#nevermind I wasn’t depressed

[captain-hawks]

OVERRATED // matsukawa issei x f!reader

You’re convinced that getting fingered is overrated. Your roommate shows you otherwise, since you’ve clearly never been with someone who knows what they’re doing.

2.6k — 18+, roommates to lovers, fingering, mattsun and those goddamn hands

A woman sits in a dark booth in the back corner of a restaurant, lower lip tucked between her teeth, fingers digging into the edges of her seat as she tries not to make it obvious that the man beside her has his hand up her skirt. 

“There’s no way it feels that good for her,” you scoff, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as you stare judgmentally at the television screen. 

Matsukawa looks from you, to the movie, and back again. “Getting fingered?”

Your eyes flit over to where your roommate’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch, one brow raised as he lifts a can of soda to his lips.

The woman on the television screen moans.

(This isn’t porn, for the record.)

“Yeah? I mean this is like, false advertising.”

Matsukawa blinks. “I literally do not think I’ve ever met a girl who doesn’t enjoy being fingered.”

A sudden surge of heat licks at the back of your neck at his words, and you force your attention back to the screen. “And just how many girls have you—actually, you know what. Nevermind. Don’t answer that.”

He lets out a quiet huff of a laugh, and the two of you are silent for another five minutes or so before he speaks up again.

“So you’ve never had an orgasm just from being fingered then.”

Matsukawa says it bluntly, plainly, like he’s completely unbothered by the prospect of casually discussing sex with you on your couch on a Friday night. 

“Nope,” you shake your head, popping the ‘P’ for emphasis.

He’s not looking at you when he replies, “That’s a shame.”

—

Your phone lights up with a notification for a text message from Matsukawa on Sunday morning while you’re still in bed. You’re pretty sure he left the apartment early to get breakfast with Hanamaki, and he’s yet to return.

Mattsun: can you text makki and tell him you think getting fingered is overrated Mattsun: he doesn’t believe me >>: …. >>: so like >>: sometimes makki can just maybe not know things Mattsun: you spent twenty minutes last week telling both of us about your last date who couldn’t get it up Mattsun: in detail Mattsun: with a donut and >>: OKAY YEAH YEAH Mattsun: :)

Collapsing back against your pillows, you groan before opening your text thread with Hanamaki.

>>: getting fingered is overrated, makki Hanamaki: wow he wasn’t kidding  Hanamaki: wild >>: now can you make sure he brings me home a coffee Hanamaki: k Hanamaki: u act like he would ever forget something u asked for >>: what’s that supposed to mean Hanamaki: also though Hanamaki: when are u guys going to fuck

You drop your phone on the mattress, looking around the room as if Hanamaki himself is sitting in the corner snickering at you. 

>>: i’m sorry what >>: who >>: how did we get here Hanamaki: at least ask HIM to finger u  Hanamaki: because this shit is DEpressing >>: i’m blocking your number Hanamaki: u’ve seen his hands right >>: bye Hanamaki: cool i’ll email u xo

Groaning, you bury your face under the covers. 

—

“I had an idea. A really dumb idea, actually. It’s kind of Makki’s fault, but—“

Matsukawa looks up from where he’s pouring a glass of water, brows furrowing. 

“—and honestly just feel free to say no and forget this ever happened—“

He blinks, putting down the cup and leaning against the counter, crossing his arms as he waits for you to fumble through this never ending lead up to a question that’s been eating at the back of your mind all week. 

“Can you uh…could you maybe…”

Matsukawa moves a little closer to you, leaning in, as if his proximity is going to help encourage you to drag the rest of the words from where they’re clinging to the backs of your teeth. 

“CouldyoufingermeinaplatonicwaysoIcanfigureoutifI’mjustbrokenorsomething.”

You say it all in a single breath. 

Matsukawa chokes. 

“You think you’re the problem?” he asks, taken aback. 

“I mean, yeah? If it’s supposed to feel good, and it doesn’t for me, then maybe I—“

“Go put on something that makes you feel sexy,” he interrupts you calmly.

Your heart lurches in your chest. “What? Right now!?” you squeak. 

Matsukawa walks over to the kitchen sink, glancing back at you over his shoulder as he slowly presses down the pump on the foaming soap and thoroughly washes his hands. 

You’re not sure how or why that sight alone already leaves your throat dry. 

He nods. “Put on whatever makes you feel good. It doesn’t matter what it looks like. We’re not going anywhere. And then go in my bedroom, lay down in my bed, and text me when you’re ready.”

Fifteen minutes later, you find yourself on your stomach in Matsukawa’s bed, legs idly kicking in the air to expel the nervous energy simmering in your gut. 

And while it was borderline mortifying trying to pick out something “sexy” to wear before tiptoeing into his bedroom, you realize why he said it now as you hit send on a message that simply reads “Ready.”

Because now that you’re lying here in a short, pleated skirt that’s lived in the back of your closet for years, thigh high socks, a delicate, lacy bralette that you’ve yet to find a reason to wear, and a thong with a little pink bow nestled just above your ass—

Now that you’re wrapped up in the familiar scent of Matsukawa’s body wash in a way that’s far more intimate than stealing his clothes or falling asleep on his shoulder on the couch—

Now that you know he’s seconds away from seeing you like this in his bed, from slipping his fingers beneath your skirt—

Well, you can already feel it—the slick, sticky arousal soaking its way into your panties. 

“Wow,” Matsukawa murmurs as he walks in, striding over to the foot of the bed. “Nice socks.”

You go to roll over, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious, and he shakes his head. “No, stay like that.”

Turning back onto your stomach, you push your phone aside, hugging one of his pillows to your face—though you almost regret it when you subsequently end up burying your nose in the warm and admittedly dizzying scent of him once more. Meanwhile, you feel the mattress dip as he climbs atop it. 

“If at any point you want me to stop, let me know, okay?”

You nod, and he slowly starts to run his hands up the backs of your thighs, stopping just shy of the hem of your skirt. 

“Didn’t you wear this to that costume party at Oikawa’s a few years ago?”

The first and only time you wore it, given how its meager length leaves almost nothing to the imagination. 

“Yeah,” you laugh, though it’s a little weak, given the way he’s now rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs against the inside of your thighs. 

Unintentionally, you spread your legs somewhat for him at the sensation, toes curling. He chuckles quietly. 

Matsukawa’s fingers finally slide up your skirt, his large hands resting on either of your ass cheeks. You try to fight the sudden urge to arch your spine into his touch. 

“Is this still okay?”

You nod, and he squeezes. 

A moan slips out past your lips before you can stop it. 

“Oh,” you breathe out, fingers grasping his silky dark green sheets for purchase as he begins to massage the globes of your ass. 

“Does that feel good?” he asks. 

He squeezes a little harder, and there’s a euphoric release of tension that seeps through your muscles.

“So good,” you mumble, face pressed sideways against his pillow. Which you may or may not have drooled on. 

Cool air licks and settles against your backside as Matsukawa grasps your skirt and pushes it out of the way. Your thong tightens against your skin with tension for a moment, snapping back lightly once he lets it go.

Sliding his palm down the center of your ass, he brings his hand back to your thighs and stretches his fingers outward, effectively spreading your legs further. You inhale, toes pressing down into the mattress at the foot of the bed. 

“Oh, do you want me to take these off?” he pauses, idly toying with the string of your thong. 

And while it would certainly be easier, there’s something about the evidence of your arousal soaking into the material, something about the way the lace tugs against your skin—

You shake your head. 

“Good, the bow is cute.”

He runs a finger over the delicate piece of ribbon, and you’re thankful he can’t see the embarrassing way you swallow in response. 

“Is flattery a part of the process?” you ask. 

You can almost hear the grin on his face as he slowly feathers a finger against the wet spot on your panties and replies, “Is it not working?”

“You’re terrible,” you laugh, despite the shiver that runs through you. 

“Save your breath.”

You turn slightly to look back at him, brows furrowed. “For wha—“

Your words are cut off by the moan that crawls up your throat without warning as the pad of Matsukawa’s middle finger suddenly slides down the length of your creamy slit. 

It catches you off guard, how good that little bit of contact feels. How sensitive you are for him. How—

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re wet,” he murmurs, one digit now circling around the rim of your puffy, fluttering entrance while another long finger draws through your folds once more. 

He’s hardly doing anything, and it already sounds obscene. 

Your chest burns, and your heart thunders in your chest as you find yourself arching your ass up off of the bed. The skirt flops back down over your backside in the process, and Matsukawa’s quick to push it back out of the way, his large hand pressing into the small of your back. 

The pillow case grows more damp against your cheek as you quietly pant against it. 

“Matsukawa,” you whine, hips pressing backward again as he ghosts a finger over your swollen clit before dragging two digits back through your folds. Your cunt aches. 

“You have to tell me if you don’t like how it feels, okay?”

He runs his thumb across your dripping hole. 

“Matsukawa,” you gasp again, one hand tightly grasping the top edge of the mattress. 

“Just tell me to stop, and I will,” he promises, slipping the tip of a finger into your entrance. Barely past the fingernail. 

“Issei, please,” you nearly sob, spreading your legs even further for him. “Don’t—don’t stop.”

He lets out a noisy, rough exhale. One that’s a stark contrast to his easy, syrupy tone. 

But you can hardly hear it as he slides his finger into your cunt, not stopping until he’s at the last knuckle. 

You can hardly hear it over the desperate, needy moan that he drags out of you on one finger alone. 

Matsukawa takes his time exploring your tight inner walls, alternating between pumping his finger in and out while you keen for him and keeping it lodged inside as he curls and strokes your wet channel. 

It’s never felt like this. 

Not with anyone. 

Not even with your own fingers. 

But this—

It feels like you’re burning from the inside out, like your nerves are on the verge of going up in flames. 

It’s just one long, deft finger sliding in and out of the eager, needy grip of your pussy. Your tight, soaking wet pussy that’s nowhere near full enough yet still pulsing and dripping with pleasure all the same. 

It’s just a single finger, and yet your voice is going hoarse from the moans tumbling from your lips, the repeated whimpers of Matsukawa’s name as your sticky arousal slides down the palm of his hand. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he rasps, voice a little rougher than it was before. 

“I’m probably making a mess all over your bed,” you mutter against the pillow. 

“Good,” you swear you hear him breathe out before he asks, “Still overrated?” His free hand slides beneath the waistband of your thong,  wrapping around your hip bone. 

“It’s never, I’ve never—“ you gasp. 

“Because you sleep with guys who do it for themselves, who see it as a necessity to getting their dick inside of you,” Matsukawa replies in a calm tone that’s a stark contrast to the way you’re unravelling beneath him. “I just want you to feel good. This isn’t about me.”

And you’ve also never been fingered like this—face down, prone. With your pebbled nipples rubbing against your lace bralette and a too-short skirt rucked up around your waist. In a sopping wet thong that keeps rubbing against your clit every time Matsukawa nudges it out of the way, with thigh high socks that continue to slip down lower and lower as you writhe in pleasure against the mattress. 

You’ve never been fingered by Matsukawa Issei. Your roommate and your best friend who’s a little too handsome for his own good. Who you’ve had more wet dreams about than you can count. 

Matsukawa Issei and his stupidly long, dexterous fingers. Two of which are now stuffed in your tight hole, massaging your inner walls while you drool on his pillow like it’s his cock that’s stuffed inside of you instead. 

Matsukawa Issei, who’s somehow on the verge of making you forget every dick you’ve ever had inside of you by fucking you with his fingers and his fingers alone. 

“Don’t flatter me that much yet, not till I make you come,” he murmurs, stroking your throbbing clit. 

And oh—you fucking said that last bit out loud. 

Not that you can bring yourself to care when the coil of heat in your gut is wrapped so tight you can hardly breathe. Every muscle in your body tenses under the liquid pleasure that sears its way down your spine with a bite that has you trembling, sheets slipping beneath the feeble grasp of your shaking hands. 

You end up pushing yourself onto your knees as Matsukawa purposely slows his pace, like he’s not ready for you to come yet. Like he wants to edge you until the whole goddamn mattress is soaked.

“Issei,” you whimper in a small, breathless voice that you can hardly believe is your own. 

And suddenly you find yourself being tugged backwards into his lap, your legs spread, your back to his chest. You barely have time to marvel over the feeling of his hard cock pressing into your ass through his pants, not when his lips ghost against the shell of your ear before he rests his chin against your shoulder. 

Matsukawa slides his fingers back inside of you, and you moan at the angle, at the way his mouth ends up tucked into the crook of your neck when you roll your hips into his touch. His lips are hot against your skin as he traces the column of your neck, cunt squelching wetly while your pussy greedily takes in the stretch of his digits over and over. 

And then he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your pulse point, biting and sucking at the sensitive spot while your cunt throbs, as you shake with a full-body shiver, as the damn of pleasure inside of you snaps and overflows with an orgasm that leaves tears in your eyes as you sob his name. 

Matsukawa tilts your chin and finds your mouth with his, claiming your lips in a messy, spit-soaked kiss as you ride out your climax. 

It’s only once you stop shuddering in pleasure that you remember how hard he felt beneath you, and you go to slip a hand between your bodies—

“It’s okay,” he exhales, sounding just as out of breath as you feel.

“You don’t want me to—“ You try not to sound as disappointed as you feel over his sudden rejection.

His eyes go a little wide. “No, no. No, it’s that. I just…uh…I already…”

You blink at him. “I didn’t think that was actually a thing that happens.”

Did he really just come in his—

Matsukawa rubs the back of his neck, biting his bottom lip. “It’s never happened to me before, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh?”

For some reason, you feel more than a little smug at these words.

“First time for everything I guess,” he grins.

“Overrated?” you ask coyly, warmth swelling in your chest.

Matsukawa shakes his head, lips brushing against yours when he leans in and murmurs against your mouth, “Definitely not.”

[wearysparrows]

(Never) Let Go of Me

ao3/masterlist

Part 1 / Part 2 (here)

Summary: Memories of that summer when you silently asked Sylus to take your life.

CW: no use of 'Y/N', AFAB reader implied but no pronouns are used, reader is MC, suicidal thoughts, eating disorders mentioned, minor hallucinations, mentions of self harm, references to depression, guns, Hurt/Comfort, hurt no comfort, angst, not beta read 5.4k

A/N: Please read the tags, as this work contains content that may be distressing or triggering to some readers.

Could you miss something that you’d never had? Sylus was never yours in the first place. His body, lying still in its expanse beside you. But you missed him. It was your shame to harbor these tender feelings. You watched the sleeping flutter of his eyelids. How rare was it to see him sleep?

No, I don’t want to embarrass you with the thought of myself.

  Neither of you had ever left. Above all, there was nothing. From each of you. How you had grown to love the space where there was nothing at all! Even in your dreams, he walked hand in hand with someone else who was not you, and he was happy. You reached out to touch him as he slept. The open junction of his fore and upper arm, the place for insertion of a needle. You put a single finger there, on the soft skin. You weren’t sure if the pulse you felt was yours or his. You couldn’t draw anything from him, nor take away. And so nothing in you had anywhere to go. There was the earliest sound of a bird outside. Too early, just before the heralding of the sunrise. He looked at you now, eyes opening like fresh wounds.

“Listening to the birdsong?”

A voice, warm and roughed with his sleep.

“Yeah.”

The two of you walked in that wheatfield. Above you, the horrible emptiness of an expansive blue sky. The sun beat down on the back of your neck, and you felt it pulse with the heat. His hand wasn’t in yours, but it was around your waist, which was close enough. You were sweating underneath your clothes where he touched you, and you hoped he couldn’t feel it. He was white against the stalks, and they seemed to reach for him in the wind. He was looking down at you, stopping in his movements.

“You’re burning me with your eyes.”

Teasing you. He was smiling.

“Me, and not the sun?”

You didn’t know why he insisted on coming with you in the daytime, even when the sun hurt his eyes so. Nevermind that he forwent the time he had to sleep entirely to be here. The summer wind tousled the sterling of his hair. He pushed it back into place.

“Mm. What’s the difference?”

This plot of land belonged to Sylus. It was somewhere on the outskirts of Linkon city – you never could quite get a handle on the location, because the roll of the drive always put you almost to sleep. If you stepped through the swathe of trees, still bitten with the fresh green of summer, you’d reach a large lake. Sylus came here to fish sometimes, but he hadn’t brought the pole on this occasion. You had mentioned wanting to get away from the city – both Linkon and the N109 – and he had offered this solution. Sylus always had a solution.

The lake opened a great blue maw of lapis before you, and the highness of the midday sun cascaded shining reflections of its light off of the surface. It was virtually untouched by man – well, all save for Sylus. But you could hardly lump him in with other men. He stood silently next to you, looking out over the water with his hands free by his sides. Coming here allowed you to see another side to Sylus that you were certain had only been revealed to your eyes. Or at least, you hoped. He had on a white button up, the first few buttons of which were undone, revealing the kiss the sun had given him that summer. He had a silver chain around his neck – a humble gift from you, courtesy of your Hunter’s salary. It wasn’t anything expensive, and it certainly paled in comparison to the other things he owned. Still, he wore it so frequently that he had worn out the clasp and had to replace it with a sturdier one. He wore a pair of blue jeans, which hugged him in all the right places, and a pair of tailored leather boots. He almost could have passed for a cowboy, if cowboys came from other worlds. 

There was sweat gathering underneath your breast, running down your ribcage, soaking your clothes. This summer had been unreasonably hot, the sun punishing with its heat. The calmness of the water was calling to you. Your clothes stuck to you, feeling like they were trying to become one with your skin. Not wanting to merge with them, you began to peel off your shirt and shorts. While you had the former over your head, covering your eyes, Sylus spoke.

“What are you up to?”

He sounded pleased. Soft, like the wind could carry away his voice if it had chosen to. Sylus had seen you like this many times before. Though you harbored a sense of embarrassment in your nakedness around him still, you knew it didn’t matter to him.

“Getting in the water. It’s hot.”

You waded in, taking in the sight before you. The sun drove its horses over the open span of the prairie, casting it in a bright golden haze. You were up to your ankles in the cool water, the pebbles underneath pressing against the soles of your feet. They were smooth and round, not painful to the touch. You turned at the sound of a shuffling of fabrics. Sylus was unbuttoning his shirt with practiced ease. He tossed it aside carelessly on the bank. His pants and shoes came similarly. The sound of the zipper seemed strangely loud, out here in the wilderness. He was left only in his boxers. You had seen him this naked before – but it was never something that you quite got used to. You knew that he must have felt your eyes on him, but he never showed any signs of being bothered, nor did he mention it. The powerful animal of his body rippled towards you with singular purpose. Just underneath the lowered waistband of his boxers, you could see his tanline. The skin underneath was pale. As he walked towards you, you walked backwards into the water, silently beckoning him to follow. He obliged, his lips parting into a curious smile. You stopped when the chill of the water had reached your clavicle. Your heart fluttered with a soft quickness in the water.

The water parted for Sylus’s body as he approached you, sending ripples outward away from him. He came closer, closer, until you were nearly chest to chest. You desperately wanted to feel the contrast of the heat of his body under the water. He would have to reach for you first. The sun had turned his pupils into pinpoints in a crimson sea as he looked down at you. You pushed a gentle wave towards him with your palm.

“I thought you didn’t like the water.”

Sylus’s hand found your upper arm under the water in response, and traveled up until it was on your shoulder. The flat of his thumb stroked your collarbone. The wet traces it left felt cool against the open air.

“You’re in the water.”

His palm touched the side of your neck, fingers brushing your nape. The blunt of his nails scratched your scalp, there. You showed him your empty palms under the clear water.

“I don’t have a sword to offer you, or anything like that. I don’t have anything to give.”

Sylus laughed, a sound that was like the fire of light over the prairie. He closed the last distance between you, and his lips were suddenly speaking against the skin of your neck, his fingers maneuvering your head to the side to expose more of it to his mouth. It wasn’t a kiss at all – more like a touch, so chaste it burned. His other hand snaked around your waist, pressing your abdomen to his under the water. You could feel all of him against you. Somewhere in the distance, a whippoorwill called.

“Do you think I can only take? Haven’t I always given you everything you’ve wanted?”

A wry expression that he couldn’t see faced the sky on your face. The only thing you truly wanted was the one thing he couldn’t give. Everything else could have returned to ash, could he have given it. You had begun to understand that shame and passion were the same creature wearing different faces. To love was to be humiliated. To roll over and show your soft belly. Everything else he consumed, and there was not the blue of the water nor that of the sky. There was only a red sea left behind.

Your feet ached underneath you, keeping you steady on the treadmill. They no longer pounded the machine as they once had – you had learned to make your steps light, your breathing quiet. Even after a day like today, which had required you to push your body to its utmost limit to dispose of wanderers, you did not forgo the gym. You could exert control in this way. When nothing else could be tightly in your grip, your body could be controlled. Movements that punished kept your mind at bay. Without the pain, without the control, the thoughts would return. You had developed minute control over each muscle – knew how to isolate it, how to activate it independently over the others. You knew each connection point, each tendon. Your body was the most familiar stranger to you, collared with a choke chain. 

Sylus had recommended this gym to you. It was always strangely empty, which suited you just fine. The gym itself was of an unusual sort – it looked to you more like something that should have existed in the N109 zone than Linkon City. Its internals were all deep shades of blacks, the space wide and dark. You never wanted for amenities. Some of the machinery you lacked names for – and you avoided using them. They appeared just a touch too close to torture tools for your liking. The woman at the front desk, a svelte, mink like creature with a pointed face, had developed a silent camaraderie with you. She greeted you by name when you came, and offered you the occasional compliment on your physique. You had forgotten to get her name – and it was long past too late to ask, now. 

In your periphery, you saw your phone’s screen light up in your hand, and slowed your pace to a walk on the treadmill to check it. Even after all this time, seeing his name still gave you the same fluttering of wings in your stomach. The numbers on the treadmill let you know that you had been running on and off for around two hours. They blurred in your vision, and you stopped trying to focus on them.

Sy:

Your heart rate has been fast for a while now. Still working out?

7:27 PM

A text that from anyone else would have been disturbing in its implications – but from Sylus, it merely made your insides twist with delight. He was checking in on your wellbeing. You had long known he had kept tabs on your vitals, likely through your hunter’s watch, which hardly ever left your wrist. Of course, you had similar tabs on him. Sylus had purposefully chained himself to you with that necklace he wore – it had a GPS tag in it. You never doubted where he was – though you tried not to check too often. You frequently failed in that regard, though. You walked on as you typed out your reply. 

Me:

Yeah. I’m almost done tho. What’s up?

7:28 PM

Sy:

Im coming to pick you up. Don’t argue

7:28 PM

The prospect of seeing him made your heart rate speed up all over again. It quickened even more when you remembered he could see its pace.

Me:

I’m drenched and smell bad. You don’t want to see me lol I’ll get your car dirty

7:29 PM

Sy:

You’re arguing. Im on my way

7:29 PM

This threw a wrench in your plans. A beautiful, towering wrench of a man. You wanted to scowl at your phone, to be annoyed with his persistence – but your chest glowed with warmth at his insistence, instead. Although Sylus maintained a severe boundary of friendship with you, you knew you must have monopolized most (if not all) of his free time. Your heart, ever possessive, purred with pleasure. You quelled the feeling to focus on the task at hand. Sylus had seen you sweaty before – covered in dirt, blood, all manner of other horrible things. He had held your hair for you while you had emptied your guts onto bloodied grounds, dry heaving until nothing but stomach acid remained. Still, you wanted to avoid it if it was possible. You were usually adverse to using public facilities to shower after working out, but it would have to do just this once. You pulled the clutch of the treadmill, killing its internal workings, and gathered your belongings, making your way to the showers. 

Fortunately for you, this gym boasted high quality amenities. Clean towels, a working hair dryer – even the shampoo and conditioner seemed of higher quality than what you kept at home. You squinted at the labeless bottles, examining them. You didn’t know much about this place, other than that Sylus had adamantly insisted on paying for your membership, despite your protests. Another recurring payment of yours that was on his card. It had very nearly caused an argument between the two of you. He had insisted that if you were going to punish yourself in the gym, you should at least use his gym. This had disarmed you, for it felt like he was exerting some sort of claim on you, in his own roundabout way. He frequented the gym with you, when he had the time. Getting to watch him lift weights was its own kind of pleasure. Sparring with him was a ritual that allowed you to touch him in a way you couldn’t allow yourself otherwise.

Even the showers here were black, wide, ominous and empty. They were tiled from floor to ceiling with sleek obsidian, and the showerheads were of the waterfall type. You scrubbed yourself furiously in the heat of the water, trying to speed the process along as quickly as possible. You hadn’t the foggiest as to where exactly Sylus was coming from, but you didn’t want to keep him waiting. 

You inspected your face in the mirror, flushed from the heat of your shower. A face looked back at you with a crease in its brow. You picked up the blow dryer, clicking it on. It pushed hot air through your hair, and threatened to make you sweat all over again. You raked your fingers through it, a makeshift brush. Thankfully, you had brought a clean pair of street clothes along with you. Your years as a hunter had drilled a sense of preparedness in you, even when completing the most mundane of tasks. You changed swiftly in the locker room, with only the sound of the overheads to keep you company. Yours was the only combination lock that had a permanent place here, hanging there by its lonesome. You no longer bothered to bring it home with you – no one had ever tampered with it. You took one last glance at yourself in the full body mirror of the locker room, adjusting your clothes. It didn’t matter, you knew. Sylus didn’t care what you looked like, for better or worse. You cast your eyes from the image, and made your way from the gym. The woman at the front desk gave you a friendly wave on your way out, which you returned.

Outside, you stood under the eaves, waiting for the appearance of Sylus’s vehicle. The last vestiges of the sun were disappearing behind the towering buildings of Linkon City. You weren’t waiting for long, however, as Sylus pulled up nearly as soon as you stepped outside. Whether it was fortuitous or a plan on his part, you could never be quite sure. He was always punctual with you. Endlessly reliable. He honked the horn, as if you wouldn’t recognize the body of his black sports car from miles away. You jogged towards him, unable to stop the laugh that forced its way out of your chest. For someone who lived so deeply in the shadows, he loved to make his presence known to you.

You slipped wordlessly into the familiar passenger seat, and were met with Sylus’s raise of an eyebrow. He had a habit of always raising his left one – the same side as his dominant hand. You weren’t sure he was even capable of raising the other side. You denied the compulsion to ask him to try.

“I seem to recall a promise that someone would get my car dirty. But you’re looking suspiciously clean.”

Sylus’s voice, no matter how familiar it became, was always like stepping into hot, dark waters. You nudged him with your elbow over the console. 

“You want me to dirty up your nice ass car?”

He grinned in response to your question, revealing to you the canines that you had imagined sinking into the flesh of your neck so many times. He nudged you back, elbowing you for room on the console.

“Sure, it might be fun.”

You prepared to ask him what exactly would be fun about getting his car dirty, but Sylus leaned in, reaching over you to buckle you in. His hands drifted over the belt as he pulled, just shy of touching your breast and stomach. As he lifted himself away, you pushed at his shoulder gently. 

“I’m not a kid, Sy. I can get my own seatbelt.”

“I know. But you’re still my…”

He trailed off, sitting back in the driver's seat. His left hand had a confident grip on the steering wheel, his right on the gear shift. He kicked the car into gear, and led it onto the road to your apartment. It was a short drive. 

“My responsibility.”

What you had done to earn the title of responsibility, you were unsure. It sounded uncomfortably close to burden. You felt yourself shrink into your seat. Your hands hung onto your knees, holding them together in front of you. There was something nauseating about the awareness of being a chosen burden. You had long since accepted the place Sylus had chosen in your life as your closest friend, but it was ever a struggle to accept the place he chose for you. He discarded anyone else who came even remotely close to earning a similar title without a second thought.

My responsibility.

“Do you think you owe me or something? Because–”

Sylus cut you off.

“No. I’m here right now of my own free will. Do you think I’d do anything I didn’t want to do? Surely you know my intentions by now.”

There was a sort of boyish impetuousness hidden just underneath his usual tone. Being a chosen burden was better than being one that was forced upon him. He needed something to care for, maybe. That something just so happened to be you. You were the wrong person for him, at the right time. Still, you clung to his choice, claws deep in his skin. Kitten, he had dubbed you. Something that purred in his presence, that swiped at him and drew his blood. You stole a glance at him. His hard lines and dark colors. You saw the way the last of the daylight made him squint his eyes as he looked out the windshield, the dark sweep of his eyelashes trying to keep the offending stabs of sun out. His eyes, devoid of melanin to protect him from the sun. His hair always shone a little whiter in its light. You wondered what sort of childhood must have formed the man sitting beside you. One full of suffering and strife –  of that much you were certain. An image of a young boy with pale hair, his right eye sliced open with a scalpel held by hands so much larger than his own appeared in your mind's eye. You heard the squelch of the implantation, saw the struggle of his too-thin body against metallic restraints. There was no anesthesia. Only pain.

 Sylus avoided the subject, often giving vague and cryptic answers when you had tried to pry in the past. You didn’t press him anymore. There were things you couldn’t tell him, either. How you wanted more from him. More than the chaste touch of a friend. You wanted the consumption of a lover, for him to take you in his mouth and sink his teeth in. To not let go. The only thing that bit you was guilt at your heels. Being slowly devoured alive was a small price to pay to keep him in your life. A selfish price.

Sylus stopped the car at a red light. He titled his head towards you, eyes sliding in your direction. His hand drifted to your knee, displacing your own from it, and gave it a playful squeeze. 

“What are you thinking about?”

His thumb idly stroked the bony junction just below your outer kneecap. Even in the summer heat, his skin still burned your own with its touch. Shameful heat boiled in your stomach. You brushed your index finger over the bony protrusion at the outside of his wrist, and watched as his arm raised gooseflesh in response to your touch. Sylus exhaled through his nose. You liked the sound of his breathing. It was somehow tinged with his voice – you could have recognized the sound of his breath anywhere. Occasionally, you considered telling him the whole truth of your musings on him, but the thought of Sylus’s disgust towards you stopped you. You felt your mouth fill with excess saliva. The desire to shower again came over you, as if he could sense how dirtied you were by your own thoughts of him. You told him half of the truth, instead.

“What you were like as a kid.”

Sylus was quiet for a time, driving the car onward through the green light. His hand didn’t leave its place – but the forward movement of the car made it drift down onto your thigh from your knee. Seemingly unbothered by its new position, he didn’t adjust his grip. His disregard for the implications of his touch were a continual reminder of his lack of romantic feelings for you. You stared at the place where he touched you, his large hand enveloping the taut flesh of your thigh. There wasn’t anyone else who touched you like this. Even by accident. And there probably never would be.

“If you’re thinking of feeling sorry for me – don’t. Everything that happened led me here. Exactly where I want to be.”

You didn’t bother to formulate a response, feeling the finality of his statement hang heavily in the air between you. The rest of the drive was comfortably silent, the only sound the soft classical music Sylus had playing from the radio. It rose and fell in stabs, sometimes sounding triumphant, at others despondent. He tapped his fingers on the wheel, keeping time.

Sylus pulled the car into its familiar spot at your apartment complex. It was here so often that this spot remained empty even when it was bereft of his bike or one of his many cars – like it was waiting to be filled with him. Once, Sylus had gone radio silent for a week. No texts, no calls. You found yourself sitting in the empty parking space. Strange looks from passers-by had rolled off of you, meaningless in his absence. Everything was. Sylus had found you there soon after, and crushed you up into his arms so hard you thought you might snap in half. You would have accepted it gladly. 

He exited the car, and came around to open the door for you on the passenger side. He never let you get out on your own, and today was no exception. When you stepped out, you were standing nearly flush with his broad chest. He ran a hand through your hair, still just slightly damp from your hurry to get clean before you saw him. You spoke to his chest rather than his face.

“Are you spending the night?”

You fiddled with two of his belt loops, hooking them in your index fingers,  tugging him towards you. Sylus took a little step, though he could hardly get any closer without pushing you up against the car. You leaned against the vehicle, and he leaned into you. 

“If you’ll have me, of course.”

His hands enveloped your forearms. Not stopping you. Just holding you, letting you play with his clothes. His thumbs rubbed the aching muscles in your wrists.

“Do you even have to ask, anymore?”

Slipping out from his grip, you walked towards the direction of your apartment door, knowing he would follow. His response came from behind you.

“I’ll always ask, sweetheart.”

This was how you ended up in your bed with Sylus, laying across the expanse of his body. The closeness of the flesh was always a sharp contrast to the distance of your feelings from his. He was idly stroking his fingertips up and down your spine, head propped up on one of the plushies he had won you at the arcade, a makeshift pillow. By now, the room was completely dark. Sylus, ever the nocturnal animal, seemed to have no trouble seeing in the lightless space. You wanted to relax, to sink into the beckoning peace of his heartbeat, but something held you back from fully letting go. You needed things that were cold and hard to keep you from losing yourself to his entirety. 

Without the pain, without the control, the thoughts would return. Rumination spirals. Thoughts that plagued you when your body was unoccupied, when your hands weren’t around your gun, when your feet didn’t pound the earth. Had you really unplugged that heating element? What if you had forgotten, and the apartment had burned down in your absence? Was that ingredient label really correct? What if they were lying about the contents? Was there something inside of your body now that you hadn’t properly vetted? Had something dirty touched you, making you need to shower again and again and again? Shadows flitted in the corners of your vision, escaping just when you tried to look. You continued to try to follow them with your eyes, unsuccessfully. Sylus had been quiet. You heard his head turn against the fabric of the plushie. The backs of his fingers brushed your cheek.

“What are you looking at?”

You shook your head, knowing he could feel the movement from where you laid on his chest.

“Nothing.”

Sylus hummed, sounding unconvinced by your lie. A big, warm palm came up to cover your eyelids. Suddenly, you were cast into red darkness under his touch. You could smell your hand soap on his palm, for it nearly eclipsed your face in its entirety for its size. His voice lowered to a whisper.

“Don’t look. Just focus on me.”

You knew you could trust Sylus’s senses more than your own. In that regard, he was something like a walking pillar of truth when you were unsure of reality. He never begrudged you for sometimes being unable to tell the difference between dream and the waking world, for being suspicious of your own mind, suspicious of others. Suspicious of inanimate objects, of anything that existed in your vicinity, of anything that entered your body. He chased the shades away with his gentle touch. Stripped of your sight, you did as he commanded. His warmth sank into you in all the places your skin connected. There was the sound of his breath, coming deep and easy through his nose. The rise and fall of his chest. His scent, a linger of vetiver and a hint of his cigarettes. Between all of these sensations was something else; the swell of love for him was like a return to the womb, cast into the warm wet of the darkness, his footsteps, his heartbeat, becoming as a child, these things are all you hear. His sensations were your reality, even without the need for a resonance. 

“Better?”

His voice, a deep and familiar anchor. You nodded against his palm. Your lips brushed his skin with the movement, a pale imitation of a kiss. A thought occurred to you, then. If he moved his hand down just a little further, it could wrap silently around your neck, and quietly squeeze your life away. It would be easy for him – as easy as taking a breath. Sylus was so strong. You had seen him take the lives of men twice your size without even using his evol, the breath of life snuffed out of them. You curled your fingertips around his hand, and guided it to the soft flesh of your neck, so it wrapped around there. He turned to you on the bed, supporting himself on his other elbow. Though you weren’t looking at him, you could hear the undercurrent of confusion in his voice. 

“Kitten?”

Just for a moment, you felt an increased pressure from him, the twitch of his fingers against your skin, against the place where he could crush your windpipe, cut off the flow of blood to your brain, send you into an endless sleep, let you pass away from this world by his hand. You pressed down on it, encouraging him to squeeze, to let you go, to finally free you from this. You couldn’t do it on your own – but if it was him, it was easy. You wanted it from him. You swallowed under his palm, feeling yourself sink into acceptance. This could be your final sprint, because if you finally stopped running, his absence would come to meet you with open arms.

But no such mercy was to be at his hands, because you were being lifted, then, your eyes snapping open, lifted not by his arms but by his evol. Sylus was sitting up in bed, and his evol deposited you in his lap, straddling his strong legs. And then your gun was inexplicably in your hands, and you couldn’t drop it – it was chained there with the black and red mist, the barrel pressing against Sylus’s chest, your finger on the trigger against your will. You struggled against the iron grip of the ephemeral spirit that chained you to no avail. His eyes were narrowed at you in the dark, slits the color of violence.

“Sylus,” you choked out, wanting to say stop, what are you doing, stop, I can’t do this again, please, please, please, please, but nothing came. The back of your tongue felt swollen with the asphyxiation of fear, the replaying of events you so hated, of your greatest terror. Your body shuddered with the rapid coursing of adrenaline.

His free hand stroked the barrel of the gun, pressing it harder into his chest. He tilted his head to the side, voice a thoughtful whisper.

“This is my hand around your neck. Can you do it?”

You shook your head fervently, bile rising in your throat. You didn’t have Sylus’s death in you for a second time. Once was already too many times. The trembling of your hand was making your finger click against the trigger. You heard the sound, and fought the jagged heaving of your chest, breaths coming uneven and hot. Again, you shook your head. Each movement took more and more effort, for you were outside of yourself, no longer your body, merely the embodiment of fear.

And suddenly the mist was gone, the gun cast aside, landing with a heavy thud onto the carpet of your bedroom. You slumped forward into Sylus’s chest, and he caught you in his arms, wrapping them around you in a grip that crushed. Your mind was exhausted, emptied of everything but him. Your body was limp, supported only by his boundless strength. Loss, in a sense, filled everything, and nothing filled everything. Only the beating desperations of your intertwined lives remained, thumping with the red of a base existence.

“Your death would mean mine. You won’t leave me. Not this time.”

tags: @xxfaithlynxx @cutestnursingstudent @crowskitten22

[actuallysaiyan]

The Rain(All Might/Toshinori Yagi x Fem!Hero!Reader)

warnings: AU, pre-Izuku All Might, scars, angst, fluff, smut, mentions of teacher-student relationships, age gap, unprotected sex, mentions of anxiety, love confessions, size kink, All Might in both forms, reader is All Might's former mentee, suggestive themes word count: 3k!! pairings: All Might/Toshinori Yagi x Fem!Hero!Reader summary: while out trying to run errands, Toshinori becomes anxious and nearly succumbs to a panic attack...then you are there to help him! when you get home, it turns into a full blown love confession. a/n: big thanks to @cherryblossombankai! Tagging: @pixelcafe-network and dividers by @adornedwithlight

The rain drizzled from the sky. Toshinori sighs as he feels another fatigue attack coming along. He wasn’t sure if it was his anxiety working its way through his system or was it the lack of breakfast he had today, but the way he was feeling was telling him he was going to run out of stamina and soon. He wouldn’t be able to manage to get home.

Nevermind getting home, he wouldn’t be able to manage to get down the street from here. He tried to hide himself, ducking into an alleyway as his breath was getting more and more shallow. He folds in half, clutching the old scar that would never allow him to be normal again. His blond tresses brush against the cold, brick wall as he leans against the building. It’s not long before he’s coughing up some blood, and he curses himself for not having any tissues on him. Toshinori feels cold, defeated and depressed.

‘I used to be the number one hero. I used to be somebody. I could go for days without needing rest…’ He thinks pitifully to himself.

And then, there in the opening of the alleway, a familiar face appears. Your heart stops for a moment when you see your former mentor sitting on the cold, dirty ground. You rush over to him, kneeling down to get a better look at him.

“A-All Might?” You ask, wondering if he even recognizes you right now.

He smiles weakly. “I don’t think I deserve to hear that name coming from your lips.”

You’re quick to dig in your purse for a tissue. You wipe away the blood on his lips, then you press your hand on his forehead. He was running a low fever, and by the look on his face, you could tell he was very fatigued. There’s shame written all over his face.

Toshinori can’t stop thinking about how old he feels and how useless he feels right now. Especially considering it had been a few years since the two of you had actually seen each other in person. You knew about his true form, but seeing him in such a state hurts your heart more than anything.

“Do you need help?” You finally offer, not wanting to hurt his pride.

He nods. “Y-yeah…I’d like that.”

Gently you pick him up and carry him bridal style. Something about being the one carried makes him feel warm inside, despite the blush creeping up on his cheeks. It was a little embarrassing right now, but he was feeling too weak to even really care. He nuzzles against your chest as you make your way down the street to your apartment.

Once inside the comforts of your place, Toshinori feels a little more at ease. You sit him on the couch, removing his wet jacket and hanging it up so it can dry. In the kitchen, you rustle up your kettle to boil water for some tea.

Then you sit down next to him. He’s still shivering, even when you give him the steaming mug of tea. ‘I must look so pathetic,’ he thinks to himself. But the way you continue to dote on him makes him feel so adored. He smiles weakly again, but you know he’s trying to put up a front that he’s okay when he’s not.

“It’s been a long time, huh?” You finally cut the silence.

He takes a sip of his tea. “Two years now. But I always see you on the news,”

“Really? Are you really keeping up with the shit I do?”

He groans. “You know it’s not shit. You’re an amazing hero! You save so many, you inspire new generations of heroes.”

“Who do you think I learned it from?”

This causes butterflies to erupt in his tummy. He hasn’t felt this way in so long. He met you when you were in your first year out of UA. You were a bright-eyed young hero, just wanting to show the world that you were here. And boy did you ever make an impression. With your power-type quirk that gives you super strength and super speed, you and All Might were a perfect match.

He was your mentor for years. He watched you grow from that innocent little thing that was so keen on doing the right thing to the beautiful woman you are now. Sure it had been two years since you two had seen one another, but that didn’t stop the bond you already have.

“I suppose you had a good mentor to teach you all those tricks,” Toshinori laughs.

“He was always so good to me…a mentor that could make me feel so many emotions. Even ones I didn’t understand at the time.”

Toshinori notices the way you grow silent all of a sudden. He’s hesitant to reach out and to ask what you mean, but he knows what you’re talking about. Your admiration for the man had bloomed into something even deeper. The good ol’ days when you two would fight crime together are long behind you, but the love you have for him is still very apparent.

“Did you ever…tell this person how you truly feel?” He asks, worried that maybe you’ll never admit it.

You blush and look down at your lap. “I figured he knew.”

There’s a tension building between the two of you. He looks at you with the eyes of a very tired, worn down man. A man who feels like he’s lost everything, and yet here you are, one of the most precious gifts in his life. You’re still here. You saved him from what could have been a nasty panic attack in that alleyway too. He reaches out and caresses your cheek softly.

“What if I told you that your mentor loves you?”

The words sound like they are coming from someone else. You had imagined this moment for so long, only to push it all away the day you and All Might decided to part ways. You wondered if he had ever truly clued in on the crush you had on him, but this was letting you know that it was oh so real.

“He…loves me?” You ask, finally looking up at him.

Toshinori blushes and he takes your hand in his. “I love you.”

There’s a moment of silence before you get closer to him and begin kissing him. It’s soft and sweet at first, but soon turns into something a little hungrier and passionate. You feel like you can’t get enough, even though your lips are pressed to his and you have your hands on his body. You need to breathe him in, hold him until you two become one.

“I love you too,” you whisper against his lips.

His whole body feels warm now, despite the chill he definitely had earlier. His large hands cradle your face. He swipes his thumbs against your cheeks before he kisses you again. It’s so soft, and so delicate. You feel like you’re floating on a cloud. The one thing you had always hoped for was finally coming true.

There’s almost this clarity in his eyes when you pull away. He strokes your cheeks again, a small smile on his face. You can’t hide your own silly grin. A million and one thoughts pass through your mind, but you don’t seem to even know how to process everything. You’re snapped out of it when Toshinori shivers again.

“You need a bath,” you offer. “A warm bath.”

He can’t say no. You take his hands in yours and help him to his feet. He follows you diligently into the bathroom. It’s cozy here. It smells like flowers. Toshinori feels comforted immediately. He remembers when you told him about finding this apartment. It seems like it was only yesterday instead of just last year during a phone call.

You start up the water and begin digging in a cupboard for bath salts and essential oils. The room fills with the soft scent of lavender and jasmine. Toshinori looks at you and he notices you’re beginning to undress. There’s a look on your face; it’s one he knows all too well. The look of being insecure to undress in front of someone.

His eyes widen when you get completely naked. Your body is so beautiful. The skin looks so soft to the touch. But what really catches his eye is the large scar on your chest. It almost mirrors the one on his chest. It’s red in some spots, fading to a purple shiny look]\\. You try to hide it from him, but he approaches you.

“When did…when did this happen?” He asks you, regretting not being there with you whenever this happened.

You look away ashamed, “Not long after we parted ways. I guess I needed All Might more than I figured.”

He pulls you in close, kissing you deeply. Tears roll down your cheeks, but he’s so quick to hush you softly with the sweetest words. He rubs his nose against yours before kissing you so sweetly. 

“You’re so strong,” he comments. “I know you fight with that same flame that lights up my heart.”

You’re swooning now. Who would have thought that Toshinori Yagi would be such a smooth talker? He smiles at you when you look up at him. Then you help take off his clothes, uncovering his own scar.

Both of you sigh happily as you sink into the large tub together. Toshinori pulls you even closer. His hands are itching to get all over you. The warm water makes you feel even more silky smooth to the touch. His lips are right by your ear as he leans in to whisper.

“I should have been there for you,” he admits. “I should have continued to help you grow. You needed me, but I was so foolish to let you go. I thought…I thought I was holding you back.”

You turn to look at him, “I never ever thought you were holding me back. Never ever did I think that, not even once.”

“I just felt like you could have done so much more without me,” he whispers. “But I failed you.”

You finally turn to face him and you straddle his lap. Being this close to you suddenly has his blood rushing down to his groin. Your breasts press against his chest. Toshinori looks at you with his lips parted and his cheeks pink.

“I don’t want to hear you talking so poorly about yourself. You really have no idea how amazing you are, do you?”

He shakes his head, “You give me too much credit.”

Another kiss pressed to his lips. Between more heated kisses, you remind him of his greatness. He wants to deny it, but when it comes from you, it sounds so heavenly. It sounds like the actual truth. Not the same words that fell from so many mouths before you and after you. No, those weren't empty praises from his admirers, but it sounds even better coming from you.

His hands caress your sides slowly; he’s taking his time to savor the feeling of your skin. You smell good too, your own musk melding with the floral scents that cling to the air. It makes the hair on his body stand on end as he keeps leaning in to kiss you.

There’s a deep noise that comes from his throat when he grows hard. His erection presses against your mound, slipping between your moist folds. You gasp at the sudden contact and you look at the man in front of you. There’s a perverted grin on his face.

“This is a new technique,” his voice is gravelly now. “A new technique I never got to teach you.”

One of his hands soothes down your body, stopping only to knead your breasts softly before heading down to your pussy. You let out a cute moan as he begins to stimulate you. All logical thoughts go out the window when he begins to rub your clit in slow circles. You feel his cock prodding against your hole.

“I know you’re strong enough to take this. You’ll be good for me, won’t you?”

Whispers of you promising to be good for him fill the air. He smirks at the way you’re grinding against him. He really pictured this moment so many times, especially when he’d lay awake at night thinking of you. And now, he has you here in his arms. He has you so close and he’s not going to let you go. Never again will he let you go.

Toshinori regains his strength enough to help position you over his throbbing cock. Slowly, you begin to sink down on it. Your mind is swimming as you try to adjust to his very large girth. Never would you have imagined just how good it would feel to finally take him. He presses a kiss to your temple as you lean in to rest against him.

“Relax for me,” he coos. “Please breathe.”

You shudder at his soft words of encouragement. Your whole body feels warm and relaxed as you rest against your lover. The man you’ve loved for so long, finally here to love you in the way you’ve wanted forever. You have to blink back tears as his arms wrap around you and he rubs your back slowly.

“That’s it. You’re taking me so well.” He whispers in your ear. “I knew you could take me.”

You whimper. “Toshi, you’re so big.”

This causes him to smirk again. He knows he’s big. And he knew you’d say something like that to flatter his ego. But it’s purely just you babbling as your mind struggles with the euphoric pleasure that he’s giving you just by pulling you down onto his cock. The minute he bottoms out, you let out a gasp.

Slowly, he begins rocking his hips. Words of praise fill your ears as you try to ride him as well. Toshinori kisses you, making your walls clench around him. He loves the way you’re already so close to your orgasm. He does everything to tease you, pushing you closer to that peak. And when you do cum, it’s explosive. He can see the pleasure all over your features. Your lips part, your body shakes and your eyes roll back. 

“S-shit…” He finally manages to pull you off.

You see the way his cock is throbbing. It’s angry and red and leaking so much precum. In your haze, you reach for it to begin stroking him. Toshinori has to push your hand away as he feels the coil in his stomach tightening.

“N-no…don’t want it to end like this.”

He helps you out of the tub, being the one to lean on this time. Both of you take a while to dry each other off. Toshi sits on the seat nearby and you rub soft lotion all over his skin. You don’t skimp out on the praise and words of love either. Then he takes his turn to rub the lotion on you, treating you to a similar experience.

The sheets are crisp and soft. Toshinori wastes no time pulling you in to kiss you. There’s a new excitement in the air as he grows aroused. Without warning, he shifts into his muscular form. Your eyes widen; you try to take him all in.

“Like what you see?” He inquires, smirking down at you.

“Yes, but I love all of you.”

This nearly brings him to tears. How you could just so easily tear down the walls he’s put up for years is beyond him. But he’s lucky to have you now after not seeing you for so long. Your hands cup his cheeks and you two share a very heated and hungry kiss.

Toshinori bends you into the position he wants you in, and then he uses his cock to rub against your swollen, aching clit. He growls with every twitch and squirm of your body. He’s never seen anything more beautiful than you. With his mind fuzzy with lust, he pushes into you ever so slowly.

“T-Toshi!” You squeal as he finally bottoms out.

Just the sensation of his thicker cock hitting your sweet spot has you arching your back in preparation for another intense orgasm. Toshinori loves the way you look so fucked out already. He should chastise himself for being such a perverted old man, but the way you keep begging for him to fuck you, he knows he’s in the right to make you feel this way.

His thumbs rub against your nipples as he begins to pound you. You can’t even keep up with the amount of pleasure. You’re drenching the sheets below you, leaving a big mess. A few more thrusts has you over the edge, crying out his name like it’s your own personal mantra. Toshinori leans in even closer, kissing you sloppily.

“I’m close,” he pants. “Should I pull out?”

You shake your head, pleading for him to ‘cum inside, please’ which practically makes him blow his load immediately. Loud grunts of your name and a string of curses fall from his lips as he paints your insides white. More and more of it fills you up, and you swear you’ve never seen another man cum this much. When he finally pulls out, he strokes himself a few more times to paint your lower abdomen with a few more shots.

You look up at him, seeing the dark look of lust be replaced with a deep look of love in his eyes. Toshinori kisses you once more before he gets up. You lay there, trying to understand what just happened. When he returns, he cleans you up with a warm washcloth before joining you on the bed. He pulls you to sit in his lap, playing with your hair.

“I hope you know that I’m not letting you go again,” he whispers. “You’re stuck with me.”

He spreads your thighs, letting his half-hard cock rest against your mound. There’s a deep growl that rumbles from him as he nips at your neck.

“All mine now.”

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

[hannahmanderr]

If it makes you feel better, I’ve encountered multiple people who either didn’t know that Danny phantom wasn’t part of DC, or in two separate strange cases, people who thought Batman was separate from dc and was part of the “phantom-multiverse” (whatever that is supposed to be)

It just goes to show how much of its own fandom DPxDC has become. And that's fine, I really don't care if DPxDC wants to do its own thing.

But it's when it starts to encroach on and overshadow the original fandom that still stands as its own fandom that I honestly get really upset. These days, it really does feel like Danny Phantom as a phandom is not allowed to exist without having to bow to DPxDC. Multiple phandom events have had to make rules and allowances and adjustments simply to work with/around DPxDC. I can personally attest to this, having helped run Ecto-Implosion. We've had to have serious discussions about how to accommodate DPxDC because it's so pervasive and it's so fundamentally wormed its way into the DP standalone phandom.

That's not even getting into how some events have tried to very politely explain that their event is intended for the Danny Phantom phandom only, and DPxDC fans have gotten extremely offended that they be asked to respect that. It's not like DPxDC has their own events that cater to their fandom. No, the Danny Phantom phandom has to kowtow to the DPxDC fandom. We're not allowed to have anything that's just ours, nevermind the fact that we were here first.

We're not even allowed to have our own tag. People have time and time again begged and pleaded with the DPxDC fandom to just use the right tags and kindly refrain from posting in the main DP tag, and DPxDC fans get so offended and angry at being asked to do this one simple thing for us. I flat out refuse to go into the main DP tag because - and this is no exaggeration - at least half of the posts are DPxDC. And before anyone says anything, yes, I do have the DPxDC tag(s) blocked, but as a DP fan, it's so discouraging to scroll through my main tag and see blocked post after blocked post, having to scroll forever just to find my own phandom's content.

And that doesn't even account for the untagged or improperly tagged DPxDC posts in the main DP tag. People either keep using the wrong tags (as far as I'm aware, #dpxdc and #dp x dc are the standard tags) or just simply don't tag it as the crossover. I know the main argument coming from the DPxDC fandom is to simply block the tags, and that's valid, but blocking tags doesn't work if people don't use them. I shouldn't have to add a dozen different iterations of the same tag just to keep from having to see them only for it not to even work because some people just neglect to use any crossover tag. The number of times I've been vibing with an unblocked post only for it to suddenly take a turn into DPxDC is honestly depressing.

Look, I don't want to be angry or upset. I really don't want to have an issue with DPxDC. If people find joy in DPxDC then that's great! But I would appreciate if DPxDC would let me have my own joy too without demanding I also make it theirs.

[maybeiwasjustjade]

I see so many post constantly degrading Nesta for being so nasty and mean and ungrateful; for using Rhysand’s money and staying on his land (not for free I might add) while refusing to play nice or care.

But isn’t that the bare minimum of what he owes her?

The IC and Feyre dragged Nesta and Elain into their world by manipulating them using their guilt over letting Feyre hunt for those 5 years when they were severely impoverished. Nevermind that Feyre doesn’t know how to cook or clean so someone had to have done that, or that someone was bound to do physical labor anyway. But I digress—the IC gave Nesta so much shit for refusing to be Feyre and Elain’s mom, for not being the one to take care of them by any means necessary (which we know would’ve been through marriage).

So the sisters agreed to help with the Human Queens, putting a major target on their backs. The IC sent away their staff and guards, promised to leave protection that failed miserably. Feyre told Ianthe about her sisters; Rhysand let the Attor live knowing that Hybern would have their location. So the sisters were taken—kidnapped and dragged and thrown into something that turned them into something they weren’t.

Murdered and tortured for however eternity it took to melt the flesh off their bones, for their bones to grow and lengthen, and magic to flow through their veins. There’s another word for this, you know? Nonconsensual body modification. And just because they came out young and beautiful and immortal, everyone around them expected them to be grateful. But what is there to be grateful for, if you were Nesta and Elain? Ripped from their finally stable human lives and love? Forced to join a war that had nothing to do with them until it eventually fucked them over too?

As far as I’m concerned, and how it should’ve been if SJM wasn’t so far up feysand’s ass, whatever debt owed by Nesta and Elain to Feyre was repaid in full when they were murdered over Feyre and the IC’s actions.

Elain came out of that Cauldron catatonic for months. Nesta came out something other, even for a Fae, and dripping with so much power that she made High Lords quake at the sight of her and that damned finger. And in order to spare Elain from further suffering, Nesta took the brunt of their missions and scrying, repressed and depressed as she was. Yet it was still them who killed the King of Hybern, effectively ending the war.

The bare minimum Rhysand owed them afterwards was a fucking lifetime of peace, and to be left alone if they wished with enough money to make a king cry. But that wasn’t enough for him was it? Feyre was pushy because she wanted Nesta around even when Nesta preferred to be literally anywhere else. I can understand that to an extent as a younger sister myself. But she went about it all wrong, and let her mate do what he does best: be a complete and utter bitch.

And if getting sexually assaulted and repeatedly nearly dying finding the Troves for the NC still wasn’t enough to repay whatever fucking ‘debt’ Rhysand and his stans seem to still think she owes (despite the dying and kingslaying), Nesta gave up a significant portion of herself to save Feyre, Nyx, and Rhysand. And despite his gratefulness, he still couldn’t help himself from berating her horribly behind Feyre’s back, even when Feyre herself has told him repeatedly to lay the fuck off her sister.

So, NO. Nesta shouldn’t owe squat to the NC and its shitty High Lord. Pretty sure at this point, he owes her more.

[igotanidea]

No strings attached (1) : Jason Todd x plus-size!reader

Summary: Madison was Jason's stalker and he was tired. When Y/N moved into the neighbourhood he saw that as an opportunity to get rid of the baggage. Accidental meeting led to something more than friend, never a relationship though. He was not into tail, surely not, right? So why sudden change of behaviour when she pushed him away? And why would she push him away in the first place?!

Warnings: not in this chapter, but definitely smut and angst in the next ones. I'll post individual warnings in each chapter

***

„Why the fuck can’t you just leave me alone?” Jason sighed deeply leaning onto the doorframe of the apartment next to his. Honestly he had no idea what was happening to him lately. Maybe it was the effect of getting back to Gotham, but he became more depressed than before. Guess being back from the death and realizing your family replaced you does such things to people. Of course, there was his hole Red Hood persona, but Jason? Jason Todd was insecure, sensitive and in desperate need of someone to love. And someone who would love him back. However, all those traits were skillfully covered by sarcasm, edgelord attitude and harsh behavior. So why wasn’t he able to just tell this girl to fuck off and leave him alone? Why couldn’t he say something mean, which will left her offended and disappear from his life.

He just couldn’t and it was really getting on his nerves.

“But Jason….” the girl whined “why can’t you see it?”

“See what exactly?” he raised an eyebrow

“We are just perfect for each other!” she squealed and almost jumped into his arms in an attempt to hug him “Come on, just give this a chance!”

“Please, go away, Madison.”

“You remembered my name!”

“Of course I remembered your name. How could I not?” he rubbed his forehead “you left like a hundred notes with your name and number in my mailbox. And sticky notes on my bike. And you tormented my ….’ He hesitated, the word brother, not getting thought his mouth “nevermind. I told you, I am not interested.”

“You just don’t know what you’re missing, Jaybird….”

“Stop calling me that! I hate it! Who …. Who the fuck taught you this nickname!?” now she actually managed to anger him. Maybe it was good, maybe for the first time in a while he would be able to take some direct action and get rid of that stalker of a girl.  

“I got my ways.” She smiled mischievously “nothing ever gets lost in the Internet and I got just the right tools to dig deep.”

“Listen up, Madison….”

“Oh, I am listening. Extremely carefully.” She took a step towards him and he immediately flinched. Cornered by a girl, fucking great. Grayson would never let him live this down. “Come on, Jason, let me in….” she cooed, her hand tracing up his arms towards his shoulder “you remember how much fun we had last time….”

“It was one time! One fucking time and it was a mistake!”

“The kind you want to keep repeating?”

“What the fu…..” he started, but another female voice joined the conversation successfully cutting him off. A very annoyed female voice.

“I’m sorry, but could you two take this conversation, elsewhere? You are kind of blocking the door to my apartment and I would love to take this off.” She pointed towards the heavy backpack she was wearing.

Oh, right. There have been a lot of talk in the building about a possible new tenant. Guess she was the one. And the timing was just perfect for Jason, who immediately jumped into the occasion.

“Baby!” he almost screamed and both girls looked at him with wide eyes. Madison in surprise, bordering shock, the other one with “what-the-fuck” expression, probably wondering if he was mental. So much of a good first impression “you are finally here!” he continued, hugging the girl lightly to not startle her.

“What the …..?” she hissed into his ear, but before she could finish the sentence he squeezed her tighter, almost getting a kick in the groin.

“Come on, just play along with me for a minute.” Jason whispered, so that only she could here “I need to get rid of her, I’ll buy you a wine or whatever, just help the neighbor out.”

“You’ll owe me much more than just a wine if you keep your hands where they are now.”

Oh, shit. Only now, he realized that his right palm was definitely way to low on her back. But damn, the girl got curves in all the right places and he was just a man.

“Sorry.” He mumbled and pulled away, acting like they knew each other for eternity “Why didn’t you call me, princess? I told you to do it the second you get in town! I can’t believe you carried all this weight by yourself!”

“I just wanted to surprise you…, em…, honey.”

“You most definitely did.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Hold right there.” Madison came in between them and pushed the other girl away slightly “who the fuck are you?”

“She’s my girlfriend.” Jason blurted, hoping his new neighbor would really play along.

“GIRLFRIEND!?”

“Yeah, um, hi, I’m Y/N. Nice to…..”

“Did you know you’re boyfriend is cheating on you, sunshine? No wonder, though.” She gave Y/N a look over  “You should really lose some weight, sunshine. Will do you good. ”

“I’m sorry, what….?”

“Hey! You have no right to talk to her like that!”

“Sure not. but for some reason you choose me over her multiple times….”

“ONCE!”

“Whatever, Jaybrid. If you ever get bored with her, again, you know where to find me. I’m not giving up on you, baby” Madison raised onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek briefly. Jason almost didn’t stop himself from wiping it off his face. “as for you, girlfriend” she almost hissed the last word “I don’t; think this is going to last long. Too bad for you.” her vicious laugh filled the whole staircase “love you Jaybird, call me!”

And leaving just a thread of perfume she was  gone. Not that she left furious Jason and absolutely confused Y/N behind.

“I’m sorry about ….” Jason turned around, ready to do some explanation, but much to his disappointment, the only sound he heard was clicking on the key in a keyhole. From inside.  “Hey, come on, Y/n! Open up!”

“Go away, you freak!”

“Let me at least apologize face to face, not through the door!” a moment of silence on her part gave him unreasonable hope.

“Apology accepted, now move out of my door or I’ll come at you!” if only she knew who she was threatening….

“I promised you a wine for helping me, remember?”

“I don’t care! If you don’t leave in ten seconds I’m gonna call the police!”

“Hate to break it to you, princess, but it’s Gotham. I’m the best chances at protection you have. Or you can always call upon Batman, but I don’t see that being successful.” Jason scoffed, starting to walk back and forth.

“Oh, yeah, right. That really sounds exciting. Meeting the big, bad bat in person.” Her voice reverberated somehow clearer and closer than before and when he raised his gaze realized she actually opened the door and was now standing right in front of him.

Shit, she was pretty with her h/c hair, flowing around her face, a bit fuzzy because of shitty Gotham weather, shiny e/c eyes and pouty lips. She might have been a bit on the heavier side, but it only added to her charm and fire that she showed before by putting on the little display.

She was beautiful and even tiredness of the journey couldn’t hide that.

“Hi.” Jason whispered, a little taken aback and filled with guilt of dragging her into his mess.

“What the fuck was that?” she sighed deeply “Look, Jason, I am exhausted. I had a long journey and as much as I would love to take you up on that wine offer I had no power in me to do that. So how about we just forget about this whole mess and say farewell to each other, hm? I have no interest in interfering in your personal life, especially with the girl who called me fat the second she laid eyes on me.”

“Don’t you want to know your handsome neighbor better?” he smirked and realized that even though it just slipped through, there was a chance that his old self was getting back to life. Was it because of her?

“Nah, not really. I think I’ve seen enough. And like I said, being back in Gotham sucks, but what can a girl do, right? Life sucks as well sometimes.” She shrugged and started closing the door

“Wait!” he put a feet in, before she managed to actually do it.

“What now?”

“Are you from around here?”

“Born Gothamite. Glad you can’t tell it just by looking at me. Now, I really want to go to sleep, if you don’t mind…..” she yawned and rubbed her eyes in the cutest child-like manner, making him feel to many things. Too many dangerous things.....

‘Right, sorry. I’ll leave you to it. Good night, Y/N.”

“Yeah, night, crazy boy.”

She already had a nickname for him.

He definitely wasn’t going to let this acquaintance end up at this….

next part ->->->

[rogerswifesblog]

For the Christmas bingo:

Steve Rogers, fluff, secret santa

Gift giving

My Masterlist

Thank you for taking part in the Christmas bingo!! ❤️

Summary: Steve’s first Christmas with the Avengers.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: none, just fluff:)

A/N: First Drabble for the Christmas Bingo! It’s not proof read so please beware, there might be some mistakes…and I’m also a bit rusty😂 feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

You can still use this trope for the bingo:)

It was the first Christmas Steve Rogers spent in the new century.

The first Christmas he would be totally alone, without family, without friends, without…he even felt like it was without Steve Rogers. He was Captain America to everyone. Steve Rogers stayed in the ice, they only pulled Captain America out of the arctic.

And it was depressing.

So it was quite surprising when he found an invitation in his mailbox.

Well, it wasn’t his plan to spend Christmas with Tony Stark, but the invitation said others would also be there-so maybe you’d be there too.

This was probably the only reason why he actually decided to go.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he noticed a QR-code at the back. Someone at a cafe shop had once explained him how it worked-he wanted to find their internet page and the barista made him scan the code to get to it.

A green button appeared on the screen, be a secret Santa. God, what did Tony do? Even without clicking on it, a spinning wheel with the avengers names appeared on the screen.

It spinned for a moment before stopping on a name-well, nickname given by Tony.

It was you.

Steve was your secret Santa.

————

When you entered the main living room (yeah, Tony had multiple living rooms) your gaze fell onto the huge Christmas tree. Even though it was the first time you’d spend Christmas here, it didn’t surprise you a bit to see the to-the-ceiling tree.

Somehow it just screamed Tony. Especially with all the ornaments on it, noticing some avenger themed, too.

A quiet chuckle escaped your lips as you placed a small package underneath the tree.

God, you hoped you had chosen a good present, especially since it had been incredibly hard to get.

————

One by one everyone finally arrived, you sat down at the table, next to Natasha and…Steve. „Hi, nice seeing you here”, you smiled at him, already suspecting it must’ve been hard to come here, spending his first Christmas in this new time.

„Yeah, I’m glad you’re here-I mean, well, nevermind”, he mumbled, blushing furiously and lowering his head. He was still awful when it came to talking to women, especially one that he actually likes. „It's okay Steve. I get it”, feeling a touch on his hand he looked up, but your hand was already gone before he could even react to it.

“Would you-“, yet he couldn’t finish his question since Tony walked into the room, of course bringing everyone’s attention to himself.

The evening went by smoothly, after dinner you watched a movie, drink hot chocolate and sharing some family stories and memories, even Steve said something about how he spent his time back in his time-even though it made you a bit sad and you couldn’t stop yourself from resting your hand on his thigh, soothing.

Then, you parted ways, being tired from the day you went to bed.

_______

JARVIS voice woke you up in the morning, moments after his greeting loud Christmas music played from what felt like everywhere. You knew you had no choice than to get up, sadly.

Still in your pajamas you walked to the living room, after JARVIS told you everyone was supposed to meet there. The first thought that crossed your mind were the gifts, and you were right. Tony sat in one of the loveseats, with Pepper right next to him. Natasha, Bruce and Steve on a bigger sofa, with a free spot next to Steve for you. Thor was in a loveseat by himself.

Everyone was clearly dressed in the clothes they had slept in, Steve still having a messy bed head, the same with Tony. This hair was in a messy low bun, while Bruce seemed to have tried to fix his hair with his hands and Natasha…well, she always looked fabulous even after being awoken by ‘last Christmas’ at 8 am.

“Time for gifts!”, Tony’s voice made you frown, as you sat down next to Steve, hoping you didn’t look like a complete fool with your sleep shirt with the big Captain America shield on the front. But his shit eating grin said something different. “Just-don’t. It’s comfy” “I kinda like it”, he grinned back, leaning a bit closer to you.

Your breath hitched as you looked at him for a moment, before lowering your gaze.

Pepper gave everyone their gifts, since all of them were signed. “Okay, let’s open up. Clint’s gift will have to wait till he comes to visit.”

You raised your eyebrows, looking back at Tony as you held the wrapped box-or whatever it was-in your hands. “Should we unwrap them one by one? And guess who the secret Santa is?”, you asked, but Tony shrugged. “We can still guess after everyone unwraps everything, don’t ya’ think?”

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

So you decided not to discuss anything, especially not at such an early hour.

Your gaze fell to Steve as he was still holding the flat present, watching as others unwrapped their gifts, smiling especially bright when Thor opened a huge carton of pop tarts and a plushy poptart.

As he looked at you, his cheeks flushed a little- “You’re not opening yours?”, it was something between a statement and a question.

“Well, I wanted to watch others open their presents so it’s your turn-“ “ladies first”, Steve retorted, making you chuckle.

So, after losing the discussion with Captain America himself you started unwrapping the gift-your mouth falling open as you took out a wooden sculpture of your pet. Without needing to look up you could still feel Steve’s gaze on you, making you realise it was a gift from him-besides there was a little ‘S.R.’ At the bottom. His initials.

Oh god. It was beautiful.

“You did that?”, you whispered, hugging the sculpture closer to your chest. The sculpture of your recently lost pet. It’s been a few weeks, but the heartbreak was there, deep in your chest. “It’s beautiful. Thank you so much Steve”, you whispered, leaning against his side as you looked down again. It was breathtaking.

Then you looked back at Steve, who still hasn’t opened his gift- “it’s your turn.”

God, you hoped he’d be as happy as you were.

He seemed a bit nervous, still looking into your eyes for a moment, watching as you blinked away the tears, still a bit taken away by the gift.

As he unwrapped the present, his hands shook a little bit. He couldn’t remember the last time he has gotten a gift-and from the way you were staring at him from the side he assumed it was a gift from you.

It was light and small. Maybe some…he couldn’t think of anything that would suit this size and weight. Maybe book? No…not really.

But as soon as he pulled away the paper his movements stopped.

It couldn’t be.

It…it was lost.

There was some water damage at the bottom corner, another corner ripped slightly…but it didn’t change a thing.

The picture was still intact.

One of the few pictures of him with his mom shortly before her death.

Steve felt like he could cry, holding the framed picture tightly in his hand, turning to you and wrapping you into a tight embrace-managing to remember not to squeeze you with his whole strength.

“This is the best thing anyone could give me. Thank you-“ “you don’t know it’s from-“ “I’m not stupid, I can tell it was you…besides I don’t think anyone else would actually find a meaningful gift for me. Thank you…I love-it”, he swallowed at the end, sniffing quietly.

As he leaned back again, his cheeks were flushed-probably because he nearly confessed his feelings to you because of a gift.

He looked once again back at you, feeling your hand wrap around his, your fingers sliding between his, his heartbeat immediately quickening.

“I love my gift too Steve…”

You both knew you weren’t just talking about the gifts.

Thank you for reading! Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated! It motivates a lot:)

Taglist: @rogersbarber @inlovewithchrisevans

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot Extra #4

Masterpost

Warnings: none

This takes place shortly after Extra #3

Elliot sat on a stump in the garden, staring at the wildflowers between his feet. His chin rested on a hand as he toed at the dirt.

Master Ambrose’s husband was back, and Elliot didn’t know how to deal with it.

Janus- Lord Janus? Master Janus?- was always there. Just… hanging around. 

It used to be just him and Ambrose, but things were different now, and he didn’t like it.

Elliot sighed.

It wasn’t fair of him. Master was so happy, so light, and had seemingly forgotten Janus’s sins.

But how could Ambrose just forget about it? Janus had been gone for decades, leaving Ambrose lonely and depressed. It was cruel. It was mean.

And apparently Janus didn’t mean for it to happen, and was so sorry, and-

He knew they had argued. Or rather, Master Ambrose had shouted at Janus, and then-

Was that love? Forgiveness?

If he did something horrible, would Ambrose forgive him as easily?

He bit his lip. It wasn’t his place to be upset on Ambrose’s behalf. But Ambrose was more than his Master, he was his friend. His only friend. Elliot just didn’t click well with anyone else.

If Master couldn’t be angry at Janus, then Elliot would do it for him.

Elliot picked up a stick and began to poke at the dirt. At least the weather was nice.

Footsteps rustled the grass nearby, and Elliot could see Janus’s leather boots in his peripheral vision.

Elliot tensed.

“Hello,” said Janus.

“Hi,” he mumbled. 

Janus didn’t say anything, and Elliot realized he had just been pretty disrespectful.

Elliot cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he said, straightening up. “Did you need something, sir?”

He looked up, and Janus tilted his head, searching.

“You don’t like me,” Janus said after a moment, “do you?”

Elliot turned back to the dirt. It wasn’t really a question. Janus would know if he lied, after all.

“Not- not really,” he said, mouth dry.

Janus did not move, and Elliot wondered if he was going to hit him.

“That’s fine with me,” the god said, “I don’t expect you to.”

“Oh.”

“Does that surprise you?”

“A little,” he admitted. “I didn’t think you’d be nice.”

Janus laughed, dry and brittle like winter grass. “Many would disagree with you there.”

“Well, nice to me, then. You don’t have to be. I won’t complain.”

Janus went quiet, and Elliot wondered why he came outside in the first place.

“What do you want from me?” Elliot asked, tired and resigned. “Just say it.”

Janus sat down next to him on the stump, and Elliot looked up in surprise.

“Ambrose is very fond of you,” Janus said quietly. “You make him happy. I don’t care what you think of me, but I’d like for us to be civil to each other. You won’t be asked to leave.”

“You left.”

“Yes. I’ll always regret that night.”

Elliot thought it over.

“For someone who isn’t nice, you’re doing it a lot.” 

Janus smiled at him, wry and mischievous. “I didn’t say I wasn’t kind. And this is for Ambrose, not for you.”

That made sense. Janus loved Ambrose; he could see it when they looked at each other.

“Alright.”

Janus stood up. “I’m glad we understand each other.”

Elliot watched him leave the garden. Maybe Janus wasn’t so bad after all.

___________________

Elliot knocked on Master Ambrose’s door, more nervous than he had been in a while. Usually he could just walk in after a nightmare, but things were different now.

Tears swam in his vision, and he wiped them away. He wanted Master Ambrose, wanted his comfort that always came without judgment. 

The door opened, and instead of Ambrose, it was Janus.

They stared at each other, and Elliot silently pleaded with him.

Janus stepped aside. “Come on in,” he said.

Elliot followed Janus inside, miserable.

“Ellie?” Master said, putting his book aside. “What’s wrong?”

“I-” Elliot looked between Janus and Ambrose. “Nevermind. Just the usual,” he said, shoulders slumping. “I can deal with it.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I’ll leave,” interrupted Janus. “I know you don’t want me to hear this. It’s fine.”

“I-” Elliot wrung his hands, shaking and stressed. “No- uh- you don’t have to- I just-” 

The tears began to fall, and he felt like he was drowning.

“Come here,” Ambrose said quietly, and Elliot helplessly obeyed.

He knelt at Ambrose’s feet, and he began to stroke his hair. 

Elliot let out a shuddering breath, eyes screwed shut as he buried his face in Master’s lap, crying.

He’d nearly forgotten about Janus by the time the tears were gone, until he heard water being poured.

“Here,” Janus offered, a glass of water in hand. “So you won’t get a headache.”

“Th-thank you, sir.” Elliot took the glass, sipping at the water.

“Would you like to sleep up here tonight?” Ambrose gently asked.

Elliot shook his head. “I- I don’t want to impose-”

“Nonsense,” said Master Janus. “I can sleep downstairs.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he protested. “I’ll be alright.”

Janus raised a brow, and Elliot’s gut sank. 

“Honey-”

“I’ll be downstairs, my love.”

Janus kissed Ambrose on the temple, and was gone.

“I’m sorry,” Elliot said tearfully. “I- I didn’t mean-”

“Hush,” Master Ambrose soothed, his hand on Elliot’s wet cheek, and he couldn’t help but lean into the touch.

“Janus understands, Ellie. There’s no need to worry.”

Elliot let out a sob, anxiety and fear mixing together in a vicious slurry.

“Sometimes I think he’s gonna find me,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “He’ll take me away from you. He’ll do awful things to me.”

“I know,” Ambrose murmured, rubbing his back. “He won’t.”

“I keep dreaming it. I feel every horrible thing he does to me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, love.”

Guilt panged in his heart. “Are you going to send me away?” he asked.

“What? No! Ellie, why would you think that?”

Elliot looked away. “You have Janus. You don’t need me.”

Ambrose tugged his arm, and guided him to sit on the couch. Elliot went without resistance.

“Janus is my husband. You are my best friend.” Ambrose tucked a lock of hair behind Elliot’s ear.

“Neither of you are going anywhere. Alright?”

Elliot slumped against him, tired and relieved.

“Yes, Master.”

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em

@thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings

@zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @fanastyfinder @roblingoblin285 @whumpzone

@snakebites-and-ink @astrokea @latenightcupsofcoffee @tobiaslut @whumpsoda

@loserwithsyle @bitchaknso @cepheusgalaxy @taterswhump @fleur-a-whump

@hellodecisionparalysis @otterfrost @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

[hiscloakmydaggers]

Where You Should Be, What You Should Think

quick oneshot im working on cause im in block. writing depressed deacon is what remotivates me

｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ☀︎ ｡ﾟ☁︎

Minutes go by fast when Deacon isn’t paying attention. It wasn’t like he was going to use them any wiser than right now. Sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at his reflection in his glasses. Embarrassing to admit, but he hadn’t really looked at himself in a while. He was uglier than he remembered.

His fingers traced over the lines on his forehead, as if checking if they were real. Eyes once large and sky blue had fallen considerably, now droopy and dark. He blinked for them to reappear in the same sad shape.

“Wow,” Deacon chuckled at himself with disappointment, “I let myself go…” he rubbed his face, pressing his thumbs tight into any blemishes. “I really gotta- shit.”

Quickly he cleared his throat, his complaining interrupted by Nic peering in through the door behind him. The man stepped in, hunching over, since he could barely fit through the frame. “What are you doing here? The food’s almost done.”

Deacon had almost forgotten already. Everybody else was outside, doing a feast of sorts since Curie swore it would improve mental wellness or something - Sheesh, maybe I should participate then - cringing, he grit his teeth.

“Yeah, yeah, just need to take a break,” he hollowed his cheeks in a dramatic breath, folding his hands behind his back. Nic glared at him with suspicion. “I’m real tired, you know, I-I think I just wanna take a nap instead. Save some Mirelurk for me, with the sal-”

“But you slept almost all night?”

“Pfft, no I didn’t.”

“I know you did.”

“How would you,” Nic started to blush, giving him the answer, “nevermind. It’s nothing serious though, you should go out with the others. Have fun for once!”

Abruptly, Nic lowered to his height to cup his cheek, “I’m not going out if you’re moping here. You need to have fun for once. Just come out, say hello, get something to eat…” He trailed off, drifting his eyes down Deacon’s torso. “Are you sure you aren’t hungry?”

Deacon closed his arms around his chest, “uhh, yeah. Why?”

Nic grabbed one of his wrists, pulling it back to expose him again. “You look smaller.”

Deacon knew he hadn’t been eating a lot recently, but to the point Nic noticed just like that? Maybe he had some problems. “Pfft, you sure your perspective isn’t a tad bit biased, big guy?”

“You’re too small. Come out and eat.”

“Honey I told you, not hungry.”

“Then I’m not going out.”

Exasperated, Deacon dropped his hands to his lap, “not gonna fight. Don’t have the energy to.”

Nic bit his lip, analyzing his every move. His arm wanted to go around Deacon’s waist, but didn’t, instead he held his hand. “Are you serious? Nothing is going on with you? I can tell when something’s off with you… I know how you act.”

The spy watched the dust on the ground, “don’t really know what you want me to say. I’m tired, that’s it.” He grunted as Nic pulled him into a warm hug. “Do not… trying to be sappy right now.”

“I don’t want to hear your jokes. Is everything okay or not?”

“I just don’t like how I’m looking recently! Like my age is really getting to me, man.”

Nic gawked at Deacon as if he was insane, “what are you talking about?” His thumb caressed his hand, so cheekily it was just gross.

“I mean I think I look like an old ugly man,” he shrugged off his insecurities. “You see, this is why I need my glasses. Mostly cause it’s bright out, but also-”

“You aren’t ugly at all,” Nic’s face dipped into the curve of his neck, planting pure kisses, “who told you that?”

“This total asshole named Deacon. You should kill him for me.” He chuckled and patted his head.

Grumbling, Nic took hold of Deacon’s shoulders, “I’m not killing anyone, especially you.” He ran a stressed hand through his hair, “I don’t understand. You’re… sad because you think you’re ugly? Baby, how could you even think that?” He gulps and stares deep into Deacon’s eyes. “You’re so beautiful.”

For some reason Deacon felt teary. His brain told him to ignore whatever Nic was saying, but his heart made him listen. He looked off to the side awkwardly, trying to find his shield: his glasses. “Ahhh, thank you honey. You can make anybody swoon, I swear… I am just lucky.”

One smooth move and Nic’s hands were to Deacon’s waist in an instant. He leaned down with his weight, pushing his husband to lay on the bed, “you’re not just ‘anybody.’ You’re so much more to me.” His hands stood firm like pillars between Deacon’s arms and waist. He buried his face back in the crook of his neck, basking in the warmth. “I don’t get how you aren’t seeing that.”

His voice, his movements, everything made Deacon’s eyes pop and voice tremble to air. “I… hah, what!?”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

sorry but im prolly never gonna post the full 😭😭 iykyk, its one of those fics i wouldnt publicly share bc of how much im totally reflecting. just know deacon does not hate himself as much at the end

[6feathered6siren6]

Repeating

Notes: Part 3 of the time loop reader, have a happy holidays! I will be celebrating by sleeping after posting this.

Trigger warnings

Light trans speculating

Mentions of death and killing

Depressing episode's

Slight ooc of Vince(I am trying to any info about this man)

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊

『00:92』

 Nightmares only welcome you when you sleep, the murders you’ve done, seeing the ones you loved either dying in your arms or hands, or you dying. And it seems each gets worse than the last. It leaves bags under your eyes and the anxiety of anything that could happen. After just 2 months of joining the server, it leaves a mark on the server to the point of worrying everyone in it.

You were just supposed to take a simple shower, less than 5 minutes. You couldn’t stand looking at your body. The missing scars, the random flashes of blood, the injuries you gained but now missing, your hair, either changing in color or being cut. It all was freaking you out at the moment. The amount of times you broke your mirror couldn’t be counted on your fingers. You could barely see yourself in the mirror. You were so done with this time loop bullshit. 

You felt the anxiety, your breathing quicking, your eyes burned against your reflection. You couldn’t look away. A moment of black and your fist was bloody again. Your mirror was broken. 

“Fuck…” You let your breath go. It was the only thing you could do. Your vision blurred with tears threatening to fall.

A knock. A few of them, but someone was here. You slowly open a drawer and slip out the knife you placed. With how anxiety ridden you’ve been, you hid weapons everywhere. With Victim playing with you, you needed something. Something to protect you. You crept up to your bathroom, holding your knife with practice and ready to strike. Slowly opening the door, you dropped your knife. It was a familiar face.

“Woah, woah. Watch that pretty blade, sweet slayer.” It was Ronin, but what was this dumbass doing here? He sees your shorter messy hair, your bathroom, your face, then to your fist. You were covered in new clothing but with slight blood from your injured hand. His eyes soften, but you don’t recognize why. 

“Bad night, heh?” He had that fake smirk you can recognize quickly. He picked up the knife and placed it onto the bathroom counter, away from you and himself. His trace back to your hair and fist. 

“Yeah..” You hugged yourself, and shifted your gaze away from him. You couldn’t see that fake smile of his. But felt a hand on yours, it burned like hell to you. He had your injured hand, and slowly went to the sink. 

“Got any tweezers?” You pointed the drawers beside your sink. “You got yourself good there. Impressive damage. Could probably kill someone if you keep at it.” He gently shoved you onto your covered toilet. 

You stared at your fist, the glass was deeper than before. You could easily treat yourself, it wasn’t the first time it happened. Ronin was in front of you, grabbing your hand, and picking out the glass. It was quiet, but it was a nice quiet. Not like the loud noises before. 

“How… How are you here?” You spoke a bit above a whisper. You didn’t want to break the quiet, peaceful moment. 

“Angel begged me to check up with you. A few others as well. Everyone was worried. And since I was the closest near you, I showed up.” Now twisted words nor any confusing lies. He’s blunt. Rare.

“Thanks.”

“Darling, got some demons dancing in your mind? Tainting you?” You rolled your eyes, but you nodded. “Well, luckily, the devil can quiet them tonight. Now, what’s rotting your mind?” You could see the quick glance to the mirror and your face. 

“It's…” You paused. Can you really tell him? Would he call you crazy? You looked down. “Nevermind..”

He finished pulling the last one before putting the tweezers down. He looked up at your hair, he raised his hand about to graze his hand over it. He had this… look. Like it was familiar to him, but you still couldn’t put your finger on it. He took his hand away before even touching it. He sighed and stood up, grabbing the first aid. “Wash out your hand. I’ll bandage it.”

You nod and do what you are told, putting the water lukewarm and washing your hand. As he sorted through the first aid, he spoke again. “How long have you been like this, driving yourself mad.” 

You look at him before going back to the water. “Years. I guess…”

“Well, welcome to the fucking club, gender dysphoria does the worst to ya. Can be a massive bitch.” You stiled… Did he think… Did he think that you were having a meltdown about your gender? You mean, you did questioned it but with this whole fucked up situation, you couldn’t. There were more important things to worry about. But it was funny to you. You started laughing. 

The Butcher himself, looked at you confused. You can see him questioning if you were insane. 

“Sorry, just… sorry… this.. Wasn’t that.” You turned off the water and looked at the male. “I promise.” 

He looked at you before giving a small huff. “So what, you're into fighting mirrors and cutting your hair. Looks like you fought a raccoon and lost.”

You rolled your eyes as you sat back on the lid of your toilet. Giving your hand to him again, you smiled. “It’s a long story…. A bit… personal for you to know yet.” 

He took your hand and gave you the cocky smile, “Well, we have all the time in the world for me to get to know your demons.” 

Yeah, all the time in the world.

『00:93』

You were done mopping again, after the last loop of having that sweet moment with Ronin. You wanted this to end, you thought back to the past loops, the time you spent. It was December, 2 weeks from Christmas, you forgot you were in VC until Vince joined in. 

“Hello, (User), how are you?” The Sunset Slasher spoke up while you were deep in thought. You realized you never got to know him nor his wife. You instantly felt bad. Now thinking of it, you barely got to know some of the people from the server. Sure, you know Luca and Felicity were into each other, Luca likes surfing while Feli is in Uni. You barely knew them, dragging you into another mopping rabbit hole. 

“User?” Vince spoke again. Pulling you out before it gets worse.

“I’m here, I’m here. Sorry, got deep in thought!” You spoke quickly. You looked back at your screen. 

“Ah, well, how are you today? Hope the sunset was great.” 

“I wasn’t able to see it today, I got pulled into a call by Ronin and Angel.” You said, you saw the time. 3 hours after they left. You were always losing track of time, and it was getting worse by the loop.

“Well, hopefully, you take a photo to share tomorrow. I know movie night is in an hour, but do you want to talk beforehand?” He sounded interested in talking to you. Maybe… you can get to know him. 

“That sounds good. Hope I won’t bore you.”

“You won’t, you have been interesting since you joined. A cryptid killer with little to no call off. I want to know how you kill.” You paused. Have you killed anyone in this loop? Like you got the same bat before but… did you use it yet? You did start having gaps in your memory every once in a while. But you guess you could be honest, you have killed people before, hell, became a mass murder who wasn’t caught yet.

“Well, my main weapon would be a bat. Smashing their knees then their heads.” You said as you thought about what you did in the past. You also used a knife and a gun. But a bat? That's your weapon. Afterall, Victim has started to use them when you kill them. 

“A bat? Huh, I guess you and Ronin do have similarities.” Which perked you, you didn’t pursue him, but Angel. “Feli and Luca were right, she does have a certain type.”

Which makes you pause again, like… Ronin… Shit… are you… like them now? A killer? You shook your head. No, you are doing this to find whoever did this. “Well, how are you doing? I never got to ask.”

“I’m doing well, same for my family, my wife and I will be with our kids for the next few weeks, so I’m happy to be with them. Especially, two days from now.” He sounds happy, you wish you were able to be older and without worrying. 

“Well, that sounds exciting. I’m happy for you..” You were able to mask your voice, making him think you were happy. 

『00:95』

You were with V, somehow you reached into his bunker, earlier than other loops. He realized you weren’t a killer, at least, not in this loop again. 

You sat at his kitchen table with a cat on your lap. Listening to classical music playing from his computer. Surprisingly, they were calming to you. If you weren’t in this bullshit time loop… These sweet moments were soft and you always wanted more, or at least to stay in a loop. But your wish will always be denied. 

As you get deeper in your thoughts, the cat bites your finger, making you yelp as you pull away. “Ow, careful, pretty one.” 

V looks over to you, hearing you yelp. “Are you okay, Love?” 

You turn your head to look at him. “Yeah, she just nipped me, I’m good.” 

He paused, he just stared at you with such a thinking face. Deep in thought. “Were you… thinking of something not…” Pausing. “Reader… Have you been having depressive episodes lately?” 

“What do you mean?” You raised an eyebrow. He never really stumbled on his words before. And depressive episodes? You… you never got them. “No, why?”

“Well, that cat on your lap, her name is Mango. Her past owner passed and was kidnapped by the killer. Brought her here. But she is a service animal for mental episodes. She nips sometimes when someone is in an episode. Soo..” He gets up and sits across the table. “Are you sure that you are fine?”

You realized something there. This loop thing… it’s fucking with you.

『00:96』

You sat at the desk, just staring at your hands. You were fucked. This time loop thing was fucking with you. You saw murder was okay. Killing someone was normal, felt normal. You were fucked. You are a killer as well. Memories were flooding in, when you killed the four you liked. Your… partners? You didn’t know anymore. YOU DON’T KNOW. You were fucked. 

How could anyone decide from here? No one had this problem before. You looked everywhere for a solution, you tried to kill people to find the Victim. And who were they? And why did this curse affect you?

『--:--』

A person was on the roof of a building. Their hair was flowing in the wind as they looked down. Staring right at you. There was no sadistic smile, just a neutral one. Throwing an envelope down to you before walking off. 

“Just killing randomly won’t work. Nor doing what you were doing. Use your brain dumbass. - Victim”

『00:99』

Triple digits. 100… You stared at your drink. It was the next loop. Maybe you do need help.

[hournites]

JSA #1 Outtake

Note: This is the start of a series of oneshots exploring Rick and Beth’s dynamic in Jeff Lemire’s new JSA run. Meaning, Rick, Beth, Jennie, Todd and Yolanda are adult members while Courtney and Jakeem are still teens.

~.~

It’d been a few months. 

Beth was…doing okay. She’d never been excellent with personal change, only others’ crises. No one expected her to thrive through this. And, at one point, a crisis was no longer one. 

She wrestled with this second chance at life. Sometimes quietly, looking a moment too long at her reflection, feeling cosmically misplaced. Other times, this chasm felt too loud. Nightmares that woke her with cold sweats and screams. Unexplained shortness with her patients, especially the self-sacrificial ones not understanding they took their lives for granted. Beth was always at war with the unfair guilt that lingered in the back of her mind.

The JSA replaced her with a student she used to know. Her parents grew bitter and old. Old enough to be buried in the same plot she vanished from. Her brothers grew apart without their sister. Matthew wasted away to heroin abuse while Mark succumbed to his weak heart. Luke blew up in the army. And young John…John’s demise was too painful to think about. His story was just a blot of ink on a faded Orangeburg newspaper. 

Her family deserved to be grieved by her. All of them. But how could she? She’d barely begun to grieve her old self. 

Yolanda understood, though. And that was a blessing. Truly, a miracle. Who of death’s few victors could say they were brought back not alone? Another person who felt it all and truly got it. A companion who carried the same double-edged sword in her back pocket, cycling between euphoric joie de vivre and crippling bouts of existential depression. 

Desire comforted her on days that felt like too much. Like pauses to blink back tears of gratitude over the simple pleasure of the sun shining on her face again. There were even days she forgot she wasn’t supposed to be alive. Hopefully, somehow, that feeling might stick. 

As long as evil’s handprint still held onto the world, there would be a place for her at work. Maybe that’s what held Beth and Yolanda together for so long. Their deaths might’ve felt senseless, but their extended lives were purposeful. Yolanda’s renewed sense of justice was staggering, always near ravenous for a fight. 

As for Beth, New York needed a meta-specialist. 

Shift work always suited her. Weeks blurred by. JSA’s roster required her assistance. Jen practically begged Beth to return to medicine and mentoring as soon as they’d cleared her fit to return. The older members must’ve exaggerated her bedside manner because even Superman brought his son to her clinic’s door. 

Beth learned to adapt, not day to day but disaster to disaster. That might not be any better than Yolanda’s fight-first, feel-later attitude, but it’s what worked so far. 

~.~ 

Jakeem’s heart monitor beeped steadily, reassuring Beth she had not yet failed him. The goggles illuminated what she already knew for certain by touch and feel; his weak body swimming in adult-sized sheets and the pallor in his face mentioned by every visitor. It troubled Beth enough as a friend and a teammate, nevermind his doctor. She couldn’t lose Jakeem. He reminded her too much of John.

“He looks better than yesterday.”

Beth tensed, clipboard tight in hand. It didn’t take a backwards glance or fancy goggles to guess who that was. She knew that voice anywhere. Even now. Older, deeper, more self-assured. He leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, observing her work in a tee with jeans and that old hourglass slung around his neck. He was the man she’d avoided as much as she could. The one Jen placed beside her at the round table as though that might help her.

“I took a peek when you were having lunch,” he filled in, addressing the elephant in the room. Not only that she hadn’t seen him in her med lab the day before—She’d never seen him here, ever. She wondered how often he had been in, and why. If this room was a joy or a ghost. Technology and medicine has changed since she last worked here. The world had changed…Rick had earned his edges. Somber, serious. No longer young. Beth, where was she? Still floundering, still adjusting, still wearing the goggles like a mask. 

Sometimes, when she needed a break, she’d find a wall and let her legs give out, just like old hospital days before the explosion. The break-room. A closet. Dr. McNider’s office. A stall in the bathroom. For a bleak desperate minute to catch her breath or sleep between crises. Now, that wasn’t enough. More times than not Beth found her face tipped towards fluorescent hospital lights, sliding the green goggles from her eyes, and numbing out three more working senses. That’s when her fingers would crawl up her neck, making sense of the impossible and searching for the scar that should be there, would be there, if she still lived in a grave.

Rick’s solid frame filled the leather seat beside the cot. He held the boy’s hand like he loved him.

Dread sunk into Beth’s stomach, coming back to herself. She let the fingertips at her neck slide to her side as though they were never there. Of course Rick loved Jakeem. The boy’s health was what brought him here to her clinic, breaking their unspoken agreement. Jakeem didn’t have parents to look after him like Stargirl did. Without the JSA, he’d be here alone.

“Well, he’s not improving. And if he dies, it’ll be my fault.”

“He won’t die,” Rick said. They might’ve been the harshest words he’d said to her in nearly ten years. Beth welcomed it—She’d rather this over indifference. 

“How do you know?” 

“You’d never let that happen.” 

Jen pretty much said the same, but Rick’s assurance brought on a thicker wave of anxiety. How many times had she brought Rick back from the brink of death? Too many to count. Too many nights she’d spent debating with herself about how to keep him both sane and healthy. Strong and independent from the drug his dad’s parting wish was to save him from. 

“You have a lot of nerve saying that to me.”

“What?” 

“You know.” Beth swallowed hard. It was never supposed to come out like this. Certainly not in this accusing-tone she’s whipped up as that haunting horror creeped up again. Cruel was how it felt to find out through old pictures. Beth roaming the brownstone, catching up on old JSA team composites. She’d walked along the framed pictures in the grand hall and sought out his face in the crowd. Not on purpose but by habit. The year before she died, when his arm wrapped around her waist and Yolanda’s claw tips touched his shoulder. The year after, his eyes sunken and mouth tight, no smile, only a third of the equation with both women missing on each side. The year next came after, the photograph glossy in mahogany and Beth convinced her eyes played a terrible trick. Rick stood, almost skeletal, leaning against the round table, weakened. The next year Rick was gone altogether. Hourman’s name off the membership list. “I have your oncologist’s file.” 

“Oh,” he said. He glanced at her, finally pulling his eyes from Jakeem. “Wait, what? No. You don’t think…” When she didn’t give him words, he shook his head hard. “Beth, that wasn’t your fault.” 

“Wasn’t it?” she asked lightly. “I don’t recall anyone else supplying you with untested drug patches.”

“I don’t recall anyone else being as adamant to me that I was an addict,” he argued, almost sarcastic. “I was responsible for my own cancer.”

“God. Don’t say that.” Beth bit out, turning from him. Her parents would’ve blanched at her using the Lord’s name in vain but she hadn’t felt very close to the Lord these days. “But, I…” 

But you…what? You could have prevented it? Is it your fault he got that sick? That you died before you could help him? Or are you mad there was a chance he could have joined you in the ground? Both of you starting over at the click of Jakeem’s pen… 

“Besides,” he continued gently when her words dried up. “That was a very long time ago.”

“No, not really.” Beth wet her lips. “Not for me.”

Healing was all Beth had to be sure of at the moment. The only real merit for her place and home here was how desperately metahuman medicine was needed. It’s what got her through today and tomorrow. And if she failed this boy and all who loved him she was scared she’d never bounce back. 

“So,” she said at last. “I think we can agree to disagree that I’m no miracle-worker.” 

“Fine.” Rick took Jakeem’s hands in his again. Gripping the boy like a lifeline. Beth set the clipboard down and pressed her knuckles against Jakeem’s bed. Finally, she let herself look at Rick. Really look at him beyond a clinical manner. Fit, healthy, and bodily strong. Distracting. She wouldn’t let her eyes linger before. Not in front of Jesse or their friends. She’d never forgive herself if she gave Jesse real reason for worry. So she missed the not-quite-right eyes and the heavy bags beneath them. The foot that tapped too restlessly on the floor without Miraclo in his bloodstream.

“Why are you here, Rick?”

“I don’t know.” He wrung his hands. “Can’t I just be allowed to sit?”

Courtney bustled in, cupping a hand over the left side of her face, dressed in a grey hoodie over her Stargirl suit. She shrugged her school bag off her shoulder, dumping it at the door of the clinic. The cosmic staff warbled in her free hand. “Hey Dr. Mid-Nite, can you look in my ear? It’s been bugging me all day. Mom thinks I have an infection and doesn’t want me anywhere near my sister until I can get that ruled out. Something about daycare rules.” Rick shared a long sideways glance with Beth as Courtney hopped onto the examination table.

“Hey Rick,” she said. “How’s Jakeem?” 

“Still hanging in there,” he said, softening for the teen. 

“That’s good. Have you been here long?” 

“A bit.” 

Glad for the excuse, Beth pulled on her latex gloves and grabbed the otoscope. “Rick was just leaving.”

Courtney glanced between Rick and Beth, watching closely. Honestly, Beth was screwed if even a teenager could grasp her discomfort. “I’ve never seen you two hang out before.” 

“Hang out?” Rick laughed a little under his breath and stood up to go. “We’ve been doing that since before you were even born.” 

“Have a good evening, Rick.” She tilted Courtney’s face to the left, letting her long hair block the view to the door. Hmm…She felt a little warm. 

“It’s okay, you know,” Courtney said, still perched on the wax paper while Beth sat at her desk, writing out a prescription for antibiotics. “To let him in.” She pinched her thumb and forefinger together. “Just a bit?” 

Beth raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?” 

“I can’t say I’d know how to act in your shoes, either. It must be really hard.” 

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Courtney.” 

The teen leaned back against the med cot, sighing at the ceiling. “Jakeem asked Rick about it last week before Kobra. Apparently, Rick misses you. He just wants to be friends again. ” 

“It’s not that simple.” Beth scoffed as a telling flush threatened to spread. Was her rollercoaster life the topic of all the teens’ gossip? “Jakeem is known to be a romantic of sorts, isn’t he? 

“Well, sure. But I don’t think he was wrong about this. Why can’t you two be friends?”

“We are friends.”

Courtney crossed her arms over her chest. “You kicked him out of the room.”

 “To examine a patient.” 

The girl stared at her, unsatisfied–Beth folded. 

“We’re just…There are boundaries, Courtney. I’m still lost in the past, not caught up with the present. I need space, especially where and when I work. That’s all.”

“So how do you expect to get over him, then? If you’ll never talk about it?” 

Tired, Beth snapped her fingers for Courtney to jump down, lucky she liked this girl enough not to raise her voice at her. “You have a fever, Miss Stargirl.” She picked up the backpack and handed over the slip of paper. “I think it’s time to go home.”

[weixuldo]

Enigma// ch 22

anakin x reader

a/n: ok big news in this chapter….ngl it’s kinda long and wordy, but i wanted it to b that way- hopefully it’s not too hard to understand eeek- i also just wanna thank all of u for reading :)

it’s time to go home, but is it even home anymore?

warnings: cursing, alcohol abuse, hospitals, self hatred, depressive thoughts, existential news

_______________________________

Anakin was finally being released from the hospital today and everyone was relieved. Though as the week progressed he became increasingly hostile with the staff. 

He was just ready to be home and be alone (relatively). 

Earlier in the week you had explained everything to him- what you felt, what you expected, and what you wanted to make this work.

Surprisingly he was quite compliant with your wishes which gave you great relief- you really did want him to better himself. 

His desire to be with you was insanely strong and he made sure you were serious when you said you would allow him back into your life several times.

He wasn’t going to mess up this time. 

Over the rest of the time there the two of you spent more time together having actual conversations and even laughing with each other again.

He was far sweeter to you and everything seemed to be going well; though he did need to work on how he treated others. 

For example…Today he was throwing a fit because he finally noticed his prosthetics weren’t in the room. 

“Where the fuck are my legs, its been a week, I want them back” he barked at one of the nurses who only came in to change his catheter. 

“Ben took them back to your place, he said you wouldn’t be needing them anytime soon and plus he didn’t want you to overexert yourself by attempting to walk around.” you interjected before the nurse could explain. 

She nodded at your explanation,

“What about my arms? Or would that be too much too?” he rudely remarked. 

“We have had to administer you lots of IV fluids, so your arms are pretty bruised from the needles. It would not be the most pleasant experience to wear your prosthetics at this moment-”

“But I can wear them?” he confirmed.

“Well, yes. But-”

“Anakin,” you snapped.

He turned his towards you to see you eyes glaring with warning as if to say “give it a rest”.

He sighed and left the topic alone, “nevermind, just do what you have to do”. 

The nurse finished up her duties and not long after the primary doctor that had been checking up on Anakin the last few days came in before the discharge.

“Good morning Mr. Skywalker, I bet you’re ready to go home” she greeted. 

“You have no idea,” Anakin responded. 

“Alright, I’ll try to get you out of here as quickly as I can- but before you go, some of your labs came back this morning and…we have some unfortunate news” the doctor with the clipboard in her hand said solemnly. 

“What is it?” Anakin asked, his excitement for going home subsiding momentarily. 

“There is no treatment we could give to postpone the process… but we just wanted to let you k-“

“what is it” Anakin demanded.

“Your liver is failing”

Your stomach dropped.

“it’s fatal”

You let a small, “What?” slip and the doctor diverted her attention towards you. 

“Yes, unfortunately there is nothing we can do other than put him on the donors list, but that is not a guarantee…”

You wanted to ask if there was anything else that you could do to slow the process, when Anakin asked;

“How long?”

“Well the list is quite long, bu-”

Anakin shook his head, “no- how long do I have?”

You could feel your heart racing… No.

Anakin couldn’t… This couldn’t be happening. 

You walked over to the small couch in the room and sat down- Anakin looked over to you with a worried look. 

“Are you alright, mam?” she asked, ready to intervene if there was an issue. 

“Yea, I’m fine” you assured, but Anakin wasn’t quite sold.

“y/n…” he called with a concerned expression.

In return you nodded, “I’m ok, Anakin, truly”.

You saw him glance down at your small bump before focusing his gaze back to the woman in the white coat. 

“Well, as you were asking earlier, it's really anywhere between 5 months to 2 years; it's really different for each case”.

“Is it almost guaranteed I will make it at least four more months?” Anakin asked. 

The doctor nodded, “most likely, if you maintain a healthy lifestyle and follow the prescribed orders, you should be just fine ‘til then''.

“Alright” Anakin sighed before looking over to you, “I just want to make sure I’ll be around to see our baby”. 

Your eyes widened ever so slightly; that was the first time he had ever referred to the child inside of you as “our”... plural.

Him and you.

This was his child and he was finally accepting it.

As much as that made your heart happy, he still needed to prove that he could be mature, show growth, and apologize for everything he had done… and you meant everything. 

“Of course Mr. Skywalker, just follow the hospital’s instructions and you should be able to meet your little one” the doctor gave a small smile before heading for the door. 

“Once again, I’m sorry that I had to be the bearer of bad news…and bad news so late… I wish the two of you the best”.

Soon, it was just you and Anakin again; the silence was deafening… Anakin was dying and he finally admitted that he was having a baby with you.

What were you going to do?

_________________________

The next few days were quite slow; you had been staying with Anakin to help him with anything he needed, but since he the news about his liver , he really hadn’t gotten out of bed. 

It seemed as if all of his desire to be (frustratingly) independent went out the window. 

He was definitely depressed. 

You really were only there to give him his medications, wash, use the restroom, and to prepare food for him. Other than those minimal tasks, you had nothing to do but worry about Anakin. 

He was uncharacteristically quiet; it wasn’t like he talked alot before, but he would at least make a quip or even complain about something…but he was giving you nothing.

You worried about what was going on inside his head- Ben had told you Anakin struggled with issues of self worth and unhealthy thoughts when he was feeling down.

Today was no different, you had helped him transfer to his chair so he could at least get out of his stuffy room for a moment while you tidied up, dusted, and changed the sheets. 

You came back out to start making lunch and saw that he had put on his arms when you weren’t watching- not that you wouldn’t have helped him. You sighed and chose to not address it (better to pick your battles). 

Anakin sat uncomfortably as you prepared lunch in the small kitchen; his arms were rubbing on his bruised stumps and the weight was making his arms ache. He should have just left them off. 

You set a plate in front of him before you went back to the kitchen to grab some of his medications. 

“I'll be back- I’m going to finish up in your room, alright?” you said; only eliciting a small hum from the man. 

He sat emotionlessly at the kitchen table with an untouched turkey sandwich. He was having difficulty grappling with his mortality and felt even worse because you were cooped up in his small ass apartment having to help him with everything. 

Once you finished in his room he asked to be taken back. You stole a glance at his plate still full of food. 

“Anakin, you have to eat” you sighed tiredly. 

“I’m not hungr-”

“Anakin you’ve said that the past three meals- you need to eat” 

He looked up at you; your head was in your hand and you massaged your temple with closed eyes. He was causing you distress- just like always…

“Sorry” he said quietly as he bit into the sandwich; he was going to finish this thing for you. He needed to try… for you.  

You thanked him for eating and followed him back to his room to help him back into bed. Before you could leave again, he asked for you to join him; just to have a moment off of your feet.

Of course you obliged 

It was an odd feeling being next to him again… you couldn’t remember the last time the two of you relaxed together at the house. It had to have been before the fight. 

Not long after you laid down, you couldn't help but cuddle up to him. It had been so long since you felt his comforting warmth- you missed it. 

For the first time in weeks you felt like the two of you may be able to be ok again. No matter Anakin’s health complications, you still wanted things between you to be restored to how they were (at least relatively). 

Maybe his liver complications were contributing to your desire to make amends- if something happened, you would have ended on bad terms (or at-least not on the terms you wanted).

His sadly apparent mortality was weighing on you; you needed to make sure he felt cared for and loved, if his life was coming to an end…

After around an hour of comfortable silence, he asked if you wanted to go to the living room and put on the TV.

As much as you would rather had stayed there with him, he probably asked to watch something to distract his existential mind. So without protest, you rose to your feet once more and helped him into his chair.

You took a seat in the recliner and he took a perch on the couch; some show he had been watching was on in the background as you scrolled mindlessly on your phone. 

Out of nowhere, Anakin spoke;

“I’m gonna fuck up that kid” 

“What?”

“If i even live to see ‘em…I just mess everything up, I don’t want to ruin that kid before they’ve even got a chance…”

“Anakin, you aren’t going to mess up the kid, what are you talking about?” you said, placing your phone down on the end table near the recliner. 

For a few moments Anakin was silent and still; he looked as if he were contemplating something. You debated going over to the couch to take a seat by him, but he began to speak, so you stayed put. 

“Why are you still here?” he asked, not in an accusing way, more like a desperate plea. 

“What do you mean?”

He huffed and turned his head to the side, “After everything that’s happened- everything i’ve done… why do you still stay?”.

Your face fell. 

Yes, he was absolutely awful to you and you shouldn’t blindly forgive him, but you knew why he was the way he was, and you could see his sincerity. It hurt your heart that he felt unworthy of love.

“Anakin…” you said softly, “look at me please?”.

He kept his head turned from you, “I-I cant”.

You sighed and got up to sit beside him on the couch. He flinched when you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I stay because I care for you… I still love you, Ani” you hadn’t said those words in a long time. 

He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. Maker, he hated being vulnerable, but he couldn’t help the rush of emotions that took him over when you said those three words.

You heard him sniffle and began to rub his back. It was a hard thing to see; instead of a grown man, he seemed like a scared little boy; the way he tried to close himself off by shielding his body, his silent indications of tears… your heart broke just a little.

He had baggage, a fuck ton of it. But that didn’t mean you didn’t want to be there to help him lighten the load.

You rested your head on his shoulder and stayed like that for a moment trying to think about what you should say; when you finally had something, he had already turned towards you. 

His beautiful blue eyes brimmed with tears ready to fall, he bit his bottom lip, and his brows wavered as he drew them together.

He wanted to say something, but nothing was coming out. You reached out a tender hand to caress his flushed cheek but he backed away and shook his head.

“Ani…” you called. 

“W-Why do you want me?” he choked out.

After he said it his eyes widened and he drew his mouth into a thin line, as if acting like he didn’t say it would mean that he didn’t just vocalize his insecurities. 

“I don’t understand” 

He exhaled and slouched a little before looking at you again, “Why? Out of everyone in the world…..y/n- You could have anyone you wanted- someone whole.”

You knew he was referring to his emotional and physical state. 

“You are young, talented, beautiful, and kind… so incredibly kind. So, why me?”.

You tilted your head to the side with a endearing expression.

“Because I love you”

“I’m pathetic Y/N… I know it’s cliche as fuck for me to say this, but you’re too good for me.” he sniffled.

“People know I'm different, no matter how hard I try to look normal when I walk, or do daily tasks- They can tell I'm not the same. A-and the people who do know me and stick around, like Ben, Satine, Rex, Ahsoka-”

He paused to look at you and his tears spilled over.

“You.”

You knew he just needed to get his emotions out, so you refrained from interrupting him.

“I'm just an absolute asshole to, for no fuckin reason other than the fact that I hate myself and think that I’m just weighing you all down. Fuck! I’ve been weighing Ben and Snipps down since the accident and it only took me, what? Like three weeks? To go and bug you for help”.

He sobbed and rested his forehead in the palm of his mechanical hand. 

“I’m self destructive; I ruin my relationships, I waste everyone’s time and now, my behaviors are catching up with me- with my liver and it's no one's fault but my own. There is no one to blame except for myself, I couldn’t tear myself away from the goddamn bottle and now I'm gonna die from my own actions- not the bomb, not sustained injuries, but from drinking… I’M SO FUCKING STUPID!” he cried. 

“Anakin, you are not. You are human. And as much as I know you hate to admit it, you have emotions.” you finally spoke, as you resumed rubbing his back. 

“I-I can't do anything right-”

“I don’t need you to be perfect; no one is.”

Gently, you brushed a few stray strands of sandy locks out of his face; he still was looking forward at the wall.

“B-but me? Out of everyone-” he questioned with a pleading tone… he truly didn’t understand.

“I didn’t want anyone in the world. I just wanted you”

He pursed his lips into a thin line.

“I still just want you,” you admitted. 

His watery eyes widened as you placed a gentle hand on his damp cheek. 

“You need to be kinder to yourself. Addiction is hard, it's not just something you can will away and it’s not all your fault anakin. It's more complicated than that” you provided some insight to the man in front of you. 

“I-I’m sorry- I’m so sorry” he cried.

You drew him into your chest and the familiar weight of his polycarbonate arms wrapped loosely around your waist. 

“Shh, shh. It’s going to be alright Ani- We’ll all be here for you” you said, alluding to Ben, Ash, Satine, and yourself.

He whimpered as he tried to hold you tighter. 

“Everything is going to be alright…” you repeated, half trying to convince yourself too. 

“Everything is going to be alright…”

***

a/n: alrightyyyy, this one was kinda everywhere- sorry!! i hope the angst isn’t getting too old lmfaooo

taglist : @dnamht @sxoulohvn @angeelcoree @wtf-andys @httpeachesblog @katsukiswrld @jetiikote @poisonedsultana @imarimone12 @fallinlovewithevil @sythe-skywalker

[mydeardahlia]

LOVEBUG - Miguel O'Hara x Spiderwoman!OC

A/N: Hi everyone!! I'm back again with a shorter chapter as the next ones may or may not be longer. I can't promise it though, but I can't wait to share this ship with you all through various oneshots!!!

Part 4 | Next Part

Chapter 5 - My Hero

Dahlia hated funerals. The dark and depressing atmosphere, small talk with family members she knew little about, and worse of all the loss that hung heavily alongside everything else. The death of her mother changed her outlook on life. Things weren’t getting brighter, the only reason she continued being Lovebug was to protect her family. She didn’t know what her purpose was if it wasn’t for protecting ones close to her.

If she were to gain a dollar every time someone told her “I’m so sorry for your loss” or “This must be hard for you”, she would have a hundred and sixty three dollars. It was an accurate number she was counting, both phrases being engraved so deeply in her mind all she could do was keep track. There was nothing else for her to feel, she just wanted her mother to come back. Unfortunately for her this was only wishful thinking.

The tears fell worse when she was lowered into the ground. Her mother was one of the softest, sweetest, kindest souls that didn’t deserve what happened to her. Something that Dahlia herself wished she could turn back time and prevent. What was the point of it all if not for her mother?

Dahlia hesitantly walked inside of Miguel’s office, the vast room feeling emptier and quieter than usual. Usually she would shake off the feeling as Miguel seemed to enjoy it but something felt off. They haven’t properly talked about their disagreement a few days ago which had her anxious to her core. 

“Dahlia…” Miguel walked up to her as soon as she entered. Dahlia’s eyes lit up, she felt a smile forming but got shy and hid it. 

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I wanted to show you something.”

They both walked over to the middle of the office, a glass box displaying the same suit Dahlia was wearing except it appeared to be more of an upgrade. It had a futuristic look to it all while maintaining the pink charm added to her original suit. Her eyes practically lit up at the sight of this.

“Wait a second. This is for me?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” The response he gave seemed sarcastic in nature, but he was genuinely asking. 

“Nevermind that…” she switched over her gaze now looking down at the ground, “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“That’s depressing.”

“I know,” she glanced at him, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I should be the one to do so. For pushing you away. It wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s fine really. I don’t want to seem petty…”

“You weren’t. You had every right to be upset.”

“Thanks…” she smiled softly. Dahlia tried her best to contain the dark pink hue on her 

face. He was making her flustered and she felt embarrassed from it. “You should try the suit on,” Miguel suggested.

“Here?”

“No! Wait… well… we’ll figure something out.”

A while later Dahlia reemerged from the corner of the office in her new suit. She had to admit that it fit way more comfortably than her last one. While sewing was a hobby she regularly participated in designing a hero suit wasn't, hence the decision to use cheaper fabric to save money. This time it felt more natural to wear and Dahlia was surprised Miguel would go through this great length for her. She inched closer to him until she was standing toe to toe, putting her hands beside her waist and smiling slyly, “What do you think?”

“It looks nice on you,” he was trying not to give a strong reaction. Dahlia appeared the same way and the new suit didn’t add much of a big difference to her overall. Still, he thought that she was so effortlessly pretty. Everything about her was so mesmerizing, her curly hair, the way she pouted when she rested her face, and her mannerisms. All of it made such a captivating woman who he wanted to be with. It made him sad how he had to keep these thoughts deep down. Not only did they work together but they were also in similar dark paths in their lives. A relationship like that would never last, right? 

The moment snuck closer like an incoming wave in the ocean, growing quiet between the two. They stepped closer to each other and their bodies were centimeters apart. “I really wanted to say thank you. I do appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” Dahlia whispered low. Before Miguel could utter out a word she leaped up grabbing his face pulling him into a rough kiss. He kissed back more passionately wrapping his hands around her waist while she leaped up into his chest trying to match his height. When they pulled apart from each other ten seconds later they both looked at each other in shock. Miguel’s eyes widened when he noticed Dahlia beginning to back away. She then darted to the exit, “I’m sorry… I… need to go.”

“Dahlia!”

“I’m sorry!” she left entirely, her voice sounding nothing but faint. Miguel drooped his head as he looked at the ground. It was over for them. For him. He definitely ruined their relationship now.

“I have a question,” a seven year old Dahlia would ask while making chocolate chip cookies with her mother. The rest of the family were out visiting distant relatives leaving her mother to care for the youngest since they both didn’t want to tag along. 

Her mother opened the oven door, bent down to put the tray of cookies inside the oven. She answered Dahlia as she closed the oven door, picking herself back up from the floor, “Yes?”

“Why did you name me Dahlia?”

“Well…” she began cleaning up the area around her, putting empty bowls in the sink and cleaning up flour with a paper towel from the counter. “Dahlias are a flower which used to signify love similar to roses. Personally I see them as a way to signify grace or strength. Either way you’ll always be my flower. My special girl. My hero.”

“Am I really your hero?”

“You’re everyone’s hero, Dahlia. You care so much about other people. I think you’ll understand what I mean one day,” her mother would then say. She would think to herself if that day would ever come. If one day she’d be seen as a hero, and if so how?

Dahlia waited at the front door at her childhood home. She was back in Harlem in her universe, visiting her family after meeting with Miguel. She knew they would all be together often for the upcoming holidays which was why she decided to drop in on a whim. Avoiding family was a habit she grew into when things turned sour. Now that the other aspects of her life went down the drain she found herself returning back. It had been years since she had stepped foot in the neighborhood she grew up in. 

The door opened and an older man stepped out. He had curlier hair, dark brown eyes and features similar to Dahlia. Said man turned out to be her older half brother, Ricardo, face lighting up when he saw his little sister visiting home. 

“Dahlia, it’s good to see you,” Ricardo let out a chuckle before letting her inside. The first thing she saw was her sister Yaris and her father making breakfast together in the kitchen next to the front door. When they noticed Dahlia was visiting they both looked at each other excited before looking back.

“You’re here, Dahlia! Is everything okay?” Yaris stepped out leaving her father in the kitchen as she saw her face. Dahlia was holding back tears, her hands shaking as she tried her best to wipe them from her cheek. She started crying, head in her hands as the tears were never ending. Her brother looked at her father as he closed the door behind them. Yaris reached her arm around Dahlia and pulled her aside stepping down the hallway.

The two reached her old bedroom, empty but looked as if she never left. There were old belongings of hers that were sitting neatly in her room. She had cookbooks, stands with old jewelry she had made in highschool, and sewing machines lined up on the shelf. Yaris took a seat on the bed, the heart patterned comforter laid out. Dahlia stood next to her at the edge, crossing her arms while sniffling. 

“Tell me what’s wrong…” Yaris was saddened to see her younger sister crying. What hurt worse was that Dahlia knew she couldn’t tell her the exact details but she had to let her feelings out some way or another.

“I… kissed someone.” Immediately beginning to calm down Dahlia spoke at a normal tone, softly wiping her eyes to alleviate the stuffy sensation of her face. 

Yaris’ ears immediately perked up hearing this news. Dahlia kissing someone wasn’t only new to her but new to everyone. It was obvious she wasn’t the most experienced person when it came to love and being that this was the first time Dahlia told her something about this only made her more curious. “Who? A boy or a girl? Oh! Is it–”

“I can’t tell you for certain, I’m sorry. It’ll only make things confusing,” Dahlia held her hands out, stopping Yaris from chatting entirely. Her sister shook her head before sitting still again allowing Dahlia to explain further.

“I came here because I didn’t know where else to go. I didn’t know how to feel about it.”

“Wait… do you like them?”

Dahlia didn’t know what to say when she asked that question. She wanted to try and fight it to convince herself it was nothing more than a simple crush. However she knew she couldn’t bear to do it after all this time, “I think. Well– yes I do.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I don’t want to ruin anything. The setting we’re in is more… professional.”

“Did you kiss your boss or something?”

Yes? Technically Miguel was her boss in a way. However Yaris had no clue Dahlia was a part of the Spider Society nor of her identity as Lovebug. So in an effort to save herself she only replied, “Yes. My boss… totally…”

“Oh! You definitely got that. I’ll leave you to it,” Yaris’ mood quickly changed from worry to relief. She got up from the bed rushing past her before shutting the door. Dahlia took a breath and walked to her old desk slumping down in the chair, now alone with her thoughts.

After the kiss, Miguel remained closed off in his office. He decided to take his mind off of Dahlia for the time being, wanting to work like normal and wait for the right time to approach her again. Everything was going smoothly until he was made aware by Lyla of another anomaly. 

“Earth 1500… wait? Dahlia’s universe?” Miguel double checked repeatedly and Lyla still came to the same conclusion. There seemed to be something, or someone, intruding in on her. This was causing not only Dahlia but her entire universe to be at risk. Personal feelings quickly went out of the window. He had to find her and let her know of this.

“Make Jess informed of this. I’m going to make a trip.”

[luckyfinch]

Prelude - Swap’s Determination

For Better or Worse, Swap changes his story.

2k words. Takes place directly before ch.1 of The Magnificent Sans’ Guide to Serving your New Evil Boss.

WARNINGS: Suicide ideation/mentions, implied abuse but no direct actions, (magical/unintentional) emotional manipulation

It happened again. 

Swap’s blue eyelights lit up in his dark sockets, bleary and clouded. There was a deep-rooted bubble of peaceful joy in his SOUL that a part of him was repulsed by immediately, even though he couldn’t remember a time without it. 

A time when.. When his little brother…

The skeleton pushed himself up, throwing off the blankets he was covered by angrily calmly. He froze, a gloved hand coming to clutch at his sternum, fisting into his shirt over where his SOUL resided. He felt- 

Angry. Sad. Horrified. Depressed. Upset. Betrayed. Scared-

Nothing. Empty. Calm-Calm-Calm. Peace. A vague sense of relief, and tranquility. 

His breaths came out rushed and shallow, fingers clawing at his chest. This wasn’t happening. Why were his feelings wrong? 

The despair left him in an instant. A blanket—a cage—of wrong, so, so wrong peace enveloped him. 

“Blue, it’s okay. You’re okay. We came and got you, don’t worry.”

No, he distantly thinks, but the thought is sluggish and quiet. This is wrong. This is bad. Run, run, run. Not again. Please not again. 

“Dream,” Swap stutters out, his weak knees giving out and leaving him kneeling before his friend, clawing at his chest desperately with all the energy he can. The defiance is leaving him in lazy, scary waves, as the horrible dizzying calmness seizes each and every bone in his body. “Wh-what.. What Are You Do-oing To Me?”

The Guardian smiles softly down at him. He bends over slightly to place his hands on Swap’s shaking shoulders. “Oh, Blue, just relax. Why do you always fight me?… You’re feeling so much negativity, I’m just helping you to be happy.” 

“B-Bu-“

Dream tuts, now crouching in front of him, hands still holding his shoulders firmly. “Blue, I can’t understand why you want to be negative.. These feelings are hurting you! They make you so upset. I mean, you tried to run away again, just because I stopped helping you feel better..”

“Because.. Y-You’re..” You’re forcing me to feel how you want me to. This isn’t me. Do you even like me? This isn’t friendship. 

The words don’t leave him. He swallows them down, holding them far away from Dream before the golden God can see them. He can’t say what he needs to, he can’t, he can’t.

When had Swap become so scared of his friend?

The spike of fear is silenced immediately, smoothed out and guided back into the calm-peaceful-calm that Dream feeds Swap’s slouched form.

“See? You’re scared as soon as I let up at all! I don’t want you to feel bad, Blue! I care about you. We care about you.”

Swap can’t…

Can’t…

“..I- You’re Right, Dream! The Supreme Sans Feels Much Better Now, Mweh-Heh-Heh! Thanks.” 

Dream smiles, relieved now. “Ah, there you are, Blue. I was worried.. You seemed like- like you wanted to feel bad. I wasn’t sure if-” The smile falters. He almost says something, but seems to think better of it, shaking his head lightly and smiling brightly again. “Nevermind. Helping you was the right thing to do, clearly. Running off like that, just over those feelings… I’ll keep better watch of you from now on. I promise.”

“Ha, Okay, Dream!” Swap smiles. His SOUL is bubbling with joy that isn’t his

His smile falters, for a bare second. 

———

Swap took more and more time away from the Guardian of Positivity, every possibility. He’d visit Geno for a few days, until being dragged off to fight. He’d ‘drop by’ an unnamed friend’s AU for a bit, and instead hide away in a random UnderSwap-Variant as long as possible, hoping the double-double Him would mask his presence. 

Each escape lasted longer and longer, and each time Swap grew more and more desperate. The time would pass, and as Dream’s powers wore off, he’d at last be able to feel the buried, forgotten memories and emotions of the past—

Weeks? Months? How long had this cycle been? How much longer would it be? He couldn’t keep doing this, he couldn’t let this keep happening! 

Swap couldn’t remember, couldn’t remember, couldn’t remember. 

His brother—his little brother, his dear Papyrus, his lazy, loveble little brother—What happened to him? Why was Swap living with Ink and Dream, why did he never visit his own universe anymore? Had he ever visited? 

He’d try to remember him, remember anything, and all he’d be able to drag to the surface was a sick mixture of positivity. How could he feel happy with his brother obscured? 

Then, he did remember. The despair. The agony. The rage he felt, the horrible pain. And then Dream. Always Dream. Everything was Dream. Dream eased his worries, eased his mind, helped him, cured him of that horrible loss. 

Swap sobbed, clawing at the damp ground. Snow melted into his gloves and seeped into the space of his digits, but he didn’t care. He only felt a world-shattering numbness, and screaming anger behind it. He wasn’t at all surprised this time when Dream appeared in front of him, Ink at his side. He didn’t fight it when he was taken back to their base. There wasn’t a point, was there? When Dream offered kindly to help him again, Swap did not speak, instead bowing his head and pushing out all the anger, the despair, the fear that he could, a sick part of him reveling in the gasp Dream gave as he fell back. Then, his SOUL was quiet again, and he bounced over to his friend, a light apology already prepared while he helped him up. 

This time would be different.

Every single time, the effects would wear off, and Swap knew he’d failed again. And again. And again. And again. 

This time would be different. 

Again. Again. Over, and over, and over, and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over

and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over

and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over

and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over

and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over

and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over

and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over

and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over

and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over

and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over

and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and-

This time will be different. 

Swap feels the DETERMINATION heating to a boil in his SOUL, burning his ribs with the intensity.

(“I HATE IT! I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT! I CAN’T BE PART OF THIS ANY LONGER, I CAN’T KEEP BEING TREATED LIKE THIS!”

“Blue, calm down. You’re being so negative-“ 

“I’D RATHER DUST MYSELF THAN LET YOU ‘CALM ME DOWN’ AGAIN.”

“blue! you’re hurting dream!”

Swap freezes, his angry expression hardly faltering even as he makes the effort to reel his emotions in.)

It has to be different. 

(“I’ll let you go calm down.. in your own way. But I can do it-“ 

“NO! I’M LEAVING. I’M NOT COMING BACK, NEVER AGAIN!”

“Swap.” 

“blue, what’s this fuss about, anyway? you run off for a bit all the time, why act like this is different?”

“Ink!”

“what? it’s true!”

Swap growls, teeth grinding. “If You’re So Sure I’ll Come Back- Well- Well!! I’ll Just Go Join Nightmare!! How About That, Ink?!”)

It will be. He’s sure. And, well, if all else fails…

(Swap yelled at Dream to open the portal. The Guardian complied, wincing still from the force of the negativity he was putting out. Ink scoffed, arms crossed.

“if he weren’t an outcode, i’d have looked for a more grateful Swap Sans by now. Ooo, what about an Undyne variant?” 

“Ink! What’s the matter with you?! Our friend is-“

Swap balled his fists, the portal finally closing behind him.)

…There’s always another UnderSwap Sans. 

Maybe it’s wrong of him to hope Dream and Ink just.. grow bored of his antics. Find another. Some more-willing, softer-minded him. One that would be easier, happier, quicker, sharper- 

One that isn’t him. Anyone but him. 

A part of himself is repulsed by the selfishness. But, well. Where he’s going, he’s going to need to be a bit selfish. It’ll be a.. ‘Leave your morals at the door’ sort of place. Swap giggles at his own joke, even though he hadn’t voiced it. The exhaustion is probably getting to him. If he is to pull this off, he’s going to need to straighten himself out. 

“ERROR!” Swap shouts into the vast, vast sky of Undertale-01. The Prime Timeline. One he knows Error looks at frequently, the one he asked to be sent to in order to ‘cool off’ in his weird mortal way.

Glitchy static rips a hole in the fabric of reality above him, almost instantaneous to his call. He’s wrapped in blue string before he can draw another breath, and then Swap is surrounded by nothing but white.

…and an annoyed Error glitching out behind him. 

“Wh-AaaaaT. Do YyyyyyyyyOUu waNt.”

“I Need A Favor. As My friend.”

The dark skeleton twitched. Swap took the lack of response as a cue to continue.

“The Stars, the- the… Well, Just, Being A Star. I Won’t Do It Anymore. But Every Time I Try To Leave, They Find Me, And I Have To Go Back. Error, I- I Really Can’t Keep Doing This. I NEED Out. And I’ve Got Two Plans!!

“OPTION ONE! I Kill Myself. Not The Most Preferred, But It’s A Solid Plan-B!” Swap proclaims with a forced grin, hands on his hips. “OPTION TWO. I Become.. EVIL!!! You Set Me Up With Nightmare And I Join Dream’s Enemy, THEREFORE Making Me ALSO HIS ENEMY.” 

“…whAt.”

“What? I Know Nightmare Doesn’t Like Me, But-“

“No, n-nO,” Error interrupts, dragging a discolored hand down his face in annoyance. “WhY i-iS PlAn B-B-B sUiCiiiiDE?”

“What Else Can I Do? They’re Always Going To Find Me. Always! I Just- I Have To Make Myself Someone They WON’T Want Back.” 

“You aRe.. s-Seriiiii- SeriOuS.”

He nods. Swap will not let himself be used or molded any longer. Even with the weariness weighing him down, he is filled with DETERMINATION. 

His friend is.. worried, in the only way a maniacal sociopath Destroyer-of-Worlds like Error can be. And amused. 

They talk for a few minutes, discussing the plan. Error at last agrees, and Swap stops himself from grabbing his friend up in a hug, to Error’s own relief. They settle for a quick little high-five, something the haphephobe can handle. 

Stars above, Swap hopes with all he can that this works, stepping through the static gateway and into a familiar snowy setting. 

His blue boots make muffled crunching sounds as he walks forward. The soldier has a mission: track down the lackeys that Error said were here. Killer and Cross (and Swap was very grateful Cross was there. His presence would surely help his odds). 

Up ahead. Just a bit farther. His bones ache, his head hurts, and his eyelights are sore, but Swap is too close to escaping—at last, really, truly escaping—to turn back. 

“KILLER!” Swap shouts, stopping at a safe distance. He squars his shoulders, raising his chin a little to display his confidence as the pairs’ attention is turned to him. 

“I COME ALONE, TO MAKE A REQUEST OF NIGHTMARE.” 

Deep breath, Swap, deep breath. There’s no room for regrets, not now. 

“I Want To Join Your Gang.”

> Chapter 1 (Main Story)

[writingdespair]

I just read your cat like reader prompt and I'm hoping to request a continuation of it with Kirumi, Maki, Sonia and mahiru

Kirumi, Maki, Sonia and Mahiru with an S/O who has cat-like tendencies.

Kirumi Tojo

-With her calm and almost cold attitude she’s not one to play into your personality. Early on in the relationship it’ll feel more like she’s your servant rather than your partner. 

-Once the two of you make it though that awkward patch, Kirumi will be more warm and affectionate. She’ll pat the top of your head, hold you while stroking your back. Though these affections will only be seen behind closed doors. Kirumi cares deeply about your safety and her professional position.

-Kirumi isn’t very fond of your habit of climbing on top of furniture. It makes her worry. If she were to catch you somewhere high up, she’ll lightly chastise you. Telling you how you could’ve gotten hurt up there.

Being a maid, Kirumi comes across many boxes. She’ll be sure to offer them before tossing them out. She has even made a variety of blankets and pillows for when you decide to curl up somewhere.

Maki Harukawa

-In the early stages of her crush, she’ll treat you like you’re a burden. Scoffing at you, asking if you wanted to die when you brushed up against her body. Deep down she couldn’t fight the warmth she felt. Your friendliness was a bright and shining beacon in her otherwise depressing life.

-Maki wasn’t given much affection growing up. Your affectionate gestures and cuddling makes her very flustered. She’ll weakly threaten you, looking away as a blush covers her cheeks. She would reciprocate your affections in small doses; linking pinkies in an empty hallway, buying you a snack from the school store, or sitting close enough for your knees to be touching.

-Kokichi would tease the two of you all the time. “Aw, how cute. Maki’s little cat has her all soft now!” She’s about three more teasing remarks away from punching him in the throat.

-When you climb on top of something or hide away in a box, Maki just knows. She can somehow locate where you are like a sixth sense. She’ll tell you to be careful, but other than that you have free range of the counters. In the event you do fall, nine times out of ten she’ll be there to catch you.

Sonia Nevermind

-She thinks you’re just the cutest! Before the two of you were even together, she’ll pet and coo at you. Sonia would be the type to call your attention like she would a cat, she thinks it’s just too adorable. Your classmates were practically gagging at how sappy you guys were.

-Sonia takes any of your affection with open arms no matter where you are. She’ll pull you into her lap in the middle of class with no shame. Though if you were to ask for her to tone it down she will.

-With her almost sickening amounts of money, Sonia would buy you all the boxes you could ask for, including any pillows, blankets, or comforters you’d want. She cuddles up with you in a pile of blankets, leaving dozens of lipstick kisses on your forehead.

-Upon seeing you lounging somewhere high up, she’d panic. Asking for you to come down so you wouldn’t hurt yourself. If her asking won’t deter you from climbing up dangerous places, she’ll do her best to be there to catch you.

Mahiru Koizumi

-At first she’d find you pretty annoying, saying the way you acted was childish. She’d reprimand you for acting so silly. Something about the way you would laze about, ticked something off in her. Once getting to know you better, she’d still be on your case but more willing to let things slide.

-She prefers to keep affection in a more private setting, though if you were to be persistent she’d let you snuggle up to her. Mahiru is used to Hiyoko’s constant clinging, so you’d be another cuddly addition. 

-On the topic of the traditional dancer, Hiyoko would be pretty mean to you. Yelling about how you’re trying to take away Mahiru from her, berating you at any chance. It would take a small argument between her and Mahiru to see how much you mean to the photographer. From then on, she’d cling onto you as well, calling you her big sibling and asking you to help tie her kimono.

-While Mahiru is more lenient on your lazy habits, climbing onto things is not something she favors. “(Name)! Get down from there!” is something you’ll be used to hearing. She will try to climb whatever you’re resting on and drag you off. “Geez! Are you trying to get hurt?”

[coolittlelady]

Next, Please.

2. a favour.

Warnings: pessimistic language, manager jihyo convincing y/n to train newbies (the joy of working in retail for longer than 3 months), signs of depression

WC: 885

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Life is funny. She didn’t ask to be born, yet here she is. 20 and working a miserable retail job just to get by. No aspirations. No dreams. Numbness. Looking at people with their student ID’s hung around their necks and people in suits rushing onto the train to keep up a good image for their job. Like she cares what the managers think. She’s worked the same retail job for 4 years and it’s still her worst decision. But the pay isn’t half bad and it gives her something to do whilst she contemplates whether she wants to keep going.

Hearing the automated voice call her stop, she waits patiently for someone else to press the stop button. ‘If nobody presses it, I’ll stay on the bus-‘

Ding!

‘Guess I’m going to work then.’

The bus pulls to a halt, and she rises, trudging off the bus and into the cold October air. It burns her lungs which are already suffering from a cold. Making the short walk to the store from the bus stop, she passes families and groups of friends.

‘I would never make a good mother. I’m not a very good friend either. I’m so… flaky.’ Her internal monologue keeps her company as she checks her watch, ‘Why my friends put up with me, I’ll never understand.’

10:49. ‘I’ve got some time to mentally prepare for this shift.’ Wandering into the store, she gives a polite nod of recognition to the security guard at the front door who gives a friendly wave. She’s quick to make a bee line for the staff door, punching in the code and walking through the doorway before a customer can catch her.

Quietly making her way to the female changing rooms, she passes the managers office on the way. Nearly earning a sigh of relief thinking she managed to slip past, she is snapped out of her victory by a cheerful voice calling, “Y/n!”

‘Nevermind.’

Stopping in her tracks and bracing herself, she turns around to see Jihyo, one of the many managers in the store. “Hi, Jihyo.”

“How was your week?” She asks, walking over. Park Jihyo was like sunshine incarnate, her (borderline offensive) bright yellow blazer seeming to be her proof for that statement. Even her smile was like a beaming ray of sunshine. Tanned skin and bobbed brunette hair that ends neatly at the mid-point of her neck, just between her shoulders and chin. Jihyo has been working at the store for around 6 years; the same amount of time as Chan.

“It was fine. Just been working.”

“And you’re a star for it.” She pats Y/n’s shoulder, “Say, could you do us a massive favour?”

“Favour?” This wasn’t the first time management had asked her for a favour. After working at JYP for 4 years, she had worked in every department and room within that store, so she was basically an all-rounder. ‘Maybe this shithole is my calling? No. I would rather die than continue working here.’ “What do you need from me?”

“We have some newbies who need training. We’re pretty well-staffed today now that we have the 11 o’clocks starting, so I can afford to give some of you jobs like this.” Jihyo begins to explain, walking back over to her desk. Y/n follows, giving Nayeon a nod as she passes her desk.

Jihyo’s desk is like if the perfect Instagram account worked an office job. Knick-knacks are dotted around her desk, a corkboard on the wall filled with different mock-ups of the new lines coming in. Two picture frames sit towards the edge of her desk, one of which being her graduation photo that she took with some of the managers in the store and some other people Y/n didn’t recognise. The second picture is of Jihyo and some friends on what looks to be her birthday. It’s not hard to recognise Nayeon and Jeongyeon, two of the managers in the store, as well as some of the other staff like Momo, Tzuyu, and Dahyun. The rest are unrecognisable to Y/n’s eyes. Overall, it looked like it belonged on a young woman’s Pinterest board to romanticise her 9-5.

“You want me to train a newbie? Jihyo, you know that I can’t stand training those kids with no manners-“

“They aren’t all kids!” She stops her before she can protest further, “How about I pair you with someone your age? Please, Y/n, you’re one of our best in the store!”

She stares her manager down before pinching and massaging the bridge of her nose. “What will I be training them in?”

Jihyo’s grin widens, and she clasps her hands together, “Oh, thank you, Y/n! You’re a life saver!”

“Yeah, yeah, just tell me where I’m training them.”

“2 hours on tills and then the rest of your shift on department 9.”

“And this person will be shadowing me and whatever?”

“Yep! Easy 6-hour shift.”

“Sure...”

Finally, she escapes and shoves her bag into one of the empty lockers, putting her nametag on and using the hair tie she brought to tie her hair back off her face. She gives a nod to some of her colleagues who joined a couple of months ago, her brain failing to remember any names. Taking her phone out, she immediately begins to type.

Author's note: AHHHHHH MY FIRST WRITTEN CHAPTER

Taglist: @estella-novella @strrykais @odetteskies