#like if i didn’t know that i’m at least seeing my therapist finally again next week idk what i’d be doing with myself rn lol

[lesbiangracehanson]

~~~~

[admirationandromantics]

Going overboard, Epilogue

(He looks so fine, I can't handle it. Can handle him though, just like you're about to do). Anyways, this is the final end of this story. This has been such a great experience, and I've loved writing it. I know many are waiting for the next one (which will be with Chris), but please give me some time to get started on that. Right now, I have a bunch of requests to take care of, which I will also be doing while posting the next story.

Again, thank you all for the encouragement and support throughout this, and don't worry. Josh is NOT gone, you can request as much as you want. Anyways, as always, my blog is 18+ and so is this post (hint hint) so just enjoy! <3

Luckily, I got to know that both Matt and Jessica survived. Mike was so happy when they told us. Jess looked like a wreak though, I’ve never seen her like that, physically or mentally. She told us that she didn’t think she’d survive if it weren’t for Matt. I’ve never seen gratitude like what I saw on Mike’s face that day. He went straight for Matt, pulling him into a hug, leaving him stunned. 

The police were quick to separate all of us, getting each one’s story. I told the truth, everything there was to say, but I don’t think they believed me. It hurt telling them about Josh. I feared that he’d serve time, that he would stay behind bars for a long time. They decided that there would be no trial, considering his mental state. I heard his laughter from the other room, crying by myself as I wondered what he would remember, and if the traumas we went through would be the drop that spilled the glass. They decided he was a danger to others and himself, and it didn’t take long to get him to a clinic and try some new medication. Again, after another traumatic trip to that damn mountain, I didn’t keep in touch with him. They didn’t let him use his phone, and the only people allowed to see him were his parents. After four months, they let Chris visit, but it had been a long time since I saw them, so I don’t think that letting me visit was even an option. 

The friend group split. I don’t know what happened with Emily and Matt, last I heard, they were still together, but that was a while ago. Jess and Mike broke up after a while. I heard it was bad, and Jessica was the one who made the cut. Sam still talked to him, so I got some info here and there, but he is not the sort of man I really wish to be in contact with. 

I still talk to Sam, and we continue our daily coffees, only now, we talk about the last events that happened on that cursed place. She seems like she’s falling down some rabbit hole about mythological creatures and folklore. I’ve told her that we should forget everything, that maybe talking to a therapist could be good for her. She doesn’t listen, and I’m just trying to keep her present, afraid that she’ll end up as Josh. Isolated, and supervised continuously. 

I’m often invited over for gaming nights with Chris and Ashley. The games vary, but it doesn’t always feel as welcoming as thought. I often feel like an intruder, like they would feel bad by hanging out together without me. I tried to talk to Ashley about it, but she assured me that they love me, and us being together is a good way to deal with everything. I still feel like a third wheel, sitting in the corner while they have flirty interactions or Chris steals a kiss. Still, they both feel bad for me, that much I’m sure of. One of the good things that come out of it is that Chris tells me about his visits. In the start, Josh had been confused and scared, pleading with him to get him out of there. Now, six months later, he was better, the medicine finally working and pieces falling back into place. He’s bored out of his mind, joking that if they didn’t give him at least a console, he would kill himself. Chris laughed when he said that, but my breath hitched and I suddenly felt unsure. Ashley noticed, walking over to me and telling me that Josh joking like this just meant that he felt better. They’d gotten used to my cries. I was never this bad before, but even though I didn’t have a reason, it still came out. Every day, several times. I had to lock myself in the bathroom or my bedroom to relieve myself. 

***

I cut the tomato in thin slices, arranging them in fine lines on the buttered toast. A knock is heard on the door. “Just walk in Sam, it’s open” I shout, knowing when she usually comes over on her morning run. I hear the door open, footsteps out of the hallway. I grab the salt, carefully shaking it over the tomato to not get too much. Two hands make their way around my waist, pulling me into a tight body. I stop breathing as I know that this is not Sam, this is a man’s body. I look down, hands looking awfully familiar. 

“Hey” he whispers against my ear, and I feel tears coating my eyes. I turn around, looking at a smiling Josh. 

“Hey” I answer, not able to hide the surprise in my voice. My hands travel behind his neck, locking him in place. His dark circles aren’t as bad anymore, and he does look quite healthy. I still don’t know what to say, shocked by his sudden presence. He smirks, tilting his head and looking at me with sceptical eyes. 

“Well, isn’t this a first time for you not knowing what to say”

“I-I”

“We’re getting there…”

“Hey, you bombarded me wi-” I’m interrupted by a kiss, his head moving in sync with mine, hunger, lust and eight months without contact pooling out as a stress-relief. He grabs me harder, taking hold of my thighs and lifting me up on the counter. God, I’ve missed him. My legs cross behind him, pulling him deeper into me. His lips are soft and warm, connecting with mine as I open my mouth a bit, letting him in deeper. I whine, feeling the tears fall from the corners of my eyes. His hands move to cup my face, thumbs brushing away the wetness. 

“We should probably talk” I say between sobs. 

“That’s why I came over” he answers, pulling away a bit. I waste no time, taking his arm and forcing him back, his lips on mine while I sob. His sisters, the prank, the wendigos, everything poured into me slowly coming out. 

“Sorry” I whisper. “You’ve just come out, this isn’t what you need right now” I squeak, trying to compose myself. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here, and I’m not leaving again”

This makes me break down even harder, being reminded that every time we rekindle, something gets in the way. He lays my head on his flannel-coated shoulder, letting me cry till I can’t breathe anymore. He holds me up, making sure that I don’t fall off the counter while leaving sweet small kisses on my forehead. When the air is finally quiet, he pulls away, thumbs rubbing my cheeks. I feel the mascara being smudged, though that’s more my fault than his. 

“God, I’d already gotten ready today, and now I guess I have to do it again” I laugh, trying to look a little presentable. 

“You’re beautiful” he whispers, awe in his eyes. I stop the tears and kiss him yet again. 

After a while, we make our way to the sofa, determined to talk about this now, to get it over with. I walk to the bathroom to freshen up. 

“Are you sure you need that? What if you start crying again?” he shouts from the living room. 

“Haha, I’ve gotten everything out now” I laugh back. 

“You sure? It would be awfully inconvenient for you to spend half of the time in the bathroom… alone…” 

“Almost done Josh!”

I walk back out, and he’s still spread out on the sofa. I sit down on top of him, holding his shoulders as I lean down to kiss him. His hands wander, gripping my thighs and ass. 

“You said we should talk?” I tease, knowing he’s getting riled up. 

“No, no, no, no. Fuck talking, let’s do this instead” he urges, gripping me harder and pressing me down on him. I want him so bad, but we do indeed have to talk. 

“We have to” I whisper. 

“I know”

The hours go by as we talk about the incident. I get especially emotional when we talk about the prank, how he tricked me, several times. He wasn’t in his right mindset, but he would do everything in his power to get me to trust him again. He had talked to the others, but the other part of the group decided not to keep in contact. It was a toxic friend group anyway, I comment. He talked about his time in the facility, how it was scary in the beginning, cause he didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. Luckily, Chris had told him about the wendigos, but he still had to pretend they didn’t exist and they were a figment of his imagination when they did his mental evaluation. He just wanted to put everything behind him, and move forward. After a while, the mood lightens, as we stop talking about the deep stuff. 

“You hit me!” he laughs, hitting me in the arm. 

“Well, I thought you were a fucking Psycho!” I defend myself. 

“That wasn’t the only time!”

“The way you were talking? You asked for it!” 

“You know, I should really come up with a revenge plan for you”

“Let’s not forget about what you did”

“Nah, that doesn’t count, I was insane”

“You can’t play the mentally ill-card on this”

“Yes I can”

I hit him again, and he grabs my arms, lifting them behind him, causing me to fall flat down on his stomach. 

“I think, maybe we’ll go to the bedroom, you get undressed, and I can start leaving some marks on you” he whispers, fingers still entwined with mine. 

“Really, what kind of marks are we talking about?” I skeptically ask, looking up at him. 

“Maybe a bit similar to the ones you left on me, just without the wood” 

“You’re sadistic”

“Some things can’t be cured”

I reach up to him, straddling his lap and kissing him. 

“Got something else planned?”

“Eight months gave me time to think”

“And what are your thoughts?”

“Something about you, tied up, blindfolded, begging me to touch you…” he starts, and I feel myself getting wetter. His breathing is hot, and he can’t stop staring at my lips. I smile, slowly grinding on him. Making him let out a groan. “Fuck, and then I’ll teach you a lesson” he says, hands moving to my thighs to help the movements. I bite my lip, eager to get into it, to let him get into me. 

“Fucking hell, you need to stop that” he whines. 

“You’re the one leading me” I tease, caressing his arms, making him aware of his grip on my thighs. I lean forward, kissing his neck, small pecks all over. He makes a small whimpering sound when I kiss him right below his ear, so I bite down. He jolts, giving out a loud moan. I kiss the pain away, lightly sucking. His hands wander under my shirt, grabbing my waist. In response, I grace his neck with my nails, feeling him shiver under my touch. 

He takes out his hands, placing them under my thighs. I pull away, wondering what he’s doing. 

“Jos- woah!” I yelp as he lifts me over his shoulder, holding onto my legs so I don’t fall down behind him. 

“Josh! What the hell are you doing?” I yell. He stands up, making the ground so far away that I don’t dare to scramble. He smacks my butt, making me gasp while walking over to the bedroom. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t like it. 

“You know, you’re gonna pay” he says, something sinister in his voice. 

“Oh, really?” I tease, earning myself another smack. 

“Don’t try to be a smartass, that’ll not get you anywhere” he says, caressing my legs, one of his hands moving up between my thighs. 

“Josh” I say, grabbing hold of his waist from upside down. 

“What can I do for you?”

“You can put me down”

“I thought you were into the whole Spiderman-thing” he asks, opening the bedroom door. 

“Well, that’s when we’re face to face” 

“I guess I’ll have you upside down some other time then” he says, bowing down, making me slam into the bed. I shriek, surprised by the action. He doesn’t waste time, leaning over me, capturing my lips in his. It starts hungry, but eventually finds a rhythm filled with passion and regret. I open up, letting him inside. Our breaths are heaving in sync, and I grab both sides of his face, eating him up. 

“Eager are we?” he teases, but I have no more room for jokes. 

“Eight months Josh…”

“Yeah, I know”

We continue the assault on each other, chests heaving and bodies grinding. With every passing second, my body grows hotter and wetter. I grab hold of the hem of his shirt, dragging it off him. I’m mesmerized. 

“Have you been working out?” 

“Wasn’t much to do there” 

“Fuck” I mumble as I feel him up, memorizing his lines. He eagerly drags my shirt off, shocked by the fact that I’m not wearing a bra. 

“And you were saving this sight only for me?” 

“Only you” I smile, loosening his belt. He grabs both my hands, holding them over my head. 

“Let’s not get right to the main course” he purrs in my ear. 

“Oh, please, I’ve waited long enough”

“Patience” he whispers, voice vibrating hot against my skin. He leaves a trail of kisses, starting on my lips, moving slowly down my neck. With his free hand, he grabs my breast, squeezing and fickling with my nipple. I moan from his touch, legs automatically pressing against each other, longing for some type of friction. My core aches for him, being turned on for so long that I feel like a primal animal. He notices, and places his knee in between, making me grind down on him. 

“You’re too eager”

“Fucking hell Washington, if you don’t do anything in the nex-”

“Oh my, of course. Whatever you say m’lady” he smiles, entertained by my longing for him. He strokes his fingers over my wetness, noticing that I’m drenched through. I ache for him, him and his touch. I have for eight fucking months. 

“God, you have been waiting for this” he calmly exclaims, hand unbuttoning my pants and sliding under. He goes into my panties, coming in contact with my folds immediately. I whine, feeling his faint touch. His thumb starts rubbing circles around my clit, and the longing pleasure I’ve been waiting for seeps through my body. I let out loud moans which are drowned by his kisses. 

“You’re doing so good for me” he whispers, inserting one of his fingers. He pushes in and out, continuing to put pressure on my clit. The knot in my stomach tenses abnormally quick, and I throw my head back as he starts kissing my collar. He chuckles against my skin, noticing how down bad I am for him. He doesn’t stop, working his fingers and toying with my breasts until I come all over him. 

“Good, good” he whispers as I breathe heavily. He makes his way down, taking hold of my pants and dragging them completely off. Before he goes down again, he takes off his own, leaving him in only his boxers. I see his hardness through the fabric, the size of it drenching my already soaked underwear. He lies on top of me, hand caressing my stomach and moving to my waist. He takes hold, spinning me around on my stomach. I give a yelp, but he quickly puts a bit of his weight on top, caging me under him, unable to move. 

“Don’t think you’re getting away that easy” he whispers as his hand moves down to my panties, dragging them off. 

“Fuck, Josh please” I plead, having been ready for him for a long time. I immediately hear a loud smack, before feeling stinging pain on my ass cheek. I cry out, and he moves his hand to rub the painful area. 

“Tell me exactly what you want” he purrs in my ear, hand not moving. 

“I want you Josh” I whine, feeling tears in the corners of my eyes. A loud smacking noise fills the room again, but this time I moan out his name. He smirks, hand rubbing soft circles, numbing the pain. 

“You need to go into more detail than that” 

My mind is fogged, the instincts being mere sexual as everything he does and says turns me on more. 

“You’re practically dripping, like getting manhandled that bad?” he comments, fingers gracing my warmth and making me give out a choked cry. 

“Just tell me what you want and I’ll get you right off” he coys, smirking as he kisses my neck. I try to steady my voice, but it still comes out in the most erotically desperate sounds ever made.

“Please Josh, I want you inside me, now, right now” 

“Oh really?”

“Yes please, please” 

“I love it when you beg for me” he whispers as he takes off his underwear. Finally. He takes hold of me, turning me back on my back so we’re facing each other. 

“I wanna see you” he says, leaning down and kissing me. His cock brushes up against my folds, coating itself and pressing. I gasp as he goes inside me, painfully slow. He grunts as he gets all the way in, grabbing my thigh hard, definitely leaving a mark. 

“God you’re beautiful” he whispers, hand coming to my face, thumb swiping away a tear. He leans even further down, making sure our chests are pressing up against each other, and my arms move under his, and hold onto his back. 

“Josh, I’ve missed you so much” I stammer, the ecstasy of everything blurring my mind and messing with my senses. All I feel is his eyes staring, his hot breath, and immense pleasure. He starts moving against me, pelvis grinding on my clit, with no need for extra factors. I take him in, soaking and moaning, wishing that we didn’t lose two years of this. His breaths quicken, moans passing through his lips. I clench around him as I come again, and he rides the orgasm out with me, capturing my lips once again in a sloppy and panting kiss. 

“I love you” he whispers, still moving and breathing heavily. My heart flutters as he says it, my legs pressing him deeper into me. 

“I love you too” I say back between gasps, taking hold of his neck and pulling him to my lips. He goes faster, and I feel the slight overstimulation as he continues, making me whine. He gets me to the edge again, using his hand to fondle my breasts and sucking my neck. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna-” he pants. 

“Yes, please do!” I urge, coming another time around his cock, tightening. This throws him over, and he buries himself deep inside as he comes as well. He collapses on top of me, the sudden weight knocking my breath out. It quickly comes back, and I fold my arms around him, hugging and kissing his hairline. 

“Don’t leave” I force out, breathless and weak. 

“Never” he answers, just as exhausted.

[ihrthoney]

stupid

pairings: touya todoroki x f!reader (no actual relationship atm, it’s more of a reunion thing but with romantic intentions)

warnings: fluff, touya backstory

word count: 2.8k (JESUS😭)

an: touya is alive and well tyvm! most likely will make a part 2 :p

It had been about two years and Touya was finally out of the hospital. When your body is near death, time flies by. The first few months were times he didn’t ever want to relive, the mental and physical pain he had to endure when healing his body was intense. After every session, he would knock out until he had to start the next test. 

As promised, he talked to his father every single day. The rest of his family would visit separately or by themself. Since their first visit, Natuso has never been in the same room as their father, Touya understands and respects his decision of course.

Society on the other hand… let’s just say he gets everything delivered to him to avoid the public as much as he can. Given it’s been two years, the rise of heroes has already begun (again) and the crime rate has never been lower; but for his sanity, he does not want to be recognized. 

His nerves always spike when he’s forced to go out but his mom and sister think exposure therapy is good. Speaking of therapy, he’s been seeing a therapist since he could properly talk again. Since he was a villain he has to do community service for ten years, technically eight in present times. Every day for eight hours he helps different companies and programs with whatever they need. As exhausting as it is, he knows it’s the least he can do for being a big factor in hero society collapsing. 

Currently, he’s with his siblings shopping for clothes and it feels like community service. He loves his sister, he really does, but they’ve been shopping for hours and his ass hurts from sitting so much as she tries on different outfits. Thankfully Natsuo had joined (was dragged) them or else he would’ve fallen asleep three stores ago. Fuyumi said Natsuo always agrees so they can leave the store quicker and that a second opinion is always nice! She said Shoto was too busy with school and training to stay plus he was too sheltered to know about things that weren't hero-related (they’re so grateful for his friends).

Fuyumi is in a fitting room trying on a few dresses for an event their mom is a part of. The boys already had their outfits ready (a suit and tie) so there was no need for them to shop, they were seated right in front of the door Fuyumi was in, other seats next to them were either empty or also filled with someone waiting.

The door opened and Touya instinctively looked up, just as he did when someone walked past him and it made his blood, ironically, run cold. Quickly, he hides his face behind Natsuo which confuses the latter, “What are you doing??”

Acting dumb, “What do you mean?”, his eyes continue to look at the seat. “I mean why are you hiding?”, awkwardly he tries to hug Natsuo, “Hiding? I’m just trying to give my brother affection of course!”

Pushing the older’s arms off of him, Touya sits back and watches as his brother’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion, “Nice try, do you think I’m stupid?” “Yes.” “Shut up!”

Before they could continue with their teasing, Fuyumi walks out with a few items in hand, gesturing they go to the register and pay.

On their way there she asks, “What were you two arguing about?” Touya was reminded of why he froze to his seat and all the memories started to flood in. 

-

“What are you doing?” A small voice appeared next to him, rustling sounds as someone sat next to him.

Annoyingly, he turned to see who cared enough to bother him during lunch. Touya was frowning, wanting to go home and train but his frown vanished when he saw you. Your hair was split into pigtails with turquoise rubber bands and an all-might lunch box in your hands. 

“It’s none of your business.” He quipped, upset at such a person distracting him. He frowns again at your response, “That’s not very nice. My mom said if you don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all.” 

He always hated that saying because it was something he needed to learn, “That’s stupid.” His arms are crossed, now angry at the scolding. Instantly you replied with, “You’re stupid!” 

Touya whipped his head around at your insult and he stood up, “You’re stupider!” He yelled, which caused you to yell even louder, “You’re the stupidest!” 

The little fight between you two somehow sparked into a competition to prove who wasn’t stupid by stating your test scores, to demonstrating your quirks, then arguing about pro-heroes. From that day forward you guys were glued to each other’s side, eating lunch and spending breaks together. Touya had even invited you to his house, to his mom’s delightful surprise.

Everyday was spent together,

until he died. 

The loss of Touya destroyed you, school had become lonely and you distanced yourself from people in fear of losing someone else. The other kids only knew you as the girl whose friend died, which made them avoid you and your grief.

After graduating middle school, you never continued in your path to become a hero, unable to stomach death and violence. Instead, you went to a normal high school and a little college that gave you enough knowledge to have a name to yourself that you were satisfied with. 

Despite the loss, the Todoroki’s never forgot about you; Anytime they saw you in public you guys would quickly catch up, you’ve even seen their mom once a few times. Rei was an angel to be around, she had a very caring aura even after everything she’s been through.

Honestly, you were incredibly nervous when visiting her, you shouldered a ton of guilt for not being able to save Touya from his desire to be a hero. She cried at the confession, Fuyumi did too, you all shared a lengthy and heartfelt conversation about your grief. 

After that conversation, you and Fuyumi grew very close! Whenever she wasn’t busy with teaching her students you guys would meet up and go to festivals, chat over drinks or freak out together over your guys’ shared interests. 

Fuyumi became one of your best friends so it was no surprise when you recognized her at the store. 

-

“Hey Yumi!!” You beam at his sister, your eyes bright as you walk around the counter to hug his sister. While Touya isn’t tall enough to tower over you, he still has to slightly look down to meet your eyes.

He watched as you both chatted, something about Fuyumi needing a last minute dress for their mom’s event, to you… also going.. to the event.

“What are you going to wear?” His sister asked, showing her outfit in her hands and questioning which one to buy. “I have the blue version of this dress! You should get this one so we can match!” Excitedly, you pointed at a simple white dress Fuyumi had in her hands, which made her grab the other dresses and reach them towards Natsuo.

“Could you put these dresses back please!” Natuso whined, “How am I supposed to know where they go?” Touya tries to keep his eyes remained on his brother in fear you’ll recognize him. Not that it would be shocking given that he announced his existence on national television.

Your arms come into view as you grab the clothes from his sister's hands, “It’s okay, I can put it away!” Feeling embarrassed, Fuyumi tries to exclaim that it’s okay and she can put it away but you insisted that it was your job.

So you work in this clothing store.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re always too kind to me Yumi. Come over to this register, I can ring you up!” The former villain doesn’t know whether or not to feel relieved or hurt that you haven’t noticed his presence. Maybe you did and you’re ignoring him? Or maybe you just think he’s one of Natsuo’s friends? There’s a million questions that run through his mind, so much so that by the time he snaps back to reality, you’re handing Fuyumi her receipt.

As they exit the store, he musters up some courage to look at you and to his shock you’re already looking at him. Instead of looking away, you give him a small smile and he matches it, before turning his attention to the door in front of him. 

The walk to the car is quiet, the sound of the wind rustling the trees and feet scratching against rocks on the road. He gets into the backseat, claiming the passenger seat makes him carsick.

Fuyumi was quick to address the elephant in the room, not even giving him time to put his seatbelt on, “Why didn’t you say anything?” She turned around and looked back at him.

Natsuo started the car but didn’t move to reverse, “Wasn’t she your first and only friend in school?” Touya pouted at the fact that his brother stated, you were his first crush too. 

“I doubt she recognized me or maybe she didn’t want to.” Being vulnerable was still a hard thing for him, so his sentence was merely whispered but curse Fuyumi for having good ears, “Don’t say that! Of course she recognized you, she was just shy. Plus, you didn’t even look at her!”

The elder scoffs at having not been slick, “Say something to her next time, she’s been wanting to talk to you.” Touya is confused at what his sister mentioned, “What do you mean she wants to talk to me??” 

Fuyumi’s expression makes it seem like she was caught doing something bad, but she was never good at secrets, “Yn is aware of your existence, she reached out to me when you were first admitted to the hospital after the fight all those years ago. She was very worried but didn’t feel like it was her place even though we insisted she visited. I really think you should talk to her.”

“Yeah talk to her! Don’t be a wuss big bro!”

“Shut up!”

That night, Touya couldn’t get any sleep, he was too busy thinking about all the times he would search for you when he was Dabi. There were too many times when he wanted to just go up to you, to watch you smile at him even if under the guise of customer service, but he couldn’t do that to you. Dabi didn’t want you to look at what he had become, what he’s done. So like his past, he erased you from his mind and focused on his goal.

-

Until his eyes could do nothing but focus on you standing right in front of him. 

Tonight he and his family (minus their dad of course, he wasn’t allowed near Natsuo) were in the ballroom of some hotel that his mom’s club was hosting. After getting out of the ward, his mom joined a community club that takes care of plants, it keeps her busy and happy.

This event was to celebrate the success of the plant business’ success in growth, there were mini games for the children of the members, food and a live band. It was quite nice, not as loud as he prepared himself for it to be.

Although, right now he couldn’t hear anything over the raging beat of his heart. There you were, greeting his mother. As always you were so beautiful, he couldn’t believe you were so close. The dress you were wearing did match Fuyumi’s, who just now bumped his shoulder, “Talk to her you idiot.” 

“How can I? I died, killed people, almost died, and now I’m-” His sister interrupts with that kind voice of hers, she was always so reassuring, “Alive, with a second chance. Trust me, she misses you.” 

Before Touya got a chance to think of a reply, you made eye contact with him. His mother followed her gaze and beamed at the sight of him, waving him down.

Touya could never say no to his mom, not anymore. So, against his will he walked towards you two. His eyes never once left yours even if he wanted to look away, hating the way you stared at him, it made him feel too conscious of his skin. While he doesn’t have staples of purple skin, it's still apparent where his scars were. 

“We’ll leave you two alone.” And just like that his mom and sister disappeared. The air was awkward, he didn’t know what to say. How does someone even start a conversation after everything he’s done?

Every doubt, any negative thought he’s ever had dissipates when he hears your angelic voice, “I like your hair.”

He can’t remember the last time he’s heard your voice that wasn’t through his jagged memories of you. It’s softer and smoother than when you were kids yet it carries a lightness that makes him straighten his back and hold out his hand towards you, 

“Would you like to dance?”

Heat crawls up his neck at the feeling of your soft hands grabbing his own, he feels like that naive little kid all over again.

With your hand in his, you both make your way to the dancefloor where the band starts to slow down their tune, a soft melody intertwining in the air, “I will be honest, I don’t actually know how to dance.” Touya admits embarrassingly, he didn’t have the time and even when he did he rejected any activity that wasn’t training. 

Slightly, you squeeze his hand in reassurance, “It’s okay, neither do I.” The most he knows about slow dancing is from the movies his siblings forced him to watch, who would’ve thought those dumb romance movies would have helped him.

“Is it okay if I?” His eyes gesture to his hands hovering above your waist, Shyly, you nod and he places his hands on your waist, gently moving your body closer to his. You take the close space as a sign to move your hands onto his shoulders.

Slowly, your bodies sway to the music, lights dim, colors of blue and a soft white flash over the dance floor, covering the red hue on Touya’s face. It was odd, two people who were friends for a few years in middle school met again a decade later at an event none of them were a part of. 

As always, you’re the one to break the silence, “How are you?” Your eyes are no longer looking into his, instead looking at the stupid tie he was forced to wear, “As good as a convicted criminal can be.” 

Nothing is said for a little bit, Touya starts to worry that he joked too soon, “How are you doing? I’m sorry for not saying anything when you were working.. I didn’t really know how to.”

Now you look up at him, “That’s stupid.”

He laughs at the memory that rises at your words, “A girl once told me that her mom told her, if you-” “Don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all, yeah yeah.” You roll your eyes as he mimics your words from your first encounter, that same smile you gave him when he saw you working but bigger, brighter too. 

“I’ve missed you yn.” 

Even with the dim lights, he can see the tears well up in your eyes, “I’ve missed you too, more than you could possibly ever know. I was so angry at you, learning how you died. I grieved for so long and when I was finally okay, the news of your existence flashed on my tv and I was angry all over again.” He hasn’t even realized that he was crying until your hands moved to wipe his tears, actual tears instead of thick lines of blood.

“I wanted to yell at you, to kick your ass, but seeing you in the hospital… I just wanted to talk to you again. I’m sorry I never visited.” Touya quickly assures you that there was no need for you to ever apologize and that it was him who needed to beg for your forgiveness for putting you through such pain.

“You’re free to do it all, I’m so sorry.” The tears wouldn’t stop flowing, years of guilt still streaming through him. 

“After all this time and you’re still a crybaby.” At the comment he turns his head away, a soft mutter denying such assumptions.

“‘m not a crybaby.” Your hand moves to turn his face towards yours, “That’s right, you’re a big crybaby.” He wants to be annoyed at the testing, but it’s you. Just like his family, his heart is weak for you. 

Years and years spent apart, the young flame his heart lit for you starts to warm again. The version of himself that met you still lives, still craving your presence. 

It’s too early to dive into those emotions, for now he’ll soak up the warmth your laugh radiates. He’s got all the time in the world.

© ihrthoney. reblogs & feedback are greatly appreciated𑁤

[janeyseymour]

stick season

summary: it's stick season. Hurt.

WC: ~1.85k

Feel free to listen to my cover of the Noah Kahan song!

Melissa has been your girlfriend for a year now. And she just joined you on a long weekend to go visit your hometown up in Vermont. Your parents absolutely adored Melissa, giving you the stamp of approval on your newest girlfriend, and you couldn’t be happier about that. 

It was warm, it was cozy, it was perfect. Or at least that’s what you thought. But apparently you were wrong, because the drive back to Philly just felt wrong.

As you promised me that I was more than all the miles combined, you must have had yourself a change of heart like halfway through the drive, because your voice trailed off exactly as you passed my exit sign; kept on drivin' straight and left our future to the right.

Melissa had told you that it was entirely worth all of the miles you were putting on her car to go up there with you over the weekend, and you can’t help but smile with joy. And then she’s kissing the back of your hand and promising you that you were more than all of those miles combined.

But then, about halfway through the car ride home, there’s a shift. She takes her hand off of your thigh as she drives, and when she passes the exit that she usually would to take you back to your apartment, she goes silent, biting her lip as if she’s deep in thought.

When she pulls in to her own driveway, she looks to you sadly.

“Hun? What’s wrong?” you ask, clearly concerned about this sudden shift in attitude. 

She bites her lip nervously. “Y/N, I don’t think I can do this,” she whispers.

“Do what?” you ask, although deep down you know what she’s hinting at.

She gestures between the two of you. “This. I- I’m not ready for the commitment that you’re ready for… you want to get married and have kids, and move back up to Vermont, and I can’t do that. I- I’m sorry.”

You leave her house in a puddle of tears. The uber driver that gets the misfortune of taking you home gives you quite a few concerned looks through the rear-view mirror.

Now I am stuck between my anger, and the blame that I can’t face, and memories are something even smoking weed does not replace. And I’m terrified of weather cause I see you when it rains. Doc told me to travel but there’s Covid on the planes.

You’re furious. You don’t know who you’re more mad at: yourself or Melissa. She just spent the last three nights with you up in Vermont playing the part of perfect girlfriend before dumping you and leaving you to explain to your parents that you’re single again. And you’re mad at yourself because you knew she didn’t want the future you did, but you had foolishly hoped she would change her mind. You suppose you should take the blame for that one, but you don’t want to face it- admit that it was your fault for putting blind faith in her.

Deciding that you need to relax, you roll yourself a joint, but the memories of you and Melissa over the past year just continue to replay in your mind. And for the first time ever since you started smoking weed, it doesn’t help the pain you feel in your chest. The drug might be able to remedy physical aches and pains, but it sure as hell can’t fix a broken heart; you’re not sure anything can right now.

You don’t leave your house for the next few weeks unless absolutely necessary. You’re a mopey mess, and your therapist finally tells you that you should travel. And you consider going back to Vermont because being in the same city as your now ex-girlfriend hurts too much. But there’s Covid on the planes, and you can’t quite justify driving up to Vermont on Friday night just to leave again on Sunday morning. Come Friday, you really do still toy with the idea of making your way back to your parents’ house, but there’s a cold front making it’s way through the Mid-Atlantic all the way up through New England, and you’re not about to attempt to drive through seven hours of rain and wind. Besides, when it rains, you can only think of Melissa. She used to have you dance out in the rain with her before cozying up on the couch and watching movies. She claimed it was the only way to spend a rainy day.

And I love Vermont but it’s the season of the sticks. And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed, and it’s half my fault but I just like to play the victim. I’ll drink alcohol til my friends come home for Christmas.

There’s a season that happens in New England when Fall starts to make its exit and Winter presents itself- and every year, around stick season, your life changes. Melissa came during stick season last year, and she left during this stick season. It hurts.

You end up seeing her mother at the grocery store, and you look like a wreck. You give her a shy wave just to be polite- things may have ended with her daughter, but it’s clear to you that she’s entirely forgotten about your existence or previous presence in Melissa’s life.

That stings, and you make your way to the alcohol aisle, throwing a few bottles of wine in your cart so you can mope and play the victim at home tonight. You suppose you’ll just drink until a few of your friends from college come home for Christmas.

So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad that I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from Dad. No, I am no longer funny cause I miss the way you laugh.

For the childhood that you had with your father, the relationship that you have with him as a grown woman is nothing short of a miracle. Because of everything you witnessed growing up as a child with having your father for a Dad, you came out better. You knew where to draw the line with certain things. You were funny because of the trauma that he caused you though too… but you aren’t funny anymore because the off color jokes that you used to make were usually just there for Melissa- and you miss the way she laughs. So now, you’re back to the quiet and shy, reserved person that you used to be before she brought out the best (and worst) in you.

You once called me forever, now you still can’t call me back. 

You remember when she told you that she was going to be yours forever. You didn’t think that she would ever say something like that- you knew that she hadn’t ever wanted to get married again, but you continued to pursue her romantically. And it was all looking really good for you, until she broke up with you.

You’ve called her a few times, to beg and grovel for her to take you back- tell her that you didn’t care about marriage and children as long as it meant you got to keep her in your life, but she refused to pick up the phone or call you back.

And I love Vermont but it’s the season of the sticks. And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed, and it’s half my fault but I just like to play the victim. I’ll drink alcohol til my friends come home for Christmas.

You end up flying home after a few weeks because you simply can’t bear the pain of this heartbreak alone, and you can’t quite justify driving for a weekend. It’s still stick season though, and you feel the cool air wash over you as you exit the airport and try to hail a cab back to your childhood home.

After the flight back home, you see Melissa’s mother at the airport. She has a sign that she’s holding indicating that she’s picking someone up. But she doesn’t see you, and after the last meeting with her, you doubt she remembers you… she’s definitely forgotten about your existence by now.

You’ve come to terms with the fact that your breakup with the Schemmenti was half your fault at this point, but you still take the Septa to get closer to your house before stopping at a liquor store- with the intention of once again playing the victim and drowning your sorrows in a bottle of tequila.

Maybe once you’ve seen some of your old college friends, you’ll head back north to see your hometown friends when they come.

And I’ll dream each night of some version of you that I might not have, but I did not lose. Now you’re tire tracks and one pair of shoes, and I’m split in half but that’ll have to do.

That redheaded beauty has haunted your dreams since you broke up with her. And you miss her dearly. But in each of your dreams, she’s a different version of herself, and it’s quite odd. Somewhere deep inside though, you know none of the versions of Melissa that your mind had made up are her- so you didn’t really lose her in a sense.

You always wake up though and sigh. She isn’t next to you like she should be. And when you head into your living room, you see a pair of her shoes that she left here and hasn’t asked to get back yet.

Your heart splits in half every time you see those shoes. You should just throw them out at this point, but you don’t want to touch them- if they’re there, maybe she’ll come back to you one day. 

Oh that’ll have to do… My other half was you. I hope this pain’s just passing through, but I doubt it.

She really was your other half, and you hope that the pain that you feel every time you see her shoes passes eventually, but you doubt it will.

And I love Vermont but it’s the season of the sticks. And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed, and it’s half my fault but I just like to play the victim. I’ll drink alcohol til my friends come home for Christmas. And I’ll dream each night of some version of you that I might not have, but I did not lose. Now you’re tire tracks and one pair of shoes, and I’m split in half but that’ll have to do.

Stick season passes by, and you’re still left on your own. Christmas time comes, and you find yourself with a bottle in your hand almost every night to try to help numb the pain. It’s becoming less and less, but you still miss her with all your heart. You know that being split in half will just have to do… maybe next stick season will bring you something happy again.

Tags (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab

[a-court-of-valkyries]

Where We Go From There Snippet

NERIS WEEK DAY 5: AU DAY

Hello! For Neris week I decided to do a little snippet for my fic Where We Go From There. This snippet will take place later on in the fic!

Nesta sighed, her back against the wall and her body soaking in the music blaring through the speaker as she watched the party from afar. Gwyn was deep in conversation with Clare Beddor, and Emerie had rushed to the store to get more chips. Feyre and Elain were chatting with Rhysand and his family on the couch. She could’ve engaged in conversation with Balthazar and Lucien, or tried to work on rebuilding her relationship with her sisters, but truthfully, Nesta did not feel like talking with anyone. She wanted to kick everyone out of the loft and go to sleep. She felt guilty at the thought though. She supposed she was in a better place, physically and mentally. She was surrounded by two people who genuinely and truly loved her and had thrown a party for her. She had a great job. Nesta had a lot to be thankful for, but even knowing that didn’t completely erase the gloomy mood she had been in. Seeing Tomas unexpectedly yesterday put her in a spiral, but this feeling was something different, like it had been laying dormant for months and was now shadowing her everywhere she went no matter how much she tried to ignore it.

And Eris had never shown up. Of course, he hadn’t shown up. He didn’t even like her. And I don’t like him, she thought. Nesta was glad he didn’t bother to come. That meant one less person to talk to at least. 

Nesta noticed Gwyn looking around until her eyes finally landed on Nesta. She waved, and Nesta hoped she gave her a convincing smile, one that said she was having a good time. Of course, Gwynn didn’t buy it since she began to make her way over to Nesta. “What’s wrong?” She asked when she finally reached her.

“Nothing! Just taking a little break from all the talking.” Gwyn’s eyebrows pinched in concern. “I’m fine, really,” Nesta reassured her. “Actually, I’ll be right back. I think I just need to get some air.” 

“Okay,” Gwyn mumbled as Nesta walked away. She made her way down the elevator in the hall, stepped outside, and sat on the front steps. She leaned against the railing and closed her eyes, embracing the cold wind on her face as it steadied her. She kept taking deep breaths in and out, hoping that it would stop the sudden rush of tears that wanted to escape. She told Gwyn and Emerie that she wouldn't mind having this party to prove to them and to herself that she was finally doing better, that she was fine, but she felt the exact opposite. She didn’t think she would ever be okay again, and if she, by some miracle, would be happy again, it would be a long time from now.

She was trying so hard to rekindle things with her sisters, and by extension, Rhysand and the rest of their family. But some part of Nesta hated seeing them in her home, indulging in her things after everything that had happened. It brought up all the feelings from when Nesta and Cassian had been together; all those times she felt ostracized, alone, like nothing she did or said was good enough for those people. Not even her sisters or boyfriend at the time felt she was worth enough to stand up for. And then  everything with Tomas. Nesta’s heart sank at the thought. What does it say about me, she thought, when the only love anyone wants to give me is one that hates? Maybe the answer was easy. Maybe Nesta was not a person who was meant to be loved. Emerie had called her brave, yet she felt anything but.

Nesta tried to control her breathing with the counting exercise her therapist had taught her as she felt that familiar course of anxiety run through her veins. She took a deep breath. Five things you can see: cars on the street, a cat walking into an alley across the street, a plane flying, an ‘open’ neon lights sign in a restaurant window, a fire hydrant. Four things you can touch: the  ground, the railing, the flower pot next to the door, her keys.

“You must really be enjoying your party if you’re out here,” a familiar voice said. Nesta's heart picked up, but she ignored it and scowled.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” she said as Eris walked towards her. 

“I like to be fashionably late,” he replied, standing in front of Nesta.

“So late that you almost missed the party?” She feigned disinterest as she watched a cloud of air puff from her mouth. 

“You sound disappointed. What’s wrong, Witchling? Were you beginning to miss me?”

“No,” Nesta said too quickly. Eris smirked knowingly at her, and Nesta hated it. She stared daggers at him. “I didn’t. Shut up.”

There was a glimmer in his eyes as he smirked at her. They lightened up in a way Nesta hadn't noticed before. Amber eyes, warm like honey, bright like she had just stumbled upon buried gold. She quickly dismissed the thought, mumbling about how irritating he was.

Eris rubbed at his arms as he looked around their surroundings. “Why are you out here in the freezing cold?” he asked. “You’ll catch your death.”

“That would make you happy. You’d no longer have me to compete with for surgeries.”

He hummed in agreement. “That would be nice. But I would miss the competition too much.”

Nesta sniffled and eventually answered his question. “I don’t like parties.” 

Eris looked up at the building. “That bad, huh?”

“No,” she said in defense of everything Emerie and Gwyn had done to put this together. Guilt started gnawing at her. She didn't want them to think she wasn't grateful for all of this, but between seeing her sisters and Cassian’s family again, and everything still fresh with Tomas, it felt overwhelming. She supposed seeing two exes in less than 24 hours would do that for anyone. “I just didn't feel like being around a bunch of people right now.”

“Even if I'm the alternative?” 

“Normally I'd say no,” Nesta grumbled, “but I'll make an exception this one time.”

Eris nodded. They settled in silence for a moment, which Nesta found oddly comforting. She closed her eyes. Three things you can hear. A car horn in the distance, crickets chirping somewhere nearby, -

Nesta straightened as Eris took a seat on the step next to her, putting a warm jacket around her to cover her shoulders. “You don't have to do that.” She began to shrug out of it, which only made Eris pull it around her tighter. 

She shook her head. “This feels weird. Take it back.”

He scrunched his eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because it's weird! We fight. We compete. We despise each other. We’re not friendly.”

Eris shrugged casually. “What if I made you a deal?”

Nesta raised an eyebrow, wary of where the conversion was heading. “What kind of deal?”

“What if we were enemies that sometimes. . .” he paused, trying to think of the right word, “tolerated each other. At least for tonight.”

“I’m tolerating you right now.”

“And it’s not so bad, is it?” he asked, bumping her knee with his playfully.

Nesta grumbled and looked ahead. “Jury’s still out.” Eris huffed in laughter, and Nesta fought back a grin. Being here with him was surprisingly nice and if she was honest, it was the most she enjoyed herself tonight. Though she’d never admit that to him.

“Don’t get me wrong, I still hate you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” she said.

“Well as long as we’re on the same page.”

After a few quiet moments, Eris’ voice grew more serious. “How are you? After everything?”

Nesta tensed, ice freezing over the cozy stalemate the both of them had been sharing. The last thing she wanted to think about, let alone talk about was Tomas. Tomas showing up at her job. Tomas screaming at her in front of patients and coworkers. Tomas gripping her arm so hard that bruises formed. Until Eris got involved.

The memory burned her raw. “If that’s what you want to talk about, then feel free to leave,” she glared at him, her voice low in warning like an injured wolf baring its teeth. They'd had some kind of peace offering these last few minutes, but Eris’ words now rebuilt that wall of ice Nesta learned to guard herself with.

“I don’t mean any offense, Nesta. I just wanted to make sure-”

“That’s not your concern. Worry about yourself,” Nesta spat as she got up. She'd thrown open the door to her building when Eris spoke again.

“I was six when I first saw my father hit my mother.”

Nesta froze before she could retreat inside. The air stilled around them. 

Eris paused for a moment before continuing. Cleared his throat. Swallowed. “She accidentally dropped a wine glass near him when trying to clean the table off one night after dinner. It happened so fast I thought I imagined it for a second. But she was on the floor, and she seemed frozen there. I started to run to her to make sure she was okay, but my father gave me a look. It was full of ire. ” Nesta stood still, watching him. Eris clenched his jaw at the memory. His eyes seemed far away, lost in that horrid memory. She knew all too well what that was like. “My mother got up on her knees after that. She gave me a warm smile, trying to comfort me the only way she could. The bruise was already forming around her eye. She just cleaned up the broken glass, and went about putting the dishes away like nothing happened.”

Eris fidgeted where he sat. Nesta hesitated before sitting down next to him again.

“I was so happy when he died. I felt like I could breathe for the first time in my life.” 

“How is she now? Your mom?”

Eris nodded to himself. “She’s good. Better. I moved her into my apartment so she wouldn’t have to worry about being alone. At least this way I can take care of her.” He chuckled as he fiddled with his hands. “She says I worry too much.”

“That’s nice of you to do,” Nesta said. “You’re a good son, Eris.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m not. I left her alone to deal with him all these years. Being there for her now is the least I can do.” Nesta didn’t know what to say to that, or how to comfort him even though she found herself wanting to. Her heart went out to him and his mother. She'd never heard much of the matriarch of the Vanserra family when Beron Vanserra was still alive and owned the hospital both Nesta and Eris worked at. She'd attend whatever events necessary, but her presence always seemed to fade away into the background while her husband was the center of attention. Nesta couldn't imagine having a life like that, being stuck with someone like that. Chills erupted on her arms when she thought of how close she'd been to a future like that. 

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked, almost in a whisper, like if she spoke louder, it would reveal their terrible and painful secrets to the world. 

He shrugged. “I know something personal about you. Now you know something personal about me.” 

For the first time since everything had gone wrong, a small part of Nesta felt like she wasn’t alone. Like she’d glimpsed a crack of light in spite of how a certain hollowness can emerge from the foundations of a situation like that. Eris Vanserra was the last person she expected to understand the shattered pieces of what remained of her. Yet he understood in ways no one else had, like a kindred pain.

Nesta’s thoughts were interrupted by the feel of something dropping in her lap. She looked down and found a wrapped present in its place. 

“You got me a gift?”

“Of course I did. I’m not cheap.” Nesta noticed his eyes shift uncomfortably when Eris looked down at the gift. “You don’t have to open it now.”

That only made Nesta more curious and eager. She delicately unfolded the gift wrap, making sure not to tear any of the paper. A small gasp escaped her when the gift was revealed.

In her arms was a copy of A Tale For the Stars to Remember. It was a love story between a human woman and a Fae Prince. Not only was this the first book ever written by Sellyn Drake, but it was one Nesta had practically memorized every page of as she read it over the years. She flipped through those familiar pages now, took in her favorite words. And this copy was signed! The inscription on the title page of the book included a message. A personalized message. For her. Sellyn Drakes knows who I am, Nesta thought with glee. Sellyn Drake touched this book. The message wished Nesta a happy birthday, and thanked her for her continued support in reading his novels. It is because of your dedication as a fan that I am where I am today, and I am honored to give you the first edition of this cherished story, it read before Sellyn Drake signed his name.

Nesta’s eyes widened at that. “The first edition? This is the first edition?” she asked in disbelief.

“I, um, know the author personally.” Nesta's eyes widened even more.

“What? H-how? How did you even know this was my favorite book?” Nesta asked incredulously. She closed her mouth when she realized it was hanging open.

“You, Emerie, and Gwyn talk about it all the time at the hospital.” Eris stated.

“You eavesdrop on our conversations?” Nesta glared at him, the revelation bursting her bubble momentarily. 

“You’re all very loud.” Eris glared right back. “It makes it difficult to get work done when the three of you are squealing over fictional characters.”

“You could’ve given this to me on Monday.” 

“I know,” was all he said.

Nesta broke into a grin as she delicately flipped through the pages again. 

“Thank you, Eris,” she said, looking back up at him. 

“You’re Welcome, Nesta.”

Something softened in Eris’ face as he looked at her. They had been staring at each other for only a moment but it felt much longer, and each second caused Nesta’s heart to speed up more and more. She begged her racing heart to calm down. She was sure he could hear it. A faint blush colored his cheeks. His eyes dropped to her lips, lingering there for a few seconds, and then looked back up at her. “Happy birthday, Nesta,” he whispered before getting up and leaving. It was only when he was gone that Nesta felt she was able to breathe normally again.

@nerisweek

[thesamoanqueen]

WIP Friday tagged by my beloved @harmshake , @joannasteez and @southerngirl41

A little preview of the next chapter of Blackwater, unfortunately I've been working on so many things lately that I can't keep up with all my ffs, im sorry.

It had happened once, when he was still traveling across the country for the family business, months before he met Y/N. They had made up, Roman had forgiven him and their bond had grown stronger since then, but it could have happened again. Loyalty is never absolute, Roman had learned that lesson the hard way. If his own family, friends, had chosen to betray him, why couldn’t the wiseman do it twice?

- I would never dare, you know nothing means more to me than you! I love you! You are my Tribal Chief!

- But you forgot me to do as you wanted – he reminded him, taking a step forward, feeling his stink, panic, creeping into his nostrils.

- No, no, I would never disrespect you like that, I was just-

- I made myself clear wiseman – he growled softly and Paul raised his hands, to defend himself or slow him down, it didn’t matter.

- I-I… I did it for Y/N! I shouldn’t say it but it’s true, I did it for her! – he finally admitted, gesturing towards the stairs for the bedroom.

She wasn’t awake to hear him, but she didn’t need to be there to give him one of her warning looks, because Roman was already doing it. He witnessed their arguments on a daily basis, luckily they had never gone too far to make him interfere and part of the reason why it never happened, was because the wise man knew to watch his mouth when she was involved. Whatever moment their relationship was going through, whatever was happening, it didn’t matter, Y/N was untouchable.

- Be careful wise man – he warned him, his gaze now dark and Paul understood, as his demeanor changed and he took a few seconds to choose the right words before speaking.

- It’s nothing new, she’s always been… against it… she has her opinion and a lot already happened, it’s probably the prospect of losing someone she cares about that puts her on the defensive – he explained giving him a look that made Roman's mouth twitch.

This conversation was becoming unbearable for him. He was perfectly aware of what Y/N’s opinion was about the feud with his cousins, he was aware there was more than what she was admitting, he was aware of what traumas the past had left in her mind. He didn’t need to hear the wise man explain to him how things were or play the part of the therapist to justify what was happening when he knew they were not on good terms.

- Im her family, she won’t lose nobody – he reminded him exasperated, seeing him show another face that pushed his nerves even further before speaking.

- Of course, no… not you at least, I’m sure she knows perfectly her place is by your side but… you know there’s a strong bond with the twins, im not gonna lie… it’s mutual, at the meeting it was clear that Jey feels it too, you saw it, we were all there and she’s a smart woman, a survivor and maybe- his growl stopped him from saying anything else, but Roman had heard enough by now.

No!

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @expert-texpert @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @joannasteez @reignsx @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @333creolelady @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @dreamsinfocus @vebner37 @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @mahi-wayy @jxtina-86 @harmshake @southerngirl41 @smile1318 @headoftheetable @sortudademais

[eris-snow]

𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥

Tags: Revelation (Deku's birthday series 2024), izuku x fem!reader, angst, Starlight, Starlight standing up for herself, tags what

Masterlist

8th July. Sun, Stars and Light.

---

“Are you joking? I thought you’d be dead by now. Or given up.” Isamu Suzuki complains you step into the blinding white room.

Another year, another visit.

“Well boohoo,” you murmur, rolling your eyes as you sit down on the armchair opposite him. “Thought you would have died by now, old man. How’s prison life treating you? From the looks of it, not great. Hey, wanna bet to see who dies first? Winner gets bragging points and a one-way trip to hell. You look like the kind of guy who’d die the next day, honestly. You should consider pulling the plug, if you know what I mean. Hold your breath and count to a thousand. End your misery, you know?”

The haggard man blinks at you.

Running a hand through your hair, you slump down on the chair.

“I need…I need sleep.”

A nasty smirk curls onto Isamu’s lips. “Finally getting worn down, hm? And from the looks of it, little blondie cracklefire has left your side too.”

“He’s gonna get Zuku killed.” You muse. “I wanna stop it, but at the same time, I don’t really. Once Izuku sets his mind on something—“

“He never wavers,” The villain finishes impatiently. “Yeah, yeah, you’ve used me as your therapist way too many times. Don’t you have one back at your prestigious school? Just because I’m tied down here, doesn’t mean I want to listen to your hormonal problems. You fuck up my life 7 years ago. I ain’t giving you shit.”

“Well, you threw mine into the 4th dimension.” You grumble. “You reap what you sow, and then some.”

“I still have my brother fighting for his life out there,” Isamu says, and at that moment, even strapped down and crusty in a white suit he doesn’t own, he looks a little more…human. “Yeah, that’s right. Your glitter sparkles hero society have holes in big blabber mouth security guards.” The villain hums. “You’ve had trouble tracking him down, right?”

In the truth of the matter, you didn’t know much. After apprehending Isamu’s brother from the attack last year, you’d handed him off to the police for questioning. With school and internships, you’d barely paid attention to it when he went missing again. Apparently, Chisuke Suzuki snuck out using his Quirk, and by the time backup had arrived, there was simply a blood bath and three stacks of officers.

When they woke up, all officers were chronically depressed.

Chisuke’s Quirk was the erasure of one emotion from a victim. Or at least, that’s what it was last year. You should probably check the files more.

“My brother’s Quirk is more powerful than mine, and he knows how to get by,” Isamu says proudly. “At least if I hold on, I know he’ll be out there, waiting for me.”

His words slip a small pin to your heart, specifically and thoughtfully chosen. It hurt more than you thought, but you couldn’t let him drag you down now.

“What, no snarky feedback?” His eyes are blue, cold, hard and searching. “Never thought there’d come the day.”

A twig breaks. A tree falls. The camel’s back snaps in two.

“Is that what you want?” You explode, slamming a hand on the glass. Everything is hot, from your fingertips to your toes. “Me to give you a speech about how even though I royally fucked up, Izuku will find a way to regain his memories through the skin of his teeth because he’s Deku? Heroes give up too, god dammit! And maybe I deserve it, alright? What? What do you want to hear, asshole?”

You back down to the safety of your chair and heave a breath. “I need…” You whisper, shaking your head, “to give up properly.”

Isamu barks out a laugh. “7 years and finally, something interesting. Nah, keep going. I’ve waited too long for this.”

Watch me break.

Watch me crumble.

“Hey,” Isamu says cheerfully. “If you do want to be put out of your misery, let’s make a deal. You get me in touch with my brother, and I can get him to use his Quirk on you.”

Now, it was your turn to laugh. Maybe this guy has gone off the deep end. “Why would I do that?” you scoff.

“Because,” Isamu smirks. It’s an ugly smirk, with his yellowed, misaligned teeth.

“He can erase your love for that brat, you rascal.”

—

After school that day, Izuku takes the liberty of racing back to his room to dump out the Post-It notes on the floor of his dorm.

It was mind-boggling, and an out-of-body experience.

Scratchy scrawls line every note, his handwriting and his words all spilling out like it was a ritual he’d take part in come fire or hail.

I’m scared to die.

I don’t want to fight Shigaraki. I want to forgive him.

I’m scared I get left behind.

Personal feelings Izuku had never penned down were inked on yellow stickies, little nooks of his own insecurities all laid bare.

It’s difficult for me to admit these things.

Ochaco and I aren't a thing anymore, we fell out of love.

Slowly, Izuku pieces together who you once were to him.

Someone trustworthy, someone kind.

But not all were appropriate triggers, and those that were are diamonds in a mineshaft. Most things were trivial, and the few that caused bone-shattering agony to his mind never tripped anything right.

Gasping, he tugs his necktie off and closes his eyes in frustration. Sweat stains his wooden floor a darker brown, and his hope starts to fade. The last trigger has him seeing stars as he gently eases himself back down from insanity.

“Give them back…!” He whispers, scarred hands squeezing his head as he glares at himself in his standing wall mirror. “Give my memories back!”

In a fit of rage, he swings the tin box holding the systematically stacked notes against his bed.

A flurry of Post-it notes flutters around him as the box slams loudly against his bed frame. A false bottom pops out, and so does a new section of Post-its.

15 of them, and they’re dated from July 1st to 15.

—

“Erase my love for Izuku?” You had to give it to Isamu, his hunches were always spot on.

“You’re always so adamant about keeping your memories. Heck, I think if I find a way to use my Quirk on you, you’d find a way to resist its effect as you heroes do best. But emotions…” Isamu laughs. It’s not a nice laugh. “You can pay the price of millions of memories with just one emotion. It’d end your suffering.”

You falter, and he sees it like it’s white on black. “You won’t forget him, but you won’t know pain, either. It’d go poof,” Isamu says, eyes electrifying as he dishes out the offer with the finesse of a conman.

It’s tempting, of course it is. This whole time, Izuku had always stood by your side not knowing who you really were. You couldn’t bring yourself to love him properly, just as he deserved. He deserved someone there, someone who could enrapture him like the Aurora borealis instead of someone as plentiful as the stars in the night sky. Someone who could share memories with him for a long long time.

That someone wasn’t you.

Accepting this deal meant moving on. It meant leaving your feelings in your glade and finally…

be free.

Not free from the memories, but…in a different way.

But then, your resolve hardens like steel. “You have some nerve trying to bribe me over with that.”

You stand up, anger cooled to an eerily calm. The world is silent, it’s the ocean's depth at the seabed. “Every inch of me, I cherish it. The good, the bad, the terrible. To rip a feeling out of me? Using heartbreak as manipulation? That’s low even for you.” You scoff, fingers sliding over the glass. “If I move on from Izuku, that’s by me, and me alone. I will never accept your side payback that’s dressed up as charity, because I will never let Izuku go through the pain I did.”

Fire burns, a torch of eternal flame; your love for Izuku, cast out because even though it’s pretty, even though it hurts, no one will ever admire its beauty.

“Izuku’s strong, and so am I.” You whisper, eyes locking with his. “I do not need you.”

—

The note that triggers it is not the one he imagined.

I don’t like Kacchan calling you Shortie. Kacchan’s amazing and all, but he shouldn’t make fun of your height. P.s. I like the nickname Zuku, too! You don’t have to tell me why you started calling me that, I’m just glad you do. I can’t imagine you calling me anything else.

Even so, he thinks through it. Zuku? No one has ever called him that before. Kacchan calls you Shortie, he knows that. But why does he say he can’t imagine you calling him anything else?

“Nicknames from first year?” He whispers under his breath. “Maybe I lost my memories last year? My birthday, obviously…”

Where does this point to?

Why the Post-it notes?

What did he call you?

His brain explodes as he writhes in agony again. Blinding hot pain, wax melting his skull—

Starlight, His mind lapses.

There’s another image this time, one of a willow tree in the same field. The branches of it sway hypnotisingly slow, and he can feel the breeze even though he’s not present there.

In a sandbox, building sandcastles under the night sky. Your name is Starlight.

“Your name is Starlight.” He whispers, his mouth echoing the word as easy as he were to say Kacchan.

The fluorescent lights sizzle, and something breaks.

The next thing he knows, everything is black.

[6feathered6siren6]

kc x therapist reader 🙏

Therapist with morals

Notes: Warning, this is not my proudest work, I actually struggled with this and idk if the writer block demon captured me after running for a week. So fics might be slower, sry! But, fun fact, I was writing a therapist reader when I first joined the KC fandom, so some bits might not be my new work but I tried to revise it while I worked on it. I also included Feli and Luca, they need more love. Anyway enjoy!

Trigger warnings

Cringe(Some old work)

Killing/deaths

Abuse

Ooc

Protecting your patients is important to you. No matter what, you would protect them from anything and everything. One said their ex is going after them. Suddenly, the ex disappeared, do you know? No one can tell. Another said their husband is abusive and a cheater, then the next day, in an alleyway with bruises and cuts with their eyes missing. One patient is a killer? You protected them with your degree. 

You take the patient and therapist confidentiality to the extreme. One patient killed someone and they needed to see what notes you have for their appointments. Suddenly, it went missing with the rest of your files. 

You are a therapist for a reason, to help the weak and allow them to heal. You take your job seriously. 

-

When you were hunting down a patient’s abuser, you found them in the infamous alleyway, Purgatory. You can smell meat rotting from standing in front of it. But, at least you don’t have to deal with washing off the blood. Walking back to your office as you have another appointment in about 2 hours, and you have to see the inmate at his prison. 

—

Joining the server was weird at first, you didn’t expect the killers you met. The Heartbreak Angel, Vigilante, The Butcher, and the retired Sunset Slasher. The others are interesting as well. But since joining in, all you want to do is help. You are a therapist with strong morals.

-

Non-love interest 

Luca and Feli

You joined in a call of them play fighting again. Allowing them to be background noise while you work on making a patient's assessments. They were together for a month, and honestly, you were glad to help them. 

“Reader! You got to back me up!” Luca yelled into his mic. “Feli needs to get out more! She can’t stay inside forever. She needs to get a social life!” 

“Luca!” She yelled back at him. 

Young love. Something you wish to gain back sometimes. “While I agree with Luca, Feli is going out a bit more already. Those photos you sent me, Feli, were amazing to look at. If I didn’t know your major, I would think you were a photographer.” 

“Oh, thank you, and see, Luca. I’m fine.” Feli sounded so proud that you were on her side. “Now, it’s been a while Reader, how are you?”

“Doing good, picking up some more shifts for work. I’ve been in demand.” You said softly, looking back at your tab for your patient. 

“That sounds good.” Feli chimed in, sounding happy for you.”

–

With Feli being busy with Uni, Luca has bothered you until she becomes free again, ‘as his best person’. But seeing through the cracks, you could see the mask he upholds. You know he has insecurities as Feli’s boyfriend, but slowly you help get him on the path of confidence. 

It was the same with Feli, they both feel like they couldn’t complement each other and you disagree. Helping with both of them when possible, heck, if they see you on, you receive a call from either one. 

Love interest

Misaki

Surprisingly, when they needed help when they were killing someone, you were ready to be on the other side giving encouragement. You could see the self-doubt from a mile away, but it doesn’t push you away from a challenge. Helping the chaotic assassin out when they do, you calm them and ground her often. Except for the times that they needed you while dealing with a patent. But luckily someone else from the server helps them. 

Misaki is quite the chaotic person to you, their bubbly energetic energy is always welcomed. Always wanting to create chaos into the server.

When Misaki finally found out that you were a killer, she was shocked that you were a therapist, and one that murders their patients' abusers. It does give an excuse why you have this soft bubble that they felt safe, and almost homey. It was something that they wanted to keep close.

Angel

You could tell she was overworked to the bone by the first glance. That she needed boundaries for her work life balance. Not only that, her manager is too demanding and she needs to take care of herself. Luckily, Ronin helps her but hopefully a push could help. When she started stress killing people, you half supported it, she was coping but it was still self destructive in a way. 

You offered her to take more breaks, and do the things she enjoys to do. Murder podcast? Do it, you would want to be the first to listen to it, if Ronin hasn’t taken that spot. Want to take a hiatus? Do it, take a spa day. You offer things to her for ideas. 

You were inching closer and closer to just murder her manager, he was just pissing you off. Well, until Angel told you what she did with an invite to her place. You took it and offered her comfort. 

When she heard how and what you do for a living, she just accepted it with open arms. She also offered you days off when you worked overtime, making sure the offer is a two way street. She doesn’t want you to go down the path she does. 

Ronin

With his twisted words and meanings, you could see the true meanings. It wasn’t your first rodeo. You could see he was hurting. But you aren’t the type to force someone, but you do have the patients to wait for him. Afterall, you can worry about other people. 

He knew you were a therapist when you joined, but he didn’t know you were a killer, so when you stood in front of a new corpse, all bloody with the weapon in your hand. He could say he didn’t expect that. He thought he would be able to corrupt you. But instead, you were already one of them. Corrupted but with morals. An already fallen angel.

As you learn more about him, you learn you don’t have to help him like others. Just being there was enough for him. Though he does request to send him your hitlist and make it a competition with you. (You win most of the time.)

V

The well loved vigilante, the man with morals that seemed… a bit off but you know you can help this man. Somehow. You did offer some help but with his walls being well built, you just backed off. But you still talked to the male. Talking about his animals and great teas, he built up a connection to you. V talked to you often to come over to his place to talk and drink some tea. 

When he found you during his patrol killing someone, he thought that you were like Ronin, killing for fun. Well, until he heard you talk to the dying man. Telling him that he would never hurt anyone again, and to suffer like how his wife felt after being locked up in pain. He saw you in a new light. A light that saves others, defending the weak and helping them heal. A guardian that they needed. He immediately started to support and help you. While you do enjoy allowing the male to help you, you could see how he also needs help healing.

[tanith-rhea]

That I may be weak with you

"Do you love me enough that I may be weak with you? Everyone loves strength, but do you love me for my weakness? That is the real test." - Alain de Botton Dorothea Delilah Darcy is a woman in her mid to late twenties, struggling to find her place in the world. A recent job opportunity as a guidance counsellor at Nevermore Academy seems like a godsend, and she could not miss it for the life of her. Still, perhaps more problems will arise than she expected. Between bubbly, extroverted students and an uncharacteristically reactive principal, she'll be forced to overcome the limitations of her abilities or separate herself entirely from the place she'll grow to call home.

Chapter Two

"... the witchery of beautiful eyes." — Odysseus Elytis

“Anyway, then I told her she could brood all she liked because, at the end of the day, she’s just pretending to be tough and will come to me asking for forgiveness,” the girl, Enid, took another bite of the red cake you finally got right this afternoon.

It had to be good because she was at her third serving and you wondered if all that energy was what made her hungry. It did quite a number on you and baking always managed to soothe your nerves.

“From what you told me it’s not the first time that happened and, honestly? I don’t think it’s the last-“

“I just wish she’d get over herself and admit I’m her friend,” Enid pouted, and her eyes shone in a strange way that reminded you of a sad puppy.

You couldn’t help a fond chuckle, “Giving what happened to all of you last semester I’m not surprised some might put up a few barriers, dear.”

Enid’s face twisted into adorable confusion. That girl could have anything she wished with that face; her earnest optimism and goodness made you want to protect her from all harm in the world.

“What do you mean? We were all attacked, I wolfed out to help her, we should be more united than ever!”

“Enid, you are very special. You’re emotionally open to others and that can be a blessing and a curse. Wednesday, on the other hand, might be on the other side of the spectrum and instead of feeling connected, she may be processing the betrayal of someone close as a sign other people she cares about can do the same.

“Perhaps it isn’t about not wanting to admit you’re her friend, but being afraid that if she accepts it, you’ll be fit to hurt her.”

That seemed to give her pause. You could almost see the gears turning on her brain, and when she came to a conclusion her furrowed brow smoothed into solemn understanding.

“It might be something else as well,” you conceded, “You’ll only truly know by talking to her, making her comfortable instead of confronting her outright. At least in the beginning.”

Enid nodded, picking at the remnants of her piece of cake, “That makes sense. When she came we could barely talk without her giving a smart-ass answer to everything I said. Even the quad was “a pentagon”,” she rolled her eyes.

It is a pentagon, you thought but didn’t voice it.

The soft sound of windchimes radiated through the office, marking the end of your forty minutes appointment. You got up with an inhale and started to gather the china to clean.

“Well, it was lovely to meet you, Enid,” you placed her teacup beside yours on your desk tray, “Will you be coming ‘round again next week?”

Enid stood up confidently and held her hand out for you to take. She smiled brightly as you took it reluctantly, her happiness making its way up your arm even through the glove and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Of course, Miss Darcy! You’re much better than our last therapist,” she said before realizing something and hastily amending, “Not that she was bad! Rest her soul, she was a very good therapist,” her eyes were the size of saucers.

“I’m not a therapist, dear,” you laughed a bit at the blip of terror that came and went just as easily off her face.

“Well, you’re very nice to talk to,” she shrugged.

“That I do try to be,” you smiled kindly, practised but not at all untruthful, “Until next Thursday, then.”

Enid followed her cue and left with a small nod, smiling back with that earnestness of hers. You could already feel your muscles straining to dissipate the excitement and happiness and that little bit of panic Enid shot through you.

Breathing deeply, you walked back to the chair, hoping that updating your student files would bore you enough to consume some of the bubbling energy. It didn’t; taking notes on Enid and her roommate only filled you with fondness, which nourished the restlessness and rendered you ecstatic.

You ended up stuffing it all in your second drawer and going for a run. It was about time you explored the surrounding forest; maybe you’d find good picnic spots.

Running in cold weather was one of the best things to do. Of course, you had found lots of “best things to do” in your almost thirty years of age; it’s practically all a person can do to fill the void of companionship: finding things that bring you pleasure to do alone.

Pine trees didn’t provide the lovely path of yellowed leaves you’d hoped for, but the mossy stones every twenty meters along the path supplied you with more of that fairy-tale feeling — as if in your next turn you might find yourself upon Pan’s Labyrinth or some other fantastical place.

You didn’t, though. In the next turn, you found yourself in a clearing, partly covered in leaves from where the pine forest behind the school met some of the trees that lead to the city nearby. You could see now how they were interspersed sparsely before and grew slowly more plentiful the farther away you ran. The two forests tentatively meeting — boreal and deciduous — much like the two worlds they represented.

You were sure the roles would be reversed a few yards down the path and the pine trees would be the odd ones out. The thought made you just sad enough that the last remnants of excitement died down, untightening your muscles and leaving you exhausted.

You sat down on the cold leaves, cold finally catching up to you. While you ran, the lack of sunlight wasn’t much of a problem, but now you had to untie the woollen cardigan around your shoulders and put it on.

The tiredness was catching up to you fast. The cold felt colder than it really was as your body wasn’t up to functioning exactly as it should. You knew you had to rest for a few minutes but, if you stayed there, you’d pass out and wake up blue.

You started walking up the trail, trying to be silent in case a car passed. With any luck, you could follow the sound and walk along the road until another one came by.

You mourned not being able to stay a bit longer at the clearing. It was rather charming, and you could picture building a small wooden gazebo for tea parties or quiet reading sessions. You thought Ser Barnabas would enjoy exploring the forest around, hunting small animals while you enjoyed the peace and quiet.

After a few minutes, you didn’t hear a sound as much as you saw light moving through the forest, coming from east of you. You hurried in the direction just in time to see the back of a yellow bug turning a corner sixty yards from you.

“At least I found the road,” you picked up a faster pace, hope renewed. “I’d be happier if it wasn’t barely dusk, thou– oh no, stop talking to yourself.”

You shook your head and kept walking. Soon you’d start running again.

I’ll be late for dinner, you thought, just starting to jog. I hope Ser Barnabas doesn’t hold it against me.

When you could finally see the tip of some towers behind trees, a light, accompanied by the soft buzzing of the academy’s van created long shadows on the road.

You stopped to breathe, hands on your knees, and your shadow reminded you of a tall Quasimodo or a very strange candy cane.

The van slowed to a stop just beside you. Inside, the familiar figure of a stunning blonde. If you weren’t so tired you might have spared a few seconds to take in the silk headscarf and vibrant red lipstick more carefully, but you were too eager to get anywhere warmer than the mist-covered road, getting colder by the minute as the forest sucked in all the heat.

“Miss Darcy, what are you doing out here in the cold?” her honey-tinged voice sounded almost chastising, “You must be chilled to the bone!”

Your body visibly deflated as you entered the warm space of the van, the leather seat almost hugging your tired frame.

“I lost track of time while running,” it wasn’t entirely true, but saying I severely overestimated my capability of helping your students and might be more of a liability than anything else wasn’t an option. The entire point of accepting the position at Nevermore was to get a better hold of your abilities; that you had more work to do than you thought was just as well.

The woman’s lips twisted into the smallest of smiles, although her eyes were trained on the road.

“Nevermore and its surroundings are easy to get lost into. And sometimes that makes it even more appealing.”

You had the sense she more about you than you told her. It was thrilling and scary.

“I thought I wouldn’t mind getting lost,” you started, getting a quick side glance and amused huff from the principal, “Now I’m not so sure.”

“Maybe all you need is someone to keep you on track,” the warmth in Larissa’s voice did more to assuage the cold than the van’s heater, and her arched brow and sly smile set your face downright ablaze.

Suddenly her eyes didn't look icy blue, but bright and lively as the lucky few clear skies in spring.

The divider is a cropped version of one of the lovely orange-themed dividers by star-struck-wonderland. Since you asked, @alder-saan, I hope you enjoy this :)

[rebellenotes]

The Final Nail in the Coffin

Nailing a coffin shut, I always assumed it was a physical being. Yes, a metaphorical one, but still a person. A priest maybe, holding a hammer. I don’t know, I just see one in front of me. Or your worst human enemy. I didn’t expect my own mind to nail the coffin to my future shut, forcing me to accept a reality I’ve tried to push away for so long. To no avail, clearly, because here we are, and my coffin is being lowered down into the ground as I scream helplessly for someone to let me out. Let me go back in time. Before I ended up here. I can fix it. If I can only go back.

I slept for 16 hours yesterday. I haven’t eaten a proper meal in over 30 hours. The last thing I ate was too much candy over twenty-four hours ago. I had a coffee this morning too. I know I should eat. But I want to go back to sleep. I can’t bring myself to do the simplests of tasks.

It’s Thursday today. The fourth day of the week. I’ve only taken my antidepressants two out of four days this week. At least I think they were days. Time becomes blurry when you sleep at 10am and wake up at 11pm. And yet I’m still tired. “It’s because of your circadian rhythm,” my therapist repeats, over and over again, like I don’t already know. “You need to consume daylight, so you can sleep at night.” How about I sleep forever and never wake up.

Because that’s what I want to do sometimes. And even when I don’t want to do that, I fall asleep anyway because I’m so tired all the time. I didn’t mean to take a ten hour nap yesterday. It just happened.

I fluctuate between feeling numb, my eyes boring onto the screen with an indifference as I try to put words to the turmoil happening inside me, and crying my eyes out. Because this is it. The worst I’ve ever been. And now, my brain has officially sealed the deal for my future.

Anxiety won’t let me attend the class I need to attend today in order to complete an assignment I need in order to graduate together with the rest of my classmates next year. When I try to tell myself they’re just thoughts and that I can do it, depression laughs me in the face and envelopes me in a hug. Not the warm kind that makes you feel good. The one that sends a chill through your entire body down to the bone. The kind of hug that suffocates.

The kind of hug that whispers, You’ll never leave me. And I believe it. I believe every damn word, because it feels true. It feels final. Like there’s no point in fighting against something so much bigger and heavier than me.

But here’s the thing about coffins. They’re built for endings, yes. For finality. But they’re also a space to rest. A space to stop moving for just a moment. Maybe that’s all this is. Maybe this isn’t my permanent resting place, but a temporary reprieve from all the chaos.

Because deep down—deep, deep down—I know there’s still air in my lungs. And if there’s air, there’s a chance. Not for some grand, miraculous turnaround, but for a tiny, stubborn act of defiance. Like getting out of bed. Like pouring cereal into a bowl. Like taking my meds for no other reason than it’s what I said I’d do when I was feeling better.

One of the main symptoms of depression is feeling hopelessness. Perhaps it’s because I’m an optimist at heart, I love seeing the good in everything, but once I apply the methods my therapist taught me, to speak to myself kindly as if I’m comforting a friend going through a rough time, I can see just a tiny sliver of hope. It’s not a lot, and the lack of hope overshadows everything, but if I concentrate hard enough, I can push my worries away until tomorrow. Or next week. 

The one thing I can pride myself on is I will ask for help when it gets too bad. The only problem is I always do it too late. But acceptance is part of the healing process, I’ve realised. Once I accept that this is my reality, I can stop living in agony and start looking forward. It might not be the brightest of days ahead. There might be tough days ahead, but I have an appointment scheduled with a school advisor tomorrow, and next week, I’ve finally managed to book an appointment with my therapist after putting it off for months.

And I hope that by reaching out and talking to someone, I can figure out my next steps. Because that’s such a huge part of anxiety and depression. Thinking you know it all. From experience, I know that when you’re that upset, you can’t plan your healing journey by yourself. How could you? When all you feel is misery? You need an outside perspective.

You need someone to gently remind you that life isn’t all bad, even if it feels that way right now. Someone to help you sort through the tangled mess of your thoughts, like untangling a string of lights. It’s not easy, and it’s not quick, but with a little patience, the knots loosen.

As I’m writing this, I got a text from one of my closest friends. One of the many people I’ve pushed away these last few weeks when it has all gotten a bit too much. She asked me to please take care of myself, to eat something and be kind to myself. It warmed my heart. But then again, it also made me sad, because she must only have realised something was seriously wrong after I made a vague Twitter post about the fact I wasn’t sleeping or eating well. A call for help. 

A call for help I knew I was making. I wanted to feel seen, I think. There’s something about putting it out there, even in the vaguest terms, that feels safer than saying it directly. Like maybe someone will notice and say the right thing without me having to explain. Without me having to admit outright how much I’m struggling.

And she did notice. She saw me. Her message wasn’t long, wasn’t flowery, but it didn’t need to be. Just knowing that someone cared enough to reach out made me feel... a little less invisible. A little less lost in the fog. Maybe that’s why I post things like that sometimes. Not for attention in the shallow sense, but because it’s a way of saying, I’m here, and I don’t know how to ask for help, but I need it.

I think we all need that sometimes. To be reminded that we’re not alone in this world, even when our brains tell us otherwise. Her message didn’t fix anything—it didn’t magically make me feel okay—but it reminded me that someone out there wants me to be okay. And maybe that’s enough to start with. Maybe that’s what I needed: a small spark of connection in the middle of all this darkness.

So I’m holding onto that. To the idea that even when I feel like I’m falling apart, there are people who see the pieces and care enough to reach out. And maybe I need to learn to do that too. To be more honest when I need help. To let people in before it gets to the point of vague Twitter posts and silence.

I don’t have all the answers right now, but I know this: I don’t want to stay in this place forever. And even if I don’t know how to climb out just yet, I’m glad I made that call for help. Because it’s a start. And sometimes, a start is all you need.

[ghostfrog28]

Y'all, Episode 6 may be my favorite episode, so far at least

holy shit, so much happened in this episode and I loved it so much! This is gonna be a long rant, so just warning ya!

The gang helping Thad study was such a nice part of the episode, I’m hoping Thad passes his exams and gets to be a doctor! Also, Lena teasing Ash about him talking like Denny’s and how they’ve been spending a lot of time together was really cute and funny. Can’t wait for their party night next episode!

The little conversation with Ash and Denny’s in the car was another one of their moments together that I just love seeing. Also, I’m wondering what the context was for Denny’s almost going into work with part of Ash’s uniform lol. And we got more from Brady which I loved to see! He’s one of my favorite side characters, and when Brady brought up that Denny’s is “always talking about” Ash, it’s like when you introduce a friend to your parents or siblings and they just flat out tell them you have a crush on them (Brady gives major older brother vibes) and I can just imagine Denny’s saying “Brady!” In the same whisper yell that Ash did to Lena lol

That phone call with the director lady was difficult to listen to. I was so happy that Ash got the part, but with everything happening? Who knows how that’s gonna work out! And Ash’s voice cracking while he was talking to Denny’s made me wanna cry 😢 Brady coming in with the big bro energy, asking if things are ok and him trusting Denny’s when she says that things are ‘fine’ was really sweet

Brady checking in again, love it. Poor Lin, girl was trying to sleep lol. Also, I like that she warned Denny’s that Lexi was there already because I can’t imagine what would happen if she just went up to the door and heard her in Ash’s room. I agree, she’s getting better but she does have some of her tactics that she’s still using, so I’m not completely over my hate for her, it’s getting there but not quite. Also:

Alexis: I deserve him, don’t I? Don’t I?

Sophie: you may think that, but he didn’t deserve what you did to him, neither did Thad.

5. Now we get to talk to him. Honestly, hearing some more of his pov of the relationship really put into perspective how bad it actually was. Like, Ash, babe, never telling your partner ‘no’ to something cannot end well for either person. Also, I like that we constantly are being his ‘therapist’ cuz honestly, he needs to talk about that emotion baggage he’s been dealing with.

6. the pancakes!! I loved this little callback to the first episode, I knew the moment Denny’s asked Brady to make something before she left to see Ash, that was what it was going to be! Also, the little play fight over both of them eating the food was really cute and funny!

7. THE CONFESSION! THE KISS!!! IT FINALLY HAPPENED AND I LOVED ALL OF IT! Him liking Denny’s since the beginning was so sweet, and all from a little gesture of Denny’s being nice, just because she wanted to! (Also, did they actually, do something or was it just kissing, cuz it sounded like there was a fade out but it could just be me hearing it weird) Them cuddling and watching the sunrise was so cute! I keep re listening to that part! Also, the phone call between Ash and Thad was adorable, just them giggling like a couple schoolgirls about a crush. In my mind, Sophie was just going “you guys are such dorks”

And, you already know I have more art for this!

This may be my favorite outfit and shirt design I’ve made so far, I loved this so much

But yeah, that’s all! Sorry this was a pretty long post and I was ranting for quite a bit, but I just love this series and these characters so much! The big art post is in the works, it’s getting there (slowly lol) but it’ll be worth it!

Can’t wait for what happens next!

bye!

[tojikai]

OH GOD KAI… (sorry in advance for the thesis that is this message)

I know that Satoru always plays it safe with condoms/plan B but birth control isn’t 100% 😭 she could still be pregnant 😭

I’m going to find comfort in the fact that Satoru probably would’ve had a more emotional reaction on the spot if Naomi was pregnant. (I’m coping so hard right now) I’m hoping that Satoru finally cuts his mother out for good and let’s his father know how fucking disgusting she is.

I can’t imagine what Satoru was thinking. The woman that raised him using him as a security blanket for her own selfishness and then the woman he thought he could have a companion in proving that she’ll do whatever it takes to tie him to her even if it’s not what he wants. aside from himself… who does he really have as a support system? he has his therapist yeah, but that’s not the same as having your person. my heart definitely goes out to him.

What the fuck was Naomi calling his mom for??? “Hey I tried to r*pe your son and it didn’t work and he’s really angry what do we do now?” YOU made the decision to follow through with it knowing damn well he doesn’t love you, you own it. don’t try to blame literally everyone else for your cruel actions because no one forced her to do anything. she made the decision to take the decision away from satoru and for that, she’s scum 🤷🏽‍♀️

i sincerely hope Satoru does put Naomi behind bars… and his mom, or at least gets a restraining order on the two of them. they’re horrible people worth less than the ground they walk on and i hope satoru’s dad lets him rain hell on them two.

now toji… i’m happy they’re both open about not being each others first choices but that’s Yui’s dad. he has every right to be uncomfortable with the fact that Satoru has openly confessed his love for y/n but i hate that he invalidated her feelings of being uncomfortable and told her to get over it when it came to a pet name she didn’t wanna be called. y/n even said it’s not the fact that he talks about his late wife in general, it’s about HOW he makes her feel when he does mention her. there’s a big difference because he only does it in a way that compares the two. and then weaponizing her pain to drive home his point??? that’s definitely not cool.

it’s safe to say the honeymoon period is over and now they’re going to be dealing with the baggage of their past relationships. satoru is always going to be a presence in their lives and so will megumi’s mother (through toji’s words) whether they like it or not. i kind of hate that satoru is willing to give up time with his daughter to make sure toji doesn’t get upset (don’t punish yui 😭) communication is going to be key and they’re going to need to see if they want to work through it because love isn’t enough sometimes.

i wonder what y/n would do if satoru told her what naomi and his mother tried to do… i think she probably should know since it involves yui’s grandmother and who knows what that crazy bitch will do (to yui) to keep satoru. personally, i think that y/n should beat the shit out of her, for EVERYTHING that woman has done. to y/n, to satoru, to yui, to satoru’s dad? i know for a fact she wouldn’t let him deal with everything alone if she found out and part of me hopes they can rely on each other for this.

i’m still hoping for a gojo endgame with a reunited family myself, but i mostly just want everyone to be at peace regardless of what happens 😭 i think satoru has shown actual progress and willingness to ensure y/n and yui’s happiness at the cost of his own and i’d love to see them reunite and get through this stronger than ever 🥹

you killed it again kai! i have so many emotions and thoughts and i can’t wait to see what happens next. thank you for sharing your work and i hope you have a fantastic week! much love 🥰

OMGGGG i enjoyed reading this a lot !! esp. the part where you pointed out how yn's problem was not just toji mentioning his late wife. but rather, how it makes her feel. it wasn't a surprise to her that he'd talk about her at times since she knows about his past, what made yn sad was how it seems like he was trying to tell her to do what she does. that's why she said she felt like a 'placeholder.' :'(( and yeah, the betrayal satoru felt when he found out how his mom spoke w naomi abt it is just too much, and the fact that he has to bear it by himself too :((( as for him giving up their time together w Yui so as to not upset toji, does not only show selflessness but also his hopelessness. he's thinking abt long term, like the school events thing mentioned, which implies that he really thinks that he's got no chance w yn anymore yet he's still trying to make it all up to her 🥹 i feel like satoru's been through too much during these past few chapters😭 anyways, thank you much for sharing your thoughts and for your support <33 it took a bit for me to respond to asks, but i hope you're doing well~ take care !!

[no-thoughts-only-soup]

To Secure / Risk It All

Chapter 2

PART 2 YALL

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | | Part 10 | Part 11

—————

SCP-173 had been a nightmare and a half, but they’d finally be able to contain it again. Curt leaned back in his chair in the panic room. All in all, everything had worked out decently well. Sure, Den had died, but she was thankfully the only casualty.

Speaking of, Den floated next him, having found him and deciding to keep him company. Curt would never say it out loud, but he appreciated it.

“So.” He turned to her. “How do you find Kristine?”

Den glanced over to him, shrugging. “She’s funny, that’s for sure. Can’t help but think of Chilly though. I know that’s not fair to her but that’s how it is.”

Curt sighed. “Yeah, it’s gonna take a bit to get used to her. But you guys seem to like her, I think.”

Den chuckled. “She definitely brings back the energy we’ve been missing.”

Curt chuckled with her, slowly getting up from his chair and preparing to head back now that it was safe.

Den’s voice stopped him before he could do so. “Hey, do you know what happened to her? To Chilly?”

Curt paused. It was still hard to believe Chilly just up and left them. And honestly, he wasn’t really obligated to tell them. But as he turned to face Den and saw her worried look, his conscience won. Chilly was Den’s friend too. She deserved to know.

“I… was told she was found innocent, so she was allowed to leave the Foundation. Don’t know anything more than that.”

“Oh, I see…” Den rubbed her arm, her face full of mixed emotions that Curt couldn’t really pin down. Emotions were more Christian’s thing. “Well… good for her I guess.”

His eyes trailed away. “Yeah, I’m happy she’s safe…”

But they both felt something else. Betrayal? Bitterness? Disappointment?

Because he couldn’t face Den, he tried to focus his eyes on literally anything else. Which is why noticed movement on one of the cameras.

“Hey are those Foundation guys moving your corpse?”

Den, broken out of her thoughts, spun around, looking at the screen.

“Oh motherf- they better don’t do shit to my body!”

She zipped away, ghosting right through the wall. Curt decided to was time to meet up with his friends too, and left the panic room.

Christian, Ivan and Kristine were teasing Den as she tried to get her body back from some staff member Curt didn’t bother to remember. Soon enough, they were all back on their way to the D-Class cells. At some point, Ivan and Kristine started arguing. Curt wasn’t sure what started it, but from the snippets of dialog he could make out ‘anime titties’ and ‘Worcestershire sauce’. He was good not knowing, thanks.

Besides, he was too busy thinking thinking to himself to pay attention to him. This whole mess didn’t make sense. Why did Chilly just up and leave like that? Why was it a researcher that took her out of the cell? Why were his main assignments only having his friends get into trouble with SCPs? Sure, trouble was usually part of their usual shenanigans with scenarios, but no one had ever commanded him to do things like this. And why did it feel like no one in the Foundation was doing any work towards uncovering what happened that faithful day that resulted in his friends lying unconscious in a field of dead bodies. It’d been weeks now, shouldn’t they be at least having suspicions? What—

Something bumped into his hip. Startled, Curt looked to his side, meeting Christian’s eyes.

“You good, man?”

Curt blinked. Stared ahead. Ivan and Kristine had gotten into a fist fight with each other that got the two guards with the squad occupied, while Den cheered them on. No one was paying attention to him.

Scratching his neck, Curt put his focus back to Christian and exhaled. “Yeah, just… thinking.”

“Mind sharing with the class?” Christian asked him, bluntly reminding him that Christian was in fact, a therapist.

He cast his look downwards, kicking some loose rubble away.

“It’s just… things aren’t making sense. I feel like I’m overlooking something big. Something… important. Like this goes beyond just our usual stuff.”

Christian waved his hands sarcastically. “Oooooh, what tipped you off? Our shitty hint provider? Chilly being mysteriously taken away? The fact we’re still in this shit ass place?”

Curt couldn’t help but give him a small smile, though he dropped it a second later. “All that and more I guess. I dunno, I guess I just have a lot to think about.”

“Use that brain to prevent us from dying next time, thanks.”

Curt laughed. “Come on, how many times have we died already? It’s not that big a deal, Den’s gonna be back soon enough and—“

Realization hit him. Oh. Oh! Oh god, why didn’t he think of that before? Jesus, is that’s true… then…

“Hey,” Christian’s voice distracted him. His look was more serious now. “you figured something out?”

Curt’s mind was racing, but the guards were finally starting to calm down Ivan and Kristine. He took a deep breath and looked Christian directly in the eyes.

“I think do, yeah, but I gotta confirm it first. Can you do me a favor?”

Christian smirked. “Depends, what’s in it for me?”

“Ribs. Dunno if I can get the McDonald’s one but I’ll try.” Curt smirked back.

“Ehhhhhhh… good enough, what’s it?”

He lowered his voice, almost in a whisper. “Once you’re in the cell, wait about 30 minutes and then cause a distraction.“

“Dawg, you should have started with that, I’m always up for starting shit. I’ll still take the ribs though.” Christian laughed, though his voice was softer than usual too.

“Thanks man.”

It looked like the guards finally succeeded in calming the other two down. Before they continued, Curt leaned towards Christian once more.

“Last thing. I might sound crazy, but don’t trust Kristine yet.”

Christian’s face didn’t change, though his eyes did flicker to her. “Any particular reason?”

“Nah just… a gut feeling.”

“Noted, thanks Curt’s gut.”

“Ass.”

They arrived at the D-Class cells. Curt playfully waved them goodbye like usual, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes. The second he walked out, they steeled.

He knew what he had to do.

————

[whump-card]

Sunless Lives Part 27: I Will Be a Good Boy

This is a rough one, please be wary.

~1980 words

CW: explicit noncon/dubcon, threat of violence, abuse of power, medical setting, doctor/therapist whumper

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~~~

DR MANDAL: So. The altercation.

M BECK: That was so embarrassing.

DR MANDAL: It’s okay. No one was really hurt.

M BECK: I feel like I scared everyone.

DR MANDAL: Would you feel better if you could apologize? Not just to James, I know you already did that, but to everyone else?

M BECK: Yeah.

DR MANDAL: I can arrange for you to talk at dinner tonight. Would that be too much?

M BECK: No, that would be great. Thank you.

DR MANDAL: So what happened, exactly?

M BECK: I just. I thought he said his name was Bowers. And I just saw red, I don’t know.

DR MANDAL: Who’s Bowers?

M BECK: The one, the one I made Simon tell me about. Sorry, the vampire, the vampire forced him to talk about it.

DR MANDAL: Okay. So there are a lot of tough feelings there.

M BECK: Yeah. Yeah.

DR MANDAL: Here. Tissue.

[0:39]

DR MANDAL: Do you want to talk about it more?

M BECK: No. Not right now. Sorry.

DR MANDAL: Don’t apologize. This is your time, we should use it how you see fit.

~~~

“I'd like you to tell me about how you first met Lara.”

Tears dripped onto Simon’s lap. He’d given up on trying to remain composed in his sessions with Dr Deckard. Given up on trying to appear collected, and rational. Dr Deckard would never believe it anyway.

“I don’t want to talk about Lara,” he said. Like clockwork. He didn’t want to talk about Lara. He didn’t want to talk about Matthew. He didn’t want to talk about any of the clients. Deckard would drag it out of him piece by piece anyway.

“I’m trying to gather a comprehensive view of your life, Simon,” Dr Deckard said calmly, “It is my belief that your irrational tendencies stretch back far beyond your choice to accompany Matthew. If I can gain a better understanding of your choices, then I will be better able to help you.”

“I don’t…” Simon’s eyes wandered over Dr Deckard’s desk as he rethought his wording. “I’m not talking about Lara.”

“Are you having trouble remembering?” Dr Deckard didn’t wait for an answer. “Maybe some time in solitary would allow you to clear your head. Really focus.”

The threat was obvious. Cruel. Simon’s hands twisted together in his lap. Dr Deckard rapped on his desk.

“You’re doing it again.”

Simon quickly separated his hands and flattened them against his thighs. He took a slow breath. It would be just like telling Matthew.

No it won’t.

He could use the same words, at least. Dr Deckard wouldn’t be satisfied with that, but it would use up the time. There was a clock on the wall but it was positioned behind Simon, where Dr Deckard could see it but not his patients. Simon was left to estimate how much of the half-hour session had elapsed. He used to twist around to look at the clock, until the aggressive pen scratches the act caused, and the anxiety that those scratches brought on in turn, became too unbearable. 

He waffled. He was vague. He found loops of questions to wander through repeatedly. He spoke slowly, and stretched out his pauses. 

It was excruciating. Exhausting. And when he was finally spat back out into the common room, he was frighteningly alone.

~~~

“I didn’t mean to!” Simon shrieked, "It was an accident, please, I didn’t mean it!”

His voice echoed down the halls as he was bodily dragged along by Reeder, the redhead, and Hahns, his equally tall friend.

Chett had warned him. He’d warned him about this. After two months of being Simon’s only friend, he was released, and had grabbed Simon’s hand tightly on his last day.

“You don’t know it, but I been lookin’ out for you. You need to be careful when I’m gone. Tread lightly, y’know?”

It had only taken two days for Reeder to sneak up behind Simon and whisper “Boo!” in his ear. Simon had spun around and elbowed him without thinking. That had resulted in Simon being tackled and hauled away by Reeder and Hahns. At first Simon assumed they were taking him to solitary - a frighteningly lonely place where he’d spent two days after raising his voice in his first session with Dr Decker when he learned he had no phone privileges, and then a whole week after Christian’s first visit - but his dread turned to panic when they passed the stairs and kept going.

“Where are you taking me? Please, I’ll be good, please…” Their grip on his arms pinched and twisted his skin painfully.

“Hear that?” said Hahns, “He’ll be good.”

Reeder laughed. Simon felt like he might throw up. They finally threw him into a storage room, full of paper napkins and plates and plastic cutlery, all in plastic bags on metal shelves. No cameras here. Simon stumbled and collapsed to the floor.

“Now what?” Hahns asked. He seemed to be newer, to be under Reeder’s guidance.

“Now we do what we like.” Reeder crouched to address Simon. “Ain’t that right, sweet thing?”

Hearing Chett’s accent and pet name come out of Reeder’s mouth made Simon’s skin crawl. He scrambled across the floor until he was pressed into the corner, chest heaving.

“You can’t, I’ll - I’ll tell Dr Deckard, he-”

“He won’t believe you.” Reeder fished through a bag of utensils and produced a white plastic knife. “Especially when we tell him you’re lying because we saw you hurt yourself.” He lunged for Simon, seizing an arm and twisting it out, pushing up the sleeve and pressing the knife to Simon’s soft flesh. The plastic wouldn’t cut, but with enough force the scalloped edge could rip. Simon suppressed a whimper, eyes glued to the knife.

“So what’ll it be?” Reeder hummed, his breath hot on Simon’s face. “A week strapped to a table in the observation room, or you do what we say and I’ll bring you extra cookies from the kitchen.”

Simon was on a strict meal plan that bordered on too much. The idea of eating more made Simon nauseous - and so did the idea of doing ‘what they said.’ But he’d also heard of the humiliation and horror of the observation room, and had no interest in ending up there.

What would Matthew want me to do?

That had become his go-to decision-making framework lately. But it wasn’t as helpful here as he’d hoped. Matthew wouldn’t want him to suffer, wouldn’t want someone marking up his property; but he wouldn’t want anyone touching his property either, and that was certainly what the orderlies’ leering grins were suggesting. There was no good option here. His thoughts whirled, and something struck him.

Maybe he could use it to his advantage.

Maybe he could do this, by his own choice. It couldn’t hurt to have two orderlies in his pocket. They were interested in his main skillset, after all. An eerie, dead calm overtook him. What’s one more humiliation, after all? It always happened anyway. Might as well be his own choice. Refusing would only bring pain.

Sorry, Matthew. I’m so sorry.

“No meds,” he breathed, eyes flicking from the knife to Reeder’s eyes and back, “I don’t want to take any medication anymore.”

“I think I can swing that,” Reeder said, pleased as punch that Simon was negotiating.

“And… I know there are enough rooms for me to have my own,” Simon ventured, “No roommates.”

“Getting a little greedy, are we?” Reeder pressed the knife down a little harder.

Simon knew what to do. He knew how to look at Reeder, how to lift his chin, lower his eyelids, say the words just right, and leave his lips parted just so.

“I’m worth it.”

“Fuuuck,” Reeder breathed. He stood up, tossing the plastic knife onto a shelf - it left a dark indent behind on Simon’s arm - and started to unbuckle his belt.

“Oral only,” Simon said quickly, more a plea than a demand.

“Oh, absolutely,” Reeder said with relish, “You’re a lot prettier up front than meth-mouth. On your knees.”

“Yes sir,” Simon responded, and Hahns whistled. Good. The better Simon was, the more he’d get in return. He positioned himself in front of Reeder.

“Good boy,” Reeder said, which sent a spike of paranoia through Simon. Could he have read Simon’s file? Would that even be in there? But he tamped it down, tamped everything down, into a cold flat nothingness inside of him. ‘Good boy’ was common. ‘Good boy’ meant nothing, except that Simon was doing a good job. He was a good boy.

Oral sex with Matthew had always been fun. Even when he was a vampire, Simon had been able to relax and just enjoy the experience of bringing pleasure to someone he loved. Because he did enjoy it, with Matthew. Human or not, Matthew had always allowed Simon to just be himself. No expectations. No judgment.

Performing oral sex on Reeder was just that: a performance. A performance Simon was good at. A performance he could set in motion and then… leave. He didn’t need to be there, not really. His head bobbed and his tongue swirled and he moaned quietly at the right moments but he wasn’t there. Instead Simon focused on his knees, the way they pressed painfully into the linoleum, the way his skin ground and pinched between bone and floor. Then his thighs, when they started to ache from the strain, long out of practice. He made the time pass easily this way, or at least easier than it would have. Then Reeder grabbed the back of his head and forced himself in deep, gushing into Simon’s throat and holding him there for a long moment as he groaned and cursed (“Dumb fucking slut,”). Simon couldn’t escape for that one. He had to be there, to feel the shame and regret start to bubble up out of his carefully maintained field of nothingness.

Hahns was next, and it was just a little bit harder, harder to perform perfectly, harder to focus elsewhere. Harder to keep going. Some deeply scarred little part of him was afraid it wouldn’t end, that there’d be someone else after Hahns, and someone else after that. (Tamp it down, tamp it down). Luckily, Hahns had been touching himself while watching Simon with Reeder and came quickly, and sloppily from less experience.

Cold, calculated, Simon seized the opportunity and let the come run down his chin. He blinked up at them with dewy eyelashes.

“Was I a good boy?” he asked softly. Perfectly. He wanted to vomit.

The two orderlies whooped and cursed and high-fived, ecstatic.

“Man, no wonder meth-mouth was keeping you to himself!” Reeder crowed. He threw a handful of paper napkins at Simon. “Clean yourself up, we’ll take you back to your room - your soon-to-be single room, am I right?”

Simon nodded mutely. Guilt washed over him as he wondered what exactly Chett had been doing to keep these two off his back.

As he was marched back through the halls, Simon remembered another favor he could ask.

“Can you get me a phone? A smartphone, just for a minute?” he asked quietly.

Reeder glanced up at a camera as they passed.

“Ask me again next time, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Simon nodded. He could do that again. Hell, he’d do it as many times as it took to get his hands on a smartphone. He didn’t know Matthew’s dad’s number, but he was confident that with his sleuthing skills and internet access he could find it, and call for help.

He knew the VIU building’s number too - but Gina had helped put him here, that’s what Kelly said. He couldn’t trust her, or any of the team.

And Christian had already made it clear: he would do nothing.

~~~

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Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @pigeonwhumps, @sunshiline-writes, @seasaltandcopper

[aajjks]

DHP!JK

“Yn!!! my precious you’re finally here.. wow.. what are you trying to do? Make me break free from this hellhole yn? So I can come out and ravish you?”

“haha, hi angel. i wanted to dress nicely for you but soon, you’ll be able to…y’know..i wish these stupid bars weren’t here so i can hold you”

“Yn don’t worry I’m coming home on Monday. Dad was just here and guess what my appeal got approved”

“I KNOW!! aaahhhh!!!! i’m so exitedd!!! i know you’re excited. c’mere, my angel deserves an early kiss”

“wait no do not kiss me- kiss me when I get home please.. promise me. You will be there with my parents to pick me up on Monday?”

“i wouldn’t miss your release for the world, kook~ you know i’d never do that. can you at least hold my hand? i-i need to feel you”

you place your hand through the bars waiting for jungkook’s hand to meet yours. he gently grabs your small cold hand, rubbing his thumb along the smooth skin, and romancing you with his doe eyes. your mind thinks back to your therapist’s words: tell him the truth but wasn’t it your truthfulness that put him here in the first place?

“jungkook? i…i need to tell you something” jungkook leans in, ready to hear whatever it is you have to say. your heart is pounding as you think whether or not you should confront jungkook about the guilt that has been eating at you for the past 3 years. maybe, just this once, you should keep this to yourself.

you’ve always been honest with jungkook and it kills you that you can’t be upfront about something like this but you can’t help feeling like the reason he’s in this situation is because of you. why can’t you just shut up sometimes and suck it up?

just suck it up. you’ll be fine. he doesn’t have to know everything.

he doesn’t have to know…

you sigh before putting on a convincing enough smile on your pretty face. “i’m just happy we get to be together again. i can’t wait to hold you for real this time”

~🫧

Today is Monday and Jungkook barely got any sleep last night, he ended up trading his food for a sleeping pill, because he was unable to sleep

He just cannot stop thinking about the fact that he would actually get to hold you now and he’s free almost forever, your meeting with him a few days ago was so comforting, but he knows that there is something bothering you.

It’s 5 am In the morning and he’s waiting for a call to the officers stations so he can be escorted out, he has stopped taking the drugs since like a month or so, so he can clear the medical test

He is actually buzzing, he cannot wait to see you and his family, he would like to kiss you and touch you and be with you without any restrictions.

A few minutes later an officer comes, and Jungkook has changed into regular clothes, it feels so weird taking off that orange outfit, but he’s back to his life now, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world

After he’s done signing some papers, “never come back here again, jeon.” The Head of the unit warns him and Jungkook nods.

He knows that he has put them through a lot of trouble and he doesn’t want to come back here anyways. It’s almost 6 AM and finally he’s being escorted out of the prison.

He didn’t even bother saying goodbye to the prisioners because he doesn’t really care about them.

“Ahhh I will finally get to feel the fresh sun on my skin. And I Won’t have to take a shit in the shitty bathroom.” Jungkook stretches out, the officer behind him rolls his eyes.

He’s waiting for you guys to show up and after a few minutes, the officer is called, you guys are finally here.

Where will you be wearing? “Come on kid, your family is at that gate.”

Jungkook and the officer walk through the checking area. And as soon as the gates open, there’s the car and you’re standing next to his father and mother.

Jungkooks eyes well up with tears, is this a dream?

“Y-Yn… 엄마.. 아빠.”

[dawninlatin]

Queen of Peace, chapter 17

A manorian High School AU

Words: 1,9k

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Summary: Manon Blackbeak is flawless, untouchable. From the outside at least. Her grandmother pushes her to achieve greatness, and she doesn’t let anyone get too close in fear of being hurt. How can anyone love her when not even her parents could?

Dorian Havilliard has always felt safe and confident around his friends. He might not have the greatest of families, but with Aelin and Chaol by his side, nothing can go wrong. That is until he tries keeping his greatest secret from them.

What will happen when Dorian and Manon gets to know one another? Can two lost souls find their way back together?

Then it tries to find a home

With people or when I’m alone

Picking it apart

And staring at your phone

-Florence + The Machine, Hunger

Dorian broke into a huge grin as he opened his Christmas present. He’d been saving this one for last, knowing it would be something good.

And he’d been right.

Inside the messily wrapped box was a special edition of his favorite book, one he’d tried to find for years without success. How she’d even gotten this-

He lifted the book, admiring the gorgeous sprayed edges, then picked up the second item. It was a custom library stamp, saying From the library of Dorian Havilliard. Dorian felt almost giddy, wanting to use it on all of his books immediately.

It really was the perfect gift, and the fact that it was from Manon made him all warm inside.

«Show me what you got,» Dorian’s mother urged from her spot next to him on the couch, trying to look over his shoulder. 

On the floor, aunt Philippa was helping Hollin build his new Lego’s.

It had been over a month now, since that faithful night that had begun with Dorian coming out to his parents, and ended with his mother leaving his father, basically starting a new life for her family.

Things weren’t perfect, they’d had plenty of bad days, but they were doing better. His mother had managed to stay sober, as far as Dorian knew, and she still went to her meetings, still saw a therapist on the regular. 

Sometimes, the three of them even saw a family therapist together, and Dorian found that having someone to guide them through all the difficult conversations really helped. It had most definitely helped Hollin, who seemed like an entirely different kid now. He hardly had tantrums anymore, he did way better in school, and overall he seemed much happier.

He also seemed to adore his new aunt, whom he’d not even met before, but who’d stayed with them for three weeks after the fight, and now visited as often as possible.

Thankfully, their father had left them alone. Dorian hoped it stayed that way, that he never had to see the bastard ever again. 

Looking around, Dorian took in the small, but cozy living room he was sitting in. 

They’d moved here about a month ago, their old house being too big, too empty, too full of bad memories, and things were finally settling. Already, this felt more like a home than their old house ever had.

«Is that from Dorian’s secret girlfriend?» Philippa asked just as Dorian handed his nosy mother the book and library stamp. 

The nosiness didn’t bother him, though, not in the slightest, because it meant she cared.

«She’s not secret, and she’s also not my girlfriend,» Dorian pointed out, but his aunt just waggled her eyebrows and then joined them on the couch to take a closer look at the gift.

His mom gave him a playful look. «If she’s not secret, why does she only have time to visit when you’re home alone?»

Dorian simply shrugged, feigning innocence.

«Give it a few years, Georgie, and you’ll be planning their wedding.»

«Okay-» Dorian said, plucking his things from the hands of his gushing mother and aunt. «That’s my cue to leave.»

He quickly stood up, trying to hide the fact that he was very much blushing, and announced, «I’m going to my room, alone, so I can call my not-secret not-girlfriend.»

Then he left, hurrying as he heard his aunt quip, «Did you see how red he got?»

Dorian let out a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him, pulling his hand through his hair. 

After carefully placing his gift on his desk, he flung himself down on the bed and pulled out his phone, dialing Manon’s number from memory (which was an absolutely normal thing to remember about a person that absolutely wasn’t one’s girlfriend).

She picked up almost immediately, and Dorian let himself imagine that maybe she’d been waiting for him to call.

«Merry Christmas,» Manon greeted, her voice so bright.

Grinning, Dorian returned the words, then asked, «What did you think of your present?»

«It’s beatiful,» Manon breathed on the other end of the line. «Thank you.»

He ‘d gotten her a necklace. It was simple, really, just a silver chain with a shining star in the middle, two smaller ones on each side, but Dorian knew he had to get it as soon as he saw it. 

«I’m actually wearing it right now,» Manon added.

«The shirt? Sexy.»

Because as Dorian stood there with the necklace, he’d also thought that while it was perfect, it was a little too cliché, too couple-y, se he’d needed to get something else as well, something less serious.

It had taken a few days of searching, but he’d found it eventually: A hot pink shirt that said the words «You’re looking at a crazy cat lady». The letters were black, in fucking comic sans, and the message was underlined by rainbow-colored paw prints. It was honestly the ugliest shirt Dorian had ever seen, but he knew Manon would love it.

She chuckled, before saying, «The necklace, dumbass. I’m saving the t-shirt for prom.»

They’d seen each other just two days ago, but it had been long enough for Dorian to miss talking to her, miss their playful banter.

Cold, unapproachable, mean, bitchy. They were all words he’d heard to describe Manon, but as he’d gotten to know her, he knew she was none of those things. She might let the world believe otherwise, but Manon was kind, caring, clever, and downright hilarious.

«I’d expect nothing less. Thank you very much for the book and library stamp, by the way. You couldn’t have given me a better gift.» Dorian glanced over at said gift, smiling at how well she knew him.

«Maybe Aelin won’t steal all your books now, if she’s constantly reminded of who they actually belong to. And if it looked like your gift was wrapped by a child who loves tape too much, it was all Abraxos’ fault! He just took over, insisting he did it!»

Dorian laughed, picturing a very frustrated Manon trying to wrap a Christmas present. «Don’t bring Abraxos into this, he probably wraps his gifts beautifully!»

They kept going back and forth like this, Dorian’s facial muscles beginning to strain from all the smiling he was doing.

«What are you doing right now?» Dorian asked after Manon had given a detailed description of how she’d tried, and epically failed, to make gingerbread cookies last night.

«I’m chilling in my PJs, watching the greatest Christmas movie of all time.» 

«Let me guess…The Grinch?»

«Shut up, he’s my literal soulmate!» Manon claimed, sounding as if she tried not to laugh. 

«You probably love something annoying like Elf or Home Alone.» Dorian could hear the eye-roll.

«And what if I do?» he teased, even if those two were among his favorites.

Manon’s reply came quickly. «Then I’m afraid I can’t be seen in public with you anymore.»

Just as Dorian was about to make a retort, his mom knocked on the door, asking if he wanted to play Mario Kart with them. As much as he wanted to keep speaking with Manon, he had a title as reigning champion to defend, so they made their goodbyes, promising to talk again the following day.

Then Dorian went to join his family, ignoring how he’d felt the urge to end that phone call with three very significant words.

-

After ending the phone call with Dorian, Manon returned to her movie, snuggled up with Abraxos on her bed. 

She’d felt so light, mere moments ago, laughing and bickering, but as soon as she’d hung up, a heaviness had settled over her again.

To her, Christmas had never been the warm, joyful holiday everyone else believed it to be, but this year was particularly depressing.

All morning, she’d tried not to cry as she thought about how different it would be if Asterin was still here. They would have opened their few presents together, Asterin waking her up at some ungodly hour, then they would have watched movies in one of their beds, gorging themselves on candy, before they went ice skating, and returned to a not-horrible dinner with their grandmother.

It physically hurt, to be doing it all alone this year. 

Especially when Manon knew it was all her fault.

She was the one who’d pushed Asterin away, who’d answered with insult after insult when all Asterin had done was care about her.

Manon hoped she was okay, hoped she was happy with her new family.

Her grandmother was still making dinner later today, but Manon wasn’t sure she could sit there and pretend something vital wasn’t missing. It was becoming more and more clear how Asterin had been the one bringing some light to this house.

In addition, Manon was beginning to run out of plausible lies as to why she was spending more time out, and less time in her room studying. It was hard to keep someone hidden, when they had become such a huge part of her life.

At least she still had Dorian, Manon thought, touching a hand to her new necklace.

She’d been so relieved when he’d called her after he’d gone home that morning, telling her all about how his mother had finally stood up against his father, how she’d promised things would change. His voice had been full of disbelief back then, but his mother had kept her promises so far, and it showed, because Dorian seemed happier and happier by every day.

As he’d retold their conversation, though, Manon couldn’t help but draw parallels to her own situation, a heavy feeling settling deep within her.

She wished she had the strength to stand up for the ones she cared about like that. To do something, say something. Maybe then-

But you’ll never manage to do that, stupid girl! You’re nothing more than a pathetic coward, exactly like your mother-

That fucking voice… Manon would give anything for it to shut up. 

She turned up the volume of the movie in a feeble attempt to drown it out, but it only reminded her of how she didn’t have Asterin beside her, making funny comments the entire time.

Manon contemplated calling Dorian again, but he was spending time with his family, and she knew how much he valued that time, so she quickly let go of that thought, instead choosing to let herself mope some more.

«Christmas is overrated, anyway,» she said to a snoring Abraxos, who continued to ignore her.

Sighing, Manon mentally prepared herself to go and get more snacks, but then her phone started buzzing somewhere underneath all her blankets. 

Shen frantically searched for it, thinking it was Dorian calling, but her face fell as she saw that it was an unknown number.

Normally, Manon would have just ignored it, letting it go to voicemail, but this time, it was as if a voice urged her to pick up, just this once, pick up!

So she did, trying to remain calm as she said, «This is Manon speaking.»

The person on the other end drew a deep breath, before replying in a shaking voice, «Hey, Manon. This is your father.»

A/N: We have finally reached the chapter, that when plotting it out, I thought "I'll have plenty of time to have this out around Christmas...in 2020"

A win is a win though!

This one's more of a filler, and therefore a little short, but I hope you appreciated the ending...*cue evil laughter*

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