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imaginethathaikyuu · 4 years

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kinktober - day three

kuroo tetsurou - aphrodisiacs

kinktober faq kinktober prompt list

NSFW warning featuring: the accidental consumption of an aphrodisiac, kuroo with an undying need for U, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, unprotected sex, begging other tags: scientist! kuroo!, me not knowing shit about science or working in a science lab or aphrodisiacs, me not knowing shit about anything, this isn’t realistic at all just look over it, can aphrodisiacs be inhaled? who knows, established relationship, cursing gender neutral reader

word count: 2050

Kuroo made a mistake.

He was careful, like he always is. He strictly follows the rules of his workspace because he knows it’s otherwise unsafe; working in a science lab can be dangerous.

He was only preparing a sample, something he’s done dozens of times. They had just started a new project on chemical aphrodisiac studies, something he wasn’t excited about, but it didn’t matter to him - he was just doing his job, even if he does think this experiment will be a bust. And maybe he shouldn’t have been holding the bottle this aphrodisiac was stored in and just left it to sit on the counter to avoid a mishap - then again, maybe it shouldn’t have been stored in a glass bottle in the first place.

So, really, it’s not his fault.

The phone across the room rang out of nowhere, and for some reason, it terrified him. He was jump scared by a telephone ringing, and the glass slipped out of his hand and onto the pristine counter top, shattering across the surface which was immediately covered in the crimson liquid.

The first thing Kuroo noticed was how sweet the substance smelled. He remembers one of his lab partners telling him, at the beginning of this study, about the claims of this fluid; apparently the pheromones inside are strong enough to send anyone into a sexual hunger like no other. Just one smell is enough to do the trick. That was the point of this study, to determine if it was true and if so, how true, but Kuroo wasn’t supposed to be the test subject.

It didn’t really matter, though. He laughed it off.

Aphrodisiac studies are all bullshit, anyway, and have always been a waste of time and money.

He left the room to tell his coworkers of the accident and to ensure the proper way to clean up his mess. But he didn’t think he’d be sent home immediately.

The wide eyes of his peers made him laugh - it’s not like he started a fire or ingested a poisonous substance. He only got one good whiff of the stuff, so he really didn’t think it was a big deal. But, to them, it was a huge deal, so he made his way home knowing that nothing would happen.

Aphrodisiacs are bullshit.

On his drive home, he decided he’d give you a call and tell you all about it - he needed someone to laugh at this situation with him.

Sure enough, you did. “Of course you’re the one who inhales the powerful aphrodisiac before the experiment even gets started.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can be clumsy, I get it. Just be ready for me to be ferociously horny when I get home, babe.”

“Oh, I’ll be ready,” you laughed. “I’ll be here in my bathrobe with a face mask on - you won’t be able to resist me.”

“Come on, you already know I think you’re sexy at all times of the day. Even first thing in the morning - hold on, it’s three pm and you’re already getting ready for bed?”

“It’s already been a long day!” you argued. “We can have a spa day when you get home.”

“That sounds nice - I’m down.”

The conversation took his mind off of his earlier mistake, and when he got home, he had completely forgotten about it. He had his spa day, the two of you had dinner, you fell asleep on his shoulder while watching a movie on the couch - it was a typical day, save for his early arrival home.

Nothing had changed, and Tetsurou noticed no side effects.

Until he woke up in the middle of the night.

There was this pressure in his head, a throbbing that wouldn’t go away. His heart was pounding and it was all he could hear. His arms felt tense, his entire body felt stiff, he was drenched in sweat.

And he was holding onto you tight - he must have pulled you against him in his sleep and locked his arms around you. He’s definitely never been one to cling to you while he sleeps, so it felt a little too close for comfort.

Then, suddenly, he felt like he had run into a brick wall. His blood was rushing, he felt dizzy for seemingly no reason, and that’s when it all started.

“Shit,” he cursed, pulling away from you and rolling onto his back. He didn’t feel good, and not touching you made him feel weak. “Oh, fuck.”

That’s when he remembered what happened today at work.

But there was no way that was the reason for this - aphrodisiacs are bullshit - this couldn’t be caused by inhaling that fake love drug.

He needed to calm down, to get out of his head. It was all a placebo effect, and if he can just calm down, he can go back to sleep and he’ll wake up fine.

“Tetsu?”

The sound of your voice made him jump, and the look of your cute tired face made everything worse.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he replied, already feeling guilty at the sound of your worried tone. “It’s nothing, babe, go back to sleep.”

You were already sitting up, though, and you had already turned the bedside lamp on.

“Are you alright?” And your hand was on his cheek before he could see it coming, before he could tell you not to worry. “You’re burning.”

“I feel like I am,” he said. Everything was hot and amplified and overwhelming, and the only thing that seemed to help was your touch - but at the same time, it was making it worse. “Fuck.”

“I’m going to go get you some water,” you said, but before your feet could hit the floor Tetsurou was pulling you back into bed.

“No, don’t - don’t leave.” It was like something was taking over him. He didn’t feel like himself, but he didn’t care. The thought of you going anywhere else was something he just couldn’t handle - even if it was in the next room, it was still too far away. “Come here.”

He pulled you closer and closer until your lips were on his, and just one kiss made him feel like he needed to completely devour you.

That was it. That’s what was wrong with him. He needed you - that was the problem.

“I need you,” he moaned, rolling on top of you. “Let me have you.”

“Tetsu, it’s the middle of the night.”

“Please,” he begged, whining into your neck. He didn’t realize how hard he was until he started grinding against your hip, and what was usually pleasurable friction was now nothing but painful teasing. “Fuck, it hurts, kitten. Please, I need you - make it stop, make me feel better.”

You’d never seen him like this. You’d never heard him whining or begging for you - you couldn’t deny how much it turned you on, even if it was the middle of the night.

“Do you still think aphrodisiacs are bullshit?” you asked him with a laugh, but it was like he couldn’t even hear you. He didn’t reply, didn’t laugh, didn’t stop moving his hips. All he could do was beg for you, and it made it obvious that you were going to have to take the reigns.

“Okay, Tetsurou,” you breathed, pushing him off of you so you could look at him. “Let’s get your shirt off, baby.”

You pulled his shirt off as he tugged his underwear down, all while his begging continued.

His entire body felt hot. You were sure he was running a fever and that this isn’t what he needed to be doing - he would probably benefit more from a cold shower - but you knew he wouldn’t listen to you if you told him that.

“Tetsu, are you sure you don’t need some water?”

“No,” he insisted. “I just need to fuck you. Need to be inside of you, need to cum in you - please, baby. You’re all I can think about - I just want you.”

If he says you’re the only thing he needs, then what else can you do but give yourself to him? You’re the only one who can help him through this, so you have to give him what he needs.

“Okay,” you replied, “fuck me, Tetsurou.”

That’s all he needed to hear - he felt like he was waiting years to hear that consent, and now that he knew you wanted him too, he had no patience left.

He pulled your underwear off and you’re sure you heard it ripping, but you didn’t even care. Neither did he. He couldn’t wait, if he waited even a second longer he would scream, but the moment he finally sunk into you he felt like doing just that.

“Oh, holy fuck, that’s tight,” he moaned; he was completely lost in you.

He was already close. He had been teetering the edge from the moment he woke up, he just didn’t realize it until there was something to push him over. It’s like he was just about to cum, after hours of being brought to the brink, but had no way of getting that release.

His hips moved as if he had no way of controlling them. It was hard, fast, and rough, and you found yourself loving it. You were basking in his unharbored need for you, needing him just as much, wanting him to go even further.

Tetsurou didn’t even last a minute, but it didn’t matter - he fucked you through it and didn’t stop. He hardly even felt it. Cumming didn’t take his pain or need for you away, it only amplified it.

But for the first time that night, it actually felt like he was there. He could control his movements; he could open his eyes and see what he was doing; he could take a deep breath without feeling his head spin.

His hips slowed down so he could wrap his arm underneath your leg, pulling your body into a new position that helped you feel as good as he did.

“Fuck, kitten,” he cursed, watching as his cock dipped in and out of you. “You’re all I need - you’re so good, too good. Taking my cock so well, being so good for me. No one else can make me feel like this - only you.”

“Tetsurou, fuck!”

“That’s it,” he said with a wide smirk, “scream for me, kitten. I want everyone to know who’s fucking you so well - come on, do it, scream my name.”

With how good he was making you feel it was impossible not to reward him with what he wanted, and you were so close to finishing that you didn’t care about any embarrassment moaning so loud would lead to.

The louder you were, the faster he pounded into you. Little time passed before you were milking his cock for everything he had, cumming so hard on him that he had no control over his own orgasm.

And it was everything he needed. He was seeing stars, floating through space, completely weightless, all because of you; you were everything he needed. He’d never felt so much relief.

“Fuck,” he cursed, “holy shit.”

You were catching your breath, while Kuroo felt like he was breathing for the first time in his life. Now, the only thing he needed was air in his lungs; he was exhausted and sensitive and, finally, back on earth.

“Are you okay?”

“I am now. Holy shit. Are you okay?”

You laughed, “Yeah, babe,” but he looked over your body just to be sure.

“What time even is it?” he asked. You shrugged. “I don’t know what came over me - I’ve never needed to fuck you that badly.”

“I liked it,” you told him. “Your begging was hot. You should bring some of that chemical aphrodisiac bullshit home, babe.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he scoffed as he was cleaning both of you up. “That is not the cause of this.”

“You just can’t stand to be wrong, can you?”

“I’m not wrong!” he insisted, but Kuroo knew he was lying through his teeth.

Aphrodisiacs are, in fact, not bullshit, but he’d never admit it - not even for the sake of science.

But, maybe, the two of you would have to do some more experimenting of your own.

tune in tomorrow for kinktober day 4: in public

#kinktober 2020 #not family friendly #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 3 years

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Hello there, I truly enjoy your blog. And I especially like going through your tags that talk about "wokeism", the corruption of education and using logic to find fallacies in an argument.

I am an atheist, raised loosely catholic (my family never was the type to actually practice or preach anything to us youngsters, and I consider my self quite lucky in that regard). What bothers me the most is that even though I consider myself out of religious thinking, I still do indulge in an another variant of magical thinking from time to time. As in "I want to practice witchcraft" kind of thing.

Maybe what got me so hooked is that especially here on tumblr is full of people who proclaim that magic is tangible and has indisputable results... When done right. But that might change from person to person. Because no one has a definitive say in the how-to since it's not, you know, a science. And this sounds suspiciously similar to what religion and especially prayers seem to offer.

I would love to hear you think abou this topic, because it is kind of sad that I can't really play pretend when I know underneath all of this it's just placebo effects and self-suggestion and whatnot... Sometimes I feel like I am missing out on the fun you know? Especially when it comes from very compelling bloggers, because they have a very good internal system of explanations to this phenomena where everything works perfectly fine... Except for the fact that you can never be sure it *really* works.

I think there is a lot to say, because it seems to me there is a very big overlap between practicing a religion and practicing magic.

Sorry for the rant. I hope this is something you are willing to reply to.

I've talked about Wicca/Witchcraft before, as well as Paganism in general, and a general purpose magical thinking answer. My short answer is that I don't begrudge anyone prancing around in nature doing rituals, dancing naked around a fire, or whatever it might be, for enjoyment, to commune with nature, blow off stress, whatever.

But as soon as they make a factual claim about its efficacy, then that's where they, ahem, conjure a burden of proof. Things that are true and real in reality leave footprints, some detectable effect that can be confirmed. If they want to say that it "works," that they've confirmed it, then they're saying it's both testable and measurable. There's money to be made if they can pass a test to prove it. But even without a financial incentive, who wouldn’t want to change the world by proving that you knew the True™ thing?

To insist that it's real but can't be detected is to contradict oneself. How can the practitioner know it worked if they can't detect it? Yes, this is the same as every other religious insistence on an intangible, immaterial, undetectable god who is nevertheless "real."

Science is not a belief, it's a method. And as a method, it's also extensible, in that new ways of detecting, measuring, describing, evaluating can be introduced. That's how we got Quantum Mechanics, DNA, etc. Repeatable, reliable ways of evaluating a claim that provide universal verification - that is, it doesn't require that a Xian or Wiccan do the test, or a man or a woman, or a Japanese or Cuban person or anything else; anyone who does the test gets the same result, as long as they follow the method.

If no one has a definitive say, then we can conclude it's not verifiable; it sounds like it's not even definable. If there's no agreed upon definition or concept, there's no way the results themselves can be agreed upon. The notion that it must be "done right" implies such a definition does exist, and then can be the basis of such a test.

I wouldn't feel "left out." They're engaging in delusions, whereas you're not.

I will guarantee you one thing though: have you ever seen one of those teen comedies from say the late 90s or the early 00s, where some kids get hold of some "drugs" and take them, but it turns out it's like paracetamol or oregano or something, and some of them are like "ooh, yeah, I feel it," and some of the others - usually the protagonist - are like "um, yep, sure," because they're only pretending?

I guarantee you that some proportion is the same. You'll certainly have people prone to confirmation bias who will validate their expectations based on unremarkable pattern matching (apophenia). But you'll also have people pretending to experience it too so they can be part of the thing, because they don't want to be left out. There's an elephant in the room that they're not talking about, because they don't want to break the, ahem, spell, so to speak.

You're just more honest about it. If you enjoy it, don't worry about it. You don't have to be a Xian to enjoy the elaborate design of a cathedral. And you don't have to believe in literal magic to enjoy the rituals and activities of playing witch.

The irony is that you'll actually be getting something real out of it, while they, thinking they have magic powers, won't.

#ask #wicca #witchcraft #burden of proof #religion #faith is delusion #reality #delusion #religion is a mental illness

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femmesandhoney · 2 years

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wig bestie finally a good subliminal take. i'm kinda in the same boat as in i'm also not certain about what they are and how they work (most likely placebo but-) and i don't really care as long as it works. you have no idea how glad i am to meet a gencrit/radfem with similar beliefs to me tho. been in the community since 2017 and lately it's been like... 80% 14 year old they/xems who watched one too many draco malfoy reality shifting tiktoks so i was starting to worry that maybe i'm not as different from them as i'd like to believe 😭

i mean the actual study of subliminals is interesting from a psychological standpoint, but it's not what most people on tik tok think it is lol. doesn't surprise me the 14 year olds wouldn't bother to sit down and read any actual studies done on the subject, much less look up any actual info about what subliminals are. again i think most of those like "listen to these musical frequencies" don't actually do anything for you subliminally and might just help one get into a meditative state and raise their energy, which is what i would suspect is actually making them feel positive, and we all know feeling good in general will make your worldview shift and hopefully attract good things to you. they just connect it to the vids and stuff they're listening/watching. glad i can make you feel less lonely tho on radblr lol!

#im a very energy focused witch i guess but i can't believe people get into subliminals and don't actually look up the psychology :/#like idk it takes a few clicks to go yeah it's probs just placebo perception bs but still if it makes u feel good go for it #ask #anon #but yeahhh placebo mostly #good placebo tho lmao

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why-this-kolaveri-machi · 3 years

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it’s a fucking metaphor!

Titans 3.08

i’ve finally gathered the mental and emotional resources to do this thing, so let’s go! as always, i’m typing this up as i see the episode.

SPOILERS AHEAD

1. on watching this opening scene, i was thinking back to how gar was in s1, or even the early bits of s2. the way he idolised the others, particularly dick, and his readiness to go along with whatever they said, and the way he practically bled the need for acceptance. and here he is now, openly defying dick, fully open to and aware of the flaws of the people he loves and admires, knowing he is accepted no matter what and extending that generosity elsewhere. it’s a remarkable bit of character growth that’s... sort of blossomed in the background and so rewarding to see and acknowledge.

1.25. i guess what i really love about this conflict over how to respond to jason--as clumsily as it is sometimes written--is how their histories and individual traumas inform each character’s reaction. dick is torn between his guilt over what’s become of jason and his drive to do what batman had essentially given up on doing: he is motivated to track down red hood at all costs but there’s a sense that he’s not completely sold on the idea that the only way to stop him is to kill him. (he might go the comics route and try to put him in arkham? god, imagine if the season ended with jason in arkham.) kory’s never had much of a connection with jason in the first place, and jason has done one of the worst things he could do in her book: track and kill a member of her newfound family and is threatening to kill more.

and gar... sure. look. the idea of jason and red hood as separate entities appeals to him; that red hood emerged when jason was drugged to the gills by scarecrow and lost his usual inhibitions. gar’s struggled with what he becomes when he’s pushed to his limits, too--he did rip open that experimenting scientist with his teeth way back in 1.07, after all, and he was brainwashed by cadmus in s2 into becoming a literal monster. he needs to think, to know, there’s a dichotomy, a line that can only be crossed under extreme duress or by outside influence.

and he says--and we say--that he was accepted back into the titans in spite of what he’d done, but was he really? gar’s always struggled with his footing in this group; relegated to the caretaker, the tech guy, the gatekeeper, and sometimes punching bag even though everybody’s paying lip service to how much of a family they all are. perhaps gar reaching out to jason and offering acceptance is aspirational on his part: perhaps this is the effort he hoped the titans put/or will put into getting gar back, even when it would seem like he’s too far gone.

1.5. anyway my point is that i don’t think it’s worth discussing this in terms of right/wrong decisions because all of their reactions make a lot of sense given their backgrounds/personalities. gar is doing a fine job here of tracking down jason’s friends and trying to find him that way, but we the audience know that jason is ultimately going to end up an anti-hero/eventually-hero character, so with that knowledge in mind we know that gar’s reaction is the right one. it’s knowledge that the other characters don’t have, so to judge them on it is... uh, unfair.

1.8. also, molly is awesome, yay!

2. dick and barbara flirting over the phone is so cute! i love to see this side of dick: lighter, peppier, willing (even if somewhat reluctantly) to put his mission aside to go out on a date with his girlfriend. and i love how easy this makes his dynamic with kory too: it’s all very domestic and utterly delightful.

(also, re: the water leak in barbara’s office--you’re saying GCPD could afford fancy-schmancy table-wide touch screen computers and evil-lair lighting but needs its frickin’ commissioner to catch leaking water from above her desk with mugs and fishbowls????)

2.2225. this is probably a teeny tiny thing and i’m not sure i want to bring it up at all BUT. the fact that dick feels compelled to lie to barbara about not liking fancy gala food and eating something more substantial before the date? not a terribly great sign, though i wouldn’t call it a red flag per se.

“this from a man who forced his students to eat cauliflower crust pizza...”

3. so.... conner and kom are a Thing. huh.

in theory i really like the idea of them bonding over an innate alien-ness and longing for a place they could really belong. both of them are alien twice-over: conner a mix of kryptonian and human, practically generated in a test tube, and kom being somebody that was born different and rejected by her own people, now stuck on a planet dominated by an entirely different species. i even like them exploring this bond physically. i guess it’s the sense of... uneasiness around what we do and don’t know about kom that makes this scene land slightly left of centre to me. i think titans, especially through s2, has cultivated in its audience a sense of distrust even until the final episode, just in case somebody vital to the season is suddenly revealed to have had ulterior motives (i’m even low-key suspicious of leslie). i really want to see this kom-conner dynamic play out but the anticipation of watching the other shoe drop is sucking out the enjoyment.

4. for fuck’s sake dick, gar’s not your gatekeeper.

TIIIIIIIIMMMMM \O/

4.5. i love this nod to tim’s origins in the comics, the way he just comes in and lays out all his evidence and makes it clear to dick that he needs tim’s help as robin. the fact that he was there at the flying graysons’ last performance, he was obsessed with their acrobatic moves, and was observant enough to connect those moves with that of robin and later nightwing... all of this came together to put him where he is right now.

(i also love how he can’t contain his giddy excitement when talking about the day dick grayson’s parents died... to dick grayson. even if dick weren’t nightwing, that would be a deeply uncomfortable thing! yet tim can’t help himself, and i love him for it.)

4.8. it’s a testament to how much dick’s caught off-guard that he can’t come up with a better response to tim’s allegations other than “uh... he stole my moves! as you know, no two gymnasts in the world are allowed to do the same moves. now, let me escort you out while pretending poorly that i’m not at all shaken by this...”

4.9. i’ve talked about this before, but i find the logic around secret identities in this universe utterly fascinating. the titans don’t make much effort in keeping their identities secret: everybody seems to know that kory is starfire for instance, or that gar is beast boy. dick grayson is seen hanging out with kory a lot, especially at crime scenes. it won’t take a lot of sleuthing to find out that the titans are currently camped out at wayne manor, and to put two and two together.

my theory was that superheroes and villains have become such an integral part of daily society that it’s almost not worth it to seek out their secret identities, or that it’s just not a big deal anymore. like politicians or diplomats, not everybody bothers to look into who exactly their local politician is, but the people who know just... know. it’s a sort of unspoken social contract.

tim’s broken this contract by confronting dick about his identity, and dick’s not ready to deal with it. not entirely.

look at him! *pinches his cheeks*

5. ngl, it was quite satisfying to see jason knock the scarecrow out like that.

5.5. i guess... the question of jason’s culpability is always going to be a thorny one and would make for a great courtroom drama spinoff. there are a number of factors to consider: jason’s personality, the rough circumstances under which he grew up, his undoubtedly stressful transition to being robin, bruce wayne being... well, bruce wayne, never feeling accepted by the titans and having most of them turn on him, being roundly defeated and almost killed by deathstroke, alfred’s death, a fuckload of ptsd, his violent death, crane’s manipulations, coming back to life, crane plying him with a drug. but there is no easy line to draw between any of these factors to his actions. i think it would be a disservice to jason’s character to attribute his actions entirely to these things and rather irresponsible to do so. i think jason has to reckon with the fact that when he took crane’s drug, he wasn’t reckless and chaotic like the thugs he gave it to; the planning that went into hank’s death was meticulous and the way hank died--dawn essentially tricked into pulling the trigger that blew her lover into bits--is so drawn out and cruel.

5.75. it’s occurring to me that crane might have given jason a placebo. maybe jason’s dependence is psychological, and he’s externalised his fears in such a way that he believes crane’s drugs literally wipe them out, however temporarily.

in any case, the boy needs (more) therapy.

6. “he walked like robin...” fuck, tim

“gait recognition sweep” god, this show. i don’t know whether to laugh or cry. hey, once we’re done doing this gait recognition thingy, can we get a goddamn plumber in the house??? or move the commissioner’s desk so that sewage water isn’t dripping on her head or the million dollar touchscreen desk???????

6.5. oh no dick!!!!!! i am delighted that you got hurt but i feel ashamed about it! that looked like it really hurt!

he’s really not having a good time of it, is he. from being shot by a sniper to slamming at full speed into an suv, he’s got to be really fucking battered by now. and that’s just the physical side of it.

“can you believe that just over a week ago i was sitting in san francisco eating cauliflower crust pizza and feeling good about myself for the first time in five years...”

7. kory’s having visions again! now that she’s figured what they are, do you think the show’s just dropped justin? it’s curious that HPG hasn’t been brought up in a while after featuring relatively heavily in the beginning. hmmm.

8. dick’s in hospital but... he looks remarkably whole for someone who took a spill like that. you’d think he’d at least have a bruise to show for it. on the other hand, i love that the first thing he says is ‘i need to call home’. reminds me of season 1 dick and his clumsy attempts to explain away his found family as an ‘alliance of necessity’ or some bullshit. what a long way he’s come!

*gasp* dick’s hallucinating again!!!!!!!!!!!! i’m doing the dick’s hallucinating dance! can you believe that we’re carrying over these huge honking issues unearthed in season 2 onto season 3? can you believe?!!! all that time and effort i spent talking about dick’s mental health from last season has not gone in vain!!

... ahem. anyway. more on this later.

“hold on barbara, i think kory gave me the number to this therapist that she kept calling Hot Psychiatrist Guy...”

9. just an interlude to say that i’m barely halfway through the episode and i’ve already written 2k+ words... ugh. i’m going to try and be more concise.

10. man i fuckin love it when titans goes all out with its weird mindscapes and i’m extra glad that kory’s the focus this time. is that baby kom or maybe a secret sibling that neither of them knew about? was that lady luand’r? and is this place where kory was circling where the secret sibling is? it’s all very intriguing.

(if justin turned out to be that sibling... we’ve a real luke/leia situation on our hands.)

11. aw, i knew that nice security guard was going to die, but it still hurt to see him go :(

12. this show is so bizarre. like i get the mindscape as a narrative device, but jason using sex workers to try and vocalise his guilt about killing hank was just weird. like. i have to use tamil, sorry: idhulaan yaaru pa room pottu yosikara??? some things just can’t be translated into a second language.

i guess one way to interpret jason’s reckoning with what he did to the titans as a sign of him coming off crane’s drug, but i think it’s more to do with the disillusionment of realising that he was a mere pawn in a more sinister plan, and not, as he thought, a player in control of his destiny, rising to the purpose of liberating gotham of its fears in a way batman never could. along the way, he’s done some truly irreversible damage. it’s a bitter pill to swallow.

13. another hallucination! it’s really intriguing that it’s a young dick(?), younger than we’ve ever seen him, wearing an early-era robin costume from way before he even became robin. (this is also interesting in that it gives credence to the idea that ‘robin’ is an identity that dick created entirely on his own, and as a possible homage to his family.)

“old road, old house... it’s all gone.” i wonder what it all means.

13.5. it’s entirely likely dick’s hallucinating because of a brain injury from the accident, though just hallucinations without any other focal neurological deficit is unusual. he might’ve been microdosed with fear toxin at some point, though i wonder when... did jason do so after dick’s accident? did he get dosed at the factory from last episode?

it’s also possible it’s a continuing manifestation of dick’s issues from last season--which, if you remember, he never told anyone about and therefore never properly addressed. maybe he was hallucinating bruce wayne in a psychotic episode accompanying an acute stress reaction and maybe that’s what’s happening now. nobody’s denying that he’s under an extraordinary amount of stress right now. another way to look at it is that this is how he externalises conflict that he can’t bear to suppress anymore; if in s2 halluci!bruce manifested his insecurities and self-loathing, then these hallucinations... something to do with his fears, no doubt.

yet ANOTHER way to look at it might be: rachel is reaching out to him through their, well, psychic bond. after all, they were able to use that bond unconsciously last season to get the titans back together; maybe rachel has learned to gain a degree of control over it in themyscira and is sending across warnings? it’s all very intriguing.

anyway:

“i hear you skipped over the discowing suit in your evolution to nightwing... how could you??”

14. can you imagine, gar did all the work of reaching out to jason via molly and jason wants to meet dick? smh.

14.5. “i’m just a regular guy doing regular things” he says, standing at the opening of a secret old tunnel, like a secret person doing secret things, confronting someone who can now officially be called his stalker. neither of you guys are ‘regular’

14.8. ‘my dad was a cop and he taught me how to investigate’ - hmmm. i guess they’re trying to Explain Tim but i don’t think that’s really necessary. so he’s smart and he’s obsessed with batman and robin--that should be enough, imo.

15. that scene with scarecrow and his mother was... wow. i’m just laughing here helplessly, because what the hell? for a while i thought it was an extended dream sequence and i’m still not entirely sure that it isn’t...

anyway. i still love that titans is happy to throw out its plot in favour of extended character-exploration sessions.

15.5. it seems to me that this scene with crane and his mother (i have no idea if there’s anything in the comics similar to this) serves to move forward this season’s theme of harmful legacies and how parents can damage their children in the name of their mission. in a way it’s been the underlying message of the entire show but we’re really seeing it being reinforced this season. the titans, serving as a foil to scarecrow, are using the damage to rebuild themselves and actually work through their issues together, instead of spiralling further and further into the morass of their issues.

other than that... god, that scene was painful to watch. i can’t say i like this version of scarecrow or how this actor plays him at all.

16. i wonder what’s jason’s play here. i think he’s smart enough to realise that the titans aren’t going to just forgive him and let him be a titan again after what he did, and that dick agreeing to it is just a bid to pin both him and crane down. maybe it’s a ploy to trap them, get back on scarecrow’s good books so that he can have the drug again. who knows.

17. i absolutely felt dick when he said “we’ll bring him in and then re-assess the situation.” what the fuck else is he going to say? the priority is to get him.

so kory and dick are both hallucinating while potentially trying to rehabilitate their murderous siblings. CONFIDE IN EACH OTHER ALREADY

18. TIM NOOOO! you beautiful, reckless fool!

18.25. just to quickly address it here because i know it’s been brought up before: i think it’s perfectly justified to not have conner take tim to the hospital via superspeed because a) i don’t think we’ve seen conner do that with anybody so far and b) it’s probably not a good idea to submit tim’s body to that kind of stress without knowing what it would do to him. the paramedics with actual equipment and experience would be there in a few minutes, so on a risk assessment, i would say dick and conner absolutely made the right call.

18.5. i guess we won’t know what jason really intended to when the titans came to the pump to see him, but this is definitely going to set a big wedge in his relationship with crane. then again, crane got what he wanted--using starfire’s powers to blast through to the underground pipes--so jason can argue that this is exactly what he was working towards, too.

anyway, mortal peril, hallucinations, murderous family members, creepy visions and robins sprouting left and right. time to get rachel and donna on the scene, i think.

#titans #titans spoilers #meta #garfield logan #dick grayson #koriand'r #jason todd #tim drake #jonathan crane #conner kent #komand'r #aaaaah this is 3k+#*collapses in a heap*

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sweetyyhippyy · 3 years

Text

Part of You. Spencer Reid X OC! Character. Chapter 14.

Chapter 14: Diana

(NOT MY GIF)

Summary: Bridgett finally meets Diana. Based off the episode “Surface Tension” (12x11).

TW: Mentions of Schizophrenia, Dementia, and Alzheimer's. Talk of Diana hitting Spencer, mentions of medication, sad Spencer.

Word Count: 3.3k

A.N.: This is season 12 Spencer. Italicized words are a flashback.

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

“We talked about this, I think we should just wait a little bit longer. She’s already going through a lot of changes.” Spencer says, looking up at Bridgett.

Bridgett sighs and hops on top of Spencer’s desk, which she knew annoyed him, but both of them knew he wasn’t going to say anything to her.

“Babe, at some point I’m going to have to meet her. Are you just going to hide me away forever?”

“Not forever… just for a while. Maybe in a few months when I can get her settled I can think about it.”

“Okay, okay. But I am going to miss being able to have our sleepovers.” Bridgett exaggerates her pout and leans down to kiss him.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I heard there was a stranger here visiting.” JJ jokes.

The couple pulls back, Bridgett’s face immediately growing hot at getting caught kissing Spencer. Spencer gets up and goes over to hug JJ and finally meet Steven Walker.

It had been a few weeks since Spencer had been at work, he had been in Houston with his mom at the new care facility she had been moved to for a clinical trial. Both of them thought things were going really well for the first few weeks she was there and Spencer called to check on her, but then every few days he would get a call that something happened.

“Yeah a nap sounds like a good idea.” Spencer says over the phone, running his hand through his hair. “I-I love you too. Bye, mom.” He lets out a sigh as he hands up the phone.

Bridgett stays quiet as she shuts the door to Spencer’s apartment . He looks up from his desk, giving her a half smile.

“Hey. I didn’t hear you come in.” He mumbles.

“I heard you on the phone, I didn’t want to interrupt. Is your mom okay?” Bridgett questions, putting her overnight bag on his couch and walking over to his desk.

“She didn’t know where she was. She thought that one of her friends from the home in Nevada had been kidnapped and she wanted us to investigate.” He looked so sad as he spoke. “I think she’s getting a placebo. I don’t think she has the medication.”

“But she was doing better?”

“I just thought she was doing better. Maybe I just wanted to believe that she was getting better because I don’t want to see her suffer anymore.” Spencer says somberly, leaning back in his chair.

“Baby,” Bridgett says sadly, cupping Spencer’s cheek in her hand, rubbing his cheek with her thumb. “Maybe it’s going to take time for the medication to work.”

“Since last week I’ve been thinking about going to Houston and bringing her to live here, that way I can take care of her.”

“I mean this in the most loving way possible, but do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Why not? I took care of her by myself when I was a kid and my dad walked out on us.”

“I know, but Spence, you don’t work a regular 9-5 job, we’re gone all the time, for days, even weeks. Do you think she’s going to be okay by herself all that time?”

“I’m going to hire a care nurse to help out when we’re gone. I just… I want her close.”

“Well maybe I can help out too when we are home, that way you don’t have to do it alone.”

“Well my mom doesn’t know you, she might not be that… welcoming.” Spencer rolls his chair back and starts to walk away toward his kitchen, Bridgett following right behind him.

“Spence, don’t you think at some point I’m going to have to meet her? Especially if I have your children and marry you, spend the rest of my life with you?”

“Yes at some point. Just not this point.” Spencer snaps, instantly regretting it once he turns around to look at Bridgett. She tenses her jaw, glaring at him.

“I get that you’re stressed out, and I’m sorry, but you don’t have to be a dick to me.” Bridgett snaps back, walking out of the room and into his bedroom, slamming the door shut.

Spencer let her cool off by herself for a few minutes, he knew he was the one that was in the wrong and he would have some serious apologizing to do. He didn’t mean to yell at her, Bridgett was right, he was stressed out… and again she was right, it was no excuse to yell at her. Just as Spencer gets up from his couch the door to his bedroom opens, Bridgett walking out slowly.

“I’m sorry.” She says in a small voice, leaning her back against the doorframe.

“Why are you sorry? You have nothing to be sorry about, Bridge. In fact. I'm the one that’s sorry.”

Bridgett walks over to the couch, sitting next to Spencer.

“You’re right.. I-I am stressed out. I want my mom to get better… but I know she’s not goi…” Spencer’s voice trails off, sighing and leaning his head back on the couch.

“You know she’s not going to get better?” Bridgett asks, finishing his thought.

Spencer looks at her, hesitant to confirm her statement. “I’ve done so much research on possible medications she can take to help with her Schizophrenia… but the dementia throws a wrench in the plan.”

“Baby, I know it’s hard to see your mom go through such hard times, especially when you can’t just drive and see her. Whatever you feel is right, you should do, and I’ll back you 100%.”

“Thank you, Bridge. Do you forgive me for yelling at you?”

Bridgett nods her head, bringing Spencer into her chest and hugging him.

***

Spencer’s phone rings from his desk, Bridgett handing it to him.

“Dr. Reid...What? Just stay there, I'm on my way.” Spencer hangs up, grabbing his satchel and notebook.

“What’s wrong?” Bridgett asks, hopping off his desk.

“Uhh, a water pipe burst in my apartment. I gotta go.” He stumbles over his words, not making eye contact with Bridgett.

He’s lying.

“What was that about?” Emily calls out from behind.

“Spence is having plumbing trouble at his apartment.” Stephen replies.

“Oh no, poor Spence.” Emily says.

Bridgett hurries up the stairs to Emily, pulling her into her office. “Do you think I can stay back? Help Spence out? I don’t think it was plumbing trouble. His mom is living with him at his apartment right now and I think something happened.”

“She’s here? What happened to Houston?”

“You know the clinical trial for the medication to help her Alzheimer’s? Spencer didn’t think it was working so he went to Houston to bring her back here.”

Emily sighs, scratching the back of her head. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. But stay near your phone, okay? I might need you to come back to the office.”

“You got it. Thank you, Em.”

***

Bridgett pulls up to the parking spot next to Spencer, meeting him as he was getting out of the car. He drove like an old man, Bridgett not so much.

“What are you doing here?” Spencer asks, walking up to Bridgett.

“Emily let me come help you out since you were having ‘plumbing issues’.” Bridgett air quotes. “What happened, really?”

Spencer sighs, kicking at the road below him. “I’m not 100 percent sure. Her caretaker just said something happened and the apartment was flooded and my mom was upset.”

“Let’s go check.”

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea.” Spencer starts.

“Spencer please. I want to help you.” Bridgett rolls her eyes, over him trying to prolong the inevitable meeting.

“Okay… you’re right.”

They walk up to Spencer’s apartment, he unlocks the door to a sea of water covering Spencer’s floor.

“Oh my god.” Bridgett gasps, carefully stepping in behind Spencer. “Go check on your mom. I’ll start trying to soak some of this water up.” Bridgett heads off to the kitchen, grabbing all the towels that Spencer owns, which really wasn’t a lot.

“What are you talking about? You can’t leave, you signed a contract!” Spencer yells from the other room.

Bridgett sticks her head out of the kitchen, watching as the woman yelled back at Spencer. “And it wasn’t in my contract to have a crazy woman threaten my life! She did this on purpose.” She spits.

“Hey! I’m sure your boss wouldn’t be happy with finding out that you’re calling your patients ‘crazy’. It is part of your job description to deal with whatever they have going on.” Bridgett spits back, walking up to the nurse, staring her down.

The lady looks between Spencer and Bridgett before grabbing her coat and ripping the door open.

“Is she gone?” Spencer’s mom comes running out of Spencer’s room toward the front door.

“Mom, what did you say to her?!”

“She was trying to get information! She was asking me questions.” She yells, shutting the door.

“Of course she is, that’s what she’s supposed to do.”

“That’s why I told you to be careful about who you bring in this house… there are spies everywhere.”

“She’s not a spy! She was here to help you!”

Spencer’s mom shushes him, walking toward him. “She could still be out there.”

Bridgett could see that Spencer was visibly growing agitated with his mom, while his mom was hyperventilating.

“Promise me that you won’t let her back in. Please don’t let her back in.”

“I promise you she’s not ever coming back because she walked out!” He yells.

“Spence, stop.” Bridgett interjects from the side.

Spencer’s mom jumps hearing a new voice, looking over to Bridgett.

“Who are you?! Why are you here?”

“I’m sorry, I’m a friend of Spencer’s, I work with him. My name is Bridgett. He needed some help cleaning up the water.” Bridgett says, putting her hand out, offering it to his mom.

Spencer’s mom stares at Bridgett, slowly putting her hand out to shake it. “Are you going to ask me questions?”

“No ma’am. Not if you don’t want me to.”

“Mom, why don’t you go lay down? Get some rest.” Spencer says, holding his mom’s hand.

“Okay. Yeah, I should go lay down. I want some water.”

“I can get you some. Be right back.” Bridgett says, turning and walking back into the kitchen.

***

“I can be back there in 20. I’ll call you when I get there. Okay, bye.” Bridgett hangs up the phone, slipping it into her back pocket. Bridgett walks back into Spencer’s living room, spotting him with his back turned, putting some books back upon the shelves.

“Hey, Emily called me, she needs me to run back to the office and help Garcia out tracking down information for the case. I’ll probably be a few hours.” Bridgett says, softly scratching his back with her nails.

“Okay. I have another nurse coming by any minute to talk to my mom and I about her coming to care for her.”

“Sounds good. And on my way back I’ll stop by the grocery store and pick some stuff up for dinner.”

“You’re going to make dinner for the three of us?”

“Yeah, when my nana was having bad days with her Alzheimer’s, my Tia would make her favorite meal to help comfort her. I don’t know your mom’s favorite meal, but I figured you would.”

Spencer beams at his girlfriend, pulling her in tight with his arm. “I love you.” He says, giving her two kisses on the lips.

Bridgett smiles back at him, giving him a small peck on his nose. “I love you too. I’ll be back soon. Text me what your mom wants okay?”

Just as Bridgett turns around she sees Spencer’s mom standing in the doorway of his room.

“Oh, Ms. Reid, I’m sorry.” Bridgett apologizes, embarrassed that she might have just seen her kissing her son.

“I heard you talking about dinner.”

“Yes, ma’am. I was going to make dinner when I came back later on in the evening.”

“I like Chicken Parmesan. I used to make it for Spencer when he was a kid, a lot.”

“Perfect. I have to head out for a little bit, but Spencer is staying here, and I’ll be back to make you some dinner.” Bridgett smiles, grabbing her bag and walking out.

“She’s your girlfriend?” Diana asks, hiding a smirk on her face.

“Yeah, she’s my girlfriend.” Spencer nods, smiling at his mom.

“She’s pretty. I like her.”

***

Bridgett puts the plastic bags on the floor to find the keys in her messy purse, would it have been easier to just have the keys in hand after she got out of the car? Yeah, but Bridgett never made things easy.

Once she fishes them out of her bag she unlocks the door, pushing it open with her hip and shuffling in with all of her stuff.

“Spence?” Bridgett calls out, heading straight for the kitchen and putting the bags down on his counter. She walks out to see Spencer sitting at his desk, he half smiles at Bridgett. “What’s wrong, babe?”

Spencer sighs, tapping his fingers on the desktop. “My mom had a bad episode.”

Bridgett rests against his desk, spotting a bruise forming on his cheek. “What is that?” She questions, running her pointer finger over the reddish, purple mark on his face.

Spencer stays quiet, avoiding eye contact with Bridgett.

“Di-did your mom do that to you?” She gasps.

He quickly looks over at Bridgett, nodding his head. “She was angry with me because I caught her trying to flush her medicine down the toilet.”

“She tried flushing it? I thought you kept her bottles out here with you?”

“She uhh, she swiped them off my desk when I was busy.”

She knew he was lying again, but she didn’t want to call him out on it right now.

“Spence… are you sure that having your mom live with you is the best idea? Do you think you can handle it?”

“Yeah i think I can handle it. Plus the nurse I met with agreed to take care of her while I’m gone.”

“That’s great. I’m glad she won’t be alone while we’re gone…. But are you sure you’re okay?”

The door opens behind them, Diana walking out. “That nap is just what I needed. Oh, you’re one of Spencer’s coworkers, umm, Bianca?”

“Bridgett, ma’am. Nice to see you again.”

“You’re very pretty. Spencer, isn’t she pretty?”

Bridgett beams at Spencer, giggling and waiting for him to answer.

“Yeah, she’s very pretty, mom.” Spencer smiles, running his thumb over her knuckles.

“Oh honey, what happened?” Diana asks, lightly touching the bruise on his face.

“I… I bumped into the wall. No big deal.”

“You know, when you were little you were always bumping into stuff, I would call you ‘Crash’.” She smiles, walking away with her book.

Bridgett pieces the words together in her mind, her eyes flickering to Spencer, furrowing her eyebrows. Spencer adverts his eyes, looking down at the paperwork on the table.

It was for sure going to be a conversation later.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you come look through this with me?” Diana says, turning her head to look back at Bridgett.

Bridgett gets up with a smile and plops on the couch next to her, seeing all the pages filled with old photos of Diana when she was growing up.

“What’s this?” Diana asks, flipping to a page in her scrapbook, showing the page to Bridgett.

Bridgett looks over at the page, half a ticket stub taped against the paper.

“A ticket stub.”

“What is that?”

“When you go to the movies or a concert, you need a ticket stub to get in.” Spencer says, sitting on the arm of the couch next to Bridgett.

Diana flips the page a flyer for Elvis in concert on the page. “You saw Elvis?” Spencer asks.

“I… I don’t know.”

They spent a few more minutes going though the book with Diana, helping her out with what she had questions with. She even told a cute little story of when Spencer was little and he wanted to be a tightrope walker, which made Spencer slightly embarrassed that Bridgett heard the story.

***

Bridgett turns the sink off, grabbing a dry hand towel from the drawer and begins to dry off the large pan that she used to cook the noodles in. She can feel someone behind her, making her turn around to see Spencer.

“What’s wrong? You look upset.”

“My mom… she didn’t know who I was.”

Bridgett puts the pan down on the counter, immediately pulling him in for a hug. He drops his head to rest on her shoulder, trying not to get upset in front of her, but as she rocked him side to side and rubbed his back the knot in his throat got harder to choke back.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know this is so hard for you.”

Spencer lifts his head up, wiping his eyes clear of any tears. “I want you to be honest with me. And I mean honest, no ‘whatever you think is best’ type thing, okay?”

Bridgett nods her head, holding his hand for comfort.

“Do you think I’m making a mistake by having my mom live with me here?”

Bridgett sighs, “The only reason I say yes is because of the fact we’re always gone. If you had more consistent hours and days you were at home, then I think it’s a good decision. But I know you aren’t willing to give up working with the team, so that’s the only reason I think it’s not the best decision.”

“I just… I don’t want to lose out on time I have left with her. What if I only have another year left with her? I left her when I was 18, I had her committed, I saw her maybe once a year once I was in training for the FBI… I feel like I wasted time with her.”

“You didn’t waste time with her. You were doing the best thing for both you and her. Look at how well she was doing for so long in Nevada. It was all the change with moving facilities, and she’s getting older, her mind is going to start going each day regardless if she has medication or not. It’s about making her as happy as she can be until it’s her time.” Bridgett gives him another hug, letting him cry into her shoulder.

***

“I better go. It’s getting late.” Bridgett says, combing through Spencer’s hair with her nails.

He looks up to her with sleep in his eyes, his head flat in her lap. “No, stay.”

Bridgett laughs, stroking his cheek. “Where do you expect me to sleep? On top of you? You’ll die.”

Spencer turns onto his side, hugging one of her thighs. “You’ve been on top of me before and I didn’t die. It was quite nice actually, I remember enjoying it.”

Bridgett’s mouth hangs open, a laugh of disbelief coming from her at his comment. “Bad boy!” She jokes, playfully hitting his shoulder.

Spencer laughs in return, pleased with himself and his sexual joke, usually Bridgett was the one who made the dirty comments. “I’m serious though, just sleep here. We’ve both fallen asleep on the couch before. I sort of don’t want to be alone through the night.”

“Okay, baby. I won’t go anywhere. I just gotta adjust myself. I can’t sleep like this.” Bridgett says.

Spencer gets up, watching her lay on her back, throwing two pillows behind her head. He settles his lanky body between her legs, resting his head just below her chest, wrapping his arms around her waist. Her hands find his hair again, playing with his wild curls.

“I love you.” Bridgett says, massaging his scalp with the tips of her fingers.

Spencer hums a little, “I love you more.”

#Spencer Reid #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid smut fic #spencer reid series #spencer reid x oc character #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler fluff #matthew gray gubler fan fiction #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler fan fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fan fiction #part of you fic

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nudityandnerdery · 3 years

Text

Get to know me better, I guess?

rules: answer the questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better!

tagged by @dhampir-vex

nickname: I feel like all of the nicknames I have are fairly specific for one or two people who use them? Maybe the closest I have is the general “Goddammit, Devin” I get when I make a bad pun.

pronouns: They/He

star sign: Taurus

height: 5′10“? I think.

time currently: 3:29 pm

birthday: Today

favorite bands/groups: VNV Nation, Flogging Molly, The Amazing Devil, The Killers, Garbage, Motion City Soundtrack, Queen, Gin Blossoms, The Smiths, Metric, Broken Bells, Bitter:Sweet, Counting Crows, Placebo, She Wants Revenge, clipping, Depeche Mode, okay that’s probably enough, I should stop.

favorite solo artists: Johnny Cash, Marina, K. Flay, Hozier, Elle King, Mazzy Star, Poe, Voltaire- why is it harder to think of solo artists than groups?

song stuck in your head: Cult of Dionysus

last movie watched: ...I’m drawing a blank.

last show you binged: Newsradio

when you created your blog: April 2011, oh my god.

last thing you googled: d&d dog I found this picture, which was pretty much exactly what I wanted:

other blogs: Oh god too many. Most inactive, but, you know, I still don’t want to delete them, because what if I decide to go back to that particular interest?

why you chose your url: I like alliteration.

do you get asks: Sometimes. Not a bunch.

how many people are you following: 760, a lot of which aren’t active, I just haven’t cleaned it out. And probably never will.

how many followers do you have: 25,976, some of whom aren’t bots!

average hours of sleep: Ahahahahahahahahahaha next question.

lucky number: 17

instruments: Harp and four string ukulele. At least, I own them. I can’t play them, but I would like to change that at some point.

what I’m currently wearing: My Anansi “Angry is good, angry gets shit done” shirt, black shorts, glasses, and beat-up dark green nail polish.

dream job: Novelist.

dream trip: Just go travel through all the Belmond train tours. Maybe the boat tours, too, who knows, it could be cool.

favorite food: I’m supposed to pick one? Not realistic. Carnitas, or tiramisu, or tamale cakes, or really good french dip sandwiches, or chashu, or pavlova, or... Look, food is good, right?

favorite song: Again, how am I going to pick one? First one that comes to mind.... Electronaut by VNV Nation

top 3 fictional universes you’d like to live in: Okay, well, here’s my question, am I just a general citizen, or do I have some plot relevance that’s going to make my life more interesting than the average citizen? Because having superpowers in the Marvel universe or being an X-Wing pilot could be fun. But if I’m just a regular person, something like the world the Muppets live in would be cool. Or Pushing Daisies, because even if I don’t have weird powers, it’s pretty.

Oh wow and there’s no way I’m tagging that many other blogs, sorry. But! If you are reading this and want to answer it, go for it! Tag me so I can read it!

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plush-rabbit · 4 years

Text

Can I Ask You Something?

| Part 10 |

There’s an odd thing about what happened that night. How he came to you unannounced without explanation, how you were sick to your stomach and feared that no one would hear your last breaths, how you touched him on your own will, letting your fingers rest upon his bare skin and craved his touch afterwards. But at the same time, your smiles were smaller and seemingly more tired than what he’s seen before and you made sure that space was between the two of you, eyes always watching him or more specifically- his hands. You hardly took your eyes off of them, always trailing them, always watching how they clasped around items with a finger held upwards, reaching out. You thought back to when you first saw him, furrowing your brows and sucking in your bottom lip when you successfully remembered that he had done that the night of the first hang out. You chastised yourself and wondered how you could be so blind, but only shook your head afterwards. No one immediately thinks that they’re friend could be a criminal. You thought of it as a tic or something, thought that perhaps he just grew into the habit and it stuck. You never would’ve realized that- It doesn’t matter. No amount of reasoning to yourself could ever make you feel better, could ever make you free of guilt. You know who he is and yet you haven’t gone off to report him. You kept his secret with tight lips and nervous laughter and a sickness that only faded when you slept.

You were interested in him, fascinated and grew a false image of him in your mind where he was someone good. You liked talking to him, liked telling him about your day. You liked how he looked on camera with dim lighting and shadows across his face. You liked how he talked and laughed at a poor attempt at a joke. You liked him. But now you feared him. You feared his wide smile, his hands, his eyes. You were terrified of him, never wanting to take your eyes off of him and his hands. His eyes weren’t red like rubies, they were red like fresh blood. His dry skin wasn’t just dry skin, it was clawed and red, angry and bloody. His hands weren’t long and careful, they were sharp and precise.

You had gotten lucky that time. You swallowed whatever you could in your dry mouth, more out of habit than anything else and kept your breath even, trying to calm down the storm brewing inside of you. Anytime you scratched at your skin, you would pull away, shaking and nervous, eyes glancing around the room as if you’d find a pair of eyes watching you. It was all too reminiscent of him. Touching your own wrist with the hand that touched his, made your skin burn. If you closed your eyes, you could feel his skin underneath your touch, the warmth of it, the coldness beneath it. It both terrified you and made you crave more all at once. He was a friend before and now he’s different. He’s different in your eyes but the same to the rest of the country.

The day outside was nice. A blue sky with white fluffy clouds that looked like they belonged on a painting with leaves that fluttered to the ground and twirled in the air in little spirals. It was a nice day, perfect to clear your mind and try to put any negative thoughts to the side. With heavy steps, you dragged yourself to a walk around the park, trying to stretch your legs and hoping that video you saw online about walking and anxiety was an actual thing and not some sort of placebo.

It’s working. Kind of. You think the fresh air definitely helps clear your mind but the churning mess in your stomach continues. It worked in the beginning- the walk. It helped you clear your head and when you listened to a playlist, you were able to daydream about anything else that was able to take your mind off of him for a moment. You didn’t want to think about him right now, he had already plagued your mind at every other hours of the day. You just needed a bit of time where you could feel yourself unwind without the constant fear of getting sick and spewing whatever you had in your stomach.

You never wanted to fear him. You wanted to be his friend, you wanted a friend that you met online and that’s it. You didn’t want whatever complicated entanglement of emotions this was. You just wanted for things to go back to normal.

But it never could and you think that’s the worst part of it all. He’s always going to be tainted in your mind.

There was only one saving grace to this entire ordeal- he cared for you- somewhat. He hadn’t killed you (yet), he showed his face to you, and he let you touch his neck and wrist without turning you to dust. You were fine. You were still alive and he had made sure that during his last attack, you were home.

You’re relieved. You’re disgusted. Your face heats at the thought of him. You fume when you remember who he is. You’re a tangled mess of emotions and whenever you try to detangle it, it causes you more pain and sickness. You wonder if he’d allow you to leave him. You wonder if you’d even have the courage; if you’d even want to.

The music fades and is replaced with a shrill ring that makes you flinch and answer quickly.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” his voice is gruff.

“You’re gonna need to be a lot more specific than that,” you tease, easily falling back into your olds ways. It’s easy to do this, easy to hear his voice and think he’s just another friend.

“Funny.” You can practically hear him roll his eyes. When you remain silent waiting for confirmation, he sighs. “Tomura.”

“Now was that so hard?” It’s so much easier to pretend that he’s still Tomura.

“Yes,” he growls. “You knew it was me.”

“Eh,” you shrug, turning on your heel to walk back to your apartment. “I hadn’t looked at the caller ID when you called so I was like only ninety percent sure it was you?”

“That’s dumb. Why hadn’t you checked?”

“I was listening to my tunes and then the ring was super loud and painful and I really didn’t want to hear it anymore.” You always were so open with him and now that it counts to keep quiet about your life, you can’t seem to shut up. “Anyways, what’s up? It’s pretty early for one of our calls.”

“Is it?” You hear him hum. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You hadn’t checked the time before you called?”

“I was ninety percent sure it was late when I called,” he said sarcastically.

You rolled your eyes. “Anyone ever told you you’re funny?”

“I think I’m hilarious.” He sounds so smug on the other line.

“Oh of course you are,” you smirk and skip over a crack on the sidewalk. “Whenever we talk, I’m always in stitches.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“Perhaps,” you purse your lips.

“I’ve made you laugh.” He pauses. “Have I?”

“Hm… I’m sure you have during one of our calls,” you stick the tip of your tongue out. “I’ve made you laugh,” you point out.

“That’s because whatever comes out of your mouth is ridiculous.”

“Wow,” you can feel your grin growing. “Just wow. Going right for the jugular, huh?” You scoff, and bring a hand up to rub at your neck, fingers freezing when they feel your pulse underneath.

“I’m not wrong.”

“You know, you’re not being very nice right now.” Your hand twirls the headphone wire around a finger. “I almost have half the mind to hang up,” you joke.

“Are you going to?” Overhead a bird chirps, fluttering onto a tree branch and hopping over to a nest. The bird flutters away when another comes onto the same branch. You try to follow it with your eyes but lose it as flies beyond your sight.

“No. I like talking to you,” your smirk grows, “even if you don’t make me laugh.”

“Fuck off,” he growls.

You give him a small laugh and it slowly fades away. You can hear him boast about how he made you laugh, poking fun at you and sarcastically repeating your last statement. You hum in response to him. The laughter that had bubbled out of you was sweet and light but you still feel sick.

“Yeah,” you speak softly, “you made me laugh.” It’s a rollercoaster of emotions with him, you never know what to feel and what to expect. “But I still think I’ve made you laugh more.”

“Tch. Whatever.”

“So like I mentioned earlier, it’s early for one of our calls. What’s up?”

You hear him clear his throat. “I don’t know,” he says. “I think I just wanted to talk to you.” The sentence makes both your heart full and ache all at once.

“Oh. That’s… unusually kind of you to say.”

“Shut it dumbass,” he says in a low voice and in the distant you think you hear a door slam.

“What? You said it!” You shake your head. “You’re not usually so nice to me—”

“Yes I am,” he argues.

“Tomura, you literally called me a dumbass.”

“It’s a nickname,” he argues.

“Nickname?” You say in exasperated voice. “You know, I’m not having this conversation.” You take in a deep breath. “For what it’s worth, I like talking to you too. You’re fun to talk to and uh, believe it or not, you’re interesting to be around,” you exhale and the knot in your stomach has loosened.

“What are you doing?” He changes the conversation and his voice is tight.

“I’m walking home. I went for a walk around the park to clear my head a bit.”

“About?”

“Just… too many thoughts, you know?”

“I guess.” He takes in a sharp inhale and gives a weak cough. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks hesitantly.

“No, no. It’s fine. It’s uh, remember that thing I cried about when you came over last?” You can feel your face burn in embarrassment. You still hadn’t gotten over that you actually cried in front of him.

“Yes.”

“Just about that. About them,” you whisper out.

“They sound like a dick.”

Your laugh is humorless. “No. They’re- They’re really cool. They’re a bit rough around the edges but I like them. They’re really- They’re really something special to me.”

He’s silent. “Well if they ever piss you off—”

“What?” You smirk. “You’ll kill them for me?” Your stomach drops. “It’s just a little friendly squabble,” you speak rapidly, shaking your hand in front of you, your steps hurrying. “It’s just a lot on me, seriously.” The thought that he would potentially kill for you (Is it even for you? Did you jump to conclusions prematurely?) makes you queasy.

“Whatever.” You don’t miss how he doesn’t deny your little “joke”. “If you really have a problem with this person, I don’t see why you don’t just talk to them or drop them.”

You wonder if you can be truthful with him. You wonder if he could or would ever be truthful with you. You sigh. “It’s not easy. I- I really like this person a lot. He means a lot to me and I know- or at least I want to believe- that he doesn’t mean to hurt me but, you know. Sometimes things happen on accident.” You kick a stray rock and watch it bounce off of the sidewalk and into the murky water on the side of the road.

“If he’s hurting you—”

You interrupt him. “I don’t think he’s aware that he’s hurting me- on accident or on purpose. He- He doesn’t know that I know something—” you’re pushing it— “but I can’t tell him that I know.”

“Why?”

The view of your apartment grows closer. “I don’t think he’d be very happy with me,” you speak gently, voice strained. “I think… I think best case scenario, he won’t care and we can still be friends. Worst case scenario—” you remember his long, thin hands with cracks in them— “he could kill me.”

“What?” He seethes out.

You jump and halt in your steps. “Tha-That’s like worst case scenario though!” You’re quick to rectify your mistake. “I uh, usually overthink things and my mind likes to think of the absolute worst outcome possible.”

“If he—”

“He means well. At least I think he means well.” You wonder how long you can go with describing your predicament until he catches on. “I just… I found out something I shouldn’t have. And,” you lip quivers, “I messed up is all.” You can hear the beginning of a word on his tongue, ready to start his sentence until you cut him short once again. “Can you promise me something?”

“What?” There’s curiosity and gentleness mixed into his voice.

“You have to pinkie swear about being honest or I won’t tell you.”

“We’re over the phone?”

“Just you know hold it up,” you hold your pinky up and you’re reminded of him again, “and curl it. It can be our thing. All friends have a thing.”

“You’re being childish.”

“Tomura,” you whine.

He clicks his tongue. “Fine. I pinkie promise,” his voice is mocking but you take it.

“Did you do the curl thing?” You still have your pinkie curled in front of you.

“Yes,” he grunts out.

“Okay,” you take a hop in your step and climb the staircase to your apartment, peeling paint falling from the rails from under your touch on the railing of the stairs. “Will… Will you promise that you’ll never be mad at me?”

He’s quiet for just a moment, and you lean against the railing of your apartment, watching people walk below you. Your finger scratches over the peeling paint and you sooth it over with the pads of your fingers.

“I can’t promise that.”

You can feel your heart stop. “Why?”

“You’ve pissed me off before, I’m sure you’ll do it again.”

You nod into the receiver. It’s a still moment between the two of you. Somewhere above you, you hear a door click close with heavy steps that fade away. There’s laughter and shouts around you, fast climbing of the stairs and whistling. There’s life around you and on the other sound of the phone is someone who brings death.

“Yeah,” you speak softly, “I guess that makes sense.” You wonder if he ever did think about killing you.

“What about you?” He asks, his voice serious. “Will you ever be mad at me?”

The setting sun casts orange across the sky, mixed with hues of blue and pink. Shadows stretch long into the road below and it seems that with the fading daylight, people match the mood that is outside, their voices are quieter, with the sting of coming cold nipping at their skins and cold winds that make their clothes flutter. “I don’t know. I think fights in friendships are normal so I can’t exactly promise that.”

“So we’re going to fight?”

If you focus, you think you can see your breath in front of you. “Maybe.” Your phone buzzes in your hand. “I hope not.”

“Are you home?”

“Yeah, I got home a bit ago.” Your hand grips the railing and your knuckles turn white. “Right now, I’m just outside.” Somewhere, you can hear the barking of dogs and the honk of a car. “Do you want to have a video call? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” you turn around and open the door, goose bumps ride your skin and you bring a hand to soothe over your chilled skin. “If you want, you know,” you add.

“Sure,” his reply is quick. “Let me just get set up.”

“Yeah, same. See you in a bit then.”

You shut the door and your press your back against the wood. The flat is dark, weak strays of sunlight peek through the blinds and share a bit of its warmth and guidance. It’s dark inside, and for a moment you’re alone. The noise from the outside is gone. There is no noise and only fleeting sunlight which is overpowered by the shadows. You’re still for a minute. And then you take a deep breath with closed eyes and hold it for a few seconds, letting it go slowly. You peel yourself off of the door and make your way inside.

He waits for you to accept his call, His hands reach over to his face, clawed and extended but he stops an inch before he can feel his skin. Red eyes dart over to the corner of the room where an old blanket is clumped and hiding something.

It’s your gift to him.

It holds a few creams of different scents, one with no scent, a few soap bars that were in the shape of macaroons and one in a rectangle that smelled of the night after rain. It was a sweet, personalized gift that you had given him, complete with a note that read:

To Tomura,

Hope this makes your skin feel better! Tell me if it doesn’t and I can try new things to get you:)

With love Love,

Your friend

He can’t remember the last time someone wrote him a note or had even given him a gift. It all remains untouched. He picked everything carefully out of the bag the night he returned home, and dragged a finger across the edges, carefully minding the placement of the rest of his hands. He told himself, he won’t ever use it- it was all too precious to him. If he used it, it would run out and he would be forced to throw your gift away.

He couldn’t promise you that he won’t ever get mad at you but when he looks at the thin, tearing fabric that protects something that you had given to him, for him, he makes up his mind. He won’t ever be mad at you. He can’t hurt you. He’ll lay waste to society and make sure that you remain untouched. There’s warmth in his chest as he carefully walks over to wear the bag sits, how his hands carefully remove the tissue paper and he moves at a slow pace until he picks the note up and places it next to him. The blanket shrouds the gift, protecting it poorly from wandering eyes and he grabs the note and makes his way back to his seat.

He folds it open and lays it to rest next to the monitor, watching as it tries to flutter to a close only to be opened back up with a fold in the opposite direction to make sure it stays.

“Love,” he whispers. It’s a foreign word on his tongue. It’s a deep, meaningful word and he’s sure he’s felt some form of it before. To his sensei, to Kurogiri, to the League even if he won’t admit it out loud. But it’s all felt different. Was it devotion? A sense of familiarity? Camaraderie? None of it ever gave him this feeling. It was as if he were on fire whenever he saw you; he needed to hear you, needed to know that you were still oblivious and cared for him. And you do- if the present is anything to go by. He’s going to do his best to make sure no harm comes towards you. You already have someone who’s hurting you, but if he acts on it now then you’ll push yourself away from him, your attention won’t be on him- you will be busy mourning and sobbing over someone who isn’t him.

He’ll bide his time if it means that you’ll stay with him in the end.

A soft ringing fills his room and he jumps. He runs a calloused hand through his hair and lets out a breath, his heart pumping erratically and with shaky fingers, he clicks the accept button.

You fill the screen with wide eyes and bottom lip that is bitten between teeth. There’s a soft light that fills the room and he sees that you’re in the living room.

“Tomura, hey,” you breathe out, a lopsided smile taking over your features. “What’s up?”

He fights off the grin that comes naturally when he talks to you, allowing a smirk to replace it as his canine glints. “Nothing, really. I finished all my games so there’s not much for me to do now.”

“Whoa!” Your eyes light up and you stand straighter with your hands in loose fists- you were so easy to impress. “You finished all of them? Even the one where you had trouble with the final boss?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, even that one.”

“Did you look up any cheat codes?”

He narrows his eyes and you and scratches at his upper lip. “No. It just some grinding is all.”

“Oh okay.” Your hands loosen and arms are crossed against your chest. “So now you don’t have any games to play?”

He shakes his head with closed eyes.

When he opens them, the corner of your mouth twitches and he narrows his eyes by a fraction. “So why don’t you go out and buy more? If you want, I can tell you a few of my favorites so we can talk about them together? Or,” you glance to the side, “we could go together? Like a—”

“Like a date?” He raises a brow.

Your face flushes a darker shade and you quickly turn your head to the side, your lips pulled into a thin line with furrowed brows. “Ye-Yeah. Like a date.” You clear your throat, when you look back at him you have a shaky smile on and your voice wavers. “You know- if you wanted.”

He slumps against his seat and lets out a sigh. “I would have declined.”

You let out a deflated “oh” and shuffle awkwardly in your seat. Your lips are downturned and he feels a sting in his chest.

“I hate public spaces. I already told you,” he says hastily. “I would prefer to just order the game online or something else.” Something else is breaking into a store and taking what he wanted. “But I suppose I would take your suggestions,” he says with a silvery voice.

“I guess that makes sense.” He frowns when your voice is still low and disappointed. His hand reaches towards cheekbone, eyes darting across your features and meeting your eyes. He narrows his eyes when you keep focused on his hands and sighs with annoyance; he brings his hand down and curls his hand into a fist. “My tastes are pretty different compared to yours. That game we used to play was the first- er, action game, that I played.”

You still won’t meet his eyes, keeping them focused on literally anything else.

He clenches his jaw and fights back a groan. “I still wouldn’t mind hearing about the games you play.”

“Nah, we probably don’t like the same things,” you wave a hand in front of you; “I shouldn’t bored you with my stuff. How was your day today?”

You’re quick to change the conversation, leaning forward with an expectant smile while you wait for him to answer your question. “It was fine. I just stayed indoors.”

“Right,” you roll your eyes with a smirk, “I forgot that you didn’t like the outdoors.” You smirk falls a bit before it’s picked back up.

“It’s stupid.” The corner of his lip twitches upwards when your attention is focused on him. “All those fucking heroes waltzing around and—”

“Okay, I get,” you snap. He gives you a look and you clamp your mouth shut. “I just,” you chew on your bottom lip, “you don’t like heroes or the outdoors, I get it.”

“What’s up your ass?” His eyes dart to the corner where your note lays still and uninterrupted.

“Tomura,” you scold.

“What? You’re snappy. What is it?”

You bow your head and the arms crossed in front of you move to wrap themselves around you. “I’m not snappy,” you say defiantly, puffing out your chest. “It’s nothing, I just- I get it. You mentioned before that you didn’t like heroes and you don’t like public spaces. I get it.”

“I can’t vent to you now?” He tilts his head and his leg jerks you flinch away from him.

“It’s not that,” you reply meekly already losing your bravado.

“Then what is it?”

When you look up at him, he can see your eyes shine and you blink back the tears away. Did you want to cry? Did he make you want to cry? “It’s just- I don’t want to get into politics right now. Okay?”

“You think talking about heroes is political?”

Your face is flushed and you lean away from the screen. “Of course it is,” you spit out, your face pulled into a grimace, looking down at your lap as if you were ashamed to speak against him. “I don’t want to fight.”

“Are you going to hate me if we do?” You shake your head no but it isn’t enough for him. “I can’t hear you.”

When you look up at him, his breath comes to a halt. Your face is stoic and your arms have fallen from the self-hug. “No,” you look to the side and lower your head slightly. “I’m not gonna hate you Tomura. I just don’t want to fight.”

“I don’t want to fight either.” It’s the truth. He doesn’t want to make you fear him. He doesn’t want a reason to hate you- you’re something good in his life, something pure and untouched and right now, you’re iffy about heroes but he can change that. He can do so much good for you but it’ll just take a bit of time.

“I’m sorry.” You look at him with wide eyes and a lowered head, like a dog that’s getting reprimanded by its owner.

He bites down on the inside of his cheek and lets it slip once he can taste blood. “Are you okay?” He has to play it safe, he can’t scare you off. He doesn’t know when or if he’ll ever reveal himself, but he can’t scare you off.

You give out a scoff with a small smile gracing your features. “Yeah, I just, sorry. I’ve uh- It was a long day is all and I’m sorry I snapped.”

“No harm, no foul.” When you look at with raised eyebrows and the smile that has now fallen, he bites back a curse. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” He scratches at his forehead and unclenches his jaw.

He wonders if you would have left him if the fight had escalated. He hates what you make him feel, what you make him do. If you were anyone else or if it was early on in the relationship, he would’ve ended you right then and there. But instead, he gave you half-assed apology and felt bad about making you feel small.

“It’s… been a rough day is all. I shouldn’t have snapped and yeah. It’s behind us,” you tell him, giving him a halfhearted smile.

“Yeah, I guess it has,” he breathes out, leaning against the seat. “So was everything else about you day as bad as right now?” He jokes, a smile quivering on his lips before it falls and he has to force himself to smile.

“Right now it isn’t bad. We had a little disagreement but that’s all it was,” you retort. “It’s going to happen Tomura but I’m never going to—” You stop yourself and click your tongue. You look away from him, from the monitor in its entirety and you stare off into the distance. “I don’t think I could ever hate you.” You sound melancholic when you speak, your shoulders slumped in defeat and though he feels thrilled at hearing those words, feeling light and his muscles twitching with excitement, he can’t help but hate the way you look so exhausted. But in a blink of an eye, you’re back to smiling, and if it was any earlier on in this relationship that you two held, he wouldn’t have noticed how the smile didn’t reach your eyes but now, he swallows when you still hold sadness, when the smile isn’t a full curve but gentle and fragile, as if it could break with one wrong word.

He can’t bear to see you like that. He can’t bear to know that you’re hurt because he snapped at you and fuck! It’s all so complicated with you.

“I can tell you about my day,” he says with a hand clenching around the other, “in detail if you’d like,” he adds, looking down at his lap.

“Really?” Your eyes are wide and finally your smile does reach your eyes. He’s sick to his stomach when he realizes that he wants more of it, that he needs to see you smile more. You’re happy because of him. Everything about you is so easy.

“On one condition,” he holds up a finger and misses the way your eyes go wide. He looks at you expectantly.

“What is it?” You say in a weak voice.

“You have a picture of me right?” His chest is tight; it feels as if an immeasurable weight is resting above him.

“Yeah,” you say with a puzzled tone. “Why do you ask?”

“Because,” he can feel his throat tighten, “I don’t have a picture of you. So, you know.” He rolls his hand and looks off to the side, face burning with a bright shade of red.

“Aw!” He flinches when you coo, your voice already high, coated with a teasing tone. “Do you want a picture of me? That’s so cute!”

“Shut up.” He tries to sound threatening but it only makes you laugh more.

“No! Come on! It’s cute. You of all people want a selfies of your bestest friend,” he cringes at the word, “Big, bad—”

His eyes snap towards you where you have teeth bitten down on your bottom lip. “What?” He asks, eyes narrowed and calculating as they search your face.

“You know,” your voice cracks and you clear your throat, “you said last time that your scar made you look scary and I,” you trail off and you look terrified. He’s about to open his mouth when you beat him to it. “I told you it was cute but you- you had said it made you look scary and I thought teasing you about you being all scary like would be funny. It- You aren’t ba- scary. You’re cute.”

He’s still tense. Cold eyes still analyzing you but you flinch and can’t meet his eyes. You look scared and he can’t bring the thought to life.

“Tomura say something please,” you sound like you’re about to cry.

His eyes dart to your lip that wobbles and he clears his throat. “Are you going to send me a picture or not.”

He breathes a sigh of relief when you nod vigorously. “Of course!” Your eyes finally meet his. “But I want to hear you talk first. And then I’ll send it. I promise,” you hold out your pinky and he scoffs at the childish act but does the same, smiling when you curl in your small finger and mouth the word “promise”.

He feels sick. There’s a burning sensation that floods his body and threatens to consume him and leave nothing but ash in its wake. But when he looks at you, when you smile at him and urge him to talk, he feels calm, the white, hot fire inside of him has simmered and his mind is clear of any fog. He nods and takes in a deep breath. In the corner of his eye, he catches the word “love” written in your handwriting.

Talking to others is tiresome but it’s doable. He knows what to say before he’s had a chance to even think about it. But when he talks to you, he has to watch his words, has to think first and make time for the next anecdote. But you listen to him and take in every word, you never stop smiling at him, often chuckling and inputting your own thoughts. You engage with him. You treat him like a person. You’re complicated. He’s complicated. This entire relationship isn’t meant to last- wasn’t meant to last as long as it has. But it’s still going, you’re still answering his calls and he’s still answering your messages. Feelings don’t come easy to him, you don’t come easy to him but you still welcome him with teasing remarks that no one else would have dared to make.

You make feel as if he wasn’t bred for hatred. You make him feel as if he’s supposed to want more than what he currently wants. He doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t hate the things that you make him feel. It’s new and sickening. It leaves him confused but when he spends a few hours hearing your voice, he feels calm, relaxed and he ends up craving more and more at the end of it.

“I like you,” he blurts out, face immediately burning and the need to put on Father greater than any other need. His hands curl into sharp talons and they slowly inched upwards to his neck, ready to claw and free the blood that burned his body.

You look taken aback with eyes wide and mouth parted. He wishes you would say something. He wants- needs you to at least do something other than gawk at him.

And then your face closes, your lips meet and break out into a grin that reaches your eyes which shine with an emotion he’s unfamiliar with. “I like you too Tomura. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You mean a lot to me.” Your eyes dart to the bottom edge of the screen where his hands can barely be seen. “We’re close. At least I think we are,” your shrug and look away from him, “so it’s okay to be a little vulnerable around each other.” You meet his eyes. “Okay?”

You’re being vague. He doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. He doesn’t know if “like” is even the correct word. He enjoys being around, talking to you- he likes it when you smile at him and when his name rolls off of your tongue like it was always meant to. He does like you. And he doesn’t know how you feel about him. You didn’t reject him so that’s a positive direction. You didn’t laugh or hang up the call, you reassured him, you told him you liked him. You were vulnerable in front of him, you let him know it was okay to be vulnerable.

He doesn’t know if he should thank you the vagueness or scowl and throw a tantrum like he once would have. The aforementioned behavior that he once did brings a burning flame to him.

“Thanks,” he says softly, rolling his tongue in his mouth.

You look at him in confusion and your smile is small but holds no animosity towards him. He doubts it ever will. You called him cute, you’ve kept this friendship going, you’ve done so much already and he can’t thank you enough.

“You’re welcome Tomura” you whisper back to him, leaning your head against the couch and he has the urge to go to you right now and- Nothing. He can’t do anything with you. Yet. But he will one day. He can lie to you but he can’t lie to himself and for now, your note will suffice, the scents that you picked out for him will fill his senses, apple and vanilla, honey and mint will invade until he’s grown sick of them.

When the call ends, a black screen in front of him and his reflection stares back at him. You had called him cute. You smiled at him with this softness that he’s only received from you. Everything that he’s received from you is his first time- your gentle touch on his neck, one that you asked for and reached with slow fingers that seared into his skin and memory, your hand upon his wrist when he could see that you were nervous, shaking and mouth parted open with bitten lips as you were falling apart before his eyes.

You chose to hold onto to him- to touch him. You reached out towards him- you always did. He’s not going to tell you who he is, not until he can make sure that you won’t betray him. He’s going to keep you close and blind, make sure that you trust him with everything that you have before he can even mention who he really is.

There’s a knock on his door and he immediately shuts off the monitor. “What?” he calls out, turning his head a fraction of an inch to the side.

“Have fun with your little meeting?” His voice is gruff and he smells of smoke and tobacco.

“Plenty,” he responds too quick for his own liking.

“Look I really don’t care about your personal—”

“Is there something you needed?” Shigaraki bares his teeth at the intruder. “Make it quick.”

“Just wanted to tell you that we’re all getting a bit antsy.” Hands drum against the doorframe. “You’re the so called leader so go and I don’t know, calm their minds.” He leaves without waiting for a response, leaving the door open and suddenly Shigaraki feels exposed.

He rises slowly and cracks his neck, jaw twitching and suddenly his eyes are cold and he places a cold hand on top of his face and walks out the door, closing it shut with a soft click.

At the end of it all, you’re a hypocrite. You’re terrified of him- you want to continue to have him in your life. You’re sick at the thought of him- you adore talking to him. You were never good at making decisions, always too curious at what the options held, always too nervous to seek something out. You don’t want him out of your life, but you know that having him in your life will bring nothing but heartache and regret.

He likes you for now. Right now, you’re entertaining to him. But it’s always going to be a countdown until he grows tired of you or until you prove to be a threat. Him going out of his way to meet you is a big enough of threat to himself but your entertainment value must outweigh that. And it does- for now.

With shaky hands, you raise your hands to wrap themselves gently across your neck. You swallow and you can feel the movement underneath your thumbs. You can feel your pulse light and steady, your eyes burn with unshed tears and you wonder how long you have until the timer reaches zero and your hands are replaced with his.

Your phone buzzes against the bed and you’re choked up, slowly bringing your hands away from your neck with a tear that burns down to your chin and marks your shirt. You pick your phone up and a ghost of a smile spreads across your face.

Tomura:

[Thanks again for the skin care things]

Your heart skips a beat and you let out a sob with a hand covering your mouth and dull nails digging into your skin. You like him and fear him. There’s too many emotions that overwhelm you and you don’t know what to do.

You take in a deep breath and for a moment, everything is still and calm. Your tears disappear and you stand in front of the mirror fixing your hair and smoothing over any strands. You crawl back into bed with your back against the head board and you scroll through your phone, finding the app with the cute filters and once clicked on, you have the phone faced towards you, scrunching in embarrassment when you’re shown in an unflattering angle. You look for the right filter and once found, you give a smile and a peace sign.

Blood pumps loud and your heartbeat louder. You attach the picture in a message and send it to Tomura with a winking emoticon as the written message. The message is sent and now there’s nothing you can do.

Your stomach churns and twists into a tight knot. You hold your hand against your mouth and walk to the bathroom. Your hands grip the counter and eyes are red and there are tear tracks that mark your face. Your bottom lip trembles and you wish desperately that he would call you so you could forget all of these feelings for just a second. There’s a pounding in your chest and you can taste acid in your mouth while your eyes are rimmed red and soon your vision blurs and you’re spitting bile mixed with salvia down the drain.

Tagged:

@suneaterofthebig3 @ maxinekotodama

@rogueofbullshit @ juiccy-rollss

@loveableasshole @lilgaga98

@yul-is-sparkling@noonewouldlisten25@noodlenerd101

@localdisaster@snackgod@iikillerkitteh

@drapetomaniaac@shigaraki-is-my-master

@rekoii@ txmaki0 @katelyn-cuteson

@bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

@justoneofthosepeople @bloodyantichrist

@maxinekotodama @avada-kedavra-1998

#ciays #can i ask you something #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #this felt like it took forever #and im so sorry #hope yall enjoyed it!!#its a long one!!#so yay #all right next to the other works #laterz #tomura shigaraki imagines #shigaraki imagine

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clearlyshyobservation · 4 years

Text

Kokichi is dying (V3 chatfic, no particular ship)

TW: Infers abuse, talks about ableism, neglect, panic attack pretty much, depression, self loathing. never being good enough

i am so sorry but vr au's need to be sad, love yall :)

(Background info: This is set in a vr au, they are not with their fake memory parents (Ie; kaito's kind grandparents) but rather why they really have)

(Also i have no fucking clue what ship i was going for???? pretty sure they are all on the table, and kokichi talks like an idiot in this and i love it. Gonta's writing is based off of his Japanese talking style, so no more caveman talking).

USERNAMES:

(Space monkey: Kaito, Detective pikachu: shuichi, Elton john: kaede, Antman: gonta, Mr. Gonstealyoman: korekiyo, Atua's bitch: angie, emoboi: ryoma, be-boop: kiibo, bread roll: Maki, cum dumpster: miu, mommy: kirumi, Gremlin: Kokichi)

TLDR: Chaos ensues, slight angst

Gremlin: omfg im fucking sicK im gonna fucking die i bet this was kaitos bitch ass fault for coughing on me with his tuberculosis headass gROSSSSS I HATE EVERYTHINGGG

Space Monkey: i-

Space monkey: I didn't get you sick dumbass,,,, my tb is fugckin cured bi-

Bread roll: he's dramatic and gross dont believe him

Gremlin: yall mean for what?

Gremlin: i have a life taking disease and yall laughing i-

Gremlin: see you at my funeral bitch

Detective pikachu: What are you sick with then

Gremlin: anythong bitch, im the universe

Antman: He sounds delusional, thats not good

Detective pikachu: He's always delusional, he's Kokichi

Mr. gonstealyoman: I guess this name is better than my old one

Mr. gonstealyoman: thank you kokichi :) I am glad we have come to an understanding

Gremlin: kay sexy

Gremlin: IGNRE WHAT I JUST SENT

Gremlin: IGNORE IT IGNORE IT IGNORE ITTTTT

Antman: who was that for???

Gremlin: NO ONE,,,

Gremlin: Okay,,, maybe sexy tall men in general lowkey

Gremlin: okay,,,, maybe anyone over 6 feet

Detective pikachu: i feel excluded

Detective pikachu: good, i don't like you kokichi, your an ass

Gremlin: u sound jelly shumaiiiiii

be-boop: perhaps he is telling the truth, you know,

be-boop: according to my data, in chapter four Shuichi stated that you will never have friends, and no one will ever like you

Gremlin: SHUT THE FUCK UP STOP MAKING ME FEEL BADBSKVKHDVKDSKJV

Antman: do you need me to come over? I can make you tea?

mommy: Do you know how to do that, Gonta? I can teach you?

Antman: Gonta does know, thank you very much.

Antman: Gonta is not a child, Tojo-chan, please don't regard me as one

Antman: Gonta can cook, can clean, can be gentle, and has his own mind

Space monkey: but we're just making sure man, cuz, you know,,,, chapter 4

Antman: I am capable of things just like you!!!!!

Antman: Gonta doesn't know why you guys treat me like a child :(

Gremlin: yeah, hot stuff over there is basically a prodigy homies

Antman: Gonta is dumb though, don't say that.

Antman: Gonta is no prodigy, in fact, he is below average in everything

Gremlin: Whats ur test scores bitch

Antman: Gonta got a 98 on my english test,, but i wanted a 100, which would make Gonta actually smart :(

Antman: Gonta is not good enough to be friends with you all

Antman: I can do basic stuff like tojo said...

Antman: maybe i do need help?

Antman: im not sure anymore:((((

Gremlin: THEY ARE ABLEIST GONTA,,, THEY FEEL SUPERIOR FOR TREATING UUUUU LIKE A CHILD

Detective pikachu: You sound really delusional Kokichi, maybe you should get sleep

Gremlin: S T F U, IM SPITTING ST8 FACTS BITCH

Detective pikachu: Sure you are. Now get some rest.

Gremlin: GRRRR WHY WONT YOU LISTEN TO ME YOU IDIOTS??

Bread roll: Cause your stupid and aggressive

Gremlin: your personality, basically?

Bread roll: shut up at least i have a boyfriend

Gremlin: Technically, you just stole my frienemy

Gremlin: Yall do be avoiding each other doe

Space Monkey: WE ARE NOT

Gremlin: Yeah yeah

Gremlin: yesterday i saw you to enter the same cafe by accident, duck your heads, then sit across the cafe from each other, all while avoiding eye contact

Gremlin: Soooo,,, things not going well in paradise?

Detective pikachu: you're nosy

Gremlin: says the literal detective

Space monkey: everythings fine your just a dickkkk

Gremlin: "oooo! Im momo-chan, i say bad word and go brrrrr"

Space monkey: im going to fucking stab him

Gremlin: You cant, ive already enslaved you with my chaotic, yet cute hijinks, havent i~

Space monkey: STOP STOP NO NOT THE SQUIGLY

Gremlin: is it the sex? WHY DONT YOU MAKE EYE CNOTACT WITH UR LADY NO MORE

Space monkey: ITS NOT THE SEX I HATE YOU

Gremlin: im free by the way at 8 ;)

Bread roll: STOP trying to steal my boyfriend kokichi, ive told you this before

Bread roll: NO

Bread roll: BODY

Antman: Gonta interrupts to say, Gonta loves you kokichi, and we should get flowers together, than maybe we can prank some people :D

Bread roll: Ive never wanted to stab you more, gonta

Gremlin: I'd enjoy that very much, fine fellow ;)

Gremlin: but idk,,,, can you like take care of me first, cuz IM SICK BECAUSE OF KAITO TUBERCULOSIS ASS

Space monkey: I DONT HAVE TB ANYMORE

Gremlin: SURE YOU DONT

Space monkey: I DONT

Gremlin: BUT GUESS WHAT

Gremlin: YOU STILL SMOKE DUMBASS AND THATS NOT GOOD FOR U OR YOUR TUBERCULOSIS

Detective pikachu: He smokes?

Atua's bitch: he does, i walked in on him in the bathroom lmao

Atua's bitch: he was scared shitless and threw it out the window, needless to say atua does nt approve

Gremlin: DO YOU EVEN HAVE THE VACCINE????

Space monkey: Uh,,, i was taught vaccines were bad, so no i don't have the vaccine

Gremlin: I HATE OLD PEOPLE

Gremlin: ABOLISH OLD PEOPLEEEE

Gremlin: THEY SPREAD MISINFORMATION AND IT PHISCALLY HURTS ME TO SEEEEEE

Space monkey: your dramatic, it cant be that bad

Gremlin: say that when you catch it again

Gremlin: i swear you coughed on me like,,,, 5 weeks ago tho

Antman: OOOO! Fun fact: Tuberculosis can lay dormant from 3 months to a few years!

Space monkey: u guys are just trying to scare me

Bread roll: Just checked the chat after using the br and,,m YOUDONT HAVE YOU VACCINES???

Detective pikachu: Im sorry, but kaito, please,,,,, for the love of god get vaccines

Space monkey: alright alright, ill do it cuz you guys are all on my case and i don't like being the villain :(

Gremlin: Im so happy i have gonta with me rn, he is making me tea while yall rot in your distant ass relationship (THIS IS FOR YOU KAITO)

Space monkey: Im going to destroy your bloodline in about three seconds if you dont stfu right fucking now

Gremlin: Hhehe i have an inaprwopwiate joke uwu

emoboi: STOP PLEASE DEAR GOD

cum dumpster: wHAt Is iT YOU WHORE

Gremlin: i was gonna say wouldn't he need to like,,,, have sex with my family to weed out my bloodline or something??

cum dumpster: i-

cum dumpster: Why am i acting surprised, ive watched porn with more extravagant plots than this

cum dumpster: ie; are you guys FUCKING? RIGHT INFRONT OF MY SALAD??? is one i will cherish with my soul

emoboi: hehe why did she point out the salad

Space monkey: I hate u kokichi, i truly do

Gremlin: I bet if you got the chance u would kiss me space boy :P

Bread roll has left the chat

Space monkey: o god is she ddoing one of those bf loyalty tests or smthing???

Space monkey: now im nervous lmao

Gremlin: why you so nervous stupid~~~~

Gremlin: It not like ur cheating on her homie

Space monkey: It's just a placebo effect

Gremlin: My brain feels fried Momo-chan,, i don't understand big boy words right now

Space monkey: Basically, if you take a pill that doesn't do anything but you don't know that and believe it does, you will scientifically start to feel better

Gremlin: first and only time saying this, but thank you

Space monkey: HEHEHEB YOU SAID THANK YOU YOU SAID THANK YOUYOU SAID THANK YOUYOU SAID THANK YOUYOU SAID THANK YOU

Gremlin: Kaito,,, imma need you to do me a favor and look up on your ceiling

Space monkey: i hate you, idk what it is, but i hte you

Gremlin: good <3

Space monkey: HE REPLACED ALL MY THE STARS ON MY CELING WITH FUCKIBG DICKSSS

Space monkey: THIS IS THE LST FUCKING STRAW IM GONNA LOSE IT

Space monkey: IF MY GRANDPARENTS SEE THIS BULLSHIT THEY ARE GOING TO KILL ME, SLAP ME, MAYBE BREAK MY NECK AND DESTROY MEE

Space monkey: Im GENUINLEY panicing HOW TF am i gona get this off my wal???? They are going to bbat me senselpess help me shUichi

Detective pikachu: o god, i can sense the sheer pain and scaredness in that tet,

Detective pikachu: are you for real gong to get hurt or are you pulling a kokichi?

Space monkey: FUCKING HELP ME IM NOT FUCKING JOKINGKABKCB HELP THEY ARE NOT HOME RN THEY ARE LIKEE,,,, 40 MINUTES AWAY PLEASEE

Gremlin: okay,,, maybe this wasn't the best prank.,,, i guess i'll help clean up cuz im not that much of a sociopath

Gremlin: tbh my parents can go shove it too lowkey terrible 0/10

Space monkey: AHHHH IM SO SCARED PLS PSL GET HERE FAST

be-boop: Of course, i will come, i will survey the outside of the house

Antman: Gonta is coming too! We will get this done in under 40 minutes!

Space monkey: OKAY

Gremlin: Lowkey, if i cough on you ignore it bitch your the one who made me like this

Space monkey: W HA TDONT COUGH ON ME IM NOT SICK ANYMORE

Gremlin: I will give you TB again just cuz your making me suffer

Space monkey: Suffer what??? putting dicks on my FUCKING WALL???

Gremlin: Guilt, idiot, im feeling guilty.

cum dumpster: oof thats new

emoboi: yeah i wasn't expecting it

Mr.gonstealyoman: Me neither. It is rather peculiar seeing it being texted by him because he is always feels not guilty of his bad actions.

be-boop: I do believe he means it, though...

emoboi: impossible.

cum dumpster: i agree, literally impossible.

Gremlin: I HAVE A FUCKIBG SOUL YOU CRazY CONSPIRACISTS

Antman: Quick question, shuichi can i stay with you again? It'll be dark when i get home and gonta can't do that so,,, please help

Detective pikachu: my parents are like blank slates, who eat slowly, watch tv slowly, and never look at me. Im sure they wouldn't mind :P

Antman: ALRIGHT! :D LETS GET MISSION: MR. MOMOTA ROOM REPAIR DONE!

Gremlin: ooo! I like the name! IM INNNN!

Detective pikachu: On it!

be-boop: Ready for look out!

Space monkey: I love you guys :)

AN: Im lowkey sorry i ended this chaotic mess with angst,,,, but like fr i love it i love angst,, i hate reading it but love writing it

#kokichiouma #oumota #Ougoku #chat fic #kaito momota #kiibo #miu iruma #gonta gokuhara #ryoma #angie #shuichi saihara #vr au #kirumi #maki harukawa #korekiyo #danganronpav3 #danganronpa #grossness

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authoressofdarkness · 4 years

Text

Guide Me Safely To Shore (Chapter 3)

Peter’s on the floor in a pile of broken glass, wearing the Spider-Man suit, blood leaking from cuts and various injuries on his body. His eyes are drawn to a particularly nasty looking split on his leg, and for a moment he sees red. Rhodey’s hand on his shoulder steadies him, giving it a gentle squeeze that snaps him back into reality. “Bad,” he completes, finishing his thought from the table. “I told you it was going to be bad.”

Notes: So it’s come to my attention that I’m a dumb bitch, and I haven’t updated this here in ages. So. Uh. Yeah. Doing that now. Happy New Year to all my fellow people that follow the general calendar; congrats to everyone for surviving this long. Hopefully it’s all going up from here.

If you missed the first two chapters, here you go: 1 2

It is more than a few days, but not by much.

To say that he’d mostly put their meeting out of his mind would be… well, a flat out lie, if he’s being honest. Frankly, he’s spent every free moment practically stalking Peter from a distance. Having men assigned to follow and protect him, watching him himself through the cameras as he goes about the city and during his patrols.

Because of course he’s still patrolling. He wasn’t lying when he told Peter his suit would be waiting for him at home; he’d repaired and done some minor tweaks to it before having it deposited by a drone on the young omega’s bed, but he’d made sure it was returned, all the same. He’s a man of his word, after all, if nothing else. And he hadn’t interfered with his patrols at all, besides monitoring them closely now. Even when the boy interfered with some of his operations. Even if it was pretty irritating.

He’d also began making some basic changes around the tower. Peter is his soulmate; whether they like it or not, nothing either of them will do can change that. So he may as well start reflecting it. He doesn’t want him finally deciding to come after him and being shot down by one of his numerous security measures.

So he inputs Peter’s name and DNA into all of the security, and decreases the safety measures around his personal floors of the tower from above, just in case he decides to come swinging in randomly instead of taking the more normal way up. And on the off chance he actually does decide to take the normal way, he makes sure his name is added to his list of personal contacts, people that are allowed to see him without an appointment and have access to his private elevator to his floors whether he’s there or not.

On his actual floor, he starts setting up a room for him, making sure he has a place to go if he needs it. He doesn’t want to discourage him from showing up by thinking that they have to be sleeping in the same bed immediately; and frankly, he thinks that’s probably a bad idea. He only has so much self control, for starters. But there’s also his night terrors to consider, and he hasn’t slept regularly beside anyone in years, and… yeah, until they’ve gotten to talk in some detail, that’s probably not a fantastic idea. Besides, he wants him to have his own space, to some extent, even if it is where he can keep an eye on him. And he’s still young yet; he may want to have friends over, or at least a personal space to keep the stuff for his hobbies. Tony doesn’t have to be seeing him every second of every day, after all. He just needs to know that he’s safe and taken care of. Preferably in his space, where he’s sure it’s secure, and he’s not much more than a flight of stairs away if something were to happen.

As it turns out, maybe he needn’t have worried so much about the first part.

He hadn’t really considered, admittedly, even for all his genius, that meeting his soulmate might have some physical effects on the young omega. Some… very physical effects. At least, he doesn’t until Peter comes crashing in through his window.

He might have had more of a heads up if he was still stalking him quite as intensively. But the need started to fade a little after the first few days, when he started to figure out more about Peter’s routine: who he was with, what he was doing, whether his family and friends were trustworthy, the area he was living was safe, that he was eating, that he had everything he needed. And for the most part, everything checked out. His friends were clean; his aunt was busy but seemed like a good woman; he lived in a safe enough neighborhood… So by the weekend, he’d backed off, just a little, starting to mainly check in on him at different intervals, and only really watching actively when he went on patrol.

That was his first mistake, probably.

The second was abandoning his normal post watching him almost altogether on Saturday night, when he had company show up unexpectedly.

It’s his own fault, of course. He has precious few people he trusts in the world, and most of them have almost equal access to his security, his information, that he does. So of course, one of them was bound to notice the changes he’d made to his security.

The third was letting that company stay long enough to notice something was seriously up.

He’d say the fourth was having a drink, but the thing is, alcohol doesn’t really affect him anymore, not since the serum. He still occasionally finds himself drinking socially, or reaching for a glass of something strong when he’s particularly stressed or emotionally in turmoil about something, but it’s more of a placebo than anything now. The motion and familiarity of it soothes him more than the alcohol ever could, especially now.

So yeah, he has a drink in his hand when he opens the balcony door, and blinks in surprise when he sees Rhodey, his suit melting away as he takes the invitation to come inside. “I thought you were in California.”

“And I thought alcohol didn’t do anything for you anymore.”

Tony shrugs, taking a long drink of the whiskey in his hand, heading back to the kitchen to refill it. “It doesn’t. I just like the taste.”

“Bullshit. You drink when you have something on your mind.” Rhodey follows him back inside, tilting his head and watching him fiddle with the bottle. “This have anything to do with the kid you added to the security system?”

Tony glances up at him, surprised for just a moment before he shrugs. “Am I getting so easy to read?”

“It’s not a far leap to make. Though the alcohol indicates it’s something bigger than I thought.” Rhodey watches him. “You know I prefer you only set up dangerous traps like this with backup on hand. Why are you trying to make my job harder?”

“Maybe I just like inspiring you to randomly drop in on me. Making your job harder is the only way I get to see you, honey bear. You know I get lonely,” Tony deadpans, deflecting. On the inside, his mind races. He trusts Rhodey with his life, that’s for certain. But is he ready to reveal his hand so soon? He could, but where’s the fun in that?

Rhodes scowls at him. “Tony… really. Come on. Who is he?”

He shrugs and sips his whiskey. “He’s Spider-Man.”

Rhodey’s eyeshadows shoot up on his forehead. “Really. So you thought the best course of action now that you’ve figured out his identity was to make it easier for him to break into your building?”

“Well, he’s also my soulmate, so.” Tony quirks a shoulder again. “Yeah.”

“That’s all well and good, Tony, but you know how I feel about-... wait. What?” The words seem to take a long moment to fully register, and he’s halfway through beginning to lecture Tony about stupid, unnecessary risks just to make captures with a flair when he realizes exactly what he’d said. “He’s your soulmate?”

“Yep.”

“He’s barely an adult.”

“It’s not like I chose it, Rhodey.” Tony sighs, setting his glass down and folding up his sleeve just enough to expose his wrist, the tender skin where the previously ghostly words are now etched in stark black. “Look.”

Rhodey carefully takes his arm to get a better look, then lets out a low whistle as he releases it and leans back. “Damn. I can only assume it didn’t go well?”

“Well, I almost killed him before he said it, so you could say that.”

Rhodey settles down on one of the stools and motions for a glass, apparently deciding that he needed alcohol to continue this conversation. Tony doesn’t blame him. He slides a tumbler across to him and continues as Rhodey pours himself a glass, telling him the full story of the hunt and chase and the revelation as they drink.

“He’s afraid of me now, of course,” Tony murmurs. “But then, who isn’t, really.” He sighs. “I don’t know what to do, Rhodey.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda a shitty situation, Tones. I don’t know.” He shakes his head, swirling the remains of his whiskey around the glass with a thoughtful look. “Is he here, then?”

“No. I released him Sunday.”

Rhodey looks surprised. “ Why would you do that?”

“He didn’t want to be here, Rhodey. He wanted to go home.”

“This is his home now.”

“Maybe legally. But that’s not exactly the way to gain his trust, is it?”

“So? He's your soulmate. Legally, you’re responsible for him now. As his alpha and his elder, concern for his safety should come before anything else. Besides, he’s a liability in about twelve different ways out there. Did you ever consider that?”

“Of course I did! But keeping him prisoner here isn’t going to solve anything. He has to come to me on his own, Rhodey. It doesn’t mean anything if he doesn’t want it. And right now I just want to give him enough time for him to realize I’m not going to murder him outright. He’s already scared of me; any kind of pushing on my part is going to make that worse instead of better, and that’s not what I want.”

Rhodey exhales a long breath, rubbing his forehead. “Yeah, alright. Whatever you say. You’re a reckless, romantic fool at heart, you know that? Just watch yourself, Tony. And you might have to consider the possibility that keeping this... arrangement isn’t going to benefit either of you, let alone both of you.”

Tony shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Believe me, my tender heart already hurts,” he deadpans, joking to cover up the fact that it’s not that far from the truth. The bond has a serious pull, even unconsummated, and were he a lesser man in terms of strength of will, things might be looking very different right now. He doesn’t want to acknowledge how close he is to doing something irrational anyway.

“I’m serious, Tony. You know horrible things can happen if you’re apart for too long, especially since you haven’t solidified the bond in any permanent way, yet. You’re supposed to be together more than ever at the beginning, not separate again within hours. The recoil of that is going to be-”

Glass shatters.

They both jump to their feet. Rhodey’s suit reappears in an instant, but while Tony gets up, he doesn’t summon his armor. There was no alarm before the glass broke, which means…

Tony jogs out to the living area with Rhodey hot on his heels. They both stop at the sight.

It’s Peter — of course it’s Peter, no one else would have been able to get so close or so high up without the alarms going off. And the sight of him makes Tony’s instincts scream.

He’s on the floor in a pile of broken glass, wearing the Spider-Man suit, blood leaking from cuts and various injuries on his body. His eyes are drawn to a particularly nasty looking split on his leg, and for a moment he sees red.

Rhodey’s hand on his shoulder steadies him, giving it a gentle squeeze that snaps him back into reality. “Bad,” he completes, finishing his thought from the table. “I told you it was going to be bad.” He heaves a sigh. “I’ll start on cleanup. You take care of your boy.” And with that, he flies out.

Tony spends another moment just staring, unsure how to respond to that for a moment. Peter actually is his boy. Weird.

Then he jumps into action, crossing the floor to him. He’s not wearing shoes, having been in the tower for hours and not intending to go back out, so he lets the suit form just around his feet and ankles, so he can walk on the shattered glass without worry as he approaches him. “Peter? Are you alright?”

The younger man’s head snaps up. “Mr. Stark?” he asks, sounding almost tentative, lenses on the suit indicating his eyes are wide. He’s almost glad he can’t see them, knowing those Bambi eyes would ensnare and distract him in a second.

He wants to tell him to drop the formalities, but it seems like there’s bigger problems at hand right now. “That’s me,” he says instead, forcing a light little half-smile so he doesn’t scare him, furious as he feels. “C’mon, let’s get you out of all this glass, yeah?”

He almost expects the boy to resist, but instead his body practically melts into Tony’s as soon as he reaches for him. He’s surprised, for a moment, and has to readjust his grip to actually take his full body weight instead of just helping him up. He scoops him up, carrying him out of the mess and back into his bathroom. He needs a place to set him where he can get him cleaned up and assess his injuries, and in the middle of the room with all the broken glass seems like a bad idea.

Peter doesn’t move except to curl a little tighter into his chest, and he suddenly realizes the boy is shivering against him. That cold fury rises up in his chest again, but he forces it down, forcing himself not to focus on it, because if he feeds it right now it’ll grow until he can’t hide it and even a hint of it might terrify his young soulmate even more than he already has. And right now he needs him not to be afraid as much as possible, so he can get him taken care of with minimal fighting.

Not that Peter is fighting. In fact, he’s frighteningly pliable in his hands. He sits him on the bathroom counter, gently, tilting his head back to him and watching the lenses widen and close like his eyes are flickering open and closed, in and out of focus. That’s not good.

“Peter.” The lenses flare and fix on him. “I gotta take the suit off to check these injuries out, alright?”

The little whimper that comes from his throat goes straight through him in more ways than one. “Don’t… can’t take it…”

He isn’t sure what he means for a minute, but when he understands, it makes his chest ache. “I’m not taking it. Did I take it from you last time?” Peter shakes his head. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. I can’t do that like this, alright?” The lenses flicker again. “Peter?”

Too late. The boy slumps forward into his arms with a little groan. Tony jumps to catch him, pulling off the mask and frowning when he realizes he’s passed out. Great.

Well, at least it makes his job easier, if not happier.

He moves him to the floor, knowing he won’t be able to effectively hold him up and check him over. Carefully, he gets the suit off again, draping it over the hamper for him to deal with later. It’s going to need cleaning, and a whole list of repairs again. Does he deal with that level of damage to his suit and bodily injuries every time he goes out as Spider-Man? No wonder it takes him so long between patrols sometimes.

From there, he fishes out a first aid kit from somewhere, too focused now to pay much attention to anything besides the unconscious omega on his floor, and sets to work. He has Jarvis scan him so he’s sure he doesn’t miss anything and that he’s not in immediate danger. He’d take him to the hospital wing if necessary, though he’d rather not do that again.

It doesn’t seem to be. There’s a lot of blood and embedded, little shards of glass, but overall the injuries are superficial. Only the cut on his leg looks particularly bad. He probably won’t be able to walk properly until it heals, but Tony isn’t worried about his ability to clean it, so he sets to work.

It’s a tedious process, carefully picking out all the little shards of glass in his skin and then delicately as possible cleaning all his wounds. First with peroxide, sanitizing them, and then getting a warm rag from the tub and effectively sponge-bathing him. He was covered in blood, sweat, and probably some other things Tony didn’t want to acknowledge. He leaves his underwear on — a pretty little pair of panties that don’t leave much to the imagination, though he can hardly focus on that right now with bigger problems obviously at hand — but otherwise cleans him thoroughly before taking off his shirt and draping him in it. It’s huge, goes down to the omega’s knees nearly, but it’s got to be warm and it’s clean and it satisfies that little possessive rumbling inside him, seeing him in his clothes, smelling the way their scents mix. Peter’s is just so soft and sweet — like warm vanilla, with a hint of something that might be strawberries, maybe his shampoo, and something else distinctly omega and Peter that calls to him, though he wouldn’t dream of doing anything about it while Peter is asleep.

He washes his hands and makes quick work of cleaning up most of his mess before returning to scoop the omega up. He’s suddenly extremely thankful for his foresight when he realizes he has a place to take him that isn’t his room, and that he’s actually going to get to put it to good use.

He carries Peter to the room he’d began setting up for him, depositing him on the bed and watching him for a moment. He’s just moving to tuck him in when there’s a quiet tap on the doorframe.

“How is he?” Rhodey asks, quietly, seeming to realize he’s not awake.

“He passed out before we could talk at all,” Tony admits. “So I have no idea what happened to him or how he’s feeling. But I cleaned him up and took care of his wounds. He’s not in any immediate danger.”

Rhodey nods. “I finished cleaning up the mess and blocked off the hole. It’s not gonna be good, of course, you’ll need it professionally fixed, but it’s not a gaping hole now.”

“Thanks, Rhodey.” Exhaustion suddenly slams into him, and he sighs, putting a hand to his head.

Rhodey senses it immediately. “I think it’s time for you to get some rest, man. I know you’re superhuman now and all, but you need sleep still.”

“I know. I just…” Hardly ever sleep. Hardly did in the first place. He does even less, now that his body actually requires less of it, but these past few days… well. Rhodey is right; the recoil effects of this are nothing to scoff at.

“I know.” He claps him on the shoulder. “I’m going down to my room for the night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Tony just nods. He waits for him to disappear, the door closed behind him, before turning back to the bed. He reaches down to tuck Peter in, and is surprised when a hand closes around his wrist, stronger than he had expected.

He tries to pry his hand off as gently as he can, but the omega is having none of it, apparently, grip tightening to the point he can feel the finger-shaped bruises starting to form. A quick glance at his face is enough to confirm that Peter isn’t actually awake. He’s just instinctively seeking him, whether for his heat or by scent or maybe their bond.

It doesn’t really matter. Awake or not, if he wants him to stay, then he’s not going anywhere.

Getting into bed with Peter is probably his final mistake, but it feels too damn right to regret it.

At least until one of them wakes up screaming, and things begin to spiral again.

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ghostofbambifanfiction · 4 years

Note

For the texting prompts, “challenge”

Beatrice Booth: Two hours and counting!

Lily Evans: Yeah, I’M AWARE, thank you.

Beatrice Booth: Just reminding you bb pip pip!

Lily Evans: Could you PLEASEJUST

Beatrice Booth: It’s for your own good

Lily Evans: You are asking me to make a major life change and instead of love and support I’m getting “pip pip!” and “two hours and counting!”

Beatrice Booth: LOL major life change ok ms drama

Lily Evans: I’m sorry, but in what universe does this NOT change things?

Beatrice Booth: You’re acting like things are going to change in a bad way

Lily Evans: They might.

Beatrice Booth: They won’t

Lily Evans: They MIGHT.

Beatrice Booth: OMG just get on with it ffs I’m growing a beard here waiting.

Lily Evans: I. Am. Doing. It. Now. Go. Away.

Beatrice Booth: LOL send screenshotsDo you have a plan?

Lily Evans: Sort of.

Beatrice Booth: What is it?

Lily Evans: How am I even supposed to START and also who TEXTS someone to tell them how they feel about them in the first place that’s so impersonal and I HATE you, honestly????

James Potter: what?

Lily Evans: Oh, shit.I’m sorry, I typed this in the wrong conversation.It’s meant to be for Beatrice.

James Potter: that’s okay

Lily Evans: I’ll have to get back to you on how I somehow mistook your Whatsapp pic for hers.

James Potter: i don’t know what you’re talking about, beatrice looks exactly like a huge ginger cat wearing a male stripper’s bow tie

Lily Evans: What distinguishes it as a stripper’s bow tie and not just a bow tie?Is there a specific website where strippers buy their apparel?

James Potter: yeah it’s where i buy all of my tearaway trousersit’s a stripper’s bow tie because algernon is otherwise naked, obviously

Lily Evans: Obviously.So…can any piece of clothing can be stripper clothing if it’s the only thing you’re wearing?Which by default means you can wear stripper clothes when you’re not stripping?

James Potter: anything but crocs

Lily Evans: That’s fair.A naked person in crocs already has more problems than I’m ever likely to face in my lifetime.

James Potter: yeah but they’re getting terrific arch support

Lily Evans: What about shower caps?

James Potter: ANYTHING but crocs

Lily Evans: So you’d rather be in a strip club where the strippers were wearing a shower cap than one where the strippers wore crocs?

James Potter: i’d rather not be in any strip club, they’re depressing and full of creepslike whyeveryone knows why you’re therethe women don’t like youif you’re gonna be a sad pervert have the decency to keep that between you and your google search history

Lily Evans: What’s the last thing on your Google search history?

James Potter: “world’s largest lego store?”what’s yours?

Lily Evans: “How to tell the boy you like that you like him because your stupid best friend beat you in a year-long contest and forced you to do it as a forfeit?”Subheading: “She SAYS this is her idea of lockdown self-improvement but that’s bullshit, she’s just thirsty for drama”

James Potter: ahrightokay coolfirst text makes sense then hahawait, YEAR long????

Lily Evans: Yeah, look, it had a lot of different components and a whole escalating points system and it’s a whole thing, whatever, I’m never doing it again.Her victories were total flukes.Like, wow, you guessed the Eurovision winner, well done.I’m also pretty sure she was cheating with the steps counter but I don’t even want to get into that, honestly.

James Potter: mum gave me and sirius fitbits so she could make sure we took 10000 a day and sirius tricked her by putting his on his right wrist when he was wanking

Lily Evans: It’s weird that you know that.

James Potter: it’s weird that you don’t, he tells everyonedid you find anything?

Lily Evans: Where?

James Potter: in your google search?

Lily Evans: I found “100 Inspiring Quotes That Will Increase Your Confidence,” so no.

James Potter: inspiring quotes are like placebos except at no point do they have you fooledyou know they’re not gonna work

Lily Evans: Yeah, like it’s nice that some guy named Norman Vincent Peale wants me to believe in myself but that doesn’t suddenly mean that I do.

James Potter: you should believe in yourself, you’re brilliantbut you should also narrow your search parameters because that situation is way too specific

Lily Evans: I do believe in myself. Mostly.But like, not only do I have to tell this person that I have a crush on him, I have to do it to a bloody deadline.Nothing really prepares you for that, you can’t take romantic entanglements for your A Level.And apparently Google’s unfamiliar with the concept, so.

James Potter: it’s not remus, is it?tell me it’s not remus

Lily Evans: What?

James Potter: the person you fancy?i mean, not that i have any personal investment in the issue i just know he likes beatrice and wouldn’t want you to get hurt and that’s the tea

Lily Evans: ????????What makes you think it’s Remus?

James Potter: i dunno he justhe seems like the kind of person you’d like

Lily Evans: Me specifically?

James Potter: yeah

Lily Evans: Because?

James Potter: because he’s academic in a good way

Lily Evans: There’s a bad way to be academic?

James Potter: course there isremus is academic in the way that tries, not the way that fucks around and gets good marks by coasting on natural brilliance, which according to my mum can cultivate laziness and that’s why my chore list is so extensivehe’s funny in a dry wayhe’s not a dramatic idiothis hair is tidyhe probably understands mortgages

Lily Evans: You’re describing a male me and I don’t know why you think I’d want to date that.Also, I’m seventeen.Why would I need to understand mortgages?

James Potter: i hear it’s good to get on the property ladder early

Lily Evans: Do you WANT me to be into Remus?

James Potter: there’s no good answer to that question

Lily Evans: Because I’m not into Remus.You have a really skewed idea of what my type is.

James Potter: are you sure?

Lily Evans: Yeah, no, I’m pretty sure I haven’t mistaken him for the totally DIFFERENT person I fancy.

James Potter: i think he has an everyman quality that people find quite charmingit’s possible that you could have

Lily Potter: He’s not a Ditto, James. He can’t transform at will.

James Potter: though thinking about itwould be a bit weird if beatrice was pushing you to tell remus you liked himshe’s mentioned liking remus once or twice

Lily Evans: Once or twice a minute.I can’t believe you thought that “academic” and “understands mortgages” were my major qualifiers.Like, honestly it’s a bit offensive that you think I’m that stodgy.

James Potter: no it isn’t and i never said stodgyit was a commentary on how mature you are!and how you have sensible priorities!

Lily Evans: You say “mature” but you mean “stodgy.”

James Potter: that is not what i mean

Lily Evans: BRB digging out one of my nan’s cardigans and buying some thermal underwear and maybe taking up bridge as a hobby.Maybe I can book a spot on one of those OAP singles cruises and meet someone at a shuffleboard tournament?If I’m lucky he’ll have a full pension.

James Potter: i feel like i should inform you that plenty of old people are out there living wild livesi mean, not right now because of lockdown, but

Lily Evans: But apparently I’m not.

James Potter: what’s wrong with liking those things about a person??i like those things about youand about peopleplural

Lily Evans: NOTHING but they shouldn’t be THE thing.Like, it’s so mercenary. You’re saying I’d only want to date someone because they stand a good chance of making it in a decent career and being a good provider and not because they’re sweet or kind or funny.

James Potter: firstly, i mentioned that remus is funny and secondly that’s not what i meanti meant that you would want to date someone who was your intellectual equal so you would never feel that you weren’t smart enough for them or that they weren’t smart enough to stay on your level

Lily Evans: And that translates to “academic in a good way” how?

James Potter: okay what i just said was a) true and b) a straight up compliment and you’re just blowing right past it

Lily Evans: Maybe I am, but that still doesn’t explain how it translates.Like, since I’m assuming that you, THE smartest person I know, think you’re academic in a bad way, does that mean you think YOU’RE not on my level?Is that a conversation we need to have now?

James Potter: my middle name is oddjob

Lily Evans: Wait what??

James Potter: you’ve mistaken my compliment for an insult and you’re mad at me so i’m trying to distract youand just so you knowthis is my deepest darkest secretonly sirius and my parents know my middle name

Lily Evans: Wait, Oddjob like the Bond villain??????

James Potter: you are part of an elite group of people i’d trust with my life so please appreciate thatyes like the bond villain

Lily Evans: Were you a particularly complicated birth or something?Were your parents punishing you somehow?

James Potter: complicated pregnancymum was on bedrest for weeksshe was so bored that she watched all of the bond movies because they were the only films dad kept in the house and streaming wasn’t a thing back then, and that’s the story of why my name is james instead of sebastian

Lily Evans: James Oddjob.

James Potter: james oddjob

Lily Evans: They were going to call you Sebastian?

James Potter: mum’s choiceshe thought it was debonair and rakish

Lily Evans: I’m…really disproportionately thrilled that they didn’t go with Sebastian.

James Potter: because i’m not rakish or debonair enough?

Lily Evans: No, because you’re such a James.

James Potter: what qualifies a person to be “such a james?”

Lily Evans: I dunno.It’s just you, isn’t it? Your personality. You’re a James.

James Potter: there are loads of other people with that name, you know

Lily Evans: Yeah, and every time I speak to one I’m like, who is this clown and why is he using a name that doesn’t belong to him?

James Potter: lol

Lily Evans: #NotMyJames

James Potter: oh, so i’m YOUR james now?

Lily Evans: You know what I mean.

James Potter: no i don’t, please explain yourselfdid you call dibs?sirius will be pissed

Lily Evans: Do you want me to get mad at you again?

James Potter: were you ever really mad to begin with?

Lily Evans: SIGH. No.

James Potter: can’t believe you typed out a sigh

Lily Evans: I’m just stressed.I have…just over an hour? To tell this guy I like him.And Beatrice is demanding screenshots as proof.

James Potter: why is she even making you do this?

Lily Evans: She says that he likes me too and we’re just wasting time that could otherwise be spent swiping our v-cards in a slow march towards death, and that in the event that he doesn’t, we won’t be able to see each other for weeks anyway so I can avoid any awkward encounters.It’s a compelling argument, must admit.Assuming he hasn’t already…swiped?I haven’t swiped.Have you swiped?I’m talking about sex, by the way.

James Potter: yeah, i got that i’m not twelveno i have not swipedbut you want to?with this person who also likes you and would therefore also want to?

Lily Evans: Only according to Beatrice. He probably doesn’t.And I mean, not immediately. Not like, right now. But eventually, yeah.

James Potter: brb my mum’s calling me from downstairs

James Potter: pls come home from supermarket mum D: D: D: D:

Euphemia Potter: What’s wrong darling?

James Potter: i am dying

Euphemia Potter: What?

James Potter: i am in severe pain

Euphemia Potter: Where is the pain?

James Potter: in my emotions

Euphemia Potter: For goodness’ sake, James!Sending me a message like that during an international crisis!I thought you were seriously ill!

James Potter: heartbreak IS a serious afflictioni’ve just found out that lily has a crush on someone!!!??? and i am?? dying????

Euphemia Potter: Who does she have a crush on?

James Potter: i don’t know, she hasn’t said his name

Euphemia Potter: You tortoise, she obviously has a crush on you.

James Potter: you are biased in my favour because you are the woman who birthed me

Euphemia: Right now I am anything but biased in your favour.As punishment for subjecting your mother to needless worry, you can give the oven a good cleaning before I get home.That will cure you of your “affliction.”And remember to charge Diablo.

James Potter: you show that roomba more respect than you’ve ever shown me!

Euphemia Potter: Well at least the Roomba is useful.

James Potter: OUCH

James Potter: backturns out my mum just needed to insult me deeply

Lily Evans: Hey.

James Potter: still stressed out?

Lily Evans: Unbelievably.

James Potter: you know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, yeah?

Lily Evans: No, I do.I promised her I’d do it.And I want to tell him.Sort of.I do sometimes think he might like me back.He says things sometimes, you know? And he looks at me in a certain way and I just, idk.It’s just, how do I even broach that in a text message?

James Potter: i have no idea

Lily Evans: Like, just come out and say it?

James Potter: honestly evans, don’t think i’m the right person to asklike, reallynot the right personreally really REALLY not the person to ask about this

Lily Evans: But you must have an opinion?

James Potter: i have no opinions on anything everexcept crocs on strippers but disregard thatyou know what you should do? ask remushe’s wise like a wolf

Lily Evans: Since when are wolves known for their wisdom?

James Potter: owls thenhe could probably make helpful suggestions

Lily Evans: I like you.

James Potter: yeah, go with that, whatever works

Lily Evans: James

James Potter: what?

Lily Evans: I literally just…my GOD, Potter.

James Potter: what?

Lily Evans: Nothing.

James Potter: what????

Lily Evans: Nothing, honestly, it’s fine.I’ll tell you to your face when I next see you.

James Potter: tell me what?tell me what????wait nolilydo youwas that about me?tell me what?????lilylilyLILYTELL ME WHAT?

#I kind of hate this but I had to stop #otherwise it just becomes a oneshot with no end

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