#okay that last thought was painful and i love it

[cjlouwho]

This got a little long winded, so it gets its own post. The story you are about to read is based off of this poll. These are your choices.

Tommy was pretty sure he'd never felt a headache like this before. He wasn't prone to migraines, but he'd seen his mother suffer with them and this... well, this might be worse.

He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning as a wave of nausea fell over him.

It wasn't just his head that hurt. It was his whole body.

Damn, he hadn't been this sick in... well, ever.

His body shook with chills. There was a heaviness in his chest that had him turning his head to the side and choking out a hard cough.

Once he finally settled, that heaviness still there, he slowly let out a raspy breath.

Pudding.

He wanted pudding.

That was odd. He used to crave pudding as a child. Every time he got sick, he would request a pudding cup. And that's what he wanted right now.

Maybe he still had one in the fridge. He'd kept a few things there for Jee back when- Well, he had some kid foods that had been sitting in his fridge for a couple months now. Surely, the pudding would still be fine.

If only he could get out of bed.

He made a mental note to order a new mattress. This one had lasted him quite a few years, but he was definitely feeling the lumps today. It was hard and painful and poked into his back.

“God, this sucks,” he breathed out, blinking his bleary eyes open and... oh.

This wasn't right.

He wasn't at home. Wasn't in his bed.

And the heaviness in his chest was actually on his chest.

That's when the memories came flooding back to him. Going for a flight on his day off. Wanting to clear his head and get his thoughts in order.

He couldn't panic. He needed to maintain focus.

That was hard to do when his brain was all jumbled.

He remembered his phone was... somewhere.

Shirt pocket! That was it!

Carefully, and painfully, he reached up and pulled out the phone.

Miraculously, it was still in one piece. Besides a few cracks to the screen, it seemed to be working fine.

He stared at the screen. The default background that was once a picture of him and Evan.

It hurt to breathe. Hurt to think. He knew he probably didn't have that much time. Not with the way this heavy piece of metal pressed against his body.

So, with fuzzy eyes, Tommy went to his contacts, hovering his finger over the name before pressing down.

“Hello?”

“H- Hey. Long time, n- no talk.”

“Tommy? What's up? Are you okay?”

Tommy huffed out a laugh. “I... Well, that's a loaded question.”

“You sound weird. What's wrong?”

“I wanted to a- apologize to you.” With a grimace, he swallowed down what was definitely blood.

“For what?”

“For everything.”

There was a pause, then, “Did you do something stupid?”

“Not intentionally,” he deadpanned. “Listen, I- I kinda got into an accident and I...” his voice trailed off as he went into a coughing fit. The movement sent a pain shooting from his leg to his back. “Damn it!” he yelled.

“Tommy! Tommy, talk to me. What do you mean you got in an accident?”

“No, it- it doesn't matter. I just wanted t- to apologize for the way I left you.”

“You apologized for that years ago, Tommy. Tell me what happened so I-”

“Abby!” he exclaimed, the hunk of metal over him creaked as it lowered slightly. “I don't... I just need to apologize. I- you loved me, didn't you?”

“Yeah, I did. Car crash, or were you flying?”

“F- Flying. I loved you too. Not... Not the same though. Sorry.”

He could hear her mumbling something to someone else, then she was back on the line. “I'm calling 911 with Sam's phone. Stay on the line with me, Tommy. Are you in LA?”

“Mhm. Do- Don't think I made it far. Abby, listen, I didn't... I didn't mean to hurt you. I was so s- scared of- of everything.”

“Do you see anything around you? Any indicators for where you are? They're working on pinging your phone.”

When Tommy turned his head to the side, all he could see was trees. “Woods. I think. Can't see much. I was dating th- this guy.”

“Can you tell me where you're hurt? Are you bleeding anywhere?”

“Oh, for sure. But A- Abby, I didn't m- mean to hurt you.”

“Focus, please. Where are you bleeding?”

“Head. Leg. Mouth. Kinda e- everywhere. I was dating th- this guy,” Tommy sucked in a shaky breath, a rattling in his lungs. “Your guy, actually. O- Our guy?”

“Tommy, I think you're getting confused. I-”

“No, no. Evan. Buckley, Ev- Buck. Him.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“No, I'm here. I- You're dating Buck?”

“Was dating Buck. I- I ended it. I'm c- cold.”

“Help is on the way, Tommy, just stay with me. You broke up with Buck. Why?”

“Remember wh- when we went to karaoke nights? Th- That was fun, wasn't it?”

Abby sighed. “It was, but that's not what we're talking about.”

“Wh- What was the song we us- used to sing?”

“You were a big Queen fan. I Want to Break Free. Shoulda known,” she mumbled.

Tommy laughed, but it quickly turned into a coughing fit, where blood bubbled up in his mouth.

“Tommy! Tommy, stay calm, okay. Turn your head a little so you don't choke.”

Tommy listened, spitting out the blood before he continued. “We should karaoke again.”

“I don't think that's gonna happen. Tell me about Buck.”

“Evan.” Tears filled in Tommy's eyes and he tried his hardest to blink them away. “We were t- together six months and it all f- fell apart.”

“Why?”

“He wanted... wanted me to move in. Can you b- believe that?”

“Yeah, actually, I can,” she answered. “Buck likes to attach and you're, well, attachable.”

“No. No, I'm not.”

“You haven't changed much, Tommy. You didn't seem to think you were worthy when we were together either.”

Tommy's eyebrows furrowed. Down his back he could feel the sensation of more blood dripping from his neck. “What d- do you mean?”

“The whole time we were together it felt like you were waiting for a bomb to drop.”

“That probably had to do with the whole being gay thing.”

“Mm,” she hummed. “Maybe. Don't think so though. Hang on a second.”

He looked up at the hunk of metal trapping him in place. “Nowhere to go.”

Tommy closed his eyes while he waited. He wasn't sure how much time passed, but the next thing he remembered, Abby was yelling in his ear. “-mmy! Tommy, talk to me!”

“Wha- I'm here, I'm here. God, you're l- loud.”

“And you're an ass. If I was there I'd smack you on the back of the head.”

“That would hurt,” he replied. “With the gaping wound an- and all the blood.”

“Back to Buck. Why'd you say no to moving in?”

“I own a home.”

“And?”

Tommy thought for a moment. “I- I wasn't enough for you, Abby. Couldn't be.”

“Mhm.”

“I hurt you. Didn't m- mean to, but I did. I saw- I saw it in your eyes, when I left, I... You loved me, and I couldn't... I'm sorry.”

“Is that why you left?” Abby asked. “You were afraid Buck would do the same thing to you?”

“I really...” he couldn't stop the tears now. His chest heaved in the little space it had left. “I really loved him, Abby, and I- I saw what I did to you and I couldn't. I just co- co- couldn't-”

“Okay, okay, Tommy, I need you to stay calm, okay? Listen, the dispatcher is telling me that the 118 is close to you. So you stay calm and you talk to me!”

“O- Okay.” He tried to calm his breathing the best he could, but the rattle persisted. He knew that didn't mean anything good. Each breath got a little harder, the blood continued to flow down his neck, and he was pretty sure something was sticking through his leg.

“Did you tell him how you felt?”

“He didn't... He never said it. That he loved me.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Maybe he was waiting on you. Did you think of that?”

“I think...” He just wanted to close his eyes. Nothing made sense, the cold feeling was fading, he was going numb. “I think I- I'm dying, Abby.”

“No! Listen to me, Tommy! They're close to you! I need you to make a noise. Let them know where you are. You hear me?! Call for help, Tommy.”

“Abb-”

“Call for help!”

Tommy groaned, more blood coming up in his throat. He managed to move one arm just enough for his hand to knock on the door of the chopper. “H- Here!” he yelled, banging on the door as hard as he could manage. “I- I'm here!”

Abby listened over the phone as the 118 arrived on scene. She could only make out bits and pieces.

“Tommy, can.... me? Talk to... There ya go! We got a...”

“What about the...”

“Hey. Hey, we're here, Tommy. Just focus on... and we'll get ya out, okay?”

“He's losing too... gotta get that off now!”

“Tommy, you look at me! We will... you just gotta promise me you'll... Promise?”

She waited, holding her breath until she heard his voice, just a touch above a whisper. “Promise.”

Things got quieter for a bit, then she heard voices again, so she yelled, “Hey! Hey, pick up the phone! Someone pick it up!”

“H- Hello?”

“Buck, is that you?”

“Yeah, Abby, it- it's me,” he answered, his voice practically shaking. “Maddie said y- you were on the line with him.”

“Is he...?”

“He's alive. We're following the ambulance to the hospital.”

“How bad?”

She could hear Buck sniffling through the line. “I don't know how he's alive, Abby,” he admitted, lip trembling. “It looks like this thing has been through a compactor.”

“And Tommy?”

"Has a gash on the back of the head, concussion, broken ribs, a pretty big piece of glass through his leg, definitely some internal bleeding. He... Chim says he should make it, but we- we barely got here in time. He might've... if he wasn't talking to you he probably...” He couldn't even bring himself to say the words.

“Hey, don't think about that now. He's gonna be fine. That's what matters.”

“Yeah.” Buck ran a hand over his eyes as he nodded. “Yeah, you're right.”

“I'll let you go, Buck, but let me know when he's stable, okay?”

“Yeah, I will. Thanks, Abby.”

“Of course. Oh, and Buck!” she quickly added before he could hangup.

“Yeah?”

“I know the guy pretty well. He loves you. He's just not great at being loved.”

“A- Abby-”

“Don't give up on him. He's worth it.” Before Buck could get in another word, she hung up.

*****

The next time Tommy opened his eyes, he was in a hospital bed.

Evan was beside him, staring down at an empty cup in his hands. Tommy figured he must've sensed the staring, because soon enough Buck was meeting his eyes. “You're awake,” he said, eyebrows rising.

“I-” Tommy cleared his throat. “I think so, yeah.”

“There's been a couple wake ups that didn't quite stick,” Buck explained, standing to grab cup of water. He put the straw to Tommy's mouth and had him take a sip. “Slowly,” he instructed. “Don't want you choking.”

Tommy took a few sips, then settled back in the bed. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost four days.”

Tommy's eyes widened. “You.. You haven't been here the whole time?” he asked. “Have you?”

Buck nodded. “Three nurses have tried to drag me out of here. All have failed.”

Tommy hoped the monitor didn't show how fast his heart felt like it was beating. “Wh- Why? Why'd you stay?”

Buck smiled, wrapping his shaky hand around Tommy's. “A mutual friend of ours told me you were worth it,” he said, his eyes glistening with tears. “I just so happen to agree.”

[i-like-loserz]

favorite spots ⋆.˚

synopsis: i just want to talk about the most sensitive parts of their bodies...

featuring: hongjoong, san, and mingi

word count: 1.7k

warnings: SMUT (18+), soft!boys, oral fixation, biting/sucking lips, pda, french kissing, finger sucking, blue-balling (lol), groping, nipple play (m), hickies, for san -- reader has hair that fingers can grip into, mild choking, dry humping, premature orgasms, they're sensitive and aren't afraid to show it

masterlist

✧ HONGJOONG - MOUTH/LIPS ✧

Hongjoong isn't a big pda guy.

The most he does is rest his hand on your waist, hold your hand, or gently fix your hair. Words of affection or acts of service are big in your relationship, but kissing is absolutely a no-go.

Not in public, at least.

In the beginning of your relationship cute pecks on the lips were allowed, though Hongjoong would start acting more antsy and possessive after (you didn't notice as much as his friends would). Short kisses lasting less than a second he could handle -- or that's what he'd convince himself.

Beneath the surface, however, he was holding himself back. He was exerting a concerning amount of self-control over himself every time he tasted your sweet lips, willing himself to hold back from instantly melting against you.

His hands would squeeze into a fist as he'd watch you with dark eyes, going back to whatever you were doing, acting so unaffected -- as if you didn't leave him wanting for the rest of the day.

At the time, you could tell that he enjoyed the affection and attention (a bit too much), and you were more than happy to dish it out. But then one day, he started to shy away from your kisses, turning strategically so you'd kiss his cheek instead of his lips.

At first you thought it was because he wanted to keep your relationship private. He's never been the type of guy to flaunt you like an accessory, so it made sense why he acts so low-key about your love life when in public.

But then you started noticing how he'd act after you'd give him more than a peck.

---

A make-out between the two of you usually leads to sex.

Okay, scratch that, it always leads to sex.

It's like he can't help himself.

As soon as your tongue traces the seam of his lips, he's roughly pulling you against him. He overly indulges in tasting you, laving his tongue against yours as he moans wantonly into your mouth.

You thought he was just enthusiastic about sex, but it was something else that had him shivering against you.

So you began subtly experimenting with your boyfriend:

Tracing his lips with the soft pad of your finger as you feed him a juicy chocolate-covered strawberry (he'd look up at you with those adoring brown eyes as he obediently slurps up the sweet juices from your skin)

Playfully nibbling on his bottom lip to draw out a delicious growl from him (he couldn't hold himself back from grinding his hips against yours like a dog in heat, overwhelmed by the pleasurable pain)

Forcing him to suck on your fingers as you ride him roughly (you could feel the vibration of his broken groans as you pressed down on his silky tongue)

It became increasingly clear that Hongjoong's lips were a bit more sensitive than the average person. The real test was a kiss in public.

It was right after one of his concerts. You were so proud of your boyfriend that when he finally got off stage, you jumped in his arms and pressed your lips to his, eager to give him a deep kiss.

His hands, wrapped around your waist, tighten their hold on you as soon as your lips met his, pressing your body to be flush with his.

Barely a few seconds into the kiss, you feel it, pressing so eagerly against your stomach.

He's hard already, throbbing for attention under his tight pants as his slick tongue meets yours in desperation. His adrenaline from performing may be influencing his sudden boldness, but it's the kiss that was making him so hot and bothered.

"Mmph~" You try to break the kiss, worried that you were receiving stares from others, but he won't let you.

"Not yet, baby" He whispers hotly against your mouth.

"Hongjoong--!" You hit him playfully on the chest as you force him to separate from you. "Later." You grit out, handing him your jacket to use as a barrier between his obvious boner and everyone else.

Your face is heated with a blush as you turn to look around at the sly smirks that the others were sending you. It seems to sober him up a bit as he awkwardly coughs and starts a speech commending everyone for a great show.

So now you know -- Hongjoong's lips are for home.

✧ SAN - CHEST ✧

You were the one who sprouted a sudden obsession with his chest.

He's been working out a lot lately and he loves showing off, even if he doesn't admit it. He comes home in his tank tops or compression shirts with a shy smile, subtly flexing until you say something.

"Ooh, look at my boyfriend!" You tease, smiling as he saunters through the door. "He's so big and masculine~"

San laughs gently, shaking his head at your words (+ slightly fluffing his hair). He loves the way you dote on him, period -- small hands feeling over his biceps and showering him with compliments until he's pink in the face, begging with cute boba eyes for kisses and cuddles.

When you cuddle with him, naked -- or nearly there, your hands are like magnets to his chest. It's just so built and his skin is so hot and smooth, you can't help it!

San didn't get it at first, simply amused by the way you knead his skin like a cat. Sometimes you get particularly feral and start biting his biceps and shoulder -- another odd, yet endearing habit you've gathered recently.

He has started working out with longer-sleeved shirts because he's dotted with bite marks and bruises all over his upper body (with a few on his thighs and one on his cute butt).

You can't get enough of his body and he loves it.

But biting his chest -- that he wasn't expecting.

And he didn't expect that he'd like it so much either.

--

You were timid at first, placing soft kisses against his ribs and torso before gradually moving upwards.

He shivered as you brushed your lips against his right pec, his skin already buzzing from the lustful look you had in your eyes as you assessed his body.

You pressed gentle kisses over his skin, drinking in the soft sighs that fell from his pretty lips.

He gasped quietly when you gently licked over his nipple, flicking your soft tongue over and around his sensitive bud. Your eyes glanced up at him to see his reactions.

His pink lips were plump and shiny, bitten so deliciously from his attempts to ground himself, not used to this new sensation you were giving him. His flushed chest was rising rapidly under you, unwittingly pressing himself closer to your mouth.

He let out a whisper of a groan as you sucked his nipple in hot mouth, laving your slick tongue over him. A shock of pleasure traveled straight to his cock, making him achingly hard for release.

You squeaked as fingers were suddenly weaved into your hair, tugging slightly at the roots -- not pressing you closer or pulling you away.

You moved your mouth to the other pec, giving his other nipple attention. His hold on your hair became harsher the more you'd suck on him. And you loved it.

You moaned with him as you pulled him into your mouth, teeth just barely pressed against his skin.

"N-nghh~" He shivered, "Baby -- fuck -- p-please."

"What is it?" You swiped a finger over his hard nipple, finding the pleading look on his face to be unbearably adorable.

"I'm gonna bust if you keep going." He groaned softly as you pinched him teasingly, "Lemme get inside you."

"I don't know... I think I'd like to see you finish from this..."

✧ MINGI - NECK ✧

Mingi is a very sensitive boy, overall.

When your fingers intertwine with his, he can't help but squeeze your smaller hand in his, staring down your hands like he can barely believe that you're allowing him to touch you -- even as innocently as this.

When you press sweet kisses to his lips, teasingly and soft, he's instantly smiling against you from happy he is, pressing harder to deepen the kiss and eliminate the space between you.

When you drag your hand over his thighs, settling to your knees in front of him, he holds himself back from throwing you on the bed and fucking you into the mattress.

He's constantly overwhelmed with his affection for you.

Everything is intense for him.

But when your small fingers wrap around his neck, squeezing so gently as you pull him in for another kiss -- he almost makes a mess in his pants.

You sit above him, weight settling nicely over his lap, pinning him to the couch as you lick over his puffy lips.

Mingi whines against your lips as your grasp tightens around him, loving how his head grows hazy from the way you control his breathing.

His cock throbs under you as you start to pressing wet kisses on his chin, jaw...and his neck. Your slick tongue flicks over his heated skin, laving over fading marks that you've left over the past few days.

"Like it?" You whisper, staring up at his flushed face. He shudders as you drag the edge of your teeth against the crook of his neck, eagerly leaning into the feeling.

"You know it do..." He groans deeply as you suck his sensitive skin into your mouth. His large hands hold you by the waist, pressing your body down against his as he grind against your ass, making you feel how desperately hard he is for you.

You suck harder and his hips jolt against yours, stuttering deliciously as he mewls from the intensity.

"F-fuck -- wait --"

You don't. You go to that spot right under his ear, the one that makes him lose it, and suck another love bruise into his skin.

And it ruins him.

His back arches slightly as he throws his head back with a broken moan. You release his skin, licking your lips as you watch him shake under you, panting out heated breathes, coming down from his high.

"So sweet." You coo, comfortingly rubbing a hand on his chest as he starts to calm down.

"It's embarrassing..." Mingi whines. This isn't the first time this has happened.

You place a gentle kiss on the spot, pulling away when he starts to shudder again.

"I like it."

[deansbeer]

★ in his arms, the world fades // clark kent.

synopsis. feeling unwell and overwhelmed, you seek comfort in clark's arms. his warmth, soothing touch, and sweet words make the ache in your stomach—and your heart—feel bearable.

warning(s). fluff | comfort | f!reader | s1!clark | reader feels unwell stomach aches | nausea | difficulty eating | mild angst | distressing moments | academic stress | brief mentions of exams | studying | cuddling | kisses | superman references.

kari yaps. last night, i had horrible stomach pains and wrote this <333 + a lil disclaimer! i'm on ep 5 of smallville (the ads on hulu r mad annoying) so i only know a little about clark. but don't worry i will get to know all ab pookie soon !!! trust <33

it starts with the ache. sharp and twisting, like someone's wringing your stomach out like a wet rag. it's been days now—days of barely keeping food down, of your appetite wavering between nothing and everything, only for nausea to win every time. eating has become a battle, and losing feels inevitable. but you haven't told anyone, not really. maybe it's pride. maybe it's not wanting to worry anyone. maybe you're just hoping it'll go away on its own.

still, it lingers, and today's no different. you pull up to the kent farm, the gravel crunching under your tires, the sight of the red barn and yellow farmhouse somehow grounding you. you're supposed to be here to study. algebra—not exactly something you're excited about, but clark's always been good at making the hard stuff easier. it's one of the many things you love about him: his patience, his steadiness, the way he seems to know when you need a little extra reassurance. and maybe you need that today more than ever.

"hey, pretty girl," clark greets you at the door, his smile soft and familiar, like it's meant just for you. "you okay? you look…" he trails off, squinting at you in that way he does when he's trying to figure you out. "…tired."

you force a smile, shrugging it off. "just didn't sleep much last night."

it's not a lie, exactly. the ache had kept you up most of the night, twisting and turning beneath the covers, unable to find a position that didn't make it worse. but clark doesn't need to know that. not right now.

he nods, stepping aside to let you in. "i made us some lemonade," he says as you follow him up the stairs to his room. "my mom said it's good for focus or something. i don't know, but it tastes good."

you hum in response, though the thought of drinking anything right now makes your stomach churn. you'll figure out a way to avoid it later.

when you get to his room, it's the same as always—neat but lived-in, the bed made but the desk cluttered with papers and books, a small stack of cds next to his stereo. it smells faintly of pine and something distinctly clark, like sun-warmed hay and fresh laundry. it's comforting in a way you didn't realize you needed.

you settle on the floor with him, textbooks and notebooks spread out between you. he's already flipping through his algebra book, pen tapping idly against his knee as he scans the pages.

"okay," he says, glancing at you with a smile. "where should we start? graphing inequalities or quadratic equations?"

you groan, letting your head fall back against the bed. "do we have to start?"

he chuckles. "the exam's next week. i don't think mr. phillips is gonna let us wing it."

"worth a shot," you mutter, but you sit up anyway, flipping open your notebook to a blank page. you try to focus, really, but the ache is still there, dull and persistent, and it's hard to think about numbers and graphs when all you want to do is curl up in a ball and sleep.

half an hour in, you're staring at your notebook, pen tapping against the paper. clark's voice is distant as he explains something about parabolas, the words blurring together in your head. you're not even sure when you stopped listening. all you know is that your chest feels tight, your stomach twists again, and suddenly, you just can't anymore.

"hey," clark says, his voice soft with concern. "what's wrong?"

you don't answer, don't even look at him. instead, you set your notebook aside, shifting closer to him until you're wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of it. his skin is warm against your cheek, the faint scent of his cologne lingering there. you don't say anything, and neither does he, not at first. he just sits there, still and quiet, letting you hold on like he's been expecting this all along.

then, slowly, he moves. his arms come around you, strong and steady, and he shifts your things aside before effortlessly pulling you up with him onto the bed. his back hits the mattress, and you're lying on top of him, your head resting against his chest. his hands find your back, warm and soothing as they rub up and down in slow, gentle strokes.

you close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. his touch is enough to warm you, enough to quiet the ache in your stomach, at least for now. you don't know how he does it—how he makes everything feel a little less heavy just by being there.

your hands move to rest on his collarbone, fingers brushing against the fabric of his t-shirt. the side of your head presses against his chest, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. it's grounding in a way you didn't know you needed.

he doesn't say anything at first, just keeps rubbing your back, his touch slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly how to calm you down. but then he starts murmuring soft, sweet things in your ear, his voice low and soothing.

"you're okay," he says, his lips brushing against the top of your head. "whatever it is, you're okay. i've got you."

his hand moves to rest on the side of your head, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your hair. he presses another kiss to your temple, then another, each one softer than the last.

"you don't have to say anything," he whispers. "just let me hold you."

and you do. you let yourself relax against him, let yourself melt into his warmth. his chest rises and falls beneath you, steady and strong, and you match your breathing to his without even realizing it. the ache in your stomach is still there, but it feels distant now, muted by the way his hands move against your back, by the way his voice wraps around you like a blanket.

"you know," he starts after a while, his voice still soft, "i'm not great at algebra either. but i'm pretty sure lying here with you is a way better use of my time."

you let out a quiet laugh, your breath fanning against his chest. "you're supposed to be the responsible one."

"yeah, well," he murmurs, his fingers threading through your hair, "even superheroes need a break sometimes."

you tilt your head to look up at him, catching the small smile playing on his lips. "superhero, huh?"

"what? you didn't know?" his grin widens, teasing. "i'm kind of a big deal."

you roll your eyes, but there's no real bite to it. "you're ridiculous."

"maybe," he says, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "but i made you laugh, didn't i?"

you hum in response, letting your head fall back against his chest. the silence that follows is comfortable, the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket. his hand moves back to your back, tracing slow, lazy patterns against your spine.

"i mean it, though," he says after a while, his voice quieter now. "whatever's going on, you don't have to go through it alone. you can tell me."

"i know," you whisper, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "i just… i don't know. i've been feeling off lately. stomach stuff. it's probably nothing."

he frowns, his hand pausing mid-stroke. "how long?"

"a few days," you admit. "it's not a big deal. it'll pass."

"you don't know that," he says gently. "have you eaten today?"

you hesitate, and that's enough of an answer for him. he sighs, his hand resuming its slow movements against your back.

"you're stubborn, you know that?" he murmurs, but there's no heat behind it. just concern, soft and steady, like everything else about him.

"takes one to know one," you shoot back, your voice muffled against his chest.

he chuckles, the sound rumbling beneath you. "fair enough. but promise me you'll let me know if it gets worse, okay?"

"okay," you say, and you mean it. because if anyone can make you feel like everything's going to be okay, it's clark.

you stay like that for a while longer, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. the algebra books are forgotten, but neither of you seems to care. right now, this is enough. he's enough.

and for the first time in days, the ache in your stomach feels bearable.

⎯⎯ SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @floralscented @aileenunfiltered @st4rfckerz @jasvtsc . . . ୨���

[makeitmakesomesense]

The Early Morning

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Day 5: I've merged a lovely request from a lovely friend with the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for the 5th of January, which is 'blind'.

It is just past the middle of the night. You have officially entered the early morning. You find yourself awake. You went to sleep right after your last mission. This is your consequence. 

You don’t try to fight it, instead you roll out of your bed and make your way to get something to drink. Ever since Vision and Wanda have become part of the Avengers, things have been a little different. You’ve all done your best to welcome them to the team, but they have kept to themselves far more than you expected. The changing dynamics have been something to adjust to.

You let yourself enjoy the easy peace of the quiet nighttime. 

You walk to the kitchen and freeze for a second. 

Wanda is sitting at the dining table. Her hair is wet. Her face is ashen and her hands are cupping a hot mug of tea. Her eyes flit wearily to you. 

You hesitate, not sure how to approach. You’ve never spoken to her alone.

‘You okay?’

Wanda turns back to her tea, she doesn’t answer. 

You watch the ends of her hair drip onto the tiled floor. 

You refill the kettle and turn it on. You take a seat next to her. 

Wanda’s wearing a grey sweater. It’s too big for her. The sleeves have ridden up and her forearms are exposed. Goosebumps coat her skin. 

You try again. Something more direct. 

‘Are you cold?’

Wanda’s eyes meet yours and you know that she is. 

The kettle boils and you stand up, your hand touches her shoulder as you pass by. You feel her shudder.

You bring her a new mug. The steam curls promisingly above the liquid. Wanda leans over it. Her hands wrap around the ceramic, even though it must be burning hot. She shudders again and closes her eyes.

You sit next to her with your own mug and think.

Dim light seeps through the large windows and illuminates Wanda’s face. Her eyes have dark shadows under them. You can tell she must not be sleeping. You wonder where Vision is.

As if she can read your thoughts (and you can’t help wondering if she can). Wanda answers your silent question.

‘Viz doesn’t sleep. Not like people do. It’s more... robotic.’

You picture immediately a long cable connecting the android to a computer. You push down the ridiculous image that's probably not so far from the truth. You nod at Wanda silently encouraging her to continue. 

‘At night, he goes offline. Really offline. Missiles could go off and he’d be blind to it.’

You try to understand the subtext of Wanda’s words. There’s a strange suspense to your next question, it is the possibility that she might say yes. 

‘Do you worry about that? About missiles going off?’

Wanda smiles at you. Her head tilts. It could be playful if her eyes weren’t full of pain. 

‘It’s all I worry about.’

You give a half smile back, you know it doesn’t reach your eyes. 

‘I’ve done all my sleeping for tonight.’ You tell her carefully. ‘If you want someone there… someone awake. I was going to watch a movie anyway and I can put on headphones.’

Wanda takes her first sip of the slowly cooling tea. 

‘Thank you.’ She says a moment later, her small smile now weighted with relief.

Wanda follows you back to your room that night. She waits for you to prop some pillows against the headboard and lie back on one side of the bed. She falls readily onto the other side of the mattress. 

She’s not self conscious, not like you’d half expected. 

She sinks into the bed like it’s been calling her for days. You listen to her breathing even out before you put on your headphones.

.

It becomes a routine of sorts. Your new sleep schedule is not nearly as difficult as you expect. You switch your mindless after-dinner screen time with an early nap.

Wanda knocks on your door in the early hours of each morning. You plug in some headphones and watch whatever film you can think of.

Wanda lies beside you. Now that the worst of the sleep deprivation has abated, she is slower to fall asleep. Sometimes you even talk for a few minutes, about the day before or the film you’re planning to watch. 

It’s easy to talk to Wanda, much easier than you ever expected. You try to understand the distance she’s always kept from everyone on the team except Vision.

Each morning, you wait patiently for the inevitable long pause in coversation, for the moment that her eyelids slowly start to close. 

There is something comforting about her steady breathing beside you.

It is too easy to be comfortable. Despite your best efforts, it only takes a week for you to become lulled to near sleep yourself. 

You’re not quite asleep, you’re still following along with the dialogue from the movie. But your mind has drifted and your eyes have closed. 

They fly open at the first feeling of movement beside you. You startle suddenly as you understand your inadvertent mistake. You move backwards unthinkingly and hit your head sharply on the edge of the headboard.

You hiss out and apologise automatically. 

Wanda is still lying in the bed next to you, she has turned to face you. Her head is resting on the pillow. She looks exhausted with a different kind of fatigue. She sits up very carefully, as if her presence is inherently scary.

You don’t know how to explain. That your automatic panic came only from the disorientation of nearly falling asleep by mistake. 

Wanda speaks before you can. Her mouth twists into the same bitter smile that you’ve seen once before. She is watching you rub the sore spot at the back of your head.

‘It’s your amygdala.’ She explains.

‘What?’ You ask unsurely.

‘That’s why you’re afraid.’ 

‘My amygdala.’ You repeat dumbly.

‘Yes. Vision explained it once. It’s what makes you afraid of me, even if you don’t want to be.’ Her words are rehearsed. They sound calm but you can hear something else simmering behind them. ‘Your amygdala knows the danger that comes with being near me.’

‘And what about Vision’s amygdala?’ You ask sharply, suddenly hating the implications of her words. ‘How does he manage?’

‘It’s synthetic.’ 

‘That’s lucky.’ You comment dryly.

She stares at you seriously. An overwhelming loneliness fills her eyes. 

‘Yes.’ Wanda says quietly, looking down at the bedspread. ‘It is.’

You watch Wanda leave. 

.

You spend the day caught between a wish to apologise and a lingering uncertainty that something else is wrong. Something more complicated than you’d realised.

You seek out Natasha in the end, trusting her advice and needing someone to speak to. You find her as she’s leaving a boardroom after a meeting. She invites you back into the room and you sit together. You start to tell her about Wanda. You try to state the facts. The sleep deprivation. Vision’s words. Her isolation from the team. 

You hope you don’t sound biased, you hope your concern doesn’t seem excessive.

Natasha’s lips twist and you can tell she doesn’t like the details either. She tells you other things, small moments she’s noticed. Their separate meals from the rest of you. His frequent appearances in Wanda’s room without warning. How it's the one thing he can’t seem to learn not to do. A sudden lengthy monologue about the benefits of Stark’s technology, unaware of Wanda stiffened posture beside him.  

You exchange a long look with Natasha, it holds something that you recognise in your bones.

You decide to worry together. 

.

That night you find Wanda before the time she usually comes to your room. It is just past midnight and she is sitting at the dining table. Her dark hair is wet again. 

She startles violently when you call her name. Her shoulders relax immediately as she turns to find you. 

Wanda stands suddenly and moves to the kitchen counter. You watch her refill the kettle and turn it on. She takes out two mugs. She smiles at you again. There’s relief in it. 

‘Good evening.’ She says at last. Her fingers tap out a steady rhythm against the marble countertop. 

She notices you watching and her hand stills suddenly. She stares down at her fingers. Her mouth closes and her jaw ticks. She is lost in thought. You know she is remembering your last encounter.

This time, you speak first. You start slowly.

‘I’m not afraid of you.’ You tell her carefully. 

Wanda doesn’t look up. You watch the familiar bitter smile that makes your gut twist unhappily.

‘Then you are not paying attention.’ She says simply. 

‘I am.’ You counter stubbornly. 

‘We can’t change who we are.’ Her voice is monotone and you can tell that she is quoting someone else. ‘We can’t relinquish the dangers that comes with our power.’

‘But we can always have family.’ Your argument is quiet. ‘We can still have love and care. We can forgive ourselves for who we are.’

Wanda goes very still. After a moment, she reaches for the kettle that has now boiled. You watch her pour the water into the two waiting mugs.

‘Vision -’ She begins at last, looking at you unsurely. ‘It’s hard’

‘What is?’ 

She hands you a mug of tea and you watch her grip her own drink like it’s a life support system. 

‘He would never do the things I’ve done.’ Her voice cracks with barely repressed guilt. ‘It can be hard to not feel alone.’ 

You drink your tea and watch her for a moment. Wanda's breathing is shallow. Her pupils have dilated in the dim light. Her dark eyes are watching you, waiting. 

‘I would’ve.’ You confess softly. ‘If I’d been you. I think I would have done the same things.’

A thousand emotions flit through Wanda's expression. It settles somewhere between fear and longing.

You move forward and place your mug on the countertop, carefully you take Wanda’s from her too. When her hands are free, you hold them gently in your own. 

She grips them tightly. You can feel her shaking. 

‘Do you want to get out of here?’ You offer softly. ‘Just for a few days. We can borrow a car. We can go right now.’

Wanda is so close to you now. You feel the hitch in her breath as you much as you hear it.

Wanda’s expression fills with the same look of longing and she glances outside at the full moon that is brightening the darkest part of the night. 

‘Viz’ll wake up soon.’ She hesitates. ‘He hates it when I leave this place.’

You shake your head. You give her a small smile. ‘Natasha said they’re using his offline time tonight to update some of his old programming. Getting rid of some of the biases that Tony created back when it was only Jarvis.’

You pause. Wanda is looking at you like the world is something new again.

‘We have time.’ You tell her and it feels like a promise. 

Her small smile is full of sudden happiness.

Wanda leans forward and her head rests against your shoulder. There is a weightlessness to her tired relief.

You are grateful that your amygdala is very real. That you can feel this entirely.

‘Okay’ She says finally against your shirt. ‘Do you mind if I sleep while you drive?’

You laugh and wrap your arms around her. The wet ends of her hair drip onto your arms.

You leave the Compound before the sun has risen.

.

.

Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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[gingiesworld]

I Know I’m Not Your Everything (Drabble)

Natasha Romanoff X GN! Reader

Warnings: Angst

18+ MINORS DNI

At the beginning, both Y/N and Natasha were in love, well so it seemed. As Y/N’s feelings grew, their doubts grew silently within. Over the years of them being together, dates became very few, hardly any time spent together. Y/N could feel Natasha pulling away, further and further away as time went on. Although the two had extremely demanding roles within the Avengers, Y/N still made time and effort to try and make their relationship work, with every beat of their heart, it ached, it pained them to realise what was truly happening. So they decided one day, after they returned from a mission, to talk to Natasha.

“Hey.” Nat smiled slightly as Y/N entered their bedroom. “I didn’t know you were coming home today.”

“Yeah, well we completed the mission.” They told her, no emotion within their voice.

“Are you okay?” She questioned, sitting up on the bed.

“I honestly don’t know.” They chuckled as they moved towards the closet, getting themselves some clothes for a shower.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She questioned as Y/N sighed, taking a deep breath before placing their clean clothes on the bed neatly.

“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot lately.” They started as they remained on their feet, their heart beat racing in their chest. “About us.”

“What about us?” Nat questioned.

“You know that you’re my everything.” They told her barely above a whisper. “And it’s got me thinking over the past couple of years, it’s only me who’s making an effort, I’m always the one organising our dates, asking you on a date. But I.” They rubbed their brow nervously. “I can see more than just that, the lack of dates. There’s so much more, we barely talk to each other unless I start the conversation, but the few moments when you start the conversation, it feels like you get bored before it’s already begun.” Nat listened to their every word before trying to find the words.

“I.” She started before Y/N shook their head.

“I’m not stupid Natasha.” They told her. “I can feel it, I can feel you pulling away. You tell me that you love me, that you’ll always need me, but it’s like you’re just saying that to save face.”

“I do love you.” Nat spoke up, her voice low.

“You say that you love me, but you don’t.” Y/N’s shoulders slumped as they spoke. “Not really, not like I love you. I would do anything for you, whenever you needed me to, and you know that. You know exactly how I feel, and you know I fell hard when I fell for you. I did, you are my everything. The one person who I thought would always be here for me, despite everyone else always leaving me, I thought that you wouldn’t be like them.”

“I’m not like them, I’m still here.” She tried as she got to her feet.

“You’re not really.” Y/N yelled, running their hands down their face. “When was the last time we both had a deep conversation? Not about work or any of the others, something that we only feel comfortable with telling each other.” Nat tried to find the answer, her mind running in circles as Y/N soon broke her thoughts. “You’re my everything, you have been since the moment I was sure about my feelings.” They told her, tears welling up in their own eyes at the thought of their next words, soon taking a shaky breath before continuing. “But, I know I’m not your everything.”

“Y/N.” She tried as she watched them grab their clothes from the bed. “I.” Y/N remained in their spot, waiting for her to speak.

“It’s okay.” They told her, looking in her eyes. “I just, I thought you were the one for me.” They chuckled dryly. “No, I know you are the one for me, but I know I’m not the one for you.” With that they left the room, their clothes in hand as they headed towards their old room, leaving Natasha stood frozen, lost in her thoughts at what had just happened.

Taglist : @mothertoall2 @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @bimad @reginassweetheart @machyishere @gemz5 @pawiie @duckiekong (If you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

[bwat5-blog]

Breaking The Cycle: Silco and Jinx's final talk

**Spoilers For Arcane**

The relationship between Silco and Jinx is wonderfully complex and dark. Father and daughter, teacher and student, but also haunter and haunted.... People love both of these characters and rightfully so. Even Silco who I have been so harsh on is a wonderful character in his own right. Brilliant, well spoken, and so tragically twisted he cannot see how lost he has become. Jinx, for her part, is the story of a little girl whose mind is ripped apart by the violence around her, and how through her own strength as well as the love and support of those she meets along the way reclaims her soul in the face of overwhelming loss.

What I want to talk about today is this discussion between "them" in the second to last episode of the series. I have done so in a few small ways over the last few weeks but never as a focus. And every time I have been surprised to read some of the thoughts and responses to this scene. So, to that end. I thought it merited a good focused look. To any who take the time to read, thank you so much. I hope you get something out of this like I do!

How We Got Here:

Okay, we are here to discuss that scene, but that is almost at the end of the show. I have written quite a bit about both Silco and Jinx, and their relationship. Therefore I am not doing a complete and total deep dive here regarding their past. But, as I like to say context is our friend. So to understand this moment, let's at least do a quick rundown of what lead to it.

Silco, Vander and Felicia were all very good friends in Zaun when they were young. Silco and Vander were the primary architects for the idea of Zaun but Felicia was very close with them. Silco and Vander swore an oath to create a safer Zaun for Felicia's unborn child, who of course is Vi.

Sometime after Felicia's death during their revolutionary activities, Vander blames Silco and almost kills him. Leading to their complete parting of ways, Silco losing an eye, and Silco completely reinventing himself from that pain and anger.

Taking revenge, Silco abducts Vander and causes the deaths of Sheriff Grayson and Benzo. During the attempted rescue of Vander, he tries to have Vi killed, and through his actions causing the scenario to begin with is responsible for the deaths of Vander, Mylo and Claggor.

Silco takes Powder for his own and raises her as his daughter. Teaching her to weaponize her pain and anger until she starts going by Jinx and becomes a part of his operations, spreading Shimmer and fear and death throughout the Undercity.

Silco is killed during Jinx's mental breakdown while trying to convince Jinx to kill Vi instead.

Now, a few things of note moving forward regarding their relationship that are very important:

Silco Did Love JInx- Despite the darkness of their meeting. I do think Silco loved Jinx as his daughter. He is shown to be very patient and defensive of her. He is extremely distraught when she is dying on the bridge after her fight with Ekko and even more so when it seems Singed may have killed her.

That Love Was Completely And Totally Toxic- As I stated in the beginning of this document I am not doing a whole run-down on their relationship again demonstrating Silco's influence. But for a quick example; Silco knows Jinx carries a tremendous amount of unresolved trauma over losing her family. She thinks Vi is dead. Silco finds out Vi is alive and the only thing he tries to do is kill her before she can find Jinx, to prevent losing her himself.

Jinx Loves Silco- At the end of the day, regardless of how their story together began, Silco matters to Jinx. She was with him during her formative years. She was so young when Connal died she probably barely remembers him. And she has mentally distanced herself from Vander as a father figure to protect herself. (I'm not saying she doesn't care. See almost all of season two as proof that she does. I'm just saying they don't have the same bond as they might have if things had gone differently. That's all).

Life Without Him:

In the wake of Silco's death, Jinx is alone. She and Vi are worlds apart, Vander is dead, Silco is gone, and the people of the Undercity fear her. But as the story develops she starts to come back to life, little by little. Growing "closer" with Sevika, Isha coming into her life. These things and more slowly start to open her world in a way that is more than death and destruction, especially when she reconnects with Vi.

But we do see hints of how Silco's legacy influences her.

Life With Isha-

In the months since the battle against Vi and Caitlyn, Jinx has found a measure of piece in living quietly with Isha. She stays out of the public eye. She has not fought against the Noxians or Enforcers. Her whole life is with this little girl who quite literally fell on her. And while of course there are bigger things at work, and we understand that this small world she has made for herself cannot last, we need to remember how we left things with Jinx. On her back, urging Vi to kill her. So how does Silco's memory intrude?:

Sevika comes in, wanting Jinx to take part in their upcoming rally. And when Jinx refuses Sevika grows frustrated:

S- "Silco spent his whole life trying to rally the undercity together.. stupid joke that it is, you have the chance to pull it off."

J- "I told you, I'm not interested".

S- "Do you know how much he sacrificed to protect you?!.. he believed in your potential". (As soon as she slams her fist down Jinx starts breathing heavy, glitching, eyes wide)

J- "well then he shouldn't have died!"

Cut to Silco's former office...

"Still giving me the silent treatment"

We listen as Jinx speaks to the open air, spinning Silco's old chair. What it basically comes to is she feels she probably owes him being that symbol (the idea of her owing him anything is completely outrageous but we aren't going there right now), but is afraid of losing what she has with Isha. She says he should speak up if he wants her to be his rebel leader otherwise, he really is gone. And there is no reason for her to stay.

Isha Taken-

Isha being taken at the rally is what drives Jinx back into the world against her will. Back into the violence and the death. And why did Isha attend that rally? Sevika came and spoke of Jinx's responsibility. Of Silco's sacrifice. Now, let me totally clear. Isha is a wild-child and was already doing stuff at the checkpoints and painting images for the rebellion. I am not putting this on Sevika in turns of blame. My point, is that it all comes back to Silco. Silco's shadow slithered into her peace and now, it's gone. And as we see, in this moment he is not comforting, or reassuring as a specter. He is another mocking demon in a moment of loss.

So what does this all mean:

The death of Silco, while incredibly emotional and traumatic for Jinx, was the beginning of her freedom. Even in death, Silco's reputation, his legacy, his actions, they all cast a shadow over Jinx that she cannot get away from. The people of Piltover see the monster Silco made her into, the people of Zaun see her as his heir. The one who can unite the Undercity in glorious revolution. All she wants is to be with Isha....

She can't get away from it. And through plot, and visual story telling the show is NOT vague about this. "Still giving me the silent treatment" implies she has tried to talk to him since his death. When does she finally see him? When she is angry, and scared for Isha, and pushing back against the shadows in her mind.

I am willing to admit that it's probably just my dislike of him (again as a villain he is amazing but I'd chuck him in a meatgrinder in person). But the way I see that image above is that after Jinx tearfully said he needed to speak up or it would mean he was really gone in his old office.. here he is laughing at her in a moment of darkness and rage.

"Haha, you wanted me. Here I am"..

In the Bunker:

J- "go away.. you're too late" S- "oh, it's a hell of a place. It says something about the late Marcus that he found imprisoning your sister to be a greater mercy than killing her" J- "killing isn't mercy" S- "a spark of rebellion still burns inside that husk, I see. No. Killing is a cycle. One that started long before Vander and me. And one that will continue long after the two of you. J- "I'm done running in circles' S- We build our own prisons. Bars forged of oaths, codes, commitments. Walls of self-doubt and accepted limitation. We inhabit these cells, these identities, we call them us. I thought I could break free by eliminating those I deemed my jailers. But... Jinx.. I think the cycle only ends when you find the will to walk away".

Okay, we come at last to the scene I really wanted to dig into here. Jinx is in the Kiramman bunker, not Stillwater as some folks seem to have missed. She has lost Isha. She has just spoken with Caitlyn, she is quiet, and weak, and sounds so.. so exhausted. Her hair is undone, she isn't eating, and she has been picking at the skin of her fingers. She is truly in a very dark place.

But it is so.. so different than the darkness we are used to from her. There is no glitching, no fits of rage or empty pained laughter. For all the pain she is in and the clear, crushing depression, there is also a clarity she has not really ever shown. She apologizes to Caitlyn in her way, she finally can see how much Vi loves her and how much she loves Vi in return. In giving up, in surrendering all of those horrible battles in her mind and laying them down because she intends to end her life, she is seeing things more clearly than she has ever been able to. And it is in this state we get the above exchange.

Now, I have seen some various gripes about this across several places. Here are a few:

Silco has been reduced to being a pro-piltover mouthpiece.

By hearing it from Silco we are seeing jinx hasn't really progressed.

The scene doesn't make sense because Silco would never say this.

Regarding the accusations of character assassination of Silco:

Silco as his own character, including his own story, beliefs, ideals and values, is completely and utterly irrelevant to this scene. This is not about what he would or wouldn't do if he were alive, because he isn't. At the risk of stating the extremely obvious, Jinx is alone in this place. But even as far as she has come her mind is still not whole. So in this terrible moment of loss and pain as she is on the cusp of a realization that will change her life forever, who Silco was does not matter. He is simply the pencil her mind is using to write the lesson in a way she can understand.

Regarding the accusation that seeing him means Jinx has not learned or progressed:

This moment is without a doubt, one of the most important moments in all of Jinx's development to me. She is seeing Silco because for better or worse she views him as a father figure. He has become the lens through which she at least partially views the world.

Remember this?:

When Vi was hurt, and alone , and wanted so badly to give up it was Vander she saw and heard in her mind. So as Jinx is processing this revelation, that she doesn't want to keep being this person anymore. She doesn't want to keep killing, to keep running in circles, to be a revolutionary or a terrorist anymore and she just wants it all to stop this conversation is how her mind does this.

Take away Silco from this moment and what are we left with: Jinx realizing that the only way for the horror to end is to walk away.

Let the message come from Silco in its way: Jinx's mind freeing itself of Silco's influence and what she feels she owes him because he is telling her it's okay to walk away.

CONCLUSION:

In this moment, Jinx is essentially, giving herself permission to turn away from the pain and death of her history. Away from the guilt of who she has been and even away from the corrupting tendrils of Silco's legacy. She applies this same lesson to what she does with Vi, giving Vi permission to start living for herself again and stop dwelling on the pain of their past.

Now of course, what she does with Vi is based in love, and right now she has come to believe that she herself is not worthy of said love. There is no good version of her in her mind. And thankfully she is able to be pulled out of that darkness by Ekko. But what we are seeing here regardless of her plans, is the clarity to realize that as long as she and Vi stay shackled to their pain, it will just keep repeating over and over.

Thank you for reading, have a a great day!

**Y'all I know I repeat this every time but I think it's important. So much of Jinx's story is impacted by her mental health especially the state she is in during this part of her story. I AM NOT in any way, shape, or form a mental health professional. I am just a fan doing my best to understand what I think is one of the best stories and one of it's best characters in my lifetime. Thank you**

[sturniololuv08]

TreeHouse Prologue

Summary: A glimpse at what is to come...

"The sharpest pain is often caused by the people we love the most." 

"I think I want to be Barbie." She giggled.

Chris sat upwards in a semi-ab crunch to look at her. "Barbie is a dumb choice." He rested his head back down on his interlocked fingers. He inhaled the earthy smell of the freshly cut wood surrounding them from top to bottom and side to side.

"But she's so pretty." Sienna sat cross-legged, gently stroking her Barbies' bleached hair. She fiddled with her pink frilly dress and sighed.

"Be a transformer. At least they have a purpose." Chris scoffed. He wanted to be openly honest with her and tell her how he thought she was prettier than Barbie but decided against it.

"Barbie is useful. My mommy said she is a tool used to empower women." Sienna nodded her head, proud to know that information. Even though she had no idea what it truly meant, she liked sounding smart.

"Nessie." Chris groaned, annoyed. He also didn't know what that meant. He rolled over to look at his best friend. She looked up from her Barbie with big brown doe eyes. "At least transformers have handguns." Chris was ready to fight his case. He playfully pointed finger guns at her and popped them off, making 'pow' noises. "See. Now your Barbie is dead."

"Oh, shut up." Sienna stuck her tongue out at her annoying best friends.

"Kids, it's time for dinner!" They both looked up in the direction of the wooden window to see the sky painted a dull, darkening blue outside. The old Christmas lights half hanging from the ceiling cast a soft false white glow on both of them. Neither of them realized what time it was.

"The last one down is a rotten egg." Chris stood up fast and shoved her back down to the ground when she was about halfway up as he ran by her.

"No fair! You're cheating." Sienna frowned, getting up again. Chris was quick to position himself down the ladder and took one rung at a time hastily.

"You're just slow, Nessie," Chris yelled back up. Nessie peered down the hatch and tucked her Barbie in the corner of the tree house. She slowly took one step at a time down the ladder, upset she wasn't as fast as Chris. He waited for her at the bottom of the rope frame, holding it steady for her. As soon as she hopped off and her feet were in the cold, dewy grass, Chris propelled his body forward toward the house. "I told you!" He laughed. Sienna didn't want to give up without a fight, so she tried to play catch up but was still behind.

"You are so mean, Chr -" Sienna stopped talking when she walked through the door frame. She looked upwards to see her parents talking with Chris' parents. Her parents looked apologetic and his; angry.

"Chris, can't stay for dinner tonight." Her parents tried to sound nice about it.

"Why not? We were supposed to play Transformers after dinner." Sienna whined. She tucked her arms and began to pout.

"It's okay, Nessie. We can play tomorrow." Chris smiled one of his classic big cheesy smiles.

"Promise?" She huffed.

"Secret handshake promise." Chris looked at her with happy eyes. She immediately dropped her angry stance and started smacking, clapping, and even kicking their handshake. They ended it on her favorite move, where Chris would princess twirl her. He hated it, but she insisted she had to have the princess twirl. If she couldn't be Barbie, she was going to be a real-life princess. Her parents were smiling in awe as their babies got along so well. His parents looked irritated.

"I'll see you tomorrow." Sienna waved as Chris followed his parents out the door.

"Bye, Nessie." Chris waved back with the big smile he usually had around her.

The next day, Sienna asked about Chris relentlessly. She had her parents call him over what seemed like a thousand times. She waited by the front door, hoping to see their car pull up or to see him trotting down the sidewalk, which was rare before. She would go and sit in the treehouse by herself, hoping his head would pop up through the hole in the floor and scare her like he loved to do. She waited. Chris never came back. The next day was the same routine of waiting, looking around, and having her parents call his. She waited and waited for him, but she was met with disappointment.

A whole week went by with no word.

Then, a long, lonely month had passed.

She thought it was because he didn't want to be friends anymore.

After every month that passed, she worried less and less about it. She got used to spending alone time in the tree house. She started to get herself to believe he moved away after school started up again and he wasn't in any classes. She would play Barbies and Transformers by herself in the tree house. Even though she pretended not to care, she still looked for him at lunch and during recess. She even hoped he would miraculously show up at their bus stop one day.

It wasn't until Chris missed her 11th birthday party that she realized it was time to give up on him.

She gave up.

She stopped going in the tree house.

She made new friends and began to grow up without her childhood best friend by her side. She started playing sports and excelling in Language Arts. She had a few fights with her parents about personal space. Those very fights made her think about going up to the rotting tree house one more time, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she slammed her bedroom door in frustration.

She was becoming a young woman learning to navigate her life. But deep down, she held onto the little girl who would sit cross-legged in a pink frilly dress that almost matched the Barbie she once held in her hands. She felt a little heart-string break every time she would envision the little boy with blonde hair shifting into brown with a big toothy smile laying down on the fuzzy carpet, staring up at her with icy blues. She didn't think about him often, but when she did, she always hoped he was still a big goofball like the nine-year-old she knew once. She only had one regret, one thing she would have done differently if she could have.

She wished she had known that he was going to disappear that night because if she had known then what she knew now, she would have twirled a few more times under his arm just to make the memory last a few seconds longer.

Treehouse Taglist: @trevorsgodmother @mintsturniolo @wysmols

Random taglist: @chrislilcumslvt @matthewslover @middlepartmatt @thenickgirl @miss-sturn @christophersmiddlefinger @chrisswife4lf @blushsturns @lovesturni0l0s @delusionalbri @abbilmao @sturnshood @sturnkial @sturniolowhore @chrissweetheart

Dividers ALWAYS @issysh3ll (fucking babe)

**This Fic Series will NOT be for people with triggers. This Fic Series will have very descriptive moments of abuse.**

Please Read At Your Own Risk.

[shatcey]

Mirror event (Victor)

Now it becomes clear why Vivi looks so much like hemself in this story. Because it wasn't a dream…

I look at this men standing next to each other, and think… I… belong there. Literally. Right there, between them. I've never felt like I belong to any place, perhaps because I really need to be there.

Okay...

And now Vivi's thoughts. As always, they made my brain explode a bit.

He was ready to kill her if something went wrong, because his children are at the top of his list of priorities (after the queen, of course), but… He still wants her to stay. I'm surprised… Is this a contradiction? Or does he just want to add another seed to his garden of children? Or… she is any different?

This… It's terribly sad. Does this mean that no one will ever want to take care of him? Maybe were afraid to do it? Didn't think of him as a person? It's become a painful topic for me lately… Could it be related to his abilities? Or his status? He is a man who stands firmly on his feet, who achieves a lot, who is the second person in the country. Maybe… No, I'm probably imagining…

Victor often talks about light and darkness. What if it's not just a metaphor… What if he really can see the color of the soul? He's a grim reaper after all. What would make so much sense… He can tell who deserves to die and who deserves to be saved. This makes him the same judge as William.

Sure… Victor drops such a bomb… I'm not even surprised. Bound… He's bound… trapped… restricted. Maybe he just phrased it that way, after all, they all have a grim fate. But… What if it's literal? What if… his fate not allow him to get to close to people? I don't like where this thought leads me to…

You're breaking my heart! Why??? What can't he do? Follow his desires? Or… being too close to someone? He doesn't allow himself to do this because he had some experience in the past… What was that? What happens to the other person? Why did he decide never to do it again? I have… so many questions.

No, don't you dare say that was the last time! I'm going to punch you, painfully….... on the shoulder. You look like a teddy bear, and I love hugs! You got the point, right?

Why is it in quotes? Who told you that? This person was lying! They can, and they will come true. Ally is proof of that. He didn't dream, but his dreams came true. Don't ask me how this is possible! It defies logic…

So… It was a very short story, but it managed to give me a headache. I'm… not surprised at all.

Now I'm curious to know what was in the other stories. I remember reading Ellis' story a year ago, and in the end he killed her. So… It was definitely a dream! If so… how can we read the story from his POV???

Don't tell me… Ally, don't let these guys exploit your abilities!!!! You are not a tool! I'll really going to punch Victor if that's the case.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🔝 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 🔝

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[auguryofjellyfish]

[Dare to Dream]

Kamimura knows that nothing lasts forever all too well. You can blink, and find that everything you've ever loved is gone. This time, he would rather not add more to the ocean full of things left unsaid.

A short Hasemura story. Alternate ending to [Woodshop].

“Ken, I...”

“Y-yeah...?”

Kamimura looks to the side, tops of his cheeks growing rosy. It's very prominent on his pale skin. He clenches his jaw, takes a deep breath and steels himself, before turning back to Hasegawa.

“Fuck, I...I'm not gonna...

I've only known you for three weeks, but...Ken...”

He trails off, eyes boring into a random point below Hasegawa's chin.

Shakily, he draws air into his lungs again, and finally raises his head. A single tear slips down his cheek, his mouth curling into a slightly pained smile.

“Ken, I think...you...you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

Hasegawa's mouth drops open, breath catching in his throat, his ever-present blush glowing more fiercely. He reaches for Kamimura's hand, enveloping it with both of his, and brings it up to his chest, making Kamimura's face even redder.

“Kazutoshi, I, I.... Y-you, too...! Oh, gosh...” Tears well up in his eyes. He's at a loss of words.

His eyes flicker over Kamimura's expression. Whatever he finds in it, it makes his shoulders slump.

“You...you, too.” he mumbles, quieter. He smiles, face softening. There are words rising from somewhere deep within him. He hasn't been aware of them before now. But, saying them, somehow...is the easiest thing he's ever done.

“I...I love you, too.”

“Wh-wh-KEN !” Kamimura shouts, wrenching his hand away as if burned, his face now a deep shade of crimson, “Don't just say shit like that!”

Hasegawa chuckles softly. “But it's true!”

Kamimura's hand is shaking. “It's no-ot....funny...” His voice grows quieter and weaker, and his eyes slip shut. The last thing he hears is Hasegawa's panicked “Oh, shi-”

When he comes to, he's laying on the floor, with something soft under his head. He blinks blearily, confused.

When his eyes adjust, he sees a worried Hasegawa kneeling next to him, gnawing on his lip and twiddling his thumbs.

He stops when he sees that Kamimura's awake. “Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey.” Kamimura whispers back. He blinks, looking closer. “Where's...your jacket?”

“O-oh, that...it's um, under your head,” Hasegawa mumbles. He looks guilty, “...sorry.”

“It's fine.” Kamimura props himself up on his elbows, and sits up, “Put it on, it's cold as fuck in here.”

Hasegawa nods and takes it back. It's quiet again.

Glancing at him, Hasegawa looks absent-minded, deep in his thoughts, and they don't seem like a nice place to be. Kamimura sighs internally, closing his eyes. They can't just move on and pretend this didn't happen, can they...oh, fuck it...

“Hey!” Kamimura says louder, making Hasegawa jump, “I told you, it's fine. You don't have to feel bad or whatever. This is normal for me.”

“I know...but, still...” Hasegawa sighs. Kamimura groans internally. He takes a deep breath, holds it in for a few seconds, and releases it with a sigh.

“Listen...did you mean, what you said before?” Kamimura inquires, catching Hasegawa's eye. Trying to keep his tone and face as neutral as he can.

Immediately, Hasegawa's posture straightens, his eyes shining with such conviction that it takes Kamimura aback.

“Of course I did! Why would I lie about that?” he exclaims. Then, wilting slightly, “As...long as you're okay with that, I guess.”

Kamimura lets a small smile come on his face, feeling a long-lost feeling of warmth bloom in is chest. He recoils from it for a few moments, but then surrenders, welcomes it, embraces it. It makes his body seem light.

He felt like utter shit just a few minutes ago, talking about every single thing that's wrong with him and his life, and in a way, nothing has changed, but...It all seems a little more distant from here and now.

He feels young, younger than he's felt in years, and it makes him feel like, somehow, everything might turn out okay.

“Y-yeah,” he breathes. “I am.” He reaches out his hand, hesitating, before placing it on top of Hasegawa's.

Hasegawa looks down at their hands, and then back at him, surprised, before breathing out a sigh of relief, his frame visibly sagging. He flips his hand and grabs Kamimura's, gently but firmly, caressing the knuckles with his thumb. It's warm.

He smiles, so sweetly, so genuinely, in a way that only he can, that Kamimura can't help but believe him. He's been weak to it since the day they met.

“We'll get out of here...okay? Together.”

“Right.” Kamimura says, and despite everything, he dares to dream.

‎

[stars4noah]

HALLEY'S COMET- five.

{WARNINGS}: smutty smut smut smut, so much fluff its insane, swearing

w.c- 2,017

a.n- thank you all for the recent love and support, it means more than you know. this is by far my favorite chapter! hope you enjoy <3

{TAGLIST}: @lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @chey-h @rumoured-whispers @oobleoob @dontwantthemoney @n0n3xsisting

"you're her, princess. you're the woman i was in love with. the woman i'm still in love with. fuck, i thought taking time would make these stupid feelings go away but the moment i saw you in this fucking dress i couldn't take it anymore. i need you, [y/n]. will you have me?"

she was quiet for a moment before she nodded slowly. "yes."

READER'S POV.

as soon as the words left my mouth, noah wasted no time on pressing his lips to mine once more. this time, i reciprocated. he picked me up by the back of my thighs before gently laying me down on the bed behind us, his kisses moving down my neck.

"noah..." i breathed.

"what do you need, sweetheart?"

i whimpered softly. "you. i need you." he smiled. "you have me, baby."

i huffed, my hands moving to tangle in his hair. "you know what i mean."

"do i?"

"shut up and kiss me."

our next kiss was rougher than the last. full of passion and lust. his hands moved to my waist before lowering to my hips and tugging my dress up to my waist.

"fuck... just for me?" he said, groaning at the sight of my lacy black thong. i bit my lip.

"all for you."

he pulled the thong inside before ducking down, his lips working expertly at my core as i tugged on his hair, a stream of moans slipping past my lips.

"fuck.. oh my, fuck."

i could feel his lips shift into a grin as he continued, my thighs keeping his head locked in place. he couldn't move even if he wanted to.

which he definitely didn't.

the feeling of his mouth added to his fingers curling inside of me made that rope in my tummy snap, my release coating his nose, mouth and chin as i breathed heavily.

he moved back up my body, his lips leaving a trail a heat in it's wake before he kissed me again, this time moving to take off his own pants. i helped him get them off and throw them somewhere in the room, desperate to feel him.

this was all i ever wanted. all i ever needed. i could die a happy woman knowing i had sex with the noah sebastian. the man who may or may not just be the love of my life. but that was something we could figure out later.

he gave one last kiss on my lips, lining himself up with my hole. "you ready?" he asked softly, and i nodded.

with that, he pushed in, making me let out a quiet moan of pain and pleasure as he soon bottomed out.

the moment he started moving, it wasn't gentle. this wasn't him wanting to make love. this was him wanting to fuck me until i couldn't speak. and i was more than okay with that.

i moaned loudly as the headboard banged against the wall in rhythm to his thrusts, arching my back as he hit that one spot inside that made me see stars. if people downstairs didn't know what we were doing before, they sure as hell did now.

"shh, you gotta be quiet." he said. "don't want your little guests hearing you, do you?"

i shook my head, causing him to leave a small smack on the outside of my thigh. "words, baby."

"n-no. oh god, noah!" i moaned.

he growled, pulling out and flipping me over with my ass in the air before going right back in, pushing my head into the pillow as i let out a constant string of moans that were honestly almost screams.

i felt that cord in my stomach getting tighter again, and i knew my release was close.

"n-noah, fuck, please. 'm gonna cum." i whined, my voice slightly muffled by the pillows.

"yeah? you gonna cum for me? make a fuckin' mess?" he grunted into my ear, his thrusts growing sloppy and i knew he was close too. "cum for me, baby. c'mon." he said, and that was all it took. i let go, my legs shaking and almost giving out on me as i came. i swore for a second i almost saw god.

in my blissed out state, my mind didn't even register that he had fleed to the bathroom for a moment before i felt something warm and damp between my legs, making me whimper softly.

"shh, sweetheart. it's okay. just cleanin' you up." noah said softly lowering me down onto the bed and flipping me over. he threw the cloth somewhere before moving beside me to take off my dress.

"c'mon, arms up." he said, and i complied, moving my arms up so he could take it off of me before giving me an oversized shirt, putting it on over me.

"there ya go. comfy?" he asked, laying me down with my head on his chest. "mhm" i hummed.

"you sleepy?"

"yeah."

"go to sleep then, baby. i'll be right here. i won't leave. not this time." he said softly, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

i closed my eyes and attempted to fall asleep, but after about ten minutes i knew i couldn't.

"noah?" i asked softly.

"yeah?"

"will you sing to me?"

he smiled softly. "yeah."

my eyes remained closed as he hummed a soft, unfamiliar tune. i wasn't sure what it was, but it was soothing enough to lull me into sleep.

i woke up the next morning to a familiar warmth next to me, my eyes slowly fluttering open. it took a moment for my mind to catch up, but when i realized that he really did stay, i smiled. i gently brushed the hair out of his eyes, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and then his shoulder before carefully getting out of bed. as much as i wanted to stay and cuddle, i was hungry as fuck.

i crept downstairs, noticing a couple people crashed on my couch. i rolled my eyes, a fond smile on my face. that was okay, they were friends. i'd rather have a million people stay over at my house after a long night of partying and drinking than drive home drunk and endanger themselves and others.

i carefully pulled a blanket over nicholas, noticing he was curled up a bit as if he was cold. i always kept my a/c on a fairly low temperature, as i got hot really easy. it didn't bother me, but it did others.

i continued my main task and went to the kitchen to cook up some breakfast. while i was cooking, i felt a large pair of hands wrap themselves around my waist, pressing kiss after kiss to my neck.

"morning." i smiled softly, turning to face him.

"g'morning, princess." he said, his voice still a little hoarse from just waking up. "what're you cookin' up in here?" he asked.

i turned back around to flip the bacon, mot wanting it to burn. "just some breakfast. eggs and bacon. that good with you?"

"perfect." he said

there was a beat of silence before he spoke again.

"hey, what do you say we go out today? let me take you on a proper date. you deserve it."

i smiled softly. "i'd like that. maybe we could stop by that little restaurant that just opened up a couple blocks away. oh, and we could go see the christmas lights!"

"baby, it's the middle of november." he raised an eyebrow.

"so? the lights are up, and i wanna see them."

he shook his head, laughing softly. "okay. well, you make breakfast. i'll go take a shower, and then we can hang out all day. deal?"

i nodded, giving him one last kiss before finishing up breakfast as he went to go shower.

later in the day, noah and i went out for our little date. we settled for the restaurant i suggested earlier. it wasn't too fancy, but it was cute and i liked it. the waitress sat us down at a table, taking our orders before walking off, leaving the two of us be.

we were sat beside one of the large windows, a beautiful view of the outside city and a small tree. i smiled softly as i watched the little critters roam around. birds and squirrels.

"what're you looking at?" noah asked softly, following my gaze.

"the birds."

he smiled. "you really are a nature nerd, aren't you?"

i laughed softly. "not a nerd. i just like to watch the birds. sometimes i wish i could fly. i bed it would give some sense of freedom. it seems like so much fun." i said, not noticing how he looked at me with that soft smile. that smile that anyone could take one look at and instantly tell that a man was in love.

"you look really beautiful." he said, taking my hand in his. i averted my gaze, looking back at him with a smile. "thank you, baby. you look very handsome."

he laughed softly at the compliment, his cheeks flushing with the faintest hint of pink on them.

even though he was a big burly man on the outside, he was still a person with feelings. he would get shy when someone complimented him, or nervous in stressful situations. tough on the outside, sweetheart on the inside.

"are you excited for the lights?" he asked, and that brought a huge smile on my face.

"oh, yeah. i'm so excited. i love looking at christmas lights, they're just so fun and bright and festive and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside and- sorry, i'm rambling." i laughed, and laughed too.

"no, love. ramble all you want. i'm listening."

and that was pretty much all we did all night. after we ate, we went to go see the christmas lights, even taking a few pictures.

when we got home, we settled down, slipping into our pajamas with a fire in the fireplace and a movie on the tv. i could tell noah had been thinking about something all night, and it worried me a bit.

"hey." i said after a few minutes. "what's on your mind?"

he snapped himself out of his thoughts, releasing his bottom lip from his teeth. "i have something to ask you. don't freak out." i nodded, though it was hard not to be anxious when you're told not to freak out.

"how would you feel about going public? with our relationship, i mean."

i froze for a moment. we had only gotten together literally a day ago. going public so soon? i knew it was a bad idea, but another part of me wanted the world to know. i wanted everybody to know that he was mine, and i was his.

"i.. i don't know. what if everything goes wrong? like, people might freak out and hate us and our careers could spiral downhill and-"

he cut me off, gently cupping my face in his hands. "hey. we don't have to if you don't want to. i'm just making a suggestion. i want everybody to know i'm yours. that i've got this lucky woman by my side every single day of my life. that i love you. and who cares what they think? they're just a bunch of people on the internet that have nothing else to do but make others' lives miserable. us? we can decide to make our relationship public or private. i promise either is okay with me. nothing will ever change the way i feel for you." he reassured.

i nodded slowly. "okay."

"are you sure? i don't want to pressure you into something you don't want to do."

"i'm sure. i want them to know. so then we can post all of our cute pictures and videos and stuff." i smiled, something that he returned in full before pressing a soft miss to my forehead.

"i'll love you forever." he said softly.

"and always?" i asked

he laughed softly, nuzzling his face in my hair.

"and always, my love."

[catboymettaton]

heaven is a place on earth 💖🍓

Misa and Matsuda friendship, 3.5k words, rated T. read on ao3 Valentine's Day 2011: Misa jumps from a building, hoping to reunite with Light. And then wakes up, still alive.

Tokyo looks so small from up here. Misa reaches out a gloved hand, traces the line of the street below. Cars honking, people scurrying, everyone in such a rush to go somewhere, to do something.

Misa is in no such hurry. 

A man below is carrying flowers, so many they spill out of his arms. Another man has just emerged from a chocolate shop, bursting bag in tow. Women giggle as they pass by.

It is Misa’s second Valentine’s Day alone. It will also be her last. 

She still can’t understand what the men kept saying. Light, her Light, couldn’t possibly be a killer. He loved her. He loved her so much. He would never lie to her, he would never put her in danger, he would never do anything to harm her. Light loved her. 

And she still loves his ghost. 

Perhaps, by the end of the day, she won’t be alone any longer. 

She hikes her skirt up and clambers over the barrier. Her dress is awkward and makes it hard to move but that doesn’t matter because it makes her pretty. Misa is pretty. Light always told her that. It was okay when he was too busy to touch her, because he made sure she knew she was still pretty. 

She’s wearing her contacts today. It’s the first time in a while, since she quit acting to be with him. He never even had the chance to give her a ring. 

She touches her cross necklace. She’s never believed in that god, especially not since learning Shinigami were real. But she hopes all the same that heaven is just how it’s described in the books. 

Misa is hungry, she realizes. She doesn’t know when she last ate. But it doesn’t matter, because heaven or not, soon her body will no longer need to be fed.

She’s craving apples.

She’s drawing this out too long. If it were Light up here, he’d have a grand speech to make for the world. He’d go out beautifully and gracefully and powerfully. 

She declined to see the photographs. Couldn’t stand the thought of seeing her beloved all torn and bloody. Better to imagine him dignified and elegant, all poised on a crucifix.

The sun is beginning to dip below the horizon. It’s time.

Misa realizes, now, that she never planned her last words. Not that it matters, since no one will be close enough to hear. But with another moment’s thought, it becomes obvious.

She shuts her eyes. “I love you, Light.”

And she jumps.

…

Everything hurts and everything is bright and everything is so, so loud. This can’t be heaven at all. 

Under the aches, she feels her heart beating away. Her chest rises and falls, with spikes of pain on every inhale. There’s no doubt about it: somehow, she’s alive. 

I’m sorry, Light.

Her vision is blurred with pain, but she can make out machines beeping next to her. There’s tubes in her arm, and a tube down her throat, and maybe if she can knock one machine out of place then everything will go quiet and dark again, the way it’s supposed to be.

She reaches forward and the pain jolts all the way up her arm. She lets out a scream.

A nurse is there. “Oh, Miss Amane, you’re finally awake! I’m so glad to see you’ve pulled through. Here, let me help you with that pain.”

She reaches for a button. Misa wants to cry out, to beg her to end this, but she finds herself unable to speak.

The nurse pauses. “We were trying to find your next of kin, but we couldn’t locate any living relatives in the country. Is there a friend you’d like us to call?”

A name slips from her lips. It’s not a name she expected, or one she would have thought of if it weren’t for the drugs, surely.

“Touta Matsuda.”

The painkillers carry her away once more.

…

The next time she comes to, he’s hovering just inches from her face. She yelps in shock and then again in pain.

“I’m sorry, Misa-Misa! I didn’t mean to scare you! I just wanted to make sure you were still breathing, is all!”

Misa shuts her eyes. “Matsu… you came.”

“Of course I came! I was so worried when I saw the caller ID… I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Everything hurts,” she slurs.

“The nurses said it was a pretty nasty fall. You’re lucky you made it.”

“Lucky, huh…”

He places his hand over hers, gently, trying his best not to hurt her. 

Light and Ryuzaki always called him an idiot. Called him the stupid one. But somehow, he seemed to know what to do when no one else did. 

And he’s made it longer than both of them, hasn’t he?

“Misa.” His tone is serious this time. “Misa, when you get out of here, will you come home with me?”

Her eyes shoot open. “Um, you’re way too old for me and I-”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant at all!” He looks ashamed. “I just - I don’t want you to be alone, okay? They told me you don’t have any family, and with Li - I just think you must be pretty lonely now and I don’t want you to be lonely, okay?”

To not be lonely…

Misa has nearly forgotten what it was like to not be lonely. 

Even when she and Light were living together, he was so busy, and she saw so little of him, and she knows he loves her but it was still hard to not miss him and she misses him so much and she was so lonely and he was so tired after work and he barely touched her at all and he loved her. He loves her! She knows he loves her!

But. 

But she was still so lonely. Is so lonely. 

She had friends before all this, but they’ve moved on, grown up, gotten married, settled down, had kids, stopped caring about ghost stories, stopped getting dressed up all fancy just to go get groceries, stopped caring about pop stars like Misa-Misa. 

It would be nice to have a friend again.

“Okay,” she murmurs.

The nurse comes back. She sleeps again.

…

Her hospital stay is a blur. She can’t tell how long she’s been there, when one day ends and another begins. She’s fed through a tube and she pees into a bedpan, which is so yucky but she knows she can’t stand.

And Matsuda is there by her side day in and day out.

“You don’t have to stay,” she mumbles. “Go back to the police. They’ll call you when I’m all better.”

He shakes his head. “No, Misa. I - I want to know you’re okay. I need to know you’re okay.”

So he stays. 

After some time, she can sit up. They take the feeding tube out while she’s asleep and Matsuda feeds her congee, one spoonful at a time. It’s all plain and kinda gross but the doctors say she needs to be gentle with her stomach. 

Matsuda watches the nurses transfer her to a wheelchair so she can pee in a real toilet. It feels good. 

In the evenings, he brushes her hair. It’s gotten horribly knotted from all the lying around, but he does his best to tease out the knots. 

“Maybe I should just cut this all off,” Misa muses. “Would make it a lot easier for you.”

“But it’s so pretty.” He eases a comb through the back of her head.

“I’m not gonna be pretty with all these bruises anyway.” Misa thinks it over, and decides. “I want you to cut it off.”

The nurses provide scissors, and Misa’s bleach-blond crown falls to her feet. She wonders how far her roots have grown out now. She hasn’t been brunette since her parents were alive. 

She gets stronger. She’s allowed to eat eggs again, and then even some sweets.

She thinks about Ryuzaki and his cake. She can tell Matsuda does too. Neither of them brings it up.

Finally, Misa is discharged. She can walk a little, but needs crutches. Matsuda takes her home to his apartment, where he’s set up his spare room for her. The bed is lush with comfy pillows, there’s a table next to it just how she likes it. She realizes he must have remembered from Task Force Headquarters. 

Six years ago feels like a different lifetime.

…

She’s been living at his place for a week when he brings it up over breakfast.

“Misa,” he begins. “I know this is really hard to talk about. But I need to know.”

She takes a bite of her rice and nods. She already knows what’s coming.

“It was Valentine’s Day. You climbed over the railing. You were trying to die, weren’t you?”

“Yes.” She’s not upset. She feels numb to it, actually. “It was Valentine’s Day. I wanted to spend it with my Light.”

Matsuda shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“It’s just not fair,” she continues. She knows her voice is whiny and it’s not cute when a grown woman is whiny when she isn’t an idol anymore but she can’t help it. She misses him and everything hurts. “It’s not fair that he’s gone, and I’m still here, and I just wanted to see him again. I was supposed to see him again.”

“Misa. I know how you felt about Light. I know you want to believe he was good, but -”

“But he loves me! Loved me. He loved me so much. And I loved him too and I loved him so much, more than anyone else in the world so you’re wrong you can’t possibly know how I feel.”

His voice is shaking. “Misa, I loved him too.”

There are many ways to love. You can love your friends, you can love your family, you can love the color pink and pretty dresses.

But the way he said it can only mean one type of love.

She squints at him, trying to detect if this is some weird joke. “But you - but -”

“I fell in love with Light Yagami years ago. Of course I didn’t tell anyone. I don’t even think he knew. But… I trusted him. I thought he was honest, I thought he was righteous. He wasn’t scared to call Kira evil.” He takes a breath, trying to steady himself. He’s looking down at his bowl, not meeting her eyes.  

“I - I had my doubts, you know? Not about him. About Kira, I - he stopped wars. He stopped crime. And that was good, I couldn’t convince myself that it wasn’t. And he didn’t get mad at me for that, and I thought it was because he was being gentle with me. But he wasn’t.”

He looks up at her, and she can tell it hurts. “Misa, Light was a very cruel man. Even if we both loved him.”

“But he loves me! He loves me! He could never do all the things they said he did.” She’s had this conversation before, with her reflection. She’s had it many times, and it always goes the same. “I know my Light, he would never do anything to hurt other people, and he definitely wouldn’t do all that killing!”

“He confessed it all to us before he died. He thought he’d won.” He’s starting to cry now. It’s his fault for bringing it up, so she doesn’t feel bad. “His plan was to kill us all. We were the last thing in his way, that’s all he ever thought of us.” 

His voice is breaking, his words are barely coming out clearly. “I thought - I don’t know what I thought, but - I thought he cared about me, I - of course he didn’t feel the same but I thought we were friends. He was my best friend, Misa. He was my best friend.

“He was my best friend and I - I was just - I was just another pawn, I -  He - he wanted me to be his little attack dog, he wanted me to - to shoot -” He loses his composure completely here and Misa averts her eyes.

“No.” She stumbles to her feet, clutches her crutches. “No, you can’t - he couldn’t have. He wasn’t -”

She trips and he catches her. “Misa. I’m sorry.”

…

Misa looks in the mirror. Her deep brown hair has grown just enough that she can run her fingers through it.

It occurs to her that soon it’ll look like Light’s.

Her chest aches whenever she thinks of him, and she’s sure it isn’t because of her fractured ribs. 

Nothing Matsuda says makes sense, except it makes perfect sense, horrifying sense, at the same time, and she doesn’t want to believe it, she can’t believe it, except - 

There are things she can’t ignore. Pieces that don’t quite fit together.

He says Light took her memories away to keep him safe. Her memories of being Kira. He says she helped him as Kira, that she killed people.

She wants to deny it. She wants to say no, Misa-Misa is a good girl, Misa-Misa wouldn’t kill. 

But she remembers. She remembers how good it felt to see her parents’ murderer’s name and body on the news. She remembers her passion growing as Kira’s kills ramped up further and further.

Of course, she was young and dumb and she has grown up since then. Light dedicated his life to catching Kira, and nothing was more important than making Light happy, so that meant catching Kira was a good thing. She realized it was wrong to idolize a murderer, that Kira was evil, that Kira had to be stopped. She realized that killing was bad and murder wasn’t justice at all.

But Light didn’t believe any of that.

She’d restructured her mind around a total lie. Light didn’t go to America to catch Kira, he went to protect himself. 

Her memories of their overseas stay are fractured. She remembers sleeping alone in a big hotel bed. She remembers coming home from her Hollywood shoot to an empty room, not even a note. And there are stretches of time she can’t remember, which is normal because it’s been three years, except she cherished every minute she had with Light, so why can’t she remember half of their conversations? 

He had gotten colder and colder as time went on. In the beginning, they made love nearly every night, but they hadn’t slept together in three months by the end. 

He must have been too busy with Kiyomi.

He told her Kiyomi was just another part of the investigation. That the feelings weren’t real at all. 

But if he was on Kira’s side after all, then - he had lied about that. It wasn’t part of the investigation. And did he lie about the feelings? 

Did he lie about loving her?

She tries to focus on the beginning, when everything was good. Wasn’t everything good? She remembers finally leaving confinement, finally being able to rest in his arms, back where she belonged.

He had said something then, something that bothered her. What was it?

He said… he said that she wouldn’t leave him alone. But that didn’t make any sense. Why wouldn’t he want to spend time with his girlfriend? Why would he want her to leave him alone? 

She tried not to think about it. She tried to focus on after they got out, when they moved into their apartment and finally got to have a normal romance. Finally got rid of that creep Ryuzaki.

But if he really lied about wanting to catch Kira, if he really lied about all of that - 

But he told her he loved her so much. He told her he loved her all the time.

If he didn’t love her, then what was she doing these past six years? 

If he didn’t love her, then why did she jump?

…

“When did you fall in love with Light?”

She can walk with a cane now, and Matsuda takes her out to the park on weekends. He’s gone back to work, now that he trusts her to make it through eight hours alone. He doesn’t talk about it and she doesn’t ask.

He looks away from her, breathes a heavy sigh. They try not to talk about Light, but his ghost hangs heavy in the air.

“I met him as a teenager. He was brilliant for his age, but of course I saw him as a kid. During the investigation, once he took control -” His voice breaks a bit. “It - it felt so wrong, he was like a little brother, but… I saw his confidence, his competence, his brilliance. He was so damn charismatic.”

Misa knows. Misa understands completely.

“And then when we were alone in LA… he trusted me… and I trusted him too. He seemed so committed.” He swallows. “And - he was so handsome in that damn turtleneck.”

Misa nods. She also liked the turtleneck.

He sighs. “But it was all an act. All of it. He called his father a loser and a fool in the end. His father, his hero.” 

Light loved his father. Light loved his father so much. Light was devastated when he died.

“He called you an idiot.”

He’d said it to her face before too, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because he loved her.

Didn’t he love her?

He said he loved her. He told her she was cute. He told her she was a great girlfriend. He’d even asked her to quit acting to marry him. 

He was such a sweet talker. 

But had he ever really looked at her? Had he ever touched her without her reaching out first? Had he ever asked her about how her shoots were going, or taken her somewhere nice without her asking? 

He hadn’t even remembered her 25th birthday. 25 on December 25th, a big number, and he’d been too busy hunting down Kira.

Not hunting down Kira. Hunting down the people trying to stop Kira. 

Hunting down the people trying to stop him.

Would he have turned on Misa, too, if he’d lived?

She reaches for Matsuda with her free hand. His arm fits nicely in her palm. They walk together in silence a little longer. 

…

Misa’s bangs get in her face. She cuts half of them off so she looks like Matsuda. Matsuda puts his hair up in tiny pigtails. 

Misa swims in Matsuda’s suit jacket. Matsuda’s shoulders strain against Misa’s shirt.

They look at each other like clowns in a funhouse mirror. They touch their palms together.

In each other, they see that cursed love for Light Yagami.

They change back. Misa shaves that side of her head.

Somehow, life goes on.

…

On Valentine’s Day in 2012, Misa bakes a cake.

Matsuda offered to take the day off, in case it was too hard, but Misa insisted she was fine, and she is. And she wanted to surprise him.

Misa is an awful cook. She always has been, and she’s accepted that she always will be. But baking seems straightforward. If she reads carefully, measures slowly, everything will be okay.

It’s messy. She spills flour all over the counter. She has to start over when she puts in too much salt. She hopes Matsuda didn’t need all that sugar.

She’s never going to act again. She can walk mostly fine, but she can’t run or jump or push herself too hard. She’ll never model again, with the scars that haven’t quite healed. 

She’s gotten into writing ghost stories. She posts them anonymously. Her blog isn’t popular, but that’s okay. It gives her something to do. 

Matsuda is nice to her. He seems to care about her in a way that Light never did. They aren’t in love, not romantically, but they fit together well. He reads her blog and he likes her stories. He thanks her when she cleans the house. And he remembered her birthday, and took her to a Christmas market so she could pick out her own gift. 

She stirs the batter. She realizes she forgot to preheat the oven and rushes to set it. Matsuda says preheating is very important. 

She thinks about how small the city looked. She thinks about her last fleeting thoughts of heaven. She touches her cross necklace; that’s one thing that hasn’t changed. The dress was wrecked, but that’s okay. She’s okay.

Maybe she was looking for heaven in the wrong place. Maybe heaven doesn’t come after death. Maybe heaven is now, in this little kitchen, where she’s still breathing and her heart is still beating. 

When Matsuda comes home, she’s just finished icing the cake. It’s bright pink for the holiday (and because it’s Misa’s favorite). She cuts them each a slice even though they haven’t had dinner yet. 

She got it just right. It’s the best strawberry cake she’s ever had.

[sccubss]

comfort u, like u want me to m. fushiguro

† sum. megumi had always been a ‘stoic’ person. he wore the same expression on his face: cold and uninterested, but never with you — until now. your once inseparable bond has now begun to unravel, leaving you confused while trying to piece things back together — but is it too late?

warnings. angst angst and more angst. happy ending tho wink wink wink

wc. 0.9k

pairings. megumi fushiguro x afab!reader

hours, days, weeks. the messages you sent him remained unopened. “i miss you sm”, “can we hangout pleaseee?”, “is everything okay?”.  text after text, you received nothing but that stupid ‘delivered’ label below your message. you tossed your phone aside and buried your head in your pillow, “what is up with him…”, you thought to yourself.

the following day, you sat in the last class on your schedule. It was noisy as normal, but for you, it was far too quiet. the typical shuffling of papers, scribbles of pens, chatters of friends, it all vanished when you looked at him. sitting three seats away from you, there he was. megumi fushiguro, the boy who once was your entire world, making you feel warmth when all you knew was coldness. you tried to focus on the book before you, but the text blurred. you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him, though each glance was a reminder of how close he was yet how far he felt.

after class, you tried multiple times to get his attention. all of course, to no response. he was easily talking with yuji and nobara, but why wouldn’t he speak with you? his lover? if that’s what you’d even call it at this point. you tried to convince yourself that this was some phase, and that the distance would only bring you closer. megumi had always been an ‘emotionless’ sort of person, so what if he’s going back to old ways? you decided this wasn’t going to work if you didn’t just go up to him. so that’s exactly what you did.

walking up to him, you lightly tapped him on the shoulder and you swear you felt him flinch. “the hell?” you thought to yourself. clearing your throat, you spoke nervously. “hey.. megs,” you started, using your old nickname for him, “can we talk when you finish up here, please?”. you noticed the slightest twitch in his eye but reluctantly, he agreed to meet you outside in a few minutes. you nodded and hurried off, walking to the park a few blocks away from campus. after what felt like hours, he finally arrived. there he stood in front of you, that cold expression plastered on his features. “what did you want?” he spoke, annoyed by your mere existence. visibly shaking, you responded softly, “i just wanted to talk about.. you know,” you paused, taking a deep breath, “us.” he raised an eyebrow, making it seem as if you were delusional. “what about us?”. fighting the urge to beat the living hell out of him for acting like you were a nobody, you maintained composure and said, “you can’t keep pushing me away, you’re hurting me, megs”. after a long pause, he sighs at your words, “i just can’t keep doing this, okay?”, he says as he finally meets your gaze. you noticed his expression was filled with pain, and it broke your already damaged heart. 

“doing what?” you asked, “loving me? being with me? i thought we were inseparable”. he looks away again, struggling to express his feelings. ”it’s not you, it’s me”, he says, almost as a whisper. your eye twitches in irritation, how cliche. “i don’t deserve you,” he starts again, meeting your eyes, “i can’t be the person you want me to be”. may god himself strike you down because this has to be some joke? you’ve been nothing less than accepting and this is what he says? “seriously? you have to talk to me, let me in”, you say, tears spilling out of your own eyes. “all you’re doing now is ruining what we have”, you pause — correcting yourself, “what we had”. his heart aches at your correction, taking a step closer to you and cupping your face in his hands. your mind tells you to push him away, but you’ve missed this — missed him, so you linger. “i’m just scared,” he begins, now looking you deeply in the eyes. “i don’t want you to see the messed up person i am, and leave me”. he says, his voice shaking as he finally comes to terms with his emotions. “i thought that if i left first i’d be protecting you, protecting us”. your heart shatters at his words, but not for you — for him. he’d felt like he was the problem this whole time. that you’d find a flaw in him and freak out, leaving him all alone again. you shook your head, “you don’t have to be perfect, megs” you whisper, your hands running through his spiky hair in soft strokes. “i just want you here with me, that’s all i ask for”. your heart begins to piece itself back together when he suddenly falls apart in your arms, face buried in the crook of your neck as he allows himself to feel. “flaws and all, i love you” you whisper into his hair. those three little words seem to bring a smile to his face as he pulls away, gently kissing your forehead. “i.. i love you too”, he admits, still holding you close. “i’ll be better, for you, for me, for us”. 

after constant confusion and heartache, you’re finally at peace. with communication and trust, you found your way back to each other. maybe the distance really does bring people closer after all.

an. this was very angsty i know forgive me. i lowk wrote this based off of how i always give people second chances even when they rip my heart to shreds but, at least Y’ALL got a happy ending dammit.

© sccubss | much love ꨄ

[the-grimm-writer]

Love Bites (part one)

I love how it's been unanimously decided Shoko is for the girls.

MDNI

Tw: Dubcon, biting, blood, dacryphilia, oral, fem reader

.

There was something wrong with Shoko. As a doctor, she was too aware that the pain coursing through her body wasn't the normal kind. Her head was pounding, and her teeth ached, making her want to bit down on something to relieve it.

She was lying alone in her bed, a trickle of sweat trickling down her forehead, and she's sickly pale. She panted softly, gripping onto the dark grey sheets. Her mind was spinning to the point that she couldn't remember how she got home last night.

At the thought of last night, memories flashed through her, but she couldn't remember all of them. But she did remember you, begging her to go with you to the club. Shoko recalled doing a few shots with you before you rushed to the dance floor. She chatted with a few people. Gojo and Geto, she believed. But she didn't really care about that.

She remembered focusing on you, the way you happily spun around. The flashing lazer lights made it look like you were moving in slow motion. She preferred to watch you instead of joining in, leaning back on the chair she was sitting in as she smoked a cigarette. It was easy to keep an eye on you since she had a much higher alcohol tolerance than you did.

But then someone grabbed her and dragged her away with ease while you weren't looking. She felt their arm press against the lower half of her face so she couldn't yell, and a warm, metallic substance filled her mouth. They kept her mouth covered until she swallowed.

That was all she remembered before her memory went blank. She didn't know how she woke up back in her home, writhing in her bed in pain, not wearing any clothes.

She clenched her fists, and she could feel her nails were longer and sharper than they were before as they dug into the palms of her hand. But it was something she hardly noticed.

A wave of agitation spiked through her as her phone went off. Her sensitive ears picking up on the ringing made her want to throw the device across the wall. Yet she managed to push that urge down,

"Hello, Ieiri?" Somehow, the sound of your sweet voice soothed the pain. "Are you okay? You just disappeared from the club. I'm so sorry. Did something happen?"

She felt a pang go through her as she heard your sad tone. She could tell that you blamed yourself for her disappearing all of the sudden.

It gave her motivation to slowly get up. Her mouth felt dry as she finally spoke.

"I'm fine, (Y/n). I just wasn't feeling well. I'm sorry I didn't let you know."

You immediately responded. "I understand. I was just so worried, it's been three days and I've heard nothing from you. Are you okay? Is it okay if I come by? Do you need anything?"

You didn't know what to call your relationship with Shoko. You couldn't say friends. Friends didn't know how you tasted. Friends didn't know your body the way Shoko does. But you weren't officially a couple. And neither of you had made a move yet.

A small smile crept its way to her face. "I don't need anything." She gently reassured you.

You immediately responded back to her. "Okay. But I'm still coming over."

She sighed, knowing there was no stopping your stubborn self. She stayed where she was, not moving from her spot on the bed until she heard a knock on her door twenty minutes later.

You'd rushed over as fast as you could. Shoko groaned softly as she forced herself up, a wave of lightheadedness hit her as she did. But she pushed through it, grabbing ahold of her robe she had and threw it on.

When she opened the door, you gasped as you took in her ghastly appearance.

A chill ran down your spine as you looked at Shoko. Your heart started racing, feeling the hair on the back of your neck stood up. You stepped back, like your body was sensing danger and was telling you to run.

But that was impossible. Shoko isn't dangerous.

You ignored it and stepped inside, shutting the door behind you.

"Are you sick? You look pale as a ghost." You said sadly and brought your hand up to her forehead.

You gasped and pulled away, shocked. She was cold. Unnaturally so.

Her hand latched out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you back towards her. Your eyes widened as your face hit her shoulder as you stumbled into her. Her arms snaked around you, causing you to instinctively hug her back.

"I'm sorry." Shoko said softly. In a strange way, even her voice sounded different. Three days had felt like three years to her. Her desire for you as she felt your body heat growing stronger.

You were so, so warm. She pulled your closer to her, making you gasp softly. It was comforting, the opposite of her.

Her hand snaked into your hair, making you gasp as she suddenly gripped it hard. She brought her face towards your neck and inhaled.

Your sweet, signature perfume filled her senses. But she could sense more than that now. Your natural scent mixed in with it, making you smell addicting to her.

From where she stood, she could hear your heart thumping in her chest, the blood coursing through your veins. It sent a sharp pain through her empty stomach like it was telling her to feed it.

Your protests fell on deaf ears as you tried to pull away, sensing something was wrong.

Shoko was starving. But not in the typical human way. She was hungry for you. Like a starving wolf that just stumbled upon an injured rabbit.

A low growl left her as she pressed her lips against your neck, feeling your pulse against it. It made what little self-control she had left snap in half.

Her pain immediately went away as her fangs sunk into your neck. Driven by a carnal desire, she couldn't stop herself. Her hand was still gripping your hair, her other arm wrapping around her waist as she pulled you so your body was completely pressed against her own.

You could only look up at the ceiling as she forced your head back. A shocked, pained whimper escaping your lips. It was a pitiful sound, and Shoko loved it.

Her brown eyes turned a dark red as your thick, warm blood filled her mouth. The metallic taste was more addicting than she ever thought that it would ever be.

After a minute that felt like an eternity, Shoko slowly pulled away, lapping away the blood that trickled down your neck, causing you to cry out. She looked down at you for an unreadable expression for a moment.

Your eyes were wide with horror, tears bubbling up in your eyes as you looked into her crimson ones. You didn't know whether to cry or scream when her bloody lips curled into a smile, revealing her red stained teeth. Fangs, sharped and curved where her canine teeth used to be.

Her slender hand reached out and cupped your cheek, gently hushing you as more tears began to stream down your face. You flinched as her thumb

"I'm sorry, (Y/n)," she said softly again, genuinely apologetic even though this was the most beautiful she's ever seen you, vulnerable in her arms. "But I need you. I don't know what's going on. You're the only one I could think about. I can't survive without you."

Your heart panted in your chest. Your neck throbbed in pain, and tears were streaming down your cheeks. Your instincts were screaming to get away from her. That the woman you loved was dead, replaced by a monster with a thirst for your blood.

Yet your heart yearned for her no matter how dangerous she was. She'd always be the one you went running towards, even when it meant that you'd be hurt. Besides, you'd never forgive yourself if you ran away when she's reaching out for you to help.

These feelings were terrifying.

When you didn't run, she slowly leaned in and pressed her forehead against yours. Neither of you said a word, staying in that position for a few tense seconds.

You closed your eyes as she moved in for a kiss. Her lips were as cold as the rest of her body, but her kisses were just as addicting as they always were. She took things slow just as she used to, making sure you were comfortable.

Pressing you against the wall, she gently pushed her tongue in your mouth. You ignored the way you could taste your blood as you accepted, letting her take control.

"I'll make this up to you, my love."

You always melted when she called you her love. You almost let her bite you again.

Her hand snaked around yours, and you followed her into her room.

She pushed you onto the dark grey bed that she'd just been screaming in pain in less than an hour ago.

"Wait!" You said breathlessly as she got on top of you, working on pulling off your shirt.

You hesitantly let her, feeling how eager she was. Nearly desperate as she got you undressed.

She threw your clothes to the floor, and you arched your back, letting her unclip your bra and throw it to the side before she worked on your pants.

You never felt insecure around Shoko. She always looked at your curves adoringly like you were a piece of art.

Laying there in the bed, Shoko slowly got up so she could undo her robe and let it drop to the floor as well.

She stood there for a moment, letting you look at her. The roundess of her breasts, soft pink nipples hard. She was rubbing her thighs together, soaked just as she thought about what she was going to do.

Her teeth grazed against your inner thigh, causing you to shiver as she teased you. She trailed kisses up until she got towards your cunt.

Licking her lips, she moved forward, spreading your legs apart.

You leaned back on her bed, head resting on her pillow and closed your eyes. A smile crept its way to her face as she pressed her lips against your leg.

She paused for a moment, building up the tension as she looked at you. A smirk crept its way to her face.

There were many things that she could do. She had a strap on, lots of toys she had that would make you scream with pleasure. And kinkier things like whips and restraints.

But for Shoko, there was nothing more intimate than this.

She clamped her hands on your thighs so you couldn't get away from her. She smiled, fangs still peaking out as she opened her mouth and ran her tongue across your slit.

You gasped, just as she expected. Shoko let out a groan, enjoying how sweet you tasted.

"Ieiri." You let out a sigh as she took her time, knowing exactly how to get you worked up as she teased your clit with the tip of her tongue.

As she felt you twitch, growing more aroused, she started to pick up her pace, eating you out like it was her last meal.

The side of your neck still throbbed in pain, yet it seemed to only add to the intensity of the pleasure.

She started spelling her name into your tight pussy. You cried out, gripping onto the sheets tight.

You became more restless, grinding and pushing your hips up against her as her fingers dug into your thighs. She left no inch of your cunt untouched.

Shoko groaned against you as she kept licking and kissing you, not bothering to come up for air for even a second. She kissed your wet pussy before she started to suck on your clit.

Shoko sighed as she grabbed and lit a cigarette, her free hand holding it and flicked it into the ashtray she kept on the nightstand by her bed. Her other hand gently rubbed your waist as you slept nuzzled against her side, head resting on her shoulder.

You cried out, hand slowly reaching out and pulling on her long brown hair hard as she started to fuck you with her tongue pushing against your tight entrance.

She knew her body like the back of her hand. She knew every spot that would get you closer to cum. Digging her nails into your thighs, she made sure not to break skin. Only doing it to keep you squirming around her mouth like a woman possessed.

"Iri!" You could barely speak, stammering as you gripped onto her hair tight. "I'm gonna - fuck! Yes!"

You screamed as you pulled her against you more, bucking your hips up. Your toes curled, and your eyes rolled back as you came.

She didn't know which she loved the taste of more, your blood or your pussy. Not a single drop went to waste, lapping up every drop before she gave you one last lick and pulled away.

Shoko smiled, finally letting you close your legs and allowing you to shift around the bed to get comfortable. You were still trembling like a leaf, dazed from your intense orgasm.

Her heart wasn't beating, yet this was the most alive that she'd ever felt. Watching your body shaking from the pleasure and unable to form a coherent sentence as you stared up at the ceiling in shock.

Even though she wanted to keep going, she didn't want to push you farther than she already had. So she climbed up and rolled onto the bed beside you, pulling your exhausted form close to her.

You nuzzled into her, and she kissed the top of your head as you closed your eyes. She kept her arm around your waist as she leaned back and got comfortable herself.

Poor thing, she thought to herself. You fell asleep so fast before she could even speak. Not that she minded, she had all the time in the world to speak with you now.

It was hard to adjust at first, with the constant pain. It was only soothed when she finally got some blood into her system, but it turned out to be worth it. She felt better than she ever has in her life. Like everything that had been holding her back was just a distant memory now.

And more importantly, she had you by her side. You were all hers, just like she's wanted since the day that she met you.

Now, all she wanted was to know who'd turned her. She didn't know whether or not she wanted to slap them or thank them.

Like it was sensing her thoughts, her phone started going off again. She brought it up to her ear, cigarette dangling between her lips and her other arm wrapped around your waist as she spoke.

"Hello?"

She rolled her eyes as an obnoxiously familiar voice filled her ear.

"I knew you'd transition well," the male said playfully when another one cut in as well.

"For a moment, we almost thought you were dead," the calmer one of the two added bluntly.

"Well, that's nice of you to come check." She said dryly, not surprised those two idiots didn't.

He snickered. "And ruin the surprise? We figured you'd want some alone time with your little doll first. You're welcome."

They were a pain in her ass, yet she wasn't surprised it was them that picked up on her true feelings for you. She'd been on dates before and had a few failed relationships. But they all paled in comparison to you.

Shoko was a selfish woman. She was aware of that. Hell, she wasn't a doctor because she wanted to help people. It was simply because she was good at the job.

It didn't help having two friends that fueled her bad habits. Keeping cigarettes and lighters on them for her nicotine addiction. They bought her as many drinks as her heart desires since she's always had the highest alcohol tolerance and drank often.

And now they've provided her with her most recent addiction.

[nabipumpum]

⟡ ݁₊ Sad 2see u go ᴷᵃᶻᵘʰᵃ ˣ ᶠ!ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

Pairing - Nakamura Kazuha X fem!Reader

Genre - angst

Synopsis - A painful truth is that love is not always enough to maintain a relationship Word Count:1.030

Warnings! relationship breakup, mention of fights, may be sensitive content for some people

Le Sserafim masterlist

The wind blowing through the cracks in the windows was the only sound that filled the room, the loud whistle causing a certain shiver and discomfort in you, the poorly lit and cold environment gave you chills, the constant feeling that something was wrong slowly consuming you.

A different sound, the sound of the lock opening finally took you out of the whirlwind of thoughts you were in, a familiar figure entering the room, not knowing whether to be happy or sad to see her, you stood up.

“Hi.” was the first word you had spoken in a few hours, Kazuha then noticing your presence after hearing your voice.

“Oh, hi.” you watched her take off her coat and put away her keys, a nervousness running through your entire body, certainly in tufts of the scenarios you imagined, it certainly seemed easier to face her and say what you wanted “I thought you would be asleep by now.”

“I was waiting for you.” Kazuha's muscles tensed, a thousand thoughts running through her mind as she turned to look at you, a tense expression on your face, something that was hard to see, but unfortunately she had seen it often.

"Did something happen?"

Sure, you had so much on your mind to say, so many complaints and questions to ask, but you froze. Seeing her there, in front of you, this time real and not just a scenario in your mind, was harder, you were no longer teenagers and you had been together for years, but Kazuha still made you nervous.

Over the past year, the entire relationship that you had built meticulously and carefully began to crumble, the moments of conversation at the end of the day turned into mostly meaningless and unnecessary arguments, arguments that you would normally resolve in a few minutes turned into hours of screaming and sometimes a few tears. You held on as long as you could, after all, Kazuha was the love of your life, even if she hurt you with rude words, sometimes love hurts, doesn't it?

The answer that most people believe is that yes, love hurts and that's normal. But that's not how it should be, in a more rational view, love should be comfortable and comforting, the person you love should make you feel good, disagreements are inevitable and this happens to any person who has their own opinion, but why would it be normal for someone you love to hurt you?

When that key turned in your head, your whole vision changed, maybe you and Kazuha weren't going to spend your whole lives together and that's okay, you did what you could to save this relationship but now you couldn't do anything else, you have to move on.

"Can we sit down?" She waved, the two of you walked together to the living room, light flashbacks passing through your mind, of all the moments you spent together on that same couch “I don’t know a better way to say this.”

“Don’t say.” She clutched the fabric of her pants, a big lump forming in her throat.

“Zuha…” She shook her head.

“Just don’t say, please don’t.” The last three words sounded so low that it seemed more like she was talking to herself than to you.

Kazuha had the same bad feeling all day, so when she heard that you wanted to talk and that you were waiting for her, everything seemed to stop, she regretted all the times she yelled or that you two fought for the most stupid reasons possible.

“This isn’t working anymore…” She kept shaking her head, looking down this time.

A sob.

“We can fix this, I swear, I can make it better, please.” You sighed as you heard more sobs and small murmurs coming from her “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Then we don’t have to break up.” She looked at you, her eyes watering, bright trails of tears reflecting in the dim light of the room.

“Love isn’t everything, Kazuha.” She moved, sat down next to you and held yours tighter.

“But if we love each other then we can get through this.” You shook your head again, controlling yourself as much as possible so as not to cry along with her.

“Love doesn’t fix everything either…” She cringed “I’m so sorry.”

“Is it your decision?” You agreed and she sniffed, letting go of your hands to wipe the tears away with the back of her hand. “If that’s really what you want then fine, I want to see you happy” even if it’s not with me.

“I’m sorry things ended like this.” She looked at you again, you then feeling your eyes burn and a tear form.

“It’s my fault, I’m the one who should apologize… I’m sorry, Y/n, for everything.” You smiled.

“I forgive you.”

For the next few minutes, Kazuha remained seated on the couch, crying softly, trying not to disturb you.

Seeing you with a suitcase walking to the door was certainly one of the most painful scenes for Kazuha, how did she let it get to this point?

She stood up and the two of you were in front of the door, a scene similar to when you moved into her apartment, with that same suitcase, but you were both smiling that day, now you both had red eyes from crying.

“Whenever you need something, you can look for me.” The girl’s voice broke, but you still understood.

“You too.” You looked up a little and sighed “Bye, Kazuha.” You opened the door and looked at her one last time.

“Bye, Y/n” You closed the door, Kazuha falling to her knees with her face in her hands right after, crying as if someone had ripped out an organ from her, the sound of her crying now keeping company with the whistles coming from the windows.

Kazuha stayed there for long minutes, having difficulty breathing when she managed to calm down a little, a mental note was made in her mind.

I should return the ring this week.

[technically-human]

Hey, don't cry. Ghost yuri, okay?

(Now that you know the girls, they need to meet the boys!)

[mueritos]

a big brain dump about autism, life, being indigenous, and whatever else is going on

so the past few months I made it a personal journey to understand my autism more (and maybe a possible ptsd diagnosis but whatever whatever whatever). and that's what i'm calling it--the autism--because no other thing makes sense for me, and while i'm parsing through childhood memories and experiences, it's definitely...a bittersweet conclusion? bitter because in a lot of ways, i dont relate to the stereotypical autistic experience because every autistic person who has clocked me was usually a White Queer. It's probably why it's taken so long to get to this point of concluding Autism is what it is. I grew up in an immigrant family as a girl, and for that reason I was expected to not be disabled and to be a completely normal and high achieving Mexican catholic girl who went to college and became a doctor or whatever. Now i'm a fag of a man doing none of those things haha.

My older brother was supposed to be assessed for ASD in his youth, and like most immigrant dads, mine decided that nothing was wrong with him and the rest is history. Except my older brother is a man riddled with childhood trauma, shame, and so much autism. Absolutely uncharted rates of autism, and while he gets some sort of pity from my parents for him ("it's all out fault" "he never got the help he needed" "cut him some slack he doesnt understand"), I can never let my own parents know about how much I struggle. Hell, I can barely show it to my own friends because even they don't understand the extent of my autistic struggles. it's actually caused continuous miscommunications, people mad at me, me mad at myself, meltdowns, shutdowns, and a lot of crying. And shame. (a peer recently even demeaned my habit of keeping to myself, despite the fact that I had actually been trying to put myself out there more)

so i'm at a point in my life where I've accepted that I can only take responsibility over how I communicate, and I take ownership over that. Accepting this responsibility allows me to keep myself safe, as I've essentially lived over 2 decades of my life feeling like I was responsible for not just my communication, but everyone else's, including all of the judgements, missed cues, failures, miscommunications, and whatever else came from it. It's definitely double empathy. Last time I truly took on everyone's communication, it nearly killed me (cue over a year of suicidality). But, in a lot of ways it's very freeing. I'm sort of detaching myself from this neurotypical/White need to socially interact with others on their terms. In other ways, it's restricting. I uh. Don't really talk to a lot of people nowadays, and there used to be days where I wouldn't say a single word out loud. But because I don't talk to as many people, I'm able to put energy into the quality of my connections and not just the quantity. Which unfortunately a lot of people take personally. They dont like you admitting that you only see them as an acquittance, or as a classmate, or something like a friend but not quite there. I find comfort knowing how people feel about me, even if its that they actually dont feel close to me. Great! Now I know! Knowing makes me feel safe! But I'm finding that people actually really fucking hate when you admit that to them, the how you actually slot them in ur brain in terms of social levels. I can understand why, but I also don't get it.

Another thing that's helped is I've changed how I do eye contact. I used to make eye contact with professors or classmates while I spoke up in class because I thought that was important. Now I've found I can actually focus more on what I'm trying to say when I don't make eye contact. My god how freeing that has been. I don't have the same anxiety as I used to before, nor do I experience all of the involuntary blushing as I did for many years of my life. It didn't matter how confident or how prepared I felt, I would just blush furiously and I fucking hate it. Now my blushing is almost nonexistent, and I say what I mean with the flat ass tone that I love speaking in because it makes me feel safe. Sure, I miss the real-time non-verbal reactions to my words in class, but it's an okay trade-off for feeling more safe in myself and more confident in the classroom.

another thing is my internship. I work with majority neurodivergent students, and many of my clients have autism, adhd, or both, and are sometimes BIPOC, trans, or children of immigrants. Man, I've been having a blast. Sure, I'm learning how to be a therapist and best practices, but screw everyone in my life who has called me "cold" "emotionless" or "heartless". I have connected with so many people on such a human level, and I have sat there and helped them hold their pain in that tiny gay office for 45 minutes every week, and even though it's only 45 minutes, i'm showing them that they're allowed to ask for help holding that pain. I have had challenging sessions, difficult conversations, and times where I wasn't sure I would know what to say. But at it's core, I know that I'm capable of connecting with the person in front of me because my autism brain is automatically in tune with the person in front of me. It is so wonderful, and overwhelming, and so confusing all at once. When people start crying in front of me, I feel tears well up in my eyes, even if I'm not actually sad with them. It shows me that I'm capable of this empathy that so many people over my life have questioned, which they questioned all because I processed things slowly, or made quick decisions, or because I was honest about how I felt.

on to being mixed indigenous. Phew. I've been trying to build more connections with other Native folk, and I have a couple who I can thankfully call friends and who have never disrespected my detribalized experience. but recently I was interviewed a few times for a fellow indigenous researcher's dissertation, and I did not expect to be chosen on account that I am detribalized. But it had been a lovely experience and I finished my final interview today. It really left me with a lot of emotions that are hard to put into words. Mourning would be one of them, as I likely won't ever know what my tribal affiliation is. Never knowing who my people were, what language they spoke, the land they lived on...I can't describe just how much it destroys me. It feels like literal death, because that's what it is. A disgusting colonial death. And it's why I abhor that of all my identities, being autistic and being mixed indigenous has been met with the most vitriol online. like i guess people can only handle the trans fag mexican dude when hes not autistic and mixed indigenous, because now I am far too ambigious for anyone else's good. though i do know better than to listen to what random people online have to say about me and my path toward reconnection/neurodivergency.

beside's that, i'm trying to find neurodivergent spaces that feel safe, and I'm trying to find ways to keep myself safe. stimming, carrying stuffed animals around, using fidget toys, engaging in my interests, listening to the same songs, eating the same foods. I've had coffee with bagel and chive+onion cream cheese for over a year now. I've listening to almost only Pearl Jam and Alice in Chains for nearly a year now. I rewatch the same youtube videos over and over again. I wear the same few outfits. I wear the same shoes everyday. I walk the same way to and from campus everyday. I try to be in nature as much as I can, and really see it. I imagine nature where it isn't, and I get emotional thinking about the life that used to be on it. I wish so badly that I was a cat, a horse, a bunny, a deer, all so I could experience life through their eyes. i'm putting trust into people, into the universe, and into myself. safety is hard to come by, but im doing my best to accept the risks of life, trying to be flexible, and learn how to sustain myself for the good of the world. I deserve to be here too.

that's about it. besides that, i'm moving to philly once i'm done with grad school ^-^