s forehead. “102.2. Damn…”

W crashed onto the bed and fell over sideways. He groaned.

“What?”

“What was in those pills you gave me? Whole room’s spinning…did you drug me?”

“Yeah I roofied your tap water.”

“I’m not putting out.”

“Uh yeah please keep in. Nobody wants to see that.”

W’s eyelids began to droop and C knew that the Dramamine had kicked in. He grabbed the bathroom trash can and put it beside the bed. “If you wake up before next week it’s right here alright?”

W’s eyes were almost shut, but he gave a small nod. C threw one of the blankets over him and walked over to his own bed. “Have a good coma.”

“Hey.”

C turned back. “Hey.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

[elizakai]

you guys i can’t take this anymore i need to release steam from this pot of killer and dust thoughts that’s on the stove

listen. if you don’t know by now. one of my favorite things to do is bridge narratives between fanon ideas, and canon truths hehe

Killer and Dust. The accepted dynamic is basically killer being a pestering little shit and dust being over it.

THATS GREAT ON ITS OWN it’s funny etc

but think about their ACTUAL characters for a moment. they are two sides of the same coin.

⬇️

i don’t want to hear any of that old fandom “they are literally the same” shhhhh. nuh uh dear friend, they commuted the same (general) action💥

their motives and situations are very different however! which is important when it comes to understanding a character

They both played into an opposite role in their world if you ask me.

Killer partners with chara, filling the role of the player. he’s a lot like flowey actually.

(in killers world, while he is still a pawn of this sick game, he gets manipulated after all, he has taken on the ROLE of the player. everyone else are the pawns.)

dust is against the anomaly of dusttale, which is that worlds player.

dust is a pawn. a pawn that is defying the player of the game

(in the same way that killer is still pawned, dust still uses his fellow “pawns” as a means to “win” the game, meaning he’s also playing)

(but again, i’m speaking role wise)

Killer and Dust’s dynamic doesn’t have to just be haha funny, it has some actual merit and potential to their characters.

Killer is constantly looking for new forms of entertainment. something new. he’ll get bored, and if he’s bored he’ll have to look at himself. killer is very much a character representing disassociation avoidance and to an extent, escapism (huh. like someone playing a video game?)

Of COURSE he’s gonna poke at people. it’s INTERESTING. it gets a REACTION. he gets to have that small power trip of being in control, after feeling like he lost control this is something that’s probably addictive to killer.

meanwhile dust…well. killer acts like his own anomaly in a way. he prods at him, toys with him, he’s leering and he takes pleasure in any reaction dust gives. dust probably would resent this feeling without really knowing why. he feels like some toy, and he’d probably be inclined to even interpret a genuine interaction this way.

this honestly makes dusts inclination to shut off or dull down any emotion make more sense. be as unremarkable as possible, and you’ll be left alone, right?

isn’t that…kind of what sans does? he’ll repeat same lines of dialogue and such when he reallyyy doesn’t have to. he’s being uninteresting. (and no he doesn’t need to remember everything magically for that to be possible. in game he will poke fun at past conversations and dialogue so he’s clearly aware enough)

Killer wants a response, so dust doesn’t give one.

killer wants control and feels like this is a challenge, dust feels cornered and defensive

if they had existed in the same world, it would have been killer vs dust in the end either way.

it’s a big old game of cat and mouse until someone snaps. they need to be given the opportunity to understand their similarities

even in an interpretation where they are in a healthier relationship, in whatever capacity, i think these mindsets would be conflict they may have….

to killer , on one hand he may be OFFENDED by his lack of response. he may be EXCITED, it’s a CHALLENGE. he might take dusts resignation as a sign of submission, which would give killer a HIGE power trip.

he might. genuinely just be trying to have fun?

it could be ENTIRELY lighthearted, and it’s still…rather toxic, considering where that mindset branched from

and we know dust won’t be inclined to say anything. he probably doesn’t understand his own feelings to be frank💀 he just feels gross and intimidated and cornered so he shuts off and sees killer as oppressive , and grows resentful regardless of intent, as these feelings only feed into his crippling self hatred anyways

….thats all for tonight-

[robinsegghead]

Danny's Daycare Part 9

[Master List]

“That doesn’t make any sense! You don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

Danny sighed, attempting to regulate his emotions while Miguel continued to yell about the English homework they’d been working on. They both knew Miguel wasn’t good at English and that he didn’t like it, but apparently something about today’s work had really set him off- he didn’t raise his voice often. 

“Miguel-”

“No! I’m sick of this! I don’t even want to go to school! Why should I put so much effort into something you want!?” The boy huffed, shoving the schoolbooks away from himself.

Danny licked his lips. “Miguel, school is for your own benefit-”

“Tha’s what you keep saying- but we both know I’ll never graduate! Even if I did, I'd never get into a college!” The boy shot up and moved towards the entryway. “‘M not smart enough for this shit and I never will be! I’m gonna die in a ditch somewhere cause ‘m not good for nothin!”

Before Danny could refute Miguel’s completely absurd explanation for his future, the boy stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Danny cringed as the sound reverberated through the apartment and sent the cats running for shelter.

“I’m… uh… I’m gonna go after ‘im.” Santiago said quietly, closing his books and standing uncomfortably. 

Danny sighed, waiting for his own emotions to calm down before figuring out what to do. Spectre climbed into his lap, nudging his hand in demand for attention. “Hey spooks… Sorry about all that shouting…” He continued to pet the snowy cat while she got comfortable and fell asleep on his lap. 

He’d give Miguel some time to cool down before going next door and talking to him about it- one thing was for sure though, Danny could not teach him English anymore. He barely understood it himself and every time he tried to answer Miguel’s questions or explain something he ended up confusing them both because he wasn’t actually sure if he was right.

Then and there he made a decision.

Danny: Hi Jason, this is Danny. If you’re still interested in tutoring I’d like to hire you.

Setting his phone aside, Danny decided it was time to clean up. Luckily Spectre liked being held while he moved around and did other things, so he held her in one arm close to his chest while stacking the boys’ books in an orderly manner before moving to the dining room that they’d left a bit of a mess.

They’d eaten another of Red Hood’s dishes which he’d taken to dropping off anywhere from two to five times a week- seriously how did the man have time for that? It had been two weeks since Hood had shown up at the daycare to make sure he actually ate and ever since then Danny had found more and more containers of food left in his fridge while he was at work. Interestingly enough, the containers had grown in size, as if Hood knew he now took care of two teenage boys.

While moving some dishes to the kitchen sink, Danny felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out a moment later to see who it was.

Unknown: Yeah I’m interested

Relief flooded Danny’s body; he felt like he could cry. 

Danny: Great! Do you want to meet somewhere to discuss the details?

Jason (Asshole from the Library): Yeah works for me. When and where do you want to meet?

Danny: Tomorrow around eleven AM? The coffee shop on Hunt?

Jason (Asshole from the Library): Sounds good

So not much of a texter, huh? That’s fine. Danny needed to figure out the details before showing up tomorrow. With a new goal in mind, Danny set Spectre in one of the various cat beds and pulled out a notebook to create a plan. He’d only been working on it for a half an hour before there was a knock at his door.

He waited a moment and, sure enough, the door opened. Danny left the door unlocked during the day for the boys or Dani to use- he  told them they didn’t have to knock but only Dani listened to him on that matter.

Santiago appeared around the corner, somewhat shy which was- strange. Of the two boys Santi was much more outgoing and he wasn’t very shy or quiet around Danny anymore.

“What can I do for ya, kid?” He asked casually, hoping the boy would pick up that he was no longer upset.

Santi fiddled with his sleeves- he liked buying sweaters that hid his hands and hung low on his body, something Danny could relate to. “Uh- Miguel told me- he told me not to-” Santiago swallowed and Danny got a bad feeling. 

“Santi, what did Miguel tell you not to do?” Danny tried to keep his voice level.

“He- uhm, well he didn’t want me to tell you but well I told him! I told him it was a bad idea but he didn’t listen and he- he told me not to tell you but-” Santiago hiccuped, emotions displayed clearly on his face.

Danny got out of his chair, moved towards the boy, crouched down, and gently grabbed his upper arms. “It’s okay Santiago, you can tell me. What happened?”

“He- he said he’d only be gone a few minutes!” 

“Santiago.”

The boy crossed his arms and shivered slightly. “He went to meet some friends. Some… some bad friends.”

Containing his anger and fear, Danny nodded encouragingly. “Do you know where?”

“He said he wouldn’t be gone long so… somewhere nearby? Probably the corner he- the place where- when he got stabbed he-”

“Okay. Good job Santi. Come with me.” He led Santi across the hall and knocked on Dani’s door. She answered quickly, looking between the two of them, confused. “Can you look after Santi for a bit, he shouldn’t be alone right now. I’ve got to go find Miguel.”

Maybe there was something about the way he said it but Dani didn’t ask any questions, just opened her door wider and gave Danny a nod.

Danny took off after that. Flying back to the alley he’d found Miguel bleeding out in only a few weeks prior, he tried not to think about the state he might find the kid in. When he’d moved in Miguel had agreed to cut off his friends in the gang, he’d said none of them were really friends anyways, just people to keep the boredom at bay.

The alley was empty when Danny arrived but Miguel’s jacket was crumpled up against a wall. 

Whipping out his phone, Danny made a call.

“Hello?”

“Tucker? I need you to hack into some cameras immediately.”

There was a bit of shuffling. “Okay man, one sec… all right, where and when?” He loved that about his friends. Over the years of being friends to partners in crime, his friends had learned to trust each other to the point it was as easy as breathing.

“25th and Mundson, go back starting from now and see how long ago Miguel was here.” He’d finally found the time last week, after Dany’s appearance, to call Tucker and Sam and fill them in on everything he had going on including Miguel and Santiago. They were supportive- more so than Jazz who still had her reservations about it all.

The rapid clicking on the other end told him Tucker was working his magic. “Is the kid in trouble?”

“Let’s hope not.” Danny bit out. “Pray it’s just teenage rebellion or something.” Ancients, he sounded like a father- he was only five years older than Miguel! He needed to chill.

Your anxiety and overprotectiveness is what’s saved you and your friends countless times. He reminded himself, wringing Miguel’s jacket in his hands.

“Got it!” Tucker shouted. “Miguel was grabbed by a group of four men seventeen minutes ago and thrown into the back of a black van- license plate NLE263 registered to one Roger Carlson traveling south.” Danny took off in that direction while Tucker continued. “Pulling up other cameras… they’re headed to the docks…” Tucker drew in a sharp breath. “Danny. Hurry.”

Speeding up, Danny set his sights on the docks.

“Okay Danny, Miguel’s at the docks, he looks… okay.” Tucker paused, still tapping away on his computer. “Although… looks like the kidnappers are being held up by something. I can’t see- the camera angles not good and it’s really dark.”

Spotting his the kid huddled on the ground against some cargo, Danny dropped down quickly, landed behind some equipment and taking a look around. “I’m here, watch my back.”

“I always do.”

Danny hadn’t turned into Phantom- he didn’t see the point really. He’d been invisible while flying so that wasn’t going to out Danny Nightingale as a meta (which is what people would assume since you know, ghost wasn’t really most people’s immediate thought) and now that he was here he’d be taking Miguel, kicking some kidnapper ass, and going home. All easily explained by his background in martial arts (thank you Tucker).

Approaching Miguel, who hadn’t noticed him, Danny looked around. There was a group of four men talking in hushed tones not too far from the kid, a few other men loading up a boat with cargo, and off to his right was definitely a vigilante- he wasn’t sure which one. He didn’t care. 

Casually strolling up to the group of men, who also hadn’t noticed him, Danny felt someone’s eyes on his back. Whichever vigilante was watching was probably losing their mind about a random civilian approaching a group of armed kidnappers. Danny hoped it was Red Hood.

Tapping the closest kidnapper on the shoulder, Danny cleared his throat. The group spun around with shouts, aiming their weapons at him. With a cold smile, Danny tilted his head. “You seem to have kidnapped a friend of mine.”

“This guys crazy!” One of the men laughed, still confident in himself because of his obvious weapon and Danny’s obvious lack of one. His mistake.

Danny’s presence grew. Technically, he wasn’t doing anything. He looked exactly the same as he always did, his height and weight stayed the same, he wasn’t doing anything. Including controlling his aura. He’d been told it could be rather intimidating when it ran wild. And wild it was- ghosts were made through emotions, and Danny was feeling a lot of negative emotions at the moment.

“Next time you decide to hurt my kid, ask yourself, ‘Do I really want to deal with the repercussions?’ Because let me tell you something- no, you don’t.” Grabbing the barrel of the nearest gun, Danny twisted it up until it snapped off.

The three other men began shooting while screaming, clearly terrified. Danny went intangible (after making sure Miguel wasn’t in any danger of getting hit) and let the bullets fly through him, though, pretending to dodge. 

Smashing the first man's gun into his head and knocking him out cold, Danny swiped the second man’s legs out from under him. Taking the other men out was easy and went by quickly. As soon as the fourth man dropped with a groan, Danny dusted his hands off and moved towards Miguel and discovered why he hadn’t seen Danny before.

They’d drugged him.

They were lucky he’d already dealt with them. If he’d known they would have suffered much more. It seemed Danny was going to get his wish, the men loading up the boat had noticed their comrades' battle and were on their way, guns blazing. “Tucker I’m going dark, I’ll let you know when I’m home.”

The shifting of gear behind him alerted Danny to the vigilantes approach. Without looking up, Danny picked up Miguel and moved him to the other side of the cargo- further from where another fight was about to take place.

“Are you crazy!?” 

Ah. Red Robin. Turning to face the vigilante, Danny was taken by surprise to see Red Hood standing next to Red Robin. “Hey Hood,” Danny gave him a chin up. “The Vindaloo was really good, thanks.”

Red Robin’s jaw hung open, looking between the two of them. “What is happening?” He breathed.

“I believe you’re about to yell at me for saving my kid from some kidnappers.” Danny offered.

Nodding, the vigilante opened his mouth to continue. “Right-”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have time for that right now. I’ve gotta take care of this.” He jammed a thumb over his shoulder towards the men who were quickly approaching. “Oh! I’ve got an idea! How about you take Miguel back to my place to keep him safe while I deal with this?”

Hood chuckled. Even modulated it was a nice sound.

“Absolutely not!” Red shouted. “I’m helping Hood salvage destroying this trafficking ring while you, the civilian, get out of here with the kid!”

Danny froze. “Trafficking ring?” The docks grew colder, something both of the vigilantes seemed to notice. “Oh okay. I was going to be nice.” Cracking his neck, Danny turned to face the group of men approaching. There were something like twenty of them- easy. “I mean it Red, might as well make use of knowing where I live and take my kid home. I’ll call us even for that time you broke into my place.”

“You what-” Hood growled but dropped off the moment Danny charged forward. “What the fuck!”

“Danny!” Red shouted after him.

The gunfire was deafening, Danny’s enhanced hearing was a bit of a bitch when dealing with normal bad guys. But he hardly noticed. The moment he’d realized Miguel hadn’t just been kidnapped by some rival gang or some of his old friends who felt betrayed, but rather, a trafficking ring? He’d lost all of his senses.

Every goon he knocked down, every gun he snapped, every bullet he dodged, it was all forgotten the moment it happened. His tunnel vision narrowed with every goon he took out until he could only feel the crack of noses and jaws against his knuckles, could only hear the racing blood in his ears, could only smell the gunpowder in the air.

His senses returned only after the last man dropped. Surrounded by the crumpled and bloody bodies of child traffickers didn’t disturb Danny one bit- which should have worried him- but, well, they were child traffickers. And he was the Ghost King, they’d be going to hell one way or another.

Luckily, he didn’t kill any of them, the only ones that were seriously injured had been shot by their own or Red Hood which- he wanted to say fighting alongside Hood was cool, but he didn’t really remember. Maybe he should see a therapist? Did he have anger issues?

“Holy shit Danny- what the fuck- are you- Jesus Christ!” Red Hood exclaimed, holstering his guns and grabbing Danny by the shoulders to look him over for injuries.

Pushing the vigilante off him (holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit), Danny waved his hand. “I’m fine, didn’t get hit once. Where’s Miguel?”

Hood gave him a long look before sighing. “RR took him back to your place which- apparently he’s been too?”

Danny offered a shrug. “He and Spoiler broke in to interrogate me when I was still pretty new to Gotham. Something about making sure I wasn’t a rogue in the making or a child trafficker or something.” With a glance at the unconscious men at their feet, Danny chuckled. “Pretty sure he can cross that off his list of theories.”

“You’re something else, huh?” Hood sighed. “First the Joker, now a child trafficking ring, what’s next? You wanna be a Robin next too?”

“First of all, Joker was an accident and I thought we were never going to mention that again?” He gave Hood a pointed look. “Second of all, these fuckers messed with a kid- my kid. Third of all- ew no. Being a vigilante? Been there, done that, not interested in rehashing my teenage years.”

“Wait what?”

“And lastly, I think we should check these crates for kids. If they’re really child traffickers then the likelihood of these boxes being full of kids is pretty high.” Danny turned his comms back on. “Hey, I’m back, can you call Santiago and let him know Miguel should be home soon and to go back to my apartment to wait for him?”

“You so owe me one.” Tucker huffed before shutting off the line.

Red Hood was talking to someone on his own comms. “Hey, a couple others are going to be here soon to help so if you don’t want to be a part of that you should get going.”

“Yeah probably.” Danny ran a hand through his hair. “Well, thanks for the help, good luck.”

As Danny turned to leave, Hood called after him. “And Danny? We are definitely talking about what you said a few minutes ago.”

What had he- oh shit.

“Being a vigilante? Been there, done that, not interested in rehashing my teenage years.” 

Why did he say that? Outing himself? Just like that? Ancients, this is why Tucker told him to keep his big mouth shut when he found out Danny’d run into multiple Gotham vigilantes. “Yeah yeah, whatever you say, Hood.” Danny winked confidently before leaving. Once around the corner he turned invisible and intangible and flew home as quickly as he could.

It took a while to calm Santiago down once Danny got home but once the drugs wore off and Miguel woke up, both boys calmed down. The boys asked to stay at his place that night and of course he offered them his bed. 

He didn’t sleep that night.

Leaving a clone behind in case the boys woke up, Danny headed to the realms. He’d been neglecting his work there and if he wasn’t going to get any sleep anyways, he might as well get some things done. His plan had only been to collect some of his work and bring it back to the apartment- he always felt bad when he left a clone with them, which didn’t make any sense, but it was how he felt.

“Great One!” A voice boomed from the doorway.

            Danny sighed, usually grateful to see one of his mentors but a bit busy right now. “Frostbite, come in. I was going to pay you a visit soon but things have been kind of crazy lately..”

            The yeti chuckled. “Of course, Great One. The work never ends.” He stepped into the office space and followed Danny to the sitting area. 

            “To what do I owe the pleasure, Frostbite?” Danny started, stretching before falling backwards into the cushy armchair. It was comfier than he remembered.

            Frostbite sat in the oversized armchair that Danny had brought in specifically for him. “I wanted to speak with you about this ‘Joker Venom’ you mentioned before.” Danny nodded. “I’ve been working on synthesizing a cure for it and I believe I’m close but unfortunately, without subjects to test it on, we won’t know the effectiveness.”

            Danny frowned. “You want guinea pigs?”

            “Not in the way you’re thinking. I’m confident there will be no ill side effects of what I’ve created thus far and am perfectly comfortable giving it to anyone. The problem lies with how effective it will be. Until it’s administered I won’t know if I need to change the formula or if it will work as it is.” The yeti sighed. “What I mean is, it cannot be mass manufactured until it has been used and proven successful.”

            Nodding, Danny went over what he said. “Okay so you just need to test that it will work, right?” His mentor nodded. “Well that’s… easier said than done, but I think I can make it work. If you give me a batch of the cure I think I have a way to get it to the people I need it for.”

            Frostbite stood up. “Very well, I’ve brought a case of it with me,” how had Danny not noticed the small metal case the yeti had been holding? “There are ten doses inside, once administered it should only take a day, two at most, before the patient begins to show signs of improvement. I believe, given the severity of this Joker Venom, they will require multiple doses on a semi-regular basis until the venom is neutralized.”

            “But you think, given enough time and doses, that this really will cure them? I don’t want to give anyone false hope, Frostbite.” The only thing worse than leaving Duke’s parents completely Jokerized would be promising to cure them and then failing- or making it worse.

            “Yes, Great One, I am confident it will work.”

            Good. That was good. Maybe he could help them. Maybe they could be a few more people he could protect. He wouldn’t let them die. He wouldn’t let anyone else die.

“Okay. And- I mean, it’s been… years, Frostbite. You think this will work on people who’ve been…”

The yeti nodded. “I believe, with enough time and doses, they will make a recovery. Until administered I won’t be able to tell just how far their recovery will go but… I do believe they’ll gain back some semblance of themselves.”

Frostbite didn’t stick around and neither did Danny. Paperwork in one hand and Joker Venom Cure in the other, Danny ripped a portal into his apartment and found himself back in his living room only moments later. Setting the paperwork on the living room table, Danny slid the invaluable case into the wall. He hid most of his important things inside the walls- no one thought to look there.

Reabsorbing his clone, Danny remembered what he’d been doing before the entire fiasco. Right. He was meeting with Jason tomorrow to discuss hiring him as an English tutor for the boys and needed to figure out the details before they met.

It’s fine. He wasn’t planning on getting any sleep anyways.

Ghosts needed less sleep than humans so really, this was fine.

With a mug of tea and more weight on his shoulders than he was willing to acknowledge, Danny, once again, got to work.

Prev. Next

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 12: Flower Petals

Bearblr Promptober Day 12: Blindfolds

Summary: In which Carmy's girlfriend suggests a blindfold to see if he can perceive better touch that way.

Warnings: Swearing, written with fem reader who is a trauma surgeon (nothing gross described) in mind, she/her pronouns, blindfolding, nervous bean Carmy, fluff.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Reblogs appreciated. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list.

12 Oct 2024 Learned a new thing: I love blindfolds.

I can’t feel all that well with my hands, right? Well, with my fingers, which doesn’t help too much when I’m feeling up Darling. It’s been affecting me more than I thought it was, made especially apparent since I noticed the discrepancy in sensation, somehow even more so since she’s been getting handsier with me. She’s found the spots that make my muscles unfurl, the ones that make me melt into a boneless heap on the couch, and the ones that make me go bright red in the face. She’s found the ones that soothe her to touch—ghosting her thumb over my knuckles, twirling a lock of my hair around her finger, a recent favorite of hers seems to be slipping her thumb or fingers into my mouth (yes, it fucks me up. No, that’s not what this is about).

Meanwhile, I run my fingers through her hair, and it just doesn’t really feel right? Like, I feel something, of course, but it’s dull, and I want more to squeeze a fistful of the strands, to dig my thumb into the sections of her braid so I can actually feel any of it.

So, she suggests I try blindfolding myself.

“Why would I want to do that?” Shit, that sounded terrified. “Uh, I-I just want to understand your reasoning.”

“Are you nervous, baby?” she asked, settling on the edge of the bed next to me.

Of course, she caught it.

I raked my hair back. “Uh, yeah? I guess? I, uh…” No, I’m not getting locked up again, even if my face started going warm. “Tell-tell me more about it.”

She folded her thin, green scarf into a narrow strip in her lap. “Well, when you don’t have information from your eyes to rely on, your brain has to rely on information from other places. Sometimes, it can make you perceive other sensory input better. You might be able to learn how to focus on what you feel more so that you can then do that without having to use an actual blindfold.”

“Why can’t I just close my eyes?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “I suppose you can, but the blindfold is a signal to your brain that your eyes can’t be used for a while. Trust me, if you can, you will open your eyes and just look.”

I suppressed a smirk. “You’ve done this before.”

She nodded.

“Okay.” I folded one leg up on the bed so I could turn towards her.

“We should have a safe word. Something that will come to mind and that signals to me that you immediately need this to stop.”

“Why not ‘stop?’” I felt stupid asking, but I knew she wouldn’t laugh at me.

“Um. There are reasons, but we’re going to get really off topic really fast if I get into them.”

“Will you explain them after?”

“Sure.”

“Nickel.”

She tilted her head.

“Nickel. ‘If I had a nickel…’ Don’t ask me why it doesn’t leave my head, I have no idea.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Is that like… a song…?”

“I-I honestly don’t know where I got it from.”

“Okay. Nickel.” She smiled. Cradled my face in her hand. “Come on. We should be comfy for this.”

We settled into bed on our usual sides, just my little lamp on to provide some light, should I need the blindfold off in a hurry. My heart thundered in my ribcage. Breaths came out truncated. I wouldn’t be restrained, I could get the thing off immediately, and she’d seen all of me before—in every sense of the word. She’d seen me be sick, writhe in pain in my sleep, kick the covers in the throes of nightmares, melt into a useless puddle when she pressed ice to my chest, sleepily babble nonsense to her when I woke up at 2 am unable to go back to sleep, walk in circles in the living room for an hour because I couldn’t stop thinking and my legs wouldn’t stop moving; she’d seen everything. But I didn’t even know what I should expect out of myself when I was blindfolded, so could I expect the same loving understanding from her? Thinking back on it now, yeah, I should’ve. But in the moment? In the moment, it scared the fuck out of me.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart,” she whispered.

I did, and the soft fabric of her scarf laid over my eyes. She tied it behind my head, snug enough not to slip off. It honestly soothed some of the mild headache I didn’t know I had. This weird tightness behind my eyes and in my temples. She slid her hands down to my neck, stroked my jaw with her thumbs. Kissed my forehead.

She placed my hand on her outstretched one, and pretty instantly, I could tell my sense of touch was different. I traced lines in her palm, felt tendons tighten under her skin when I flattened her fingers, found a little scar on the furthest knuckle of her thumb. Raised line, glassy smooth, disappeared when she bent the joint. I’d never noticed that her nailbeds were shorter than mine, that her fingernails had the smallest ridges when I rubbed across them.

“My pulse is here,” she whispered, directing my index and middle finger into a soft valley between two bands of tendon—one tight, thin, fine, like a guitar string, and the other thicker, more substantial, more like a pencil. I picked up a pulse. Fast. Faster than her heart beats when I lay my head on her chest as we doze off.

“Nervous?” I asked.

“No.” She was right about the blindfold being necessary because I wanted nothing more than to see her face, read her eyes. “No, um. It feels really good.”

I trailed my hand up her arm, noticed the little hairs on it that I hadn’t before. Found my way to the strap of her tank top—no bra, good foresight—then to the ridge of her collarbone. Her skin was so soft, still like it was made of fine materials, but because my mouth had done the exploring there before, I knew I couldn’t feel how supple it actually was with my fingers. The best I got was an approximation of soft, and that—it astounds me how fast this happened—abruptly wasn’t enough.

I caged her in my arms and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her collarbone.

“Oh.” She coiled her arms around my shoulders, wove her fingers into my hair. Pressed closer.

Feeling her with my mouth I’d done countless times, but the blindfold. The blindfold did something impossible—it made her skin seem even softer. That velvety, almost cool-to-the-touch texture of a fresh rose petal, one that threatens to disintegrate between your fingers, that you could lay on your tongue and imagine dissolving into sweetness. Forget feeling with my hands, I needed to taste her, every bit of her, to get lost in blooms of flower petals wherever my lips and tongue pressed. I lifted her tank top off and kissed my way down her full breast, dragged my tongue over a hardened nub, and the breathless gasp that caught in her throat, the way her fingernails dug into the back of my shoulder and my scalp—it was the entire universe.

“Carmy—oh fuck—Carmy? Baby?” She whimpered, voice half-strangled.

I managed a hum of acknowledgement.

“Please keep—Oh… That…”

I’d already begun kissing down her stomach while retreating under the covers.

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

HII im a huge fan of ur writing and ur one of the few final fantasy writers on here thats active 😭😭 i was hoping i could request some zack fair fluff? like before the events of crisis core, maybe he accidentally gets himself sick during work and angeal knows he'll just keep showing up for work bc he wants the promotion to first class so bad, so he gets zacks childhood bestfriend (reader) to go keep an eye on him and make sure he actually rests lol. zack keeps insisting hes ok but reader is having none of it and takes care of him, which eventually leads to a confession bc zack doesnt understand why reader cares so much and it just leads to everything coming out. i hope that made sense lol this is my first request :) dont feel pressured to do this of course!!!

Since We Were Kids

pairing : zack fair x (female) reader

summary : zack is determined to reach first class. so much so that he will push through one of the most debilitating cold's he's ever had. angeal attempts to get him home, calling in zacks childhood best friend for help.

“Angeal! Come on! You know how important this is to me..” Zack lets out a pitiful whine, attempting to persuade his superior, before his whine turns into a horrific coughing fit. He doesn’t have to look up now that Angeal’s face has made no changes, he is stoic and his decision is final, Zack will not be staying for work this week. 

“You can take a week off.. Besides you're of no use to anybody with the state you're in. Go home, get some rest.”

“Fine..” 

“I mean it Zack..” 

“Yeah..yeah..i heard ya.” Zack crosses his arms, heavy sigh passing through his lips, eyebrows furrowing as he walks away from where Angeal stands. He was barely sick..a little cough wasn’t gonna hold him back from becoming a first class SOLDIER.

Zack barely lasts 20 minutes away from his training before his sword is back in his hands. His constant coughing fits are feeling him with annoyance but he powers through them to continue swinging away with the chunk of metal in his hands. 

But why was he so tired? He usually had so much energy. Why was his sword so hard to carry? It never had been before.. 

And why did it feel like someone's hand was on his shoulder? “Zack!”

He jumps away when there is suddenly shouting coming from beside him, his head pounding in a way that wasn't noticeable until this moment, “Angeal! Hey pal..what’re you..uh..doing here?”

“What’re you doing here? I told you to go home.” 

“I can’t go home, this is too important, I’m not even that sick..” Even Zack’s faith in the statement is beginning to falter, especially when his eyes become blurry from the dizziness pooling at the front of his head. 

“Go home.” 

“No way!” Zack expects Angeal to disagree again but he doesn’t, he actually doesn't say anything, he just walks away. It’s so out of character that Zack debates just listening to him and leaving so he doesn’t get demoted, but he decides against it and continues to practice while sweat pools on his skin. 

It doesn’t take long for Angeal to return, Zack isn't worried when he hears his heavy footsteps from down the hallway, but he is unaware of the other pair of feet following close behind.

At this point, Zack is just staying for spite, his body is exhausted and he is barely swinging his sword, and his coughing fits are becoming more frequent to the point where he has to stop moving to take deep breaths. 

“Zack. Enough is enough. Your friend can take you home now.”

“Huh?” Zack turns and almost starts coughing again, but only because the breath hitches in his throat, you shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t be seeing him like this. It’s pitiful, his inability to stay strong for training is embarrassing, and your gaze full of pity isn;t helping in the way it usually does. 

“She’s taking you home.” Zack opens his mouth to argue once more but Angeal has had enough, “No arguing. My decision is final, if I see you here again before I say you can return I will demote you myself, good luck reaching first class then..”

Zack looks defeated but he closes his mouth, and drops his sword with a loud clang, before trudging towards your side with his arms crossed tightly. His mannerisms make a giggle slip out of you, he looks like a child, but you quickly mask it as a cough when he shoots you a serious glare. Also reminiscent of a child but if you laughed again he might punch you. 

He isn’t happy about having to leave, especially being escorted out by a lady half his size, but he doesn’t make any complaints when you intertwine your arm in his to keep him stable. 

“I’m fine, y’know. I’m only going home because Angeal made me.” You nod along with him as he talks, hiding the disbelief running through your head. God was this kid stubborn, but it made you happy to know that his training hadn't changed the way he was when you were kids.  

“Zack, you need to rest..” 

“I need to reach first class.” 

“How do you expect to do that if you can’t even hold your sword up, dork.” His face scrunches up, but to your surprise he doesn’t pull his body away, he actually does the opposite and pulls your arm closer to his body. He’s using you to hold up a large amount of his body weight, but you allow him as long as he needs. 

When you finally reach Zack’s home, it takes more effort to get him into bed then you’d care to admit, he truly acts like a child insisting that he ‘doesn’t need to get any sleep because he feels perfectly fine’ followed by a coughing fit and him having to sit down because he feels dizzy. You promise him the soup that he likes if he gets into bed, to which he begrudgingly agrees to. 

After practically forcing food down his throat, he finally allows himself to be tired and his head falls back onto the pillows. You place a cold cloth on his forehead, after feeling it with your own hands and deciding that his fever might only be worsening. How’d he keep training while being this sick? 

You watch as he dozes off, you can tell he is trying to stay awake so he doesn’t fully admit that he is sick, but his body is taking over. He finally looks at peace, even though his hair is sticking to his forehead and his breathing is heavy, at least he’s getting some rest.

You plan on leaving, really you do, but you get so caught up in the image of him sleeping that you find your own eyes falling closed, head resting by his side against the bed. 

When your eyes open again it’s dark outside, you can’t tell how long you’ve been sitting with him but from the darkness pouring into the room, it’s longer then you meant for. You worry for a moment, worry that you’ve overstayed your welcome and that Zack got up hours ago to sleep away from you, but when you turn the lamp on beside his bed you find him in the same spot you’d left him. 

You’re greedy with how you look at him, you miss being so close to him. The proximity makes you realize how much you’ve missed him since he started his training, you hardly see him. And you wish the circumstances for finally seeing him again weren't because he was sick, and rather because he actually wanted to see you. But you’d take any time you could get with your best friend. 

He stirs suddenly and you let your hand fall on top of his, tangling your fingers in his, as a way to bring him some comfort in his sleep. His skin is warm and clammy, heating up your hands, it should be gross but the feeling of his hand in yours fills your stomach with a flurry of butterflies.

Slowly, his eyes flutter open and you can tell he is dazed, the way he scans the room to gather his surroundings before landing on you once more confirms your thoughts. 

“Y/n?” Zack’s voice is hoarse, causing him to clear his throat before he continues talking, “What’re you still doing here? How long have you been here?”

For a minute your heart pumps inside your chest faster than before, nervousness building in your stomach, “I’m sorry..I fell asleep a couple..hours ago I think. I didn’t want to leave right away in case you woke up again but I never meant to fall asleep.” 

“Why’re you apologizing..” His fingers, which you had forgotten were tangled in your own, tense against your skin and tighten their grip on your hand. 

“Sorry..” 

Your second apology causes him to let out a laugh. A laugh that immediately has him sitting up because he coughs so hard his lungs hurt, and he squeezes your hand tighter in his lap while he tries to catch a breath. 

When he finally catches a break, taking deep breaths while your hand slides up and down his back, he looks at you pitifully, “You’re gonna get sick..go home.” 

“You're crazy if you think I'm going home. I’m not leaving, who’s gonna take care of you?” 

“I can take care of myself, you know..”

“This is news to me.” You raise an eyebrow at him, to which he responds by sticking his tongue out tiredly. He can’t even retort like he usually does. He doesn't have the energy to argue and tell you to leave so you don’t get sick, Zack isn’t even sure he wants you to leave anymore. 

“You don’t have to stay..” 

“I want to, Zack. I care about you.” You can’t tell if his cheeks were already flushed or if they suddenly became red as you spoke to him, but either way you were sure your face was mirroring his.  

He falls back onto the pillows, asking you quietly if you'll get him some water and another blanket before he gets the chills, and you happily oblige. Even while he’s sick, he is able to feel content and you’re happy to be the reason. 

Zack's fingers find your hand again, squeezing gently as you sit on the chair beside him, “..Training is kicking my ass.” 

“Yeah..but I’m sure it’ll be all worth it eventually,” You try not to let his spirits get down especially while he is in such a tired state, his training put on pause because of his sickness, and you ponder telling him more, “I miss you, you know..a lot.”

A small smile appears on his face, eyes puffy and bags under his eyes, and he looks towards you, “Yeah?” 

You can only nod, embarrassed by his lack of affirmation that he has felt the same over the months he’s been training. 

“I missed you too..” And the embarrassment flees from your body instantaneously, while his thumb rubs over the top of your knuckles. 

The two of you sit in silence for a while, him playing with your knuckles as he tries to hold back the aggressive coughs that threaten to leave his mouth. His head is pounding, and he should feel like shit, but he truly can’t bring himself to when you're looking into his eyes all concerned and you’re letting him play with your hands with no complaints.

“Why’d you stay?” His voice startles you, and you try to pretend that you weren't staring at him and admiring every detail of his face. 

“I already told you..” You roll your eyes, letting out a huff before leaning on the palm of your hand, in all honesty you were ready to doze off while Zack looked around your hands and face. 

“No..no..why’d you stick around?” His question confuses you and you have to think about what he might mean and then it clicks. You hadn’t realized that he might be aware of how much time his training takes up. It hadn’t occurred to you that Zack could focus on anything but becoming first class.

He’d been neglecting your friendship, but when Angeal rang and asked you to pick Zack up you agreed without hesitation, you forgot instantly about how angry his schedule made you. 

You’re not sure how to answer him. You could tell him the truth, that you had been madly in love with your black haired friend since you were children.

Or you could continue to lie, and claim that you had only stayed around because of your long lasting friendship that had absolutely no underlying romantic feelings that neither one of you could talk about. 

“C’mon Zack..” 

He stares into your eyes, right through you. He knows, he already knows, you don’t have to say anything to him. As he looks at you, he's pleading with you to admit it to him and it makes your stomach crawl with nervousness. 

“Y’know I’d do anything for you..been like that since we were kids.” His eyebrows furrow at your attempt to dodge an admission that you hadn’t been prepared for an hour ago, you still weren't ready to admit to him that you were in love with him. 

“Y/n..do you love me?” 

Again silence fills the room and you’re unsure what to say to the expectant boy. You think, for a second, that he's joking. But his eyes are filled with such sincerity and genuine interest. He wants to know, and he doesn't seem to care if his question comes off bluntly.

When you don’t immediately respond he continues in your place, “Because I think I’m in love with you and I know I’d do anything for you. And I think you feel the same way. I can’t think of any other reason why you wouldn't ignore Angeal’s call, and tell me to deal with this by myself. I know I haven't been around like I should be. But you’re here anyway..”

“Zack please..of course I do. Been like that since we were kids,” You smile softly, repeating yourself and look down at your entangled hands.

He doesn’t let that allow that for very long before he is grabbing your chin to turn your head to face him once more, “I’m not gonna kiss you, because I don't want you getting sick. But I promise you, as soon as this sickness is gone I’m gonna be all over you..” 

Even though his words, words you would've never expected to hear when you dragged him into his room just hours earlier, send a nervous shiver down your body you still find a way to tease him, “Careful Zack. Get too excited and your lungs might act up again.”

“Can I ask you to stay the night?” 

How could you ever say no. 

“Of course, Zack, anything for my first class SOLDIER.”