#right now it's doing it period and I need to be awake in 4 and a half hours and I'm so so tired of this

[disaster-writer]

Poison (Part 1/4)

Pairing: Alpha!Bokuto Koutarou x Beta!Reader

Summary: You loved love, but it wasn’t made for you… but maybe a certain Alpha could change your mind

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: MSBY Black Jackals time period

AU: Omegaverse

“I don’t care about your presentation. It shouldn’t matter whether or not you’re a Beta and I’m an Alpha— I love you for you and not because of my biology—“

”Fucking liar,” you grumbled glaring holes into your tv, “You only love her cause it’s in the fucking script,” you grumbled once more, shoving the Valentine’s chocolate you had bought for yourself into your mouth.

”Hmmm… and you say this is your favorite movie because….?”

Your eyes snapped to your laptop, wide open and displaying your younger sister.

Truthfully you were sure every single person in the world would find you to be quite the pathetic display right now. In the midst of February, crying about fake love stories while stuffing your face with heart shaped chocolates, and talking to your sister that had to make time out of her busy school schedule just to hang out with you over FaceTime. Not to mention your hair was a wreck and you looked like you had been awake for days.

But at the age of 24 you stopped caring about the optics long ago… plus no one was ever here to pity you anyway.

”Because it’s a beautiful fucking love story about a Beta finding true love,” another chocolate down the hatch.

”Isn’t the actress an Omega in real life?” She snorted.

”Yeah and you can tell no Betas worked on this film cause they got so much shit wrong. Like how would she be able to tell he was pissed off in that one scene by his scent? We can’t smell that shit,” you ranted, throwing a piece of chocolate at the tv. Out of the corner of your eye you could see your cat walking up and sniffing the chocolate before batting it away. “They also make her too submissive.”

She hummed absentmindedly, filling in one of the answers in her homework, ”Well what do you expect? You guys only make up like, what— 2 percent of the population?”

”Maybe if you Omegas and Alphas didn’t fuck like bunnies, we wouldn’t be dying out.”

”Hey!” Your sister yelped, looking up from her homework, “Mom told you not to say stuff like that anymore!”

You grumbled something to yourself, sinking further down against the foot of your bed and into the carpet, “Sorry.”

“God I can’t wait for February to be over,” she muttered going back to her homework.

”At least I don’t bother you with this year round now. If I’m destined to die alone I can take one month out of the year to be insufferable.”

”Oh sis, you need some serious help.”

”That’s what the chocolates are for,” you say through a mouthful, “Ah! Don’t eat that Mochi!”

From your sister’s perspective she sees you suddenly leap out of frame giving her a view of the dance pole you had installed in your room— a secret you made sure both your sisters would take to the grave just so your parents wouldn’t find out. And just behind that she could faintly make out the shelves upon shelves of anime figurines you collected in the dim light of your room that was only illuminated by the TV and your laptop. You returned seconds later with a cat in your arms.

She sweat dropped. She loves you with her entire heart but holy shit, you were becoming the stereotypical sad cat lady day by day.

”Tell me again why you can’t just go out with one of the million volleyball players you manage? Or what about the other guys on the other teams? I thought you said most of them don’t have mates?” She asked, putting her pencil down and finally giving you her undivided attention. “I’ve seen some of the pictures of the guys on your team too, they’re all hot.”

You groaned, throwing your head back against the foot of your bed, ”There’s so much wrong with that question I don’t even know where to start.”

”Enlighten me then,” she deadpanned.

”Okay, one, they’re like the most stereotypical Alphas you’ll ever meet— like the Alphas of Alphas, which means a Beta is probably the last person they’d ever date. Two, most of them are unmated for good reason, they’re professional athletes, they don’t have time for that. And three, they’re my co-workers, it’s not professional!” You exclaimed, throwing a fist in the air and causing Mochi to meow and squirm out of your hold.

She narrowed her eyes at your dramatics. “Is that all?” She asked sarcastically.

”There’s probably more— ah shit the movie’s over,” you said, noticing the credits beginning to roll.

”Thank God,” your little omega sister muttered, “It’s time for you to go to bed anyway.”

”Sleep is for the weak,” you grumbled, a pocky stick hanging out the corner of your mouth while searching for a new movie.

”Huh-uh sure it is. It’s 2am and don’t you have to get up at 6?”

”5. I’m going on a run to burn off all the chocolate.”

”You could just not eat it.”

”Funny.”

She rolled her eyes, “Anyway, Ne-Chan is going to your place tomorrow right?”

”Oh yeah, that’s right,” you muttered, forgetting about your older sister’s stay.

”Thank God, she can help you through tomorrows episode instead of me.”

”Bitch.”

She started closing her textbook, ”Ok I’m gonna—“

”Y’know tomorrow will be the first time I’m seeing any of you in like a year.”

”That’s cause you never visit.”

”Well you guys could come visit me too y’know?” You scoffed, picking at your cuticle.

”Nuh uh don’t pull that, we’re all here and you’re the one that wanted to run off and isolate herself after you started making bank as a manager.”

”Yeah whatever,” you grumbled.

”I’m gonna go to bed now,” she hummed, “And you should too.”

You only grunted in response.

”Love ya, talk to you later,” she waved.

”Love you—“ she hung up, “…too,” you ended with a sigh.

You took a second, staring at the blank screen and remembering just how lonely you felt now that you were by yourself before going back to scrolling through the movies once again.

* * * *

You jolted awake to the sound of your alarm that following morning.

You turned over, registered that it was 5am, turned off the alarm, and turned back around.

What were you thinking? A 5am run? The sun wasn’t even up yet. You weren’t like the weirdos you managed on the team. You’d much rather stick to your usual workout routine.

You fell back asleep.

You would actually wake up two hours later at 7am to go to work. The guys had a 8 am practice but you couldn’t spend the practice time with them anyway as you’d be locked away in your office all day. After their last tournament they had an influx of sponsors come in and now you had your hands absolutely full with that.

However, now with the sunlight filtering in through your curtains, you forced yourself awake and to get ready for the day.

You sat up, your bed head looking worse than it did when you fell asleep. Quickly glancing around the room with bleary eyes you saw the mess you had made. Wrappers, boxes, used tissues scattered everywhere, with your tv still on.

You sighed before forcing yourself to your feet, stirring your sleeping cat on your bed. You quickly gathered the garbage together and threw it out followed by turning off the tv. 

You passed by your calendar, February 8th, only six more days until Valentine’s Day.

Your shoulders slumped as you dragged your feet over to your closet.

Truly you weren’t this desperate and pathetic all the time, it’s just this month that always seemed to get to you. 

Old habits die hard, you supposed.

Ever since you were a child you dreamed about growing up and getting married, you dreamed about falling in love and experiencing the type of love that completely electrified you and made your head dizzy, you dreamt about being held by a man that was completely crazy about you.

Maybe it was a bit naïve, but it’s what you always wanted.

But then you had to go and present as a Beta. 

You were the only Beta born to a completely traditional family. Your father was an alpha, your mother an omega, your two older brothers were both alphas, your older sister was an omega, and your younger sister was also an omega.

Turns out your great grandmother was a fucking Beta and that’s where the gene came from.

You also had no issue with being a Beta, the problem lied with the fact that Betas were so rare nowadays they were impossible to find, and other Betas would have been your dating pool. But now you were stuck feeling undesirable by both Alphas and Omegas who only wanted to mate with each other.

You slammed your closet open, a bit rougher than you intended and pulled out a pair of black slacks, a white button up, and your blazer. 

It wasn’t your typical dress attire everyday but your schedule was full of zoom meetings today with both sponsors and magazines. Any other day you would have been assisting the team during practice and dressed in one of your track suits.

You quickly stripped and dressed yourself for the day.

Now it also wasn’t as if you didn’t try within the field of love. You fought tooth and nail to experience any kind of romantic relationship but a girl could only take her confessions being rejected by Alpha after Omega after Alpha so many times. Not to mention being ditched on blind dates. For you the cumulative number that was your breaking point was thirty times. 

You loved love.

But it wasn’t made for you. 

After dressing, using the bathroom, brushing your teeth, and putting on your makeup and putting your hair in a tight bun, you headed to the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee in a to go cup before heading out the door to start your day.

The game plan for the day was to greet the team before hiding away in your office for the rest of the day. You’d meet with the CEO of Bouncing Ball on zoom followed by another sponsor you couldn’t remember but you were pretty sure it was some energy drink company. Then you’d start getting the schedule in order for the match against the Adler’s later this week. Following that you’d meet with two Sports magazines back to back to set up some interviews— speaking of interviews you also—

“Fuck,” you hissed on the train ride softly, immediately going through your bag for your agenda. The passenger next to you threw you an annoyed glance but you paid them no mind. “The press conference.”

You quickly wrote down in your agenda, that contained both your work and personal life schedules on one calendar, a reminder about that press conference that’s coming up. Then you quickly put it in your phone calendar as well.

Interviews and press conferences were a nightmare for you, between Hinata, Atsumu, and Bokuto you had your hands completely full with making sure they were in the right place at the right time because somehow they never were unless you had them all on tight leashes. 

Yeah maybe you didn’t have someone to love or love you back the way you wanted but you did have your career. And as much as they liked to drive you up a wall you did enjoy your job and your coworkers. On top of that you were still able to make a pretty decent life for yourself as you were completely independent and self sufficient, in fact you were able to send checks to help support your family now. Your apartment was basically an expensive suite that always looked immaculate due to the fact you were even able to afford a maid.

The train stopped and you got off. Now with some caffeine in your system there was more of a pep in your step. You knew that once you stepped a foot into the building you’d momentarily forget all your woes and instead act like the professional that you were as you threw yourself into your work. Your sister would be coming over later in the day and you had your Pilates class that night so you certainly had a full day ahead.

You headed straight for the gymnasium, stalking past your own office as you put a smile on your face.

Pushing the door open you headed straight towards the bench where Coach Samson and Meian were currently talking. You waved to Atsumu, Hinata, and Sakusa who were currently starting their warm ups, you assumed the rest to still be in the locker room.

You could immediately hear the squeaking of their sneakers on the flooring, the smell of salon-pas invading your nose. The ceiling was so much higher than the one of your old high school and the lights much brighter as well. 

”Good morning Samson-san, Meian-san,” you nodded towards them with a smile.

Samson returned your warm smile with one of his own, “Good morning (Y/N), you seem cheerful as always,”

”What’s not to be cheerful about?” You shrugged, “Anyways I went over your schedule yesterday, looks like you’ve got a full day of practice huh?”

”Yeah,” Meian answered, “It’s the Adlers, some of the guys are getting worked up about the upcoming match so we figured more practice wouldn’t hurt. God knows they’re gonna over practice anyway.”

”That is true,” you snorted.

”And you?” Samson asked, “You’re all dressed up again, stuck in more meetings?”

”That I am. Got some meetings with one of our sponsors and some new ones. Then I need to set up interviews with VolleyballWorld Mag and Sports Monthly— oh and we have that press conference on the 25th coming up but I’ll give you more details when that gets closer.”

Meian whistled lowly, “I’m glad I only have to do the playing, I’d lose my mind if I had your job.”

”Oh it’s not that difficult—“

”I thought we talked about not selling yourself short (Y/N),” Samson interrupted, “You’re the only manager I’ve dealt with that hasn’t lost a single sponsorship for this team. Not only that but you handle these knuckle headed Alphas so well I think they’d fall apart without you.”

You laughed at his comment and grinned, “I do appreciate the sentiment so thank you,” you nodded, “Now I only wanted to stop by and say hello, I have to prepare for the meetings now so I’ll head out. I’ll be in my office all day if you need anything.” You began turning around, waving at the two, “Good luck with practice today—“

”(Y/N)-CHAAAAAN!!”

Your shoulders immediately tensed, your eyes widening, “Oh fuck—“

Suddenly you had the air knocked out of you as you were quite literally swept off your feet by a much larger force, now being rocked side to side in the Alphas embrace as he squeezed you against his chest.

”Bokuto-san,” you managed to wheeze out, “I thought we discussed this?”

You could instantly feel him deflate, “We did…”

”And what did we say?”

”No hugging Miss Manager.”

”And why?”

”Because it’s unprofessional.”

You waited a beat for him to react but he didn’t, “That means put me down Bokuto-san.”

A second later you were back on your feet.

You huffed, straightening out your blazer and ignoring the dejected look on Bokuto’s face. After working with him for so long it was quite easy at this point. You patted his arm.

”Thank you. Always a pleasure Bokuto-san, good luck with practice—“

”You’re not staying!?” He suddenly exclaimed.

“You do realize her job isn’t just handing out towels and water bottles right?” Meian asked.

”Yeah but… Beta-chan hasn’t been to practice in ages!”

”That’s because you guys keep doing so well. The more sponsors you get the busier I become. Now you really should get to practice, it’s almost 9 now.” You said, checking your watch, “And don’t worry, I’ll be attending practice again before you know it.”

You were just about to turn and leave before Bokuto stopped you again.

“Wait! I have something for you!”

You watched in slight annoyance as Bokuto ran off to his bag and shuffled through it. Seconds later he was pulling out a black fabric and a Tupperware and then running back to you.

At this point the entirety of the team was watching whatever shit Bokuto was onto now.

”I found your jacket!” He pushed the fabric towards you.

”Oh?” You accepted it, quite surprised, “I dunno how you found one of my things again but thank you… actually I dunno how I keep losing it,” you muttered under your breath.

”And this is for you!” He exclaimed once again, handing you the container in his hand.

”Huh… Another bento?” You asked peculiarly as you looked through the container before you sighed, “I thought we talked about this as well Bokuto-san? You can’t be giving me gifts all the time it’s not—”

”Professional! I know! But I didn’t make them for you this time! I made it for me and these are left overs!”

You sweat dropped at his explanation, “Bokuto-san that’s the same thing. I can’t accept this.” Suddenly Bokuto deflated, like he always did when you declined his gifts.

You then glanced behind him at Meian who just nodded his head towards Bokuto.

You sighed.

”Alright fine,” instantly he perked up, as you took the container, “But I’m telling you you can’t keep doing this. Now go practice, I’ll try to stop by later if I can.”

With that you were spinning around on your heel, heading out of the gymnasium with your sweater and the Tupperware in hand.

Behind you Bokuto stood proudly with his hands on his hips as if he accomplished something just now.

The rest of the team stared at the scene with quite exhausted faces. This kind of show was so typical now, it came as no surprise.

“How many days does that make now?” Atsumu scoffed, leaning back into his stretch once again.

“Fuck if I know anymore,” Sakusa grumbled back.

”HEY HEY HEYYY!” 

“At least he’s in a good mood!” Hinata chirped as Bokuto ran at full speed towards them.

”Did’ya see that!? She accepted my gift!—“

”Bokuto!” Samson suddenly snapped, “Stop talking and start stretching!”

”Right!” He held a thumbs up at his coach, causing the older man to roll his eyes, before joining his teammates on the ground to stretch as well.

”She also hesitated before accepting it and told ya to stop again,” Atsumu said.

”Yeah but I think I’m making progress,” Bokuto grinned happily, “She’ll be my mate in no time!”

”It’s been nearly a year Bokuto,” Sakusa muttered.

”And how was that any different from what usually happens anyway?” Inunaki called out to them after overhearing the conversation.

”Because! That makes the 52nd time she’s accepted one of my gifts and only the 49th time she’s rejected it! And she didn’t give me penalties for hugging her this time.”

”Only?” Sakusa sweat dropped, honestly he envied how blissfully stupid Bokuto could be at times.

”If she hasn’t done anythin’ about ya courtin’ her then she doesn’t know yer courtin’ her!” Atsumu snapped in frustration, “Ignore yer stupid instincts for once and ask her out already!” Clearly he was the most annoyed with watching this show drag on for this long already. Yeah, maybe it was funny in the beginning but now Bokuto’s stupid Alpha behavior and your own obliviousness as a Beta was becoming painful to watch.

”Maybe Bokuto’s right!” Hinata butted in, “She seems to be a lot more accepting of his hugs now!”

”That’s cause she’s used to it,” Inunaki snickered. “Also whatever happened to the idea that Bokuto is also probably not her type?”

”Whaddya mean not her type? I’m everyone’s type!”

”Yeah I’m sure she likes you for your modesty,” Sakusa muttered sarcastically under his breath.

”Why wouldn’t I be her type?” Bokuto asked, seriously looking like he was trying to rack his brain for the answer.

”Well because, she’s so…” Inunaki trailed off, “Professional. And you’re…”

”You don’t think I’m professional enough for (Y/N)-chan?”

As if on cue, everyone snorted as if he just told a joke.

”You too Hinata?”

”I mean… (Y/N)-chan she’s… very…”

”Any day now,” Sakusa grumbled.

”Serious! That’s the word! She’s very serious about her job while you’re a lot more fun!”

Bokuto frowned as if he was offended, “You don’t think (Y/N)-chan is fun?”

”And you do?” Inunaki asked surprised. “None of us know anything about her. She doesn’t even go to the celebratory dinners or team bondings— we’ve never even seen her in her casual clothes.”

“That’s a good point,” Atsumu agreed, “She’s not on any social media either and she only ever talks to any of us when it has to do with volleyball— she’s like a fuckin’ NPC. Ya know nothin’ about the Beta, how’d she even manage to get ya wrapped around her finger like this?”

Bokuto stared at the gym floor and had that look in his eyes that his teammates knew too well at this point, “You’re wrong about her—“ he looked up at his teammates, “There’s more than that to Miss Manager! I know it— it’s like in her scent! And when I find out you’ll all see you were wrong!”

”So dramatic,” Sakusa said, “You keep saying this shit but she still doesn’t even know you’re interested in her.”

”Yeah, cause he won’t just fuckin’ ask her out!” Atsumu exclaimed.

”You say that now but just wait until she realizes what I did with her jacket!”

Atsumu looked at Bokuto in horror, “The fuck did ya do with her jacket?”

“I washed it with my laundry, scented it, and slept with it in my bed for a week!” He exclaimed proudly, Atsumu’s innuendo completely going over his head, “Now she’s bound to know I’ve been scenting her!”

The others, even Hinata, stared at Bokuto dumbfounded as they watched him close his eyes with a stupid grin on his face, clearly visualizing what he thought would be the moment you realized he scented you.

”I don’t know how many more times we have to say this to you,” Sakusa said, “But Beta noses don’t work that way. If anything she’s just gonna think her jacket smells like a man, I doubt she’s familiar with your specific scent at all considering she’s always around us when she does see you.”

Bokuto deflated.

”Ya know what will get her to finally notice ya?” Atsumu asked.

Bokuto perked up again.

”If ya just asked her out already!”

* * * *

You stalked into your office, the door slamming shut behind you.

You dropped the container Bokuto gave you onto your desk, placed the coffee cup down, draped your jacket behind your chair, dropped your bag onto the ground, and finally you sank into your seat with a sigh.

A smell wafted around your nose and you immediately knew it was your jacket as you sunk deeper into your seat.

It smelled like a fucking man.

”Seriously? Was it rolling around in the locker room or something?” You grumbled to yourself.

You still had an hour before your meeting with the CEO for Bouncing Ball. 

Now you could go over some notes and brush up on anything you’ve might’ve forgotten but Kenma Kozume was probably the most laid back sponsor you’ve ever dealt with and you knew your extensive knowledge about his company and all your business dealings wasn’t as impressive as it was to most other CEO’s.

And also, you didn’t want to study anyway.

You glared daggers at the container which held the lunch Bokuto made. You already made your own lunch for the day so maybe you’d give to your sister when you got home.

You glared harder at the container. “Left overs my ass,” you grumbled. There looked to be three servings of food in there.

You didn’t know why Bokuto was so persistent when it came to giving you food but if he was this generous with you then you knew he was going to make some lucky Omega out there very happy. 

“Lucky bitch,” you muttered just thinking about this metaphorical Omega. “… I wonder what Mochi is doing now?”

Before you knew it ten o’clock had rolled around and you found yourself entering the waiting room for your meeting with Kenma.

And just as you had expected, you weren’t accepted until a half hour later.

”Sorry I’m late,” Kenma muttered, clearly looking at whatever was on his computer screen than the zoom meeting. “I lost track of my stream.”

”No worries,” you hummed, “I was able to get some other work done in the meantime.”

”I’m gonna keep this brief,” more words that didn’t surprise you, “I wanted to talk to you about giving MSBY more money.”

You blinked in shock, back straightening up as you processed his words, “You want to give more, but you already give—“

”I know how much,” he hummed, “But I want to give more.”

”Oh well— thank you. Let me just grab my books and I’ll adjust a few things,” you said, immediately reaching for one of your binders that was placed neatly in your bottom drawer. “How much do you—“

”Double.”

Your jaw fell open briefly, but you quickly regained your composure, “Alright well— that’s- that’s great news. Amazing even. That’ll help pay for the repairs in the gym and then some. Thank you Kenma.”

”You’re welcome,” he hummed absentmindedly, “Tell Shouyou I said ‘Hi,’”

”Of course, as always,” you nodded, “Should I tell Bokuto you said hi as well?”

You could see a slight smirk on Kenma’s lips, “No.”

“Very well,” you snickered. Kenma didn’t seem like the type but you had come to realize he liked fucking with people sometimes.

”Feel free to tell Samson you negotiated for this deal.”

”I would if I could but everyone knows you don’t give anything to anyone unless you want to.”

He shrugged, “I suppose.”

”So was that the only matter you wanted to discuss for today?”

”Yeah. You have that meeting down with my advertisement team for the fifteenth right?”

You glanced down at your large desk calendar which as opposed to your agenda in your bag and your phone calendar only had your work schedule. 

“Yup, right here. Will you be in attendance?”

”No, I trust you when it comes to dealing with them.”

You snickered once more, “Isn’t that supposed to be the other way around?”

Kenma glared sourly at his screen, “You would think but some of those guys are becoming more and more incompetent with each day.”

”Well then I’ll be looking forward to that meeting,” you joked, “But if that’s all, I’ll leave you be. And good luck with tonight’s stream.”

”Thanks. Don’t lead Bokuto on too much today—“

”Huh?—“

”Goodbye.”

He hung up.

”Fucking CEO’s,” you muttered under your breath.

* * * *

The day had progressed quite smoothly. You had managed to get everything with the sponsors clarified and confirmed. You scheduled all the interviews that needed scheduling and on top of that you were even able to smooth over some of the details concerning the press conference at the end of the month.

Practice had ended hours ago now, you knew because Bokuto tried sticking his nose in your business as usual before Meian forced him to go home so you could work.

But now you were finally finished and packing up for the day. You shoved everything you needed into your bag, even your blazer since you’d much rather wear your jacket in this weather. You inspected it further and it had looked clean, it just very obviously smelled like the volleyball players. You’d just throw it in the wash when you did laundry later that week. 

You then shoved the bento in your bag as well before taking off for the night.

Your sister was already at your place. She had texted you around noon and had let herself in with the key you hid outside for her.

So really, you should have expected the impact when you were suddenly pinned to the ground the moment you stepped into your apartment.

”(Y/N)!!!” Your older sister had screeched above your face as your bag and its contents went flying across the room. The door was still wide open, letting the sunlight and cold air filter in over the two of you.

”You bitch!” You yelped back, before quickly flipping the two of you over so you had her pinned instead. She struggled under you but you had always been stronger than her. “You’re too old to still be greeting me like this!”

”I’m 26! Stop acting like I’m on my death bed!” She yelped, still struggling.

“Why haven’t you visited sooner! It’s been a year you whore!”

”Why haven’t you visited us back home! Sending checks every month to mom and dad doesn’t count as visiting!”

You glared at her. 

Her hair was longer now and she of course still looked as beautiful as ever.

You loved her dearly but growing up in her shadow, the most popular and beautiful Omega girl in your high school with a scent that had literally pushed multiple Alphas into ruts and even made one pass out once… well it was difficult.

You remember a cruel joke about you back in high school about how your sister was the one that got confessed to by all the Alphas and how you were always the one that had to do the confessing.

But you haven’t internalized this at all.

Of course not.

Her hair fanned out behind her, her skin was bright and glowy, her canines which were sharper than most (and also made her look like a cute little kitten according to most Alphas) poked out from behind her giant smile.

But her face suddenly screwed up in surprise as all the joy disappeared from her features which were now overshadowed by a seriousness you weren’t used to seeing her wear.

”You smell like Alpha.”

You blinked at her owlishly. “Yeah I was at work all day dummy.”

”No, no.” She suddenly sat up, pushing you back to sit up as well. She leaned in and took a deep whiff of your jacket, “You like, reek of Alpha.”

”I kinda lost this jacket a week ago and I’m convinced it was rolling around in the gym,” you offered as some explanation to the smell.

”No you idiot,” she flicked your forehead, making you wince, “You smell like one singular Alpha— are you hiding something from me?” She suddenly accused.

You scoffed, a sudden heat crawling up your neck and face as you stood up abruptly, shut the door, and kicked your heels off.

”I have no idea what the hell you’re insinuating,” you grumbled, walking over to your bag and shoving everything back in, besides the bento which you left out to put in the kitchen.

Throwing your bag on your couch, you stalked into the kitchen with your sister hot on your heels causing her skirt to sway behind her.

”Are you seeing someone?”

You stopped short, and abruptly spun on your heel to face her to which she almost crashed into you. “That’s— that’s a completely r-ridiculous question!” You spluttered, face now on fire. “And if I was, you know I’d never keep it to myself!”

Your sister tapped her chin and looked up in thought, contemplating your statement, “Hmmm… that is true…. But I’m telling you little sis, you seriously stink of Alpha right now. Like so much it’s kind of ridiculous.”

”And I’m telling you it’s just cause it got lost in the gym—“

”Oh please, I’m not buying that. You know my sense of smell is much sharper than yours so you should just listen to me.”

You clenched your jaw and ignored your thundering heartbeat resonating in your ears, “Like… so… what exactly does it smell like then?” You tried to question nonchalantly, crossing your arms and busying your fingers with a strand of hair. The thought that some Alpha scented you, that someone was interested in you was flustering you in a way no romance movie ever could.

She grinned knowingly, “Well whoever it is, they’re strong as hell— I must say that that’s probably one of the strongest scents I’ve smelled, like Ushiwaka levels strong—“

“I told you to never say that name again,” you suddenly snapped to which she just waved off. 

“Will you please get over that, you’re twenty fucking four now.” You clenched your jaw and pursed your lips, silently seething at your sister. “Anyways, whoever it is must have a big personality too, like I feel like his scent is giving your jacket more presence than both of ours put together— oooh what’s that!” She suddenly pointed at the bento box.

She always did have the attention span of a flee… especially when it came to food.

You looked down at the meal, “Oh, someone at work gave it to me today. You can have it if you want.” You then turned and opened your refrigerator to put it away.

”Hold up,” she grabbed your shoulder and forced you to face her again, “Someone at work? As in one of the million Alphas you work with?”

“Why do you and little sis both think I work with a million Alphas?” You rolled your eyes.

”Answer the question.”

”Yeah. It was one of them. So what? He said they were leftovers.”

”(Y/N),” she said your name seriously.

”What…?”

”That Alpha that gave you that. He’s courting you.”

You were pretty sure you stopped breathing at those words. You could practically hear the fax machine noises as you tried to comprehend the meaning of that statement.

”Bokuto-san… courting?” No. “Stop being stupid,” you hissed, slamming the refrigerator shut and stomping past her now.

He was just overly friendly with everyone. And someone like Bokuto with his big and shining personality, the kind of Alpha that made Omegas swoon when even getting a hint of whatever scent he had that your Beta nose couldn’t pick up (you’ve even witnessed it). Someone that strong and powerful would want an Omega. You’ve even heard from his teammates that he purely ran on instinct— why would his instinct tell him to court a Beta.

”I don’t know who this Bokuto is but I’m telling you he’s courting you.”

”He isn’t,” you hissed with finality. Your sister immediately straightened up. It was an underhanded trick but you realized long ago that Omegas would even listen to Betas with the right tone. “Drop the subject because you’re starting to piss me off. Alphas like him don’t like people like me alright? Now I’m going to get changed, we’re gonna watch movies together, and then I’m gonna drag your ass to take my Pilates class with me. Understood?”

There was a sour look on her face but she nodded, “… yeah, alright.” You walked upstairs, ignoring her when you overheard her muttering, “I don’t see why I need to take your dumb class with you though…”

* * * *

Part 2

[stanfanfiction]

Taste of You - Ken x fem!reader - PART FOUR.FIVE

Heeyyy babes!! Your constant support and outpouring of love it SOO amazing, I truly never expected anyone to even read my writing and having so many of you tell me how much you like it is beyond anything I could have hoped for.

I hope you enjoy the latest .5 chapter, which, as has become custom, is simply the fun sm*t stuff that we all enjoy. Today’s entry had some sub!/dom! Roles, on both sides ;) so I’m eager to see how everyone likes it, what they like more, etc!! Also thanks to @aloheem for suggesting trying out a tickling idea to see how Ken reacts to it.

AND thank you for sending in your requests!! I love reading what you enjoy consuming fan-fic wise and I hope I can bring your ideas to justice <3

Alright, without further ado, warnings and then let’s goooo.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY / sub!Ken/dom!reader / dom!Ken/sub!reader / mild non-con (never fully non because the sub! Is enjoying themselves and makes that clear) / light choking / spanking / bondage / overstimulation / new sensations / tickling / praise k!nk / oral fem! & male! receiving / ball touching / edging

Ken lay underneath you, helpless as you straddled his hips but bent down, eyes staring into his the entire time. He gasped and his entire body clenched as you bit down into the area where his hip bone and groin meet and sucked hard. The headboard rattled loudly as he attempted to jerk his hands toward to free them, but they remained tightly bound above his head much to his frustration. His eyes, never leaving yours, pleaded as loudly as they could, as you had forbidden him from speaking for the time being, begging, BEGGING you to let him do *something,* anything other than lay there and suffer this insanely incredible torture that he still wasn’t quite sure how to take.

“Mmmmm, yes baby.”

Ken’s voice cut through the experience just enough for you to open your eyes, blinking, your body hot and horny and your head trying to navigate the fact that you had just been dreaming.

“You’re finally awake.” Ken was spooning you, arms and legs tangled with yours, his forehead pressed into the back of your skull. He leaned forward so his lips were perfectly caressing your ear, sending a slight tickle down you when he spoke. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up for ages.”

Your eyes adjusted and you saw the clock. 4 a.m.

“Why would I be awake at 4, Ken?” But you already knew why. It had become almost routine at this point for Ken to somehow wake you during the night for your sexual escapades that hadn’t even begun to slow in their frequency.

“You were moaning in your sleep,” he snuggled closer to you. “I was hoping you’d wake so we could do whatever you were dreaming about in real life.” His lips captured your ear lobe and bit down just enough for another little spark to shoot down to your core. You giggled and tried to pull away but he held you close and started attacking your neck, which made you giggle more.

“Keeennn! Please,” you laughed, struggling.

“Mmmmm not until you tell me about your dream so I know what I need to do to you,” he chuckled.

You paused, thinking. Ken had become incredibly confident sexually in a very short period of time, but you wondered if having him submit to you would be something he would enjoy. You knew YOU would love it but you also worried perhaps he might take it the wrong way, or feel scared or…

“I’m waiting,” Ken reminded, breathing in your scent as he nuzzled into your neck again.

Well. You *were* incredibly horny right now, and honestly pissed off that Ken had woken you before your dream had reached completion. You decided you would try, and take it slow, and let him lead everything based on his comfort level.

You managed to turn yourself to face him, and he smiled so beautifully at you.

“Ken…I think I want to try something new tonight.”

His eyes lit up. Fair enough, he did always love learning new things whenever you would teach him.

“I need you to let go of me so I can show you.”

One of the only ways lately you *could* get Ken to let you out of his embraces was to bribe him with anything even mildly related to sex, and this was no different. He relaxed so you could move as you pleased, and you sat up and turned on the bedside light.

You looked serious and were working through how to start, since you hadn’t ever tried to be dominant in bed other than what you had done with Ken, and you wanted to work out how to make this hot for him without scaring him.

You reached your hand out and he took it, and you pulled him to the front of the bed until the two of you were both standing. You had on your tiny silk nightie that he loved to pull off of you, and of course he stood completely nude, tall and muscular and…ugh, those eyes, all smiling down at you so lovingly and just waiting.. oh fuck, okay fuck, focus.

“Ken,” you said quietly, your hand reaching out to rest on his lower abs. He took your free hand in his and kissed it, patiently waiting for you to explain.

“What I want to try tonight isn’t something we have really done before.”

He leaned his forehead into yours and hummed. “Okay?” He encouraged you to continue.

“Uhm…uh, what is a word you could automatically say, no matter what state your mind was in, to make someone stop what they were doing?”

He looked confused. “I would just say ‘Stop.’”

You stared at him, so innocent in his new confusion, and you smiled. I mean, you would definitely stop anything ever if he told you to. You raised up on tip toes to kiss him.

“Then ‘Stop’ it is.” You stepped back, watching him closely to gauge all of his reactions as you reached down and pulled your nightie off, now standing naked in front of him.

His eyes shone and he immediately reached forward to grab you, but you caught his wrists. He cocked his head.

“I…don’t understand -“

“Tonight,” you said, walking towards him with his wrists still in your grip, “you can *only* do as I say, when I say so.”

He frowned. “If you tell me to just go back to sleep, I’m not going to do it.”

You laughed. “No, so, there’s this type of, well, sexual play, where one partner kind of controls the other. Like if I tell you to do something you have to do it. Oh! But, ONLY if you actually want to. Which is why saying ‘stop’ is how I would know not to make you do it.”

“But why would you ask me to do something I wouldn’t want to do?” He ignored you holding his wrists and instead used it to his advantage, wrapping his arms around your waist and thus imprisoning your arms behind your back. “I can’t think of anything you would ask me to do to pleasure you that would make me say no.”

“What if what I asked didn’t *seem* like it would pleasure me, but it actually would?”

He remained silent, working to make this make sense to him.

“Like the first time you spanked me, you asked first, because you were worried it might hurt me? Kind of like that.”

His face softened. “Ohhh, okay. So you ask me to try things to you to see if they feel good?”

“Kinda?” You felt like this wasn’t going to work, but then the image of him struggling under your touch from the dream came back, and it snapped your mind back into place. Your voice became firm. “Ken, let go of me. Now.”

Surprised, he loosened his grip, not completely but enough to where you were able to pull free. “Keep your hands at your sides.”

He still wasn’t playing along 100%, and you knew a lot of it was that it still wasn’t making sense to him. You decided you’d just have to show him.

“From this point forward, if you tell me to stop, I will. But anything else you say or do, I will keep going.” You grazed your nails from his groin up to his hip bone, and he shuddered, immediately grabbing your waist.

“No, Ken.” Your voice startled him. “Hands at your sides.”

He looked helpless. “No, I …I don’t understand.”

“I want to pleasure you slowly without you doing anything to me for just a little while.” You made your voice sound all dreamy as your fingers danced across his lower abs, and he watched you, his breath becoming a little more shallow. “Part of the pleasure I am seeking is getting to fully immerse myself in *your* pleasure, and yours only, at least for a little while. Do you understand?”

Ken seemed to be in overthink mode, trying to figure out how to get a grip on what was happening. “Stop.”

You did immediately, taking your hand back from him, watching him closely. He looked almost….angry? No, not quite that, but -

“Give me ten minutes,” you interrupted his thought process. “If you still don’t like it by then, I will stop and not try again.”

Ken struggled with accepting this, like it made so little sense that he couldn’t see how accepting your terms would actually make you happy. You reached out and slowly wrapped a hand around his cock, which had been hard and straining ever since he first got off the bed.

“Do you want to make me happy, Ken?” You kind of hated how manipulative the words sounded, despite them only being for play, but still wanted to make sure he would enjoy playing along once he figured it out.

Your question seemed to throw him off guard. His blue eyes melted into yours, his body relaxing a little, less defensive now. He gulped. “I do.”

Your grip tightening on his cock now and he groaned, reaching for your wrist again but stopping himself this time, glancing at you. You smiled, small but sexy, and that seemed to do something to him. He pulled his hand back to his side and your other hand came up to caress his cheek.

“Good boy,” you purred. You LOVED the way his posture always changed a little when you praised him, his chest puffing out a tiny bit and his face looking just a bit proud. “You remembered to keep your hands to yourself. Now let me touch you for awhile.”

He nodded, watching you like a tiger watches its prey, as you started rubbing his cock while your other hand traced lazily up his abs with your nails, his shudders indicating how sensitive he was already just by being denied control. He giggled a little when your nails grazed over a certain area, and you tried to hold back a smile at how cute his reaction was. Instead, you looked up at him and touched the area again.

“It tickles.”

“Mmmhmm, it does, sweet Ken. Can you handle it? Can you deal with it for a little longer?” Ken’s fists clenched and unclenched in time with the way you were pumping him as you kept your nails on his abs. He was desperate to touch you, to force you down and fuck you until you were exhausted. His skin broke out in goosebumps when you took his nipple in your mouth and he moaned loudly. You took your hand off of his cock and he groaned irritably before all of your nails were dancing up and down his abs and groin, and he shuddered and unintentionally leaned into you a little. He was gasping, ohhh fuck, he had probably never experienced anything even close to overstimulation other than the first time he was having sex with you. And he was so fucking stunning trying to take it to make you happy. You bit his nippled and he cried out, his hands now balled into tight fists.

You stepped back. “Fuucckkk, what a perfect boy you are. You’re doing so well for me.”

His cock twitched and he let out a small whimper. He definitely was struggling with this, but as it seemed he wasn’t actually in pain or telling you to stop, you decided to keep playing to see where it went.

“You can lay down now, Ken.”

He stared at you, his head hung a little, his neck and shoulders tight. Fists clenched, cock throbbing. Panting, eyes boring into yours. Oh my god, you stared at him to make sure this image forever stayed in your mind.

“Now, Ken.”

He slowly obeyed, pulling himself backwards onto the bed and sitting at the top against the pillows.

All you could think of was how beautiful he was going to look tied up for you.

You pulled a pair of pantyhose out of your drawer and climbed onto the bed to him. The new item in your hands made him curious, but he was still focused on only one thing.

“Can I touch you now?”

“Not yet. But you’re so patient.”

“When can I?” How the fuck did his voice sound so broken over…

“Ken,” your voice was calmer, now talking to him in your normal tone. “I want to tie you up and fuck you.”

His eyes widened a bit, realizing the pantyhose you had been twisting into a long, thin, but sturdy rope, was meant for…

He glanced up at you, and an eyebrow cocked. You wanted to slap him for making you feel out of control, again..not when you were supposed to be the one who -

“How long do you need me tied up for?”

“Until I’m finished with you.”

Ken smirked, and to your surprised offered his wrists willingly. “Then tie me up and fuck me, y/n.” He grinned, knowing he took you off guard, literally challenging you.

OH, now he was in for it.

You bound his wrists quickly, securing them to the headboard. He smiled at you the entire time, suddenly entertained by your whole new desire for play, but the smile left his face quickly as you took him into your mouth, lowering down onto him. His hips bucked at the sudden shock that went through him, and his moan of pleasure turned into one of frustration when you immediately pulled off of him. He looked down at you.

“You aren’t allowed to move while I suck on you, Ken.”

He looked incredulously at you. “How am I supposed to -“

He was cut off when you gently squeezed his balls, knowing his one particularly sensitive spot, and he gasped loudly, hips bucking again. You usually didn’t touch him here that often, as it seemed to drive him mad with passion and, well, horniness, and usually you didn’t get the chance to see how much he could take because he would tackle you and fuck you until you were exhausted.

But now, this time was different. You massaged that area again, and his head pushed back into the pillows, wrists straining against his bonds.

“Jesus FUCK.” He panted. You hadn’t ever heard him raise his voice that loudly. You felt yourself becoming wet, and you continued your gentle but consistent assault on his balls, watching him in silence as he gasped and moaned and shuddered, waiting for him to surrender to you.

He actually held out way longer than you had expected, and you felt so impossibly hot watching as he slowly went from an alpha-state to one of literal physical submission, his body no longer trying to violently break itself free from the headboard except for some exhausted tugs, his voice almost hoarse, his body completely covered in a cold sweat.

“Please, please, pleassee….” He begged, voice breaking a little. “Please, y/n, I can’t. I can’t - ahhhh, FUCK, please.”

You stopped your torture, and a huge exhale rattled through his body, attempting to soothe itself. You climbed on top of him, straddling his waist.

“Hi, sweet boy.”

He looked up at you, completely at your will, still panting, and his sweaty hair and mildly wet eyes made you feel so deeply for him. You leaned forward, placing your hands besides his head.

“You’re so good to me, Ken,” you whispered, and he leaned up to kiss you then caught himself, lowering his head back down onto the pillows. Fuck, he was trying SO hard to please you.

“Am I doing good, y/n?” He whimpered.

“You’re doing so good, Ken. You know why I had to exhaust you, right?”

“Because I wouldn’t stop moving,” he choked, gasping for another breath.

“Good, Ken. You learn so quickly.” You glanced at the clock and saw he had held out almost the full ten minutes now, but you wanted to make sure he was okay before delving in any further.

“Ken? Is it alright if I keep going?”

His entire body went rigid, his biceps clenching tightly, as if ready to jerk himself free of his restraints if necessary - or if he actually could this time. He never took his eyes off of you, contemplating his answer. You leaned down to his ear to whisper, and you felt the shiver that ran through him.

“If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you touch me for a moment.”

He nodded then. “Yes, please, anything, I’ll do anything -“

You captured his lips in yours and he moaned into you, almost as if he was thanking you and his lips pulled yours roughly into his mouth, his tongue darting into yours to clash with your tongue for a brief moment before you pulled back. He looked devastated.

You reached for the restraints and his eyes brightened.

“Only one for now,” you said, untying his left hand and making sure that his right remained firmly connected to the bed. “Because if you need me to stop, I might not be able to hear you. If you need me to stop at anytime, I want you to slap my leg, really hard, so I know. Okay?”

He held onto your every word, nodded when you were finished, trying to figure out what it was you were going to do. He began moving his hand to your waist then caught himself and paused, waiting for instructions.

“Mmm, I have the best Ken,” you cooed, and he smiled a little. You allowed him to rest his hand on your waist as you straddled his face, slowly lowering yourself down onto him.

You had barely come into contact with his nose when you felt his free arm tighten around your thigh, pulling you closer into him, and you cried out, grabbing the headboard for support as his lips roughly sucked on your clit, pulling hard. He moaned hungrily into you, and you forced yourself to make sure you didn’t fully collapse onto his face, his tongue and lips so eager and rough, and his moaning into your opening was the most vulnerable yet hot you could remember feeling in your life.

You began moving your hips a little, trying to maintain your attempt at dominance, but fuck if it wasn’t almost impossible while working against Ken’s strength and enthusiasm. He wrapped his arm around your thigh tighter and almost forced you still as his tongue penetrated into you, licking and flicking and then his lips sucking around your opening in a dizzying sequence.

“Ken…I…ah, fuck, okay, I need -“ You yelped as his arm freed itself of you momentarily only to spank your cheek sharply, the pain shocking you but not having time to react because he immediately forced you back down onto his face and held you until you came, your knuckles white from holding onto the headboard and you cried out over and over as an intense orgasm washed over you. Ken didn’t stop until your body began becoming limp, from which he then removed his arm and you un-straddled him, sitting next to him on the bed.

He lay there, one arm bound above his head, his hair a mess, his face flushed and covered in your juices, and he was grinning at you.

"I like you making me submit to you. That was fun." His free hand reached for you. "Now untie me so I can fuck your dripping pussy. I am losing my mind."

You forced yourself to maintain control as you quickly grabbed his hand and began tying it back up.

"Hey, hey!" he protested, but you were quicker and he was bound again within moments. You moved back to look at him, confused, and *now* he looked a little angry, but you knew it wasn't from actual anger, more just not getting his way, which is something he didn't enjoy. *Especially * when he was this horny.

He grit his teeth and jerked hard on the restraints. "Let me out of these."

You cocked your head. "Mmmm, no."

"When, then?"

"When you've orgasmed."

He growled. "That's what I am actively *trying* to do!!"

You sunk down onto him then, no warning or buildup, and he cried out in ecstasy, his entire being melting as if relieved.

"Ohhh, fuck, y/n, my love…thank you, thank you, thank -"

You reached up and placed a hand around the base of his throat, just barely, not even applying pressure. He looked up at you, and despite not experiencing this before, the look he gave you made you all the more hot, and you wrapped your fingers around his neck, squeezing ever so slightly. He moaned loudly, and his eyes had that gorgeous teary look that you had seen the first time you had fucked him - his own special mix of love and pleasure and experiencing something amazing for the first time. He thrust up into you then, and the sharpness of it told you he was already way too close to climaxing.

You pulled your hips off of his, sitting on his waist but keeping your hand around his throat. The noise he made when you left his cock was like a mangled cry, and his eyes went into dominance mode, that look he gave you when he was warning you things were about to go his way.

"But you're not the one in control this time, Ken." Your hair brushed his face and you squeezed his throat a little harder. "I am. And you don't get to cum until I say so."

You swore you saw stars in his eyes when you sunk back down onto him then, fucking him the way you knew he loved, and you removed your hand from his throat to press down onto his hips like he always did to you. That did something extra for him and he groaned, jerking against the restrains again, and the image of him slowly coming undone because of you made you so tempted to just untie him and finish you off the way he wanted - the way you knew you both wanted - but you had come too far to quit now, and once again when you knew his orgasm was close, when his abs began their gorgeous tightening and his hips bucked up into yours, you let him slip out of you again, and he literally sobbed.

"You're not doing a very good job at not moving, Ken."

You tried to keep your head together as he glared down at you, and you knew *exactly* the thoughts that were swimming through his mind: jerk himself free of the headboard, force you down onto the bed, his fingers bruising themselves into you as he fucked you like he was in heat as you held on for dear life.

You had one more trick up your sleeve, and decided you had best do it now because you weren't sure if you would ever be successful at getting Ken tied up again after tonight. You got your only other pair of pantyhose and ripped them in two.

Ken's eyes grew huge and you expected him to fight back, but to your surprise he didn't. He lay, watching you while you pulled his legs open, tying each one to an opposite best post, until he was splayed out in front of you, unable to thrust up even if he tried.

He remained silent as you climbed back onto the bed and leaned down, gently taking one of his balls into your mouth while massaging the other. His head fell back and his moans were beautiful, as you decided you wanted to be gentle the rest of the night but still wanted to see how far you could push his stamina.

After he began squirming from a little too much sensation, you moved back up to his cock, your lips wetly sucking and licking around his tip, and you loved watching how much he was trying to move his hips. He seemed to be working really hard to play along now, though, because the gritted teeth and glaring eyes had morphed into your name almost being sung as you touched him, sucked, licked, loved on him, before kissing and biting your way back up his abs and chest to his face.

You looked down at him now and he at you, those baby blues lost in you, telling you he was yours to do with as you pleased. "I surrender," he whispered, and you gasped. How was this so…incredibly…

"I love you," he said.

You took his face in your hands and kissed him then, and he allowed you to lead to how deep and invasive the kiss became before leaning down to mark his neck with your lips. He moaned contentedly every time you did that, and this time was no different.

You were going to make him feel *sooo* good.

You lowered yourself back down onto his cock slowly, clenching yourself around him as hard as you could until he was fully inside you, and his head rested on one of his arms still bound beside his head.

"You're doing such a good job, Ken."

"Mm…I…good..Ken…" His moans were accompanied by an attempt at words every few breaths as he became less coherent.

You fucked him gently and he was so sensitive that his body began to tremble a couple of time. Each time you would stop fucking him until he calmed down and then you would begin again, his voice becoming more of a whimper the longer you edged him on, and at last when it seemed every ounce of energy had been drained from him, you gave him what he deserved.

He lay limp, shuddering, moaning incoherently, muscles still spasming of their own accord as much as they could muster after becoming exhausted.

"You've done so, so incredibly well, Ken." The shock of you allowing him his release was like a lightning bolt shot through him and he sobbed your name endlessly, head thrown back, eyes clenched as his body convulsed underneath you.

You watched him closely as he began to calm down, tears stinging his eyes, his body still shaking a little. You got up and tore off his restrains one by one, untying his hands last, and his tired muscles fell by his sides as he lay underneath you, panting.

You were scared now. Was this how he felt when he had spanked you for the first time? Like, that he could have actually gone too far? Had YOU gone too far?

"Ken?" you didn't meant for your voice to come out in a whisper. "Are you okay?"

He looked at you, rolling his head on the pillow to do so, as he seemed too tired to even raise it at the moment. "Kiss me," he demanded, soft and delicate, but you knew it was a command.

You kissed him deeply and he did the same, and his eyes locked on yours when you pulled back. "I love you so much, y/n."

You spent the next hour taking care of him. You sat upright against the headboard and he relaxed into your body, his being nestled against your chest and in-between your legs, humming sleepily as you massages his hands and wrists, peppered him with kisses, told him how much you loved him and cuddled his face. At one point he took your legs and folded your ankles across his waist, his forehead leaning into your neck.

"Just like being close to you," he murmered.

After having come down for awhile, he began to shiver a little and you coaxed him into the shower where you gentle bathed him off, the heat making him comfortable again, as your fingers danced across his body with soap suds, and he held you under the running water close to him, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other holding the side of your face as he languished himself in your kisses.

You both ended up back in bed just as the sun was beginning to rise, and you thanked the gods that you didn't have class today as Ken pulled you into him like always, but unlike usual, he fell asleep almost instantly, and you got to experience him sleeping around you, hearing his little moans and breathing, feeling his body limp and relaxed all around you. You hugged the arm that held you to him and nuzzled into the pillows, drifting off.

"Hey."

Ken's voice broke through your sleep, and you blinked your eyes open. The room was bright with the day's sunlight, and you had a moment of struggle to come to, you had been so deeply asleep.

The moment your eyes adjusted, you looked up and saw Ken beside you, kneeling, his cock looking painfully hard and a smirk on his face. You attempted to move but realized your wrists were bound above your head tightly, and you saw Ken's fist clenched around a leather belt in his right hand. You sucked in air sharply, already overwhelmed when you hadn't even been fully awake a whole minute ago.

Ken leaned over you now, your mind racing as he stared down at you, kissing you lovingly before nipping at your lower lip and running the belt gently up your thigh.

"Now," his words made you already want to tremble, "it's my turn."

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(Pst. I plan to complete the second part to this as a "bonus" part, but wanted Ken's first sub! experience to be its own chapter. If you want Ken's dom! time, too, I'll be posting it soon, because I have SOOO many ideas and I cannot *not* write it. I promise <3)

Tags: @microwgreen @skeletonea @sunpuffsstuff @maxcsworld @michaelslover @m21-k @uncle-eggy @heyareyoulistening @cliffbar-booth @exo-wayv

[diremoone]

4 am | f. toji

w — non-curses! au, periods, mentions of blood and severe cramps and everything that goes with having a period haha. this is short sorry; this is total flop material but I need it outta my drafts 🤣

a/n: it’s that time of the month again lmaoo. I’ve had this in my drafts for two months. i need to make a masterlist for all my period-comfort fics now 😂

[ divider credit to @/firefly-graphics ]

You’re already out of the bedroom and probably downstairs by the time Toji’s able to blink the blurriness from his vision. You turn from one side to the other, then just shoot up out of bed — that’s what initially wakes the man — before disappearing.

Toji’s eyes turn to the door, then to the clock, 4 in the damn morning. He then looks to the ceiling as he groans and lifts himself up. Holy fuck I don’t want to be awake, he thinks. But you’re awake, and he doesn’t like the way you left the room because he knows something isn’t right with you.

Toji blinks a few times and shakes his head free of sleep (as much as he can anyway). It’s a slow trek to the living room, but once he gets there, he sighs. You’re sitting on the floor, legs curled up to you as your upper half rests against the couch. You don’t raise your head from your arms on the cushion as he sighs.

“I’d ask if you were okay,” he says, “but you clearly don’t look it.”

“Mmmnnnn, nope,” you mumble. He’s just barely able to hear it. “Feel like a tired, smoldering pile of shit.”

Toji almost laughs. He coughs behind his hand, enough to tell you he was holding back laughter.

“Come on,” he then sighs. “At least lay on the couch. You’re not helping your back.”

“I’d rather have a stiff back than these cramps. Fuck off.”

He snorts. He leaves you be, only to return a few moments later with a heating pad, some crackers, and a bottle of water. You almost say ‘thank you’… until he turns around and walks back into the kitchen.

“Ass…” you mumble.

You close your eyes and climb up onto the couch and curl up against the armrest. You hear Toji in the kitchen, glass, metal, plastic, and pans clinking all together as he worked on whatever he was working on. As curious as you were, you didn’t want to bother him. You weren’t even sure you had the energy to hold conversation.

You assume twenty minutes pass. You almost begin to doze off when Toji’s deep voice speaks to you and wakes you up. You blink in surprise, then are surprised even more when you see what is on the coffee table: pancakes and sausages, lemonade in a tall glass.

“It’s what I know will help,” he says. The man sits on the ground and pats his leg. “Come here.”

You gaze down at him tiredly, a small fatigued but happy smile on your lips. You settle into his lap, and as his warmth hits your back and hot hands over the front of your tummy where your uterus would be, you moan loudly as relief settles over your body.

Toji, however, let’s a frown cover his face at the feeling of all of your tension leaving your body, finally relaxing against his own. He almost cusses in shock, but bites his tongue as you begin to slowly eat the pancakes and sausage he’s made for you.

You won’t eat it all, he knows this. You lose your appetite whenever your personal monthly hell rolls around. But—

“Thank you, Toji.”

—whatever he can do to make you feel better, especially with the newfound realization of how much tension your period can cause, he’ll do it without hesitation.

(Just don’t confront him directly or try to tease him about it, unless you want him to ban you from his kisses and/or cuddles.)

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 19) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

Chapter 19

“I still don’t get it,” Twice says. “What happened?”

You could ask the same question, and you have. You and the rest of the League are in Tomura’s hospital room, trying to piece together the chain of events that occurred in Deika City, and you can’t agree on anything. Everybody has gaps in their timeline, things they weren’t there for or were unconscious during or simply disagree on, as you and Dabi discover when you mention that you shot at his opponent to disorient them and he insists that he didn’t need any fucking help. “Why do we need to know what happened at all?” Tomura asks. He’s awake but fairly high on painkillers, and you can tell that all he wants is for everybody to shut up so he can go back to sleep. “We won. That’s it.”

“It almost wasn’t a win,” Spinner says. You and he are in agreement on that, at least. “If it wasn’t for Saintess’s quirk –”

“I can’t believe you have a quirk now!” Toga hugs you, then winces. “Ow. It’s the perfect quirk for you! Don’t you like it?”

“Spinner’s right. Our strategy was shit,” Dabi says. “We got split up. If we hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been stuck handling the ice bitch on my own.”

“You weren’t on your own,” Compress points out. “Saintess and I assisted you.”

“Fuck off.”

“I agree with Spinner. And with Dabi.” You add the last part only grudgingly. “We took way too much damage. That might not have happened if we’d stuck together.”

“We sort of stuck together!” Twice says. “I stuck us together with my ultimate attack! I’m calling it ‘Sad Man’s Parade’, because I was sad when I did it. But I’m not sad now!”

“We couldn’t have won without you,” Tomura says. Twice is pretty obviously beaming behind his mask. “All of you were important to the victory. But –”

He tries to sit up, grimaces. You slide one hand behind his back to support him while you adjust the bed, but then he leans against you instead of leaning back. You’re not exactly going to push him away, and he doesn’t speak up again. “But like I said,” Spinner says, filling in, “you’d have been dead if Saintess didn’t have a quirk.”

“And if she didn’t love you so much,” Toga says, elbowing you in the ribs until you wince. “I’m so glad you have a love quirk, too!”

You’re not sure you’d classify your quirk or Toga’s as a love quirk. You’re not sure how you’d classify your quirk, period, but you don’t hate having it. You’re grateful that you have it. Grateful doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Nobody’s looked into your quirk very much, except for someone whose quirk lets them detect quirks who confirmed that you have one, and so far all that’s changed is that the members of the MLA are much nicer to you than they would have been otherwise. Re-Destro in particular is a fan of yours – he admires loyalty, he says, and the fact that you took the time to help him too doesn’t hurt. For your part, you hate him. You’re not going to forget what he did to Tomura, and you know he’s only treating you well because you didn’t turn out to be quirkless after all, but you keep that under wraps. Even with your quirk, in most situations, your other skills still matter more.

But not in this one. In this one, with Tomura in a hospital bed and your quirk somehow helping him heal, your quirk is the only thing that matters.

“The doctor is coming here,” Compress says. He’s the only person who survived the fight with his earpiece intact – Tomura, Twice, Spinner, and Toga all lost theirs, Dabi claims he lost his but probably torched it instead, and you winged yours at the floor and crushed it midway through one of Tomura’s surgeries because the doctor wouldn’t shut up about your quirk. “He wants to discuss next steps, and to investigate Saintess’s quirk for himself.”

“Next steps for what? We don’t need him anymore.”

That comes from Tomura, and it’s a surprise to everybody. “What is that supposed to mean?” Dabi asks. “He’s the one who makes the Nomus.”

“We’ve got an army. We don’t need them.” Tomura’s refusing to open his eyes, and you’d believe he’s falling asleep if you couldn’t feel how tense he is. “We don’t need his money, either, and Gigantomachia follows me now. He can go to hell.”

“We should hear him out, at least. Don’t you think?” Compress ventures. “More power couldn’t hurt.”

“Yeah, if he can give us more stuff, we should take it,” Spinner agrees, glancing warily between you and Tomura – like this might be your idea, instead of right now being the first time you’ve heard anything about it. “Let’s hear him out.”

“Whatever.” Tomura finally quits leaning against you and flops back against the bed. “Did you all figure out what happened yet?”

Compress turns back to the whiteboard you’ve all been using to create a timeline – or timelines. There are seven markers, seven different colors of ink. One for each of you. “At the start of the rest period, we received the threat from the Meta Liberation Army, as well as the news that they’d kidnapped Giran. Shigaraki, you came up with the plan to use the MLA against Gigantomachia, and the doctor transported all of us –”

“Almost all of us,” Toga corrects, patting your arm lightly.

“Almost all of us to the outskirts of Deika City,” Compress continues. “We enter the city, split up, and engage the MLA sources. Toga and Twice are initially fighting alone, while Dabi and I and Spinner and Shigaraki proceed separately. Dabi and I meet resistance in the form of Geten – ”

“Ice bitch.”

“If you must,” Compress says, and Twice snorts. “Spinner and Shigaraki also meet resistance, but for the time being, they make progress. And at some point while all of us are fighting, the doctor transports Saintess to the outskirts of the city and sends her in to support us.”

Spinner looks confused. “Wait, was that before or after the Sad Man’s Parade?”

“Before,” you say. “I took a few shots at the – um, Ice Bitch –”

“You fucking didn’t.”

“I missed,” you say. “Then I chased after Spinner and Tomura, and that was when the Sad Man’s Parade happened. One of Twice’s clones caught me.”

“Really?” Twice asks. “What happened to it?”

“It tried to take me out of the city,” you say. “I – sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Twice says magnanimously. He reaches across Tomura’s hospital bed to pat your arm. “Anyway, that was after I rescued Toga –”

“Which was after I beat the one they sent after me,” Toga says. “I used Ochako’s blood – and if I love somebody enough, I can use their quirk, too! I love having a love quirk!”

She’s hugging you again. Compress is making a few edits to the timelines to accurately mark the Sad Man’s Parade. “Toga’s injuries remove her from the fight. Twice sends clones to aid Spinner and Shigaraki, and Saintess pursues them as well. Shigaraki, and the clones head to the tower where Re-Destro and Skeptic are waiting for them, but Spinner is held up, and Saintess aids him.”

“By murking a guy,” Spinner says. He still looks surprised. “It was nuts.”

“So you finally got your hands dirty,” Dabi remarks. He gives you an appraising look. “Took you long enough. Compress. Put it on the timeline.”

“As what?”

Dabi’s smirking. “Baby’s first kill.”

“Fuck off,” Tomura mutters. He hasn’t opened his eyes. “Twice cloned me, Dabi, and Compress and sent the clones ahead to the tower to draw fire and rescue Giran. I brought the tower down when I got there. Then I beat Re-Destro and took over his army. That’s it.”

“We’re missing a few things,” Compress says, and Tomura snarls under his breath. “Gigantomachia’s arrival, for one. He drew the remaining MLA members’ attention quite successfully and prevented them from assisting Re-Destro against you. You also received some backup from your sidekick during the fight.”

“I didn’t do very much,” you say. “I was there, I guess. Once Tomura’s quirk awakened he didn’t need backup from anyone.”

Compress makes a few adjustments to the timelines. “There. Are we all in agreement?” It’s quiet for a second. “I think we can agree that some errors were made.”

“We had two seconds to plan,” Tomura says. “It could have been worse.”

Spinner gives him an incredulous look. “How?”

“I’m tired,” Tomura says, instead of answering. “Get out. Figure out what went wrong and how to fix it if you want, but do it somewhere else.”

He’s in a bad mood, worse than he’s been since he woke up, and you’re not sure why. Nobody else seems concerned as to why, either – instead they get up and head for the door, Compress carrying the whiteboard and all the markers. As the door shuts behind them, you can hear them discussing lunch. Specifically, what fancy food they’re going to order on Re-Destro’s dime. Most of them have been having real meals only sporadically. Whatever they choose, you hope they order the entire menu.

But Tomura hasn’t said if he wants you to stay. You try to get to your feet, but Tomura catches your sleeve between the two remaining fingers on his left hand and pulls lightly. Lightly is all he can manage right now. “Not you.”

“Okay.” You sit down at the edge of the bed again. “I just wanted to check.”

“Never you.” Tomura pulls weakly at your sleeve again. “Closer.”

“I don’t think closer will make any difference with my quirk.”

Tomura gives you a look. It’s obscured a bit by the bandages on his face, but it’s unmistakably irritated. “It’s not for your quirk,” he says. “I need to touch my girlfriend.”

“But not your sidekick.”

“Shut up.” Tomura yanks at your sleeve a third time. “Come here.”

You kick off your shoes and settle into the limited space available on the bed, kicking yourself for hesitating for even a second. You shouldn’t give Tomura a hard time. He’s been through hell. But you weren’t giving him a hard time on purpose, you don’t think. You’ve got your own reasons. They’re stupid, but you have them.

And even when he’s doped up on painkillers, Tenko can guess them, because he knows you better than anyone. “It’s not for your quirk,” he says. He’s grimacing as he shuffles on the bed, trying to get closer and comfortable at the same time. “Don’t be stupid. I love you. Nothing’s changed.”

“Everything’s changed.” You close your eyes.

“Not us.” Tenko sounds sure. He’s never anything but sure when it comes to the two of you, and it’s sort of a relief. “Never us.”

“Okay.” You turn your head to kiss his shoulder lightly. It’s one of the only places on his body that’s not bandaged. “I love you, too. Get some rest.”

The two of you are quiet, but you know Tenko isn’t asleep, and you haven’t slept in days yourself. You should be able to sleep, but you can’t, and if neither of you are asleep, you have questions. “Why don’t you want the doctor’s help anymore?”

“I don’t need it.”

“That’s not the only reason,” you say. Tenko makes a dissatisfied sound. “Tell me.”

“He betrayed me.” Tenko’s voice is cold, furious, even through a layer of narcotics. “I told him to keep you away. I said I didn’t want you anywhere near it. He sent you right into the middle of it with a gun –”

“I got the gun on my own,” you say. “I’ve been practicing.”

“You should never have been there.” Tenko’s heart is beating faster. You set your hand on his chest, over his heart, as if you can slow it down on your own. “There’s no point to it if you die.”

Your stomach lurches. “Don’t say that.”

“You say it all the time,” Tenko says. “You said you don’t want to be in the new world unless I’m in it with you. How is what I said any different?”

It’s not. You want it to be, but it’s not – it’s just a different phrasing of the same sentiment. You let it stand. “I needed to be there,” you say. “If I hadn’t been, you’d have died.”

“He didn’t send you in there for me.” Tenko twists awkwardly, trying to get closer to you. “He was trying to wake up your quirk.”

You’d guessed, sort of. Based on all the yammering he was doing while you were trying to keep your quirk active during Tenko’s surgeries, this outcome is the one he was hoping for when he sent you into the middle of the fight between the League of Villains and the Meta Liberation Army. The League got four quirk awakenings for the price of one battle with the clash in Deika City – Toga’s ability to use the quirks of those she changes into, Twice’s ability to create infinite clones, Tenko’s ability to spread Decay like a virus, and your ability to keep Tenko alive. The doctor must be thrilled. No wonder he’s coming here.

“He betrayed me,” Tenko says again. “I don’t want him anywhere near us. If he comes here I’ll – damn it –”

He hisses with pain. How long has it been since his last painkiller dose? You sit up and nudge the pain-relief button within Tenko’s reach. He shakes his head. “I don’t need it.”

“You need to sleep. It’ll be harder to sleep if you’re in pain.” You look him over, taking in the awful things that have been done to him, and feel another awkward, terrible stab of gratitude for your quirk. Your greatest fear is losing him again, but your quirk made sure you wouldn’t have to. “If you won’t do it for you, for me? I won’t sleep well if I know you’re hurting.”

“Do you even sleep anymore?” Tenko somehow manages to look skeptical. “You look like hell. Pretty. But like hell.”

You sit there with that for a second. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever called me pretty.”

“I said it before. When we were kids.” Tenko presses the pain-relief button three times in a row. “You can’t say it’s just the meds talking.”

You weren’t going to say that. You settle in next to Tenko again, wrapping your arms gingerly around him to avoid any more thrashing around on his part. “Get some rest, okay?”

“Tell me about it.”

“Hmm?”

“The new world.” Tenko’s voice is fuzzy already. “Your stories are always better than mine.”

The new world isn’t just a story. You almost correct him before you remember that the two of you are living in one of your childhood stories right now, that you’ve taken it and made it real. Maybe this is how you’ll convince Tenko, how you’ll make him see what you see, make him follow you. There are worse ways to do it. A lot of them.

“The new world,” you start. “Okay. If it’s a totally blank slate – all the cities and everything are gone – we’ll need somewhere to live, first of all. And humans are social creatures. We survive by helping each other. That’s how it’s supposed to be in this world, but it isn’t, so in the new world, that’s how we’ll do things. We’ll need somewhere to live, and we’ll need people we want to live near, so we can work together and start to build something new.”

“What if I don’t get rid of everything?”

You were hoping he’d say that. “Then we’ll find somewhere to fix up.”

Tenko’s voice is blurry with sleep and painkillers, but you can still hear the concern. “I don’t know how to fix things.”

“That’s okay.” You kiss his shoulder and huddle close to him. “I love you. And I do.”

It takes a few more days for the question of your quirk to come up in earnest, a few more days of Tenko healing markedly faster than he should be healing, a few more days of you barely leaving his side. When you do leave, it’s not by choice – it happens when four days without sleep catch up to you and you pass out in the middle of a strategy discussion being held in Tomura’s hospital room. And when you leave, you don’t go far. You wake up in a dark, quiet room in clean clothes and on a soft bed, with an IV taped down to the back of your hand.

You sit up so fast that your head spins, but you still manage to rip the needle out. In the darkness, someone tsks at you. “Fluids, my dear. You’re in dire need of rehydration.”

The doctor. “Where’s Tomura?” you demand.

“In his hospital room, asleep,” the doctor says. “It’s an ideal time to conduct some tests of your quirk – namely, whether distance is a factor in its efficacy.”

Oh. “How much distance?”

“Currently, the opposite end of the hospital,” the doctor says. “I’ve spoken to Shigaraki’s doctors, to Twice and Spinner, to Re-Destro, and to the medics who were in the helicopter with you. I’ve also conducted research into your family tree. Shall I tell you what I’ve already learned about your quirk?”

You want to tell him that you don’t care about your quirk, but you can’t say that – not when your quirk is part of the reason Tomura’s still alive. And you have to find out what your quirk can actually do. “Yes.”

“I fault myself, truly, for not guessing sooner,” the doctor says, instead of saying anything useful. Your eyes are adjusting to the darkness, and you can see him bustling around, outlined in the glow from three computer screens. “I looked into your immediate family, but there was another family member – one whose quirk also broke late, and one whose quirk is directly tied to the biochemical reaction we call love. Your cousin, Aiba Manami, also known as La Brava. I understand you visited her in jail the day of the battle. Did you discuss your quirk?”

“No,” you say. The doctor tsks again. “We didn’t. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mm, I suppose you’re right – based on the video from the visitation room, neither of you discussed quirks directly.” The doctor taps something on one of the screens, and it brightens suddenly, but his body blocks your view. “But it’s clear to me that your cousin guessed the mechanism by which your quirk functions, if nothing else. It’s why she prevented you from saying the words until – what was it that she said? Until it counts. You certainly did that. However –”

A machine beeps in the darkness. The doctor talks over it. “Circumstantial evidence suggests that neither the repetition of the statement in the presence of the object of your affection nor your proximity to the object of your affection affects the functioning of your quirk.”

That’s a lot of words at once, and although you were following for a while, you’re starting to get dizzy. “Say again?”

“Thus far, your quirk differs from your cousin’s in two important capacities,” the doctor says. “The first is the effect. While your cousin’s quirk provides a significant boost to the speed and power of her loved one, your quirk provides a slight acceleration of your loved one’s natural healing abilities.”

“How slight?”

“On a day to day basis, unnoticeable,” the doctor says. “The more significant the damage is, the more obvious the accelerated healing becomes. Which leads me to the second difference between your cousin’s quirk and yours: Duration. While La Brava’s quirk lasts for a discrete period of time, and can be activated only once per day, it would seem that your quirk, once activated, does not switch off.”

“That’s how it works in my side of the family,” you say. The doctor looks at you. The light from the screens reflects off his glasses, rendering him completely opaque. “Your quirk is active from when you’re born until you learn to –”

You trail off. “The biochemical reaction known as love isn’t something that can be switched on and off,” the doctor says. “I separated you from Shigaraki four hours ago. Those who were in the meeting you collapsed during were able to confirm that you had not told Shigaraki you loved him since the meeting began two hours previously. That makes six hours without the trigger phrase, four hours of which you spent physically separated from him, and during that time, the accelerated healing has not faltered.”

“So it doesn’t matter if I’m physically with him, or if I’ve said it recently,” you say slowly. “The first time I said it was all it needed. And it’ll stay active –”

“Unless your feelings for Shigaraki change. And I suspect they won’t,” the doctor says. He chuckles quietly. “You’ve been loyal to him for most of your life, after all. Why stop now?”

Even confused as you are, the jolt of foreboding knocks the air out of your lungs. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t play coy, dear. That act worked when you were a civilian, but now no one will believe you’re that naive.” The doctor bends to investigate something on one of the screens. “It took me a while to piece it together, of course – it seems your perceived quirklessness clouded my vision, too – but once I looked into your background, it became clear. You are perhaps the last remaining person who knew Shigaraki Tomura before he became Shigaraki Tomura. Tell me – did you doubt yourself at all upon learning what he had become?”

What, not who. The doctor doesn’t see Tomura as a person, not the way you do, and now he’s waiting for your answer about something he clearly doesn’t understand. “No,” you say. You were doomed from the moment you saw him again. His return disrupted your life the same as his disappearance did, only this time, he’s with you. You were never going to let him go. “Never.”

“Remarkable,” the doctor says. You can see that he’s smiling. “Every Symbol of Fear needs one servant who’s loyal above all others, who serves him above all others, who does something for him that no one else could. Shigaraki’s master has me. Shigaraki has you.”

The idea of an equivalence between you and the doctor makes your skin crawl, the same as the idea that Tomura and his master are the same. They aren’t. You knew him before. They aren’t the same at all. “What could you do for Tomura’s master that no one else can?”

“Why, keep him alive, of course!”

“You have a healing quirk?”

“Precision of language. If I had a healing quirk, do you think I’d be a doctor?” The doctor clucks his tongue. It’s almost as irritating as the tsking. “No, my quirk is called Life-force. It allows the wielder to live twice an ordinary human lifespan. I offered this quirk to him, along with my service, and he accepted. The quirk I have currently is a copy of the original. I’d copy yours, but – mm. The emotional component makes it fairly useless to anyone other than yourself.”

Even when you have a quirk, you can’t escape being called useless. You grit your teeth. “We’ll need to conduct some further tests, but those can wait until Shigaraki has healed completely,” the doctor says. “In the meantime, we’ll need a name for your quirk. Initially, I thought that Devotion might be appropriate –”

“Does it need a name?” you interrupt. “All that matters is what it does.”

“But Shigaraki has many devoted followers,” the doctor says, ignoring you. “For loyalty like yours, something a little stronger is needed. I’ll think of something. Have a look at this.”

You get slowly to your feet, fighting dizziness, and come to peer at the screens. “This is a computer simulation of the natural course of Shigaraki’s injuries – what would have happened without the application of your quirk. Dire, isn’t it?”

Dire doesn’t begin to cover it. You see the same things unfold that the medic predicted. ATC, a rapid increase in internal bleeding, the slowing of his heart, the ceasing of his brain function as it’s deprived of blood and oxygen. Death within minutes. The doctor restarts the simulation, then runs a second one alongside it. This one, you recognize. It’s the same starting point, with your quirk added to the picture. No ATC. No deprivation of oxygen to the brain. His heart rate and breathing are unstable, courtesy of the damage, but as the simulation cycles through each successive scan, you can see the lacerations to his organs healing. You can see your quirk in action, keeping Tomura alive, long after the other simulation’s gone dark.

“That’s what your quirk is capable of, with nothing but Shigaraki’s natural healing factor to work with,” the doctor says. “I think we can all do better than that, don’t you?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will,” the doctor says. Something on the screen beeps. “Ah, Shigaraki is awake –and it appears he’s very unhappy with me. Best hurry along, dear. I’ll be in touch.”

You get lost on your way back to Tomura’s room, but a nurse points you in the right direction, and you get back in the middle of Spinner and Compress trying desperately to get Tomura to sit down – or at least to use his crutches if he’s going to tear off looking for you. Spinner spots you first, and it’s clear he’s relieved. “She’s back,” he says. “She’s fine. The doctor didn’t do anything to her.”

Tomura looks you up and down, not relieved yet. “What happened to your hand?”

“He put an IV in for fluids. I took it out when I woke up.” You might need to ask somebody to put in another one. You are really dehydrated. And hungry. And tired. “Everything’s fine. Get back in bed.

“If he thinks he can just kidnap you –”

“I took a nap for a few hours and he told me some more about my quirk,” you say. “That’s it.”

Tomura finally stops trying to stand up and walk. He sprawls back out in the bed, broken leg hanging off in a position that looks agonizing until you nudge past Spinner and lift it back onto the bed. He looks up at you. “What did he say about your quirk?”

“It’s sort of like my cousin’s,” you say. “In how it activates, anyway. It does something different – it makes you heal faster instead of powering you up – and the effect isn’t as pronounced as hers is.”

“Doesn’t your cousin’s quirk have a time limit?” Spinner asks. “What’s the time limit on yours?”

“It, um – it looks like there isn’t one,” you say awkwardly. “Once it switches on, it doesn’t switch off.”

“Weird,” Spinner says after a second. “Emitter-type quirks don’t usually stay on all the time.”

You wouldn’t know. You don’t think about quirks a lot – but Tomura does, and he’s got a weird look on his face. “What’s it costing you?”

“Hmm?”

“Your cousin’s quirk doesn’t cost her anything. The physical cost comes from the person she’s powering up,” Tomura says. “Most healing quirks use the energy of the person who’s being healed, which is why they have limits. Yours didn’t cost me or I would have died. What’s it costing you?”

“Not anything,” you say. “I don’t feel any different than usual.”

You don’t. Really. You’ve asked yourself the question – you remember Spinner saying something forever ago about how healing quirks take tons of mana – but you can’t think of anything that’s changed. You haven’t been able to sleep, sure, but you’ve been having problems with sleeping ever since Kamino. The issues you can think of can all be attributed to other things. If healing Tomura was draining your energy, wouldn’t you have been exhausted way before you passed out in a strategy session? “I don’t think there’s a cost to it,” you say again, settling down on the edge of Tomura’s bed. You’ve barely moved from this spot in days. “Did I miss anything from that meeting?”

“Nah, it broke up when you passed out,” Spinner says. “Honestly, we all thought you faked it to get us out of there. It was just Skeptic and what’s-his-name complaining that we aren’t committed enough to the cause.”

“Even if I didn’t fake it, I’m glad it helped,” you say. “They really had a whole meeting just to tell you guys you aren’t liberating hard enough?”

“No shit we aren’t. Their cause is bullshit. They want the same thing the heroes want, except with them on top.” It must have been a while since Tomura hit the pain-relief button. He’s in a really bad mood again. “The whole thing’s coming down. That includes them if they get in my way.”

“Maybe keep that part quiet for now,” you suggest. Spinner snorts. “This is just the same plan from before, right? Letting your enemies destroy each other and finishing the job when they’re too tired to keep fighting.”

Now that you think about it, that’s sort of Tomura’s MO – keeping to the shadows while his enemies duke it out, then stepping in to deal the final blow and stealing whatever they were fighting for. He did it with Stain, stealing Stain’s reputation to burnish the League’s after Stain showed up the heroes and was captured. He did it again with Overhaul and the heroes, and again with Gigantomachia and the MLA. It’s the right strategy for that kind of fight, one where you know you don’t have the brute force to win, but it’s not a strategy someone with a quirk as powerful as Tomura’s would jump to. Even after battling Gigantomachia for two months and defeating Re-Destro, Tomura still doesn’t fight like a supervillain. He fights like he’s quirkless. Just like you do. Just like you did.

You don’t see a problem with it. Spinner looks like he does. “We shouldn’t keep using the same plan.”

“We’ll keep using it as long as it keeps working,” Tomura says. He glances up at you, half a smirk on his face. “Just like your dumb jokes.”

“That was our old strategy,” you say, straightfaced. “If you can’t beat them, make them unfuckable instead.”

Tomura laughs, then grimaces as the motion strains his stitches. You haven’t heard him laugh in a while, and you feel better instantly – but at the same time, you’re conscious of Spinner staring, shocked. Has he really never heard Tomura laugh before? Is the difference between the person you love and the person the rest of the League knows really that big? No, you decide, they just aren’t used to him yet. And they’ve got a little time to get used to him. He’s who they’ll be living with in the new world, and although you’re closer to it than you’ve ever been, it’s still a long way away.

But you can help with the getting-used-to-it thing. “I mean, our track record is incredible,” you say. “We started off with All Might – hook a scarecrow up with a skeleton, and that’s what the whole society of potential All Might fuckers have to cope with now –”

Tomura is wheezing now. “And you’d think we couldn’t top that, but we’re not quitters,” you continue. That gets Spinner. He laughs a little bit, so you turn up the heat. “Plus Ultra, right? Overhaul was already pretty unfuckable, so the fact that we made it even worse really says something about our skills. And now we’ve got these guys, who – I’m sorry. Do we really think Skeptic gets laid?”

You have a feeling Skeptic is watching this from any one of his five million security cameras, but he already hates you for killing the other MLA lieutenant, so it doesn’t matter. The fact that Spinner and Tomura are both laughing now matters more, and you hear Compress chuckle quietly behind his mask. “I’d say our record’s perfect,” you finish. “The real question is where we go from here. Who do we have left?”

“Endeavor,” Spinner says. “But I don’t think he needs our help.”

Now you’re cackling – cackling, and thinking of Hirono, who one hundred percent thought Endeavor was fuckable. Hirono, who you miss. Just like you miss your friends. Just like part of you will always miss your boring, safe, normal life. “So we’re out of people to turn unfuckable,” Tomura decides. “I guess we just have to build the new world.”

The leap in logic is way too much for you. You burst out laughing, doubled over in a way that makes your bruised ribs ache, tears streaming down your face, and you try your hardest to imagine a new world. One that’s not like this one. One that’s full of things you like, just like Toga wants it to be. One where people like you and Spinner don’t have to be scared. One where people aren’t thrown away, one where the presence of heroes doesn’t give everyone else the ability to turn a blind eye to people who are being hurt in ways that can’t be solved by punching someone in the face. One where you and Tomura can be together, where there’s nothing left that he wants to destroy.

It’s a good world. A dream worth fighting for. But for the moment, while your new friends laugh and you struggle not to cry for the friends you lost, all you can think about is what’s already been left behind.

[five-rivers]

Cracked Clay Cup Chapter 4

Phic Phight Phic! @greatbigolhampuckjustforme

“Ughh,” said Danny, falling onto Clockwork’s couch.  

Yes.  Danny.  Despite Jazz lying to him a lot, the name had grown on him.  She wasn’t bad.  Just.  Bad at lying.  And sort of… constantly suspicious.  And definitely not his mother.  He was pretty sure she cared about him.  No one who didn’t care about him would push schoolwork that hard.  

Unless she’d been trying to harvest his brain.  

Yeah, he’d sort of decided that wasn’t what was going on by the end of the second day.  It was still kind of fun to say.  Jazz’s face had made some very funny movements when he brought it up.  It was kind of… endearing.  Yeah.  

“Hello, Daniel,” said Clockwork.  “I take it you had a good time with Miss Jasmine.”

“It was… A time.  I think she did know me before.  She had a lot of funny stories from when I was a kid.  And she had a really nice bedroom for me.  They do their own decorating, right?”

“They acquired and furnished the homes you will be staying in from their own resources, but they may have hired decorators.”

“Okay.  She had very strong opinions about schoolwork.”

“You will find that many of your potential guardians have strong feelings regarding your education.”

“Great,” said Danny.  He rubbed his face.  “Now what?  Do I just jump right into the next one, or do I get, like, a grace period or something?”

“You can take as long to recover from your experience as you’d like.”  He sounded amused.  “You don’t need to push yourself.”

“Mhm,” said Danny.  He stared up at the ceiling.  “Can I see the list again?”

Clockwork set the folder gently down on his lap.  

“Thanks,” said Danny, opening the folder.  “I was thinking about going to the other extreme this time around.  The oldest.  Which page are they?”

“Green,” said Clockwork.  

Danny looked up.  Clockwork’s tone had seemed… off.  But his expression wasn’t any different.  What Danny could see of it, anyway.  He’d turned slightly away, so he only saw the edge of his face.  

He looked back at the manilla folder and the green piece of paper.  

“So,” he said, “ do you know this… Oculus and Orbis?  Those are kind of weird names.  Maybe not too weird for ghosts, though.  Oculus and Orbis.  Eye… and also eye.  Wow.  Wonder if I’m going from someone who wants to steal my brains to someone who wants to steal my eyes.”

“They won’t try to steal your eyes.”

That sounded unconvincing in the extreme.  

“Are you sure?”

“Relatively so.”  That actually sounded rather threatening.  Danny gave him another look, but, again, he seemed fine.  Mostly fine.  

“So…  Married couple.  That’s different.  Maybe they’ll be more like grandparents?  Interests… Coloring.  I guess they mean, like, adult coloring books?  That’s pretty cool, I didn’t mind drawing at Jazz’s.  Watching…  I think they must have left something off here, it just says watching.  Watching… Sunsets?  TV?  Movies?”

“You will have to wait and see,” said Clockwork as he adjusted a painting on the wall.  It was of something generic and pastoral, but it was nice.  

“And… ew.  Astrology.  Do they really like astrology?”

“I can only refer you back to the information sheet.”

“Okay,” said Danny.  “Fortune telling isn’t real, right?”

“It depends on your point of view.”

“You can time travel, right?”

“That is within my powerset, yes.”

“Huh,” said Danny.  “So, you could see the future.”

“I could,” said Clockwork.  “To some degree.”

“So, you already know who I will pick.”

“Not exactly,” said Clockwork.  “Time follows a somewhat more complicated path than that of an arrow.”

“An arrow’s path doesn’t have to be simple, anyway.  It bends, because of gravity.  Unless you’re in space.”

“Indeed.  Have you eaten dinner?”

“Not yet,” said Danny.  “But shouldn’t you already know that?”

“It is polite to ask.”

.

Danny laid awake in bed.  He missed the stars in the bedroom he had at Jazz’s.  The blankets were comfier here, though.  And there were more pillows.  Tradeoffs.  He still hadn’t asked Clockwork if he’d done his own decorating.  

Yeah.  It wasn’t at all bad here.  But he wondered if he had, maybe, acted too quickly with leaving Jazz.  

It was a little too late to doubt his decision, though.  He couldn't undo it.  Not without Clockwork cooperating.  He didn't really want to undo it, anyway.  There were all the other people to visit and figure out and whatever.  

Hopefully, by the end, he'd be able to figure out enough to understand himself. 

He held his hand up over his head, fingers splayed, and tried to reach for the spark of transformation that Jazz swore up and down existed.  Nothing happened.

He sighed and rolled over in bed.  He'd think about it in the morning.  Or never.  Never sounded good. 

.

Danny bounced down the stairs two at a time.  “Breakfast?” he asked, hopefully.  

“Potatoes o'brien with gravy and eggs,” said Clockwork.  “I must confess, I’m surprised you aren’t flying down the stairs.”

“Haven’t really figured it out properly yet,” said Danny, throwing himself into a chair.  “I kept trying at Jazz’s, but I kept running into the walls and ceiling and stuff.  And where would I fly to, anyway?”

“I see,” said Clockwork, sounding vaguely amused.  

“Not what you expected of me, huh?”

“Not particularly.”

“Well, that’s just what happens when you erase someone’s memory and throw them into weird situations with redheads that are a little too obsessed with brain surgery.”

Clockwork’s answering hum was definitely amused.

“Would you like juice with your breakfast?”

“Do you have hot chocolate?” asked Danny.  “With whipped cream?”

“I do,” said Clockwork.  “Would you like some?”

“Please.”

Clockwork pulled an enameled teakettle from one of the cabinets and set it on the stovetop.  The enamel was purple, of course.  

“Are you still set on visiting Oculus and Orbis next?”

“I mean, I’d have to visit them eventually, anyway, right?  That’s the rule, isn’t it?”

“Technically speaking, no.  If you feel a strong enough connection with one of the candidates, you can forgo meeting the rest of them.”

“Wow,” said Danny.  “You really don’t like them.”

“I do not want my feelings to influence you.”

“That’s not a denial.”

Clockwork set the plate down in front of Danny.  “I do not want my feelings to influence you, negative or positive.”

“Sure,” said Danny.  He started to shove food in his mouth.  “So, Jazz told me something weird when I was over there.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.  Something about me being half ghost.”

“Ah, yes.”

“Yes?  Yes?  You mean that’s a real thing?”

“To some degree, yes,” said Clockwork.

“What does that mean?”

“You have a variety of extremely rare abilities,” said Clockwork.  “Whether those are the results of being half ghost, part human, a superb but singular transformation ability, or something else… That is a matter for debate.”

“Okay, so, transformation.  How?”

“Alas, for all that I can see, I cannot see into your mind.  I do not know how your transformations felt to you, nor how you accomplished them.”

“Oh,” said Danny, pushing around a stray piece of egg on his plate.  That was unhelpful, but he supposed it made sense.  “There’s not anything going on like, um, you’re keeping me from transforming on purpose?  Like how you said you’ve changed my appearance.”

“No,” said Clockwork.  

“Okay,” said Danny.  He scraped together the last of the potatoes.  “I’m going to go get ready before I go.  I’m still going to Oculus and Orbis.”

“Mm,” said Clockwork.  

Yeah, Danny could definitely tell Clockwork didn’t like those two.  This would probably be short, compared to his stay with Jazz.  He went upstairs and brushed his teeth before changing.  Jazz had gotten on his case about that more than once.  

What to wear today… hm…  He flipped through his closet.  Hm.  How about the skirt…  It was a nice silvery green.  And what to go on top?  That jacket was about the same length as the shirt.  And, hm, he didn’t feel like going pants-less… Or stockings.  Maybe capris?  He could do capris.  Those were cool.  Then he could show off the socks Jazz had given him.  

Were those here?  He looked through the sock drawer.  They were.  Huh.  

He really wished Jazz had been honest with him.  He really did.  And maybe a little bit less crazy about school.  Because he was absolutely sure that what she’d had him doing was over and above what schools would do.  

He pulled on his solar system socks.  

Okay.  He was ready.  

He went downstairs.  “I’m ready.”

“I see that,” said Clockwork.  “Your socks are very nice.”

“Oh, thanks!”  

Clockwork tilted his staff to the side and a portal formed.  “As before, press the button when you are ready to return.”

Danny nodded and stepped through.  Once the blue rush of the portal cleared from his ears and eyes, he found himself in a massive marble foyer.  Circular decorations in black and gold were inset in the stone.  Waiting in the center, holding on to each other’s elbows, were the strangest couple Danny had ever seen.  

Well, they were the only couple Danny had ever seen.  They were tall, robed in rich fabrics trimmed in gold and black.  Their skin was a textured, vivid green, and they were totally bald.  Well.  They were wearing wigs, but they were very obviously wigs.  One wig was blonde and long, the other was silver and short.  Both of them covered their eyes.  One was also wearing a long skirt and delicate jewelry.  The other wore bulky jewelry, gloves, and some sort of black sheath over its tail.  

“Phantom,” they said, simultaneously, spreading their arms wide. 

“My dear,” said the one in the skirt in a surprisingly high-pitched voice, “it is so good to see you again.”

“You haven’t had any problems with the riff-raff harassing us with this ludicrous custody dispute, have you, son?” asked the other, in a surprisingly low-pitched voice.  

“No?” said Danny, dodging a hug.  “I haven’t had any trouble.”

“Excellent news!  But now you’re back with us,” said the deep-voiced and vaguely masculine one.  “So you don’t need to worry about it anymore.  All our worries are over.  From now on, we have all our days ahead of us, full of joy and light!”

Danny… was pretty sure that last sentence didn’t make sense.  

“Yes, yes,” said the higher-pitched one.  “We will care for you now and forever.  Your days will be filled with the luxury you so richly deserve.”

“Luxury, huh?”

“Of course, love,” said the high-pitched one.  “Luxury, beyond the dreams of the masses.  Not your dreams, of course.”

“Um,” said Danny.  

“The best foods, the best clothes, the best games–  Everything those other fools would deny you!”

Danny had the distinct sense he was being bribed.  

“Okay,” he said, “but, um, what are your names?”

They looked at each other.  “I am Oculus,” said the low-pitched one.  

“I am Orbis,” said the high-pitched one.  

“Right,” said Danny.  “And who is Phantom?  Is that some kind of ghost pet name?”

“It is your name,” said Orbis.  

“Oh,” said Danny.

“Did Clockwork not tell you?”

“He told me my name is Daniel.”

“Hm,” said Orbis.  

“Hm,” said Oculus.  “Be that as it may, your name is most certainly Phantom.  You have no other.”

Yeah.  Danny wasn’t buying that.  

“Okay,” he said, out loud.  “So, um, how do I know you guys?”

“Well,” said Orbis, sniffing slightly, “we rescued you from those awful ghost hunters, didn’t we?  They treated you so terribly, we couldn’t help but intervene, and then, well, we fell in love with you.  Who couldn’t?”  They started laughing.  The laughter went on for… a while.  

Danny smiled tightly and nodded.  

“But enough of that!” said Oculus.  “We must give you the grand tour!  Show you all the things that are now, and will forever be, yours!”

What followed was a lengthy hike through an absolutely enormous, almost castle-like mansion.  There was so much stuff.  So many things.  Toys, furniture, games, computers, decorations, flowers, perfumes, food.  It was dizzying.  

“And,” said Oculus, gesturing grandly at a set of rooms larger than Jazz’s entire place, “these are your rooms!  There’s an ensuite - with a pool of course - and your favorite video games, and we can’t forget your mini-kitchen, completely stocked–”

Danny sort of tuned them out as they went down the list of things in the rooms, eyes sliding over various accouterments and accommodations.  It was all very nice.  But it was also, somehow, empty.  

Well, the stuff was cool.  He didn’t understand what was going on with the people, but… He could stay here a few days.  

.

Danny wandered the frankly enormous house, looking for his supposed guardians.  He was pretty sure it was in the middle of afternoon, and he had yet to see them.  This, he thought, was not conducive to actually getting to know them.  

So, he was searching as methodically as he could, given the nonsensical layout.  There was a swimming pool in the middle of a ring of kitchens, for goodness sake.  There was a library in the basement.  

But finally, he did it.  

“Uh,” said Danny.  He was pretty sure this one was Orbis.  Long haired wig, light jewelry.  Yep.  “Orbis?”

They didn’t turn around.  

“Orbis?” he repeated.  He came close me.  “Excuse me?  Orbis?”  He tapped their shoulder.  They jumped about a foot.  

“Goodness, child!  Why didn’t you say something if you wanted my attention.”

“I… did,” said Danny.  “Are you not Orbis?”

“I,” said the ghost.  “Yes.”

The other ghost glided into the room.  “Did I hear someone calling me?” they asked.  They were dressed identically to the first.  

Danny looked between the two of them as they started gesturing emphatically at each other.  He knew that ghosts could be weird, and there were a number of different lifestyles that could result in… whatever this was… but he sort of didn’t think that was what was going on.  Actually, he didn’t–  Were these ghosts shorter than they were yesterday?  He hadn’t been paying all that much attention to their dimensions…

The gesture battle they were having, as if they thought he couldn’t see them, was definitely suspicious.  Was there a ghost version of sign language?

Yeah, this was escalating.  He edged closer to the arguing ghosts.  He was about to do something that could be considered socially crass, but…

His hand flashed out and grabbed the wig of the nearest ghost.  He pulled it loose.

Without the wig, the ghost was completely bald.  They were also obviously one-eyed.  They turned to stare at him, that one, huge, eye wide and alarmed.  

Now, Danny didn’t remember all that much, but he knew who the Observants were.  

“Yeah,” he said, grabbing the pocketwatch.  “I’m out.”

[youling-the-ghost]

sfth incorrect quotes pt.4 because I'm addicted to making these (the link I used)

*Sam is reading a Clifford The Big Red Dog book* Luke, watching: How did he get to be so big? Do they ever explain that? Sam: Well, Emily’s love for him grew, and so did he. Luke: Well, your dog is pretty small. Guess that says something about you, huh? Sam, angrily shutting his book: YOU’RE SMALL! WHAT DOES THAT SAY ABOUT YOUR PARENTS?!?! AJ: Hey, Tom? Tom: Yeah? AJ: Can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on? Tom: Tom: Where’s Luke?

Sam: You know what the problem is? Your really cute, so no one ever told you to shut your pie-hole. Luke: You think I’m cute? Sam: SHUT YOUR PIE-HOLE! AJ: I am an expert at identifying birds. Tom: Okay, what about those ones flying over there? AJ: Yeah, they're all birds. Luke: What are you guys playing? AJ: Go Fish. Luke: That’s a nice, safe game. Luke: But don’t you need cards? AJ: Where do you keep the spear gun? Sam: I regret nothing!!! Tom: I regret everything!!! Luke: Live fast, die young, leave behind a pretty corpse! That’s what I always say! AJ: You should say something else. Sam: I failed my safety training course today. Tom: Why, what happened? Sam: Well one of the questions was "In case of a fire, what steps would you take?" Tom: And? Sam: Well apparently "FUCKING LARGE ONES" isn't an acceptable answer. Luke: But what about AJ? Sam: Don't worry about him. Sam: I once watched him fall down 5 flights of stairs, stand up, and keep eating his hotdog like nothing happened. Luke: Caffeine no longer keeps me awake while I work, so instead I have Tom periodically send me texts saying ‘we need to talk.’ Luke: It gives me the right amount of adrenaline and fear I need to keep going. Tom: That sounds like a terrible plan. Sam: Oh, we've had worse. AJ: I sort of did something and I need some advice, but I don't want a lot of judgment and criticism. Luke: And you came to me? AJ: So, I've been thinking Tom- Tom: That's dangerous. Sam: FIGHT ME, YOU NERD ASS SLUT! Luke: At least try to sound slightly more sophisticated when you threaten someone. Sam: Oh, I'm sorry. I should ask; dost thou want to engage in a duel, my good bitch? Luke: Somehow that's worse. *AJ is crying after a breakup* Luke: There there, AJ. AJ, still crying: Thanks, but how did you get into my room? Luke: Great question— Tom: My aesthetic is "would be suspected of witchcraft by small town citizens." Tom: All of your existences are confusing. The Squad: How so? Tom: Your presence is annoying, but the thought of anything bad happening to any of you upsets me. Tom: *looks at AJ* Tom: Baby boy. Baby. Tom: *looks at Sam* Tom: Evil. (Luke is somehow both at the same time) Sam: I love being right. It’s one of my favorite personality traits. AJ: What's the most illegal thing you can do with one dollar? Sam: Exchange it for a hundred pennies, put them all in a sock, and then beat someone to death with it. AJ: One time I went to hand Sam a bowl of soup. I wanted to say “Careful, it’s hot!”, and “Here’s your soup!”, so instead I blurted out “Careful it’s soup.” Tom: I am in charge of this disaster! AJ: I have a name, you know. Tom: Luke, Sam, I love y’all and all, but can I ask what in the hell are you doing? Sam, trying to stabilize a tower of folding chairs that Luke is sitting atop: Oh nothing much. Luke: I love you too :) Tom: Do you know a turtles only weakness? AJ: No...well, their slowness. Tom: Their weaknesss is they can't roll over when they are on their backs. Tom: Now I have a plan. Tom: If I duct tape two turtles together, they'll be unstoppable. Sam, talking about Luke: WHAT THE FUCK I WAS ARGUING WITH HIM AND I SAID “OOH YOU WANNA KISS ME SO BAD” AND GUESS WHAT? HE DID. HE KISSED ME. WHAT THE FUCK WHAT DO I DO. AJ: What are you writing? Sam: The government wants to know what kind of weapons we have in the house. I'm letting them know it's private information. Tom, looking over Sam's shoulder: This just says 'fuck around and find out' in calligraphy. AJ: I was voted “friendliest classmate” in high school. Sam: I was voted “most likely to become a clown”... Luke: You think that’s bad? HA! I was voted “most likely to get rabies”! AJ: Sam won’t come out of their room! Tom: Just tell them I said something. AJ: Like what? Tom: Anything factually incorrect. AJ, shrugging: If you say so. Sam, arriving moments later: Did you just say the sun is a PLANET?

[shaunamilfman]

Jackie can’t handle herself when she gets the slightest bit horny. If she wakes up from a single wet dream, she needs you immediately, even if its 4 am and you’re asleep next to her, she will scoot right next to you and straddle your leg, slowly trying to start waking you up. She’ll start with slow kisses on your lips, cheek, and jawline but as she gets more impatient she’ll move to sucking hickeys onto your neck while grinding herself down onto your leg to get a little bit of friction going. When you finally wake up, you’re confused cause it’s pitch black, you feel some weight on your leg and all you can hear are Jackie’s little pants of breath. You start to slowly realize the situation as Jackie takes notice that you’re finally awake. She says “Thank god you’re finally up, please just—” she’s so desperate at this point that she grabs your hand and puts the in her pajama shorts that she’s already soaked through. If you even take a second too long to process, she’s already rocking herself on your fingers because she’s already been “sooooo patient” and she couldn’t wait anymore. She’ll remove her hand from her own shorts and grab your shoulder for leverage, and she’s clutching so hard that there are going to be nail marks on your shoulder and back. She’ll keep leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss that has her moaning in the back of her throat. And she’s definitely a little bossy because of how worked up she is, she’ll move your other hand to wherever she wants it and holds it in place there, on her waist, her neck, her chest. While she holds your hand against her. it sends her over the edge, her movement on your hand stutters and slows until she collapses on your chest in exhaustion. After a moment of silence between you two you ask, “Another sex dream?”, Jackie nods against your chest in response. “Okay well you’re not falling asleep now, because I’m awake, I’m sure you could take a second round.”

You both end up missing your first period of school the next morning, and half of the 2nd.

i don't have much to say im just gonna do commentary this was good as hell bro

desperately needy jackie i know that's right

poor pillow princess jackie having to do some of the work herself

i'm imagining jackies reaction to you doing that thing where your like half asleep and are like "im up im up" but fall asleep immediately. she almost cries tears of frustration

needy jackie using you to get herself off has me 😵‍💫😵‍💫

oh jackie definitely needs a second round the poor baby had to do all the work. maybe even a third one.

also im imagining her dream is something fucking ridiculous that only she would find hot. you ask her what it's about and shes just all shy about it lmaooooo. like her ass didn't wake you up with your hand down her shorts

okay okay but alsooooo. consider waking up before jackie while she's having a wet dream. you're woken up by her shifting against you in her sleep. you spooning her with one arm over her so you definitely notice as she starts moving against you. she's doing it unconsciously, groaning slightly in her sleep. thinking about slipping your hand in her shorts and not even moving it. she just starts softly shifting her hips against it as her dream gets better. her breathing quickens up as she wakes up and you just immediately start moving your hand, fucking her awake. she immediately gets all whiny, still half asleep, but she can't help but rock her hips against your hand. telling her you won't let her finish unless she tell you what she was dreaming abouttttt.

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 ao3

Eddie wakes again, and it’s a soft, gradual departure from sleep. When his eyelids eventually co-operate enough to stay open, he finds that Steve is already awake; the curtains are open, sunlight streaming across the bed.

“Hi,” Steve says, smiling, and it’s genuine—but Eddie’s getting familiar with knowing how to look closer. He’s sat up a little straighter again, a rigid line to his shoulders—and Eddie has a faint memory, suddenly, of Steve on the bench at a basketball game, waiting on tenterhooks to be called up.

“What’s up?” Eddie asks. When he swings his legs round, feet hitting the floor, he realises that the couch has been pulled back from Steve’s bed, frowns a little.

“Not much. They were just checking my lungs and stuff, ran some tests.”

Eddie can see the evidence of that now as Steve moves back the sheets slightly: his upper torso has a series of little marks, presumably where stickers and wires once were.

“They had to, uh, move you so they had enough room. Just kinda pushed the couch back,” Steve continues.

Eddie’s eyebrows raise, a mixture of disbelief and embarrassment. “I slept through that?”

Steve laughs. He sounds fond. “Oh, yeah. You were, like, solid gone, dude.”

“You should’ve—”

“Nope,” Steve interrupts firmly. “You needed the rest. Plus, um, I kinda demanded that they didn’t wake you up. Thought it was the least they could do.”

Oh.

“Well, m’sorry I missed that,” Eddie says, and through the sudden warmth in his chest, he adds, “You gave ‘em a Harrington glare, didn’t you?”

Steve laughs again, bemused. “A what?”

“Come on, man, don’t you know your own legends?”

“Legends.”

“You know, your evil eye.”

“Saying basically the same thing doesn’t actually explain anything, y’know.”

“Don’t be all coy now, you made it damn clear when you were pissed at someone.”

“Like when?”

Eddie points upwards accusingly, as if plucking the memory from the air. “English, last period. When that sub—”

“Oh, him. He was an ass.”

“I thought you were gonna turn him to stone. You gave some pretty good inspiration for a basilisk in one of my campaigns.”

Steve gives a baffled smile. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted.”

“Well—”

“Anyway, he was being a douchebag, making Rebecca read out loud; he knew she hated—”

“I kinda thought you liked her,” Eddie says thoughtfully. “You made me lose a bet on the prom couples.”

Steve snorts. “What is it with you and—never mind. No, I didn’t—it just wasn’t right, how he treated her. That was all.”

His gaze goes a bit distant as he speaks, his hand rubbing absent-mindedly at one of the more vivid marks, right on his breastbone.

“Hey, you uh—the tests went fine, right?”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot I’d—yeah, aced them,” Steve says, and though his tone is flippant it’s also, thankfully, not sarcastic. He nods to the door, to the corridor outside. “Think they sorta want me to just go at this point.”

“They said that?” Eddie says, remarkably keeps his voice even.

“I mean, not exactly in words. They’re not like—you know, normal doctors or whatever. They’re involved in all this,” Steve gestures vaguely, “shit. S’not like it’s personal. Guess I’d want it to be all over, too, if I was in their shoes.”

Eddie just looks at him for a moment. He doesn’t know how to say you’re not a fucking inconvenience for people to be over and done with—knows that if he even gets close to something as bald as that, Steve will not really hear him.

So instead he says, “Is it too late for breakfast—shit, yeah. Uh, I can offer you the vending machine’s finest, à la carte?”

Steve grins. “Gimme anything with chocolate and you’d be my hero, man.”

-

It’s only when Eddie reaches the vending machine that he realises he doesn’t have any more change on him. He curses under his breath, wonders if he can yield any candy bars with a well-timed kick—but before he can even lift his foot, the machine whirs with no prompting, and deposits a pile of candy into the slot.

Nonplussed but not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Eddie bends down to take the haul, then spots a familiar reflection in the glass.

“Hey! What the—what’re you doing here?” he says, watching as El grins and wipes surreptitiously underneath her nose.

“Visiting,” she says simply, and that’s when Eddie notices Jim Hopper right behind her.

“Yeah, there’s some stuff we’ve gotta straighten out,” he says mildly.

It’s striking, to see him up close. There’s things Eddie never noticed in his bird’s eye view of him in the parking lot: how thin he is, his hair so closely shaven that it just serves to make his face look even more gaunt.

Hopper ruffles El’s hair. “Had to bring one of the kids with me or there’d be a damn mutiny.” But his hand lingers on El’s head, and Eddie can tell that it’s more than that—like he wants to keep her close.

Maybe it’s the fact that the guy’s clearly been through some shit that Eddie doesn’t stumble too badly over how Hopper is chatting to him like it’s normal.

“Uh, I can, uh, take you to Steve’s floor?”

“That’d be great, kid. Saves Joyce from murdering that poor girl on reception.”

Hopper whistles, raises his hand—and then Joyce Byers is hurrying over, and she clutches Eddie’s hand, squeezes like he’s a dear family friend.

“Oh, Eddie, sweetie, thank God we—this way? None of our calls were getting through, god, you won’t believe the trouble we—now if we can find a damn doctor who actually knows, I’ll—”

“Um,” Eddie says, voice a little strained—his mind stuck on both Eddie and sweetie. “I’ve not actually—they’re being pretty elusive.”

Hopper smiles grimly. “Oh, we’ll find them.”

-

They must be a magic duo, because they’ve been on Steve’s floor for barely a second before both Hopper and Joyce are slipping into an office room, jaws set. The door shuts.

One beat, and then Eddie hears the muffled, thrumming cadence of raised voices.

El shrugs. “They will be a while,” she declares. “Let’s go see Steve.”

-

Steve’s jaw drops when El walks through the door.

“You’re gonna catch flies, Harrington,” Eddie says—but he only says it because Steve looks, for just a moment, overwhelmed.

It works, gives Steve just enough time to rally.

“Shut up, Munson.” He rolls his eyes at El as if to say can you believe this guy?

She giggles, then goes over to the bed and wraps her arms around Steve in a gentle hug.

He pulls her closer, brings a hand up to stroke her hair, and his face falls a little, as if he’s had a sad realisation. Then he gives himself a shake and murmurs, heartfelt, “You’re goddamn amazing, El. Thank you. Thank you.”

El shakes her head, draws back. “I only got you a little way there. You brought yourself back, Steve.”

Steve gives a fragile smile—looks like he’s trying his hardest to ward off tears.

”And what am I, the furniture?” Eddie says.

Steve snorts, blinks, and his answering grin is strong. “Oh, I suppose you did something,” he sighs dramatically, and he nudges El. “Shall we give him that?”

“No,” El says dryly, and Steve cackles. “Come on, then, catch me up! You blow my house up yet?”

El smiles. “Not yet. I like your movies. I want to go to a thrift store, to try and find something like Liesl’s dress.”

“Oh, the pink one?” Steve asks, and when El nods he says warmly, “Yeah, that’ll suit you.”

While they talk, Eddie starts to place all the candy on the bedside table. It’s a carefully curated selection from the pile El had initiated—chocolate bars Eddie thinks Steve will like: 3 Musketeers and U-No Bars.

Steve catches his eye, mouths, “Hero,” and winks.

[yet-another-deanw-girl]

Chapter 2: Protocol EG-64 initiated

||The Prophecy Series||

She knew for 15 years that this day would come. She knew her destiny had already been written. That her death had been foretold.

She knew she would have to stop him. She knew she would have to kill him. And she thought she was prepared for all of it. But the day she met him she realized how wrong she was…

Set in Season 10

Pairing: MoC!Dean x Female!OC

Warnings: the usual SPN, language, injuries

Episode mapping: After episode 4 of season 10 "Paper Moon"

Note: The events of this story are following season 10 of Supernatural and are taking place between October 2014 and July 2015. I tried to make sure that all the references to weapons, tech, etc. are accurate with the time period.

AN: This is my first time writing a fanfic but the story has been in my head for too long and it just needed to get out. I hope you like it.

AN: English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

I slowly regain consciousness and I’m overwhelmed by the familiar smell of the humid air.  I’m home…  But then the memories from the cabin come back to me.  I struggle to open my eyes but I'm fully awake and I focus on hearing the silent conversation coming from the other side of the room. "What were we supposed to do? Drop her in some hospital? And say what? A bear attacked her?" Sam's voice is concerned. "She just saved our lives, Dean! She will be fine in a couple of days and then she'll be gone." "I know…" Dean sighs. "I'm just not sure if she is safer here with us... with me… or in a hospital on her own!" I'm finally able to open my eyes and start sitting up. "Hey, hey, easy there!" Sam says when he sees me and rushes to me. Dean stays in his place next to the door.  "You are safe here! We are not going to hurt you!" I managed to stop myself before responding with some sarcastic comment like "You should be worried about me hurting you!". I must not behave like the military trained special ops soldier right now. I must act like an American hunter. A little bit of politeness and a fake confusion would be the best way to go. "What happened?" I ask, looking down at my stomach. The wound was stitched up and bandaged. My jeans are covered in blood and my shirt is gone, leaving me only in my sports bra. Sam turns around and produces a plaid shirt from somewhere and I quickly put it on. It is way too big on me, so I roll the sleeves and tie the bottom to a node around my waist so the bandages are not visible. "You were injured by a werewolf while you were saving us. Thanks, for that, by the way." He smiles. "My name is Sam Winchester. This is my brother, Dean. What's your name?" My name? They have probably already found my fake ID. What was the name on it? Nadia? Natasha? "Natalie, Natalie Brooks. Where am I?" Playing 'damsel in distress' is not my favorite role. I'm far away from helpless and confused as you can imagine. But I just need to play the part and go on my way as fast as possible. "You are… ahm… Well, we live here. We didn't want to just drop you in a hospital." Sam explains. Dean hadn't said a word. Hadn't moved. He was just standing with his back against the wall next to the door, his arms crossed. Looking at me the whole time. Studying me.  I really need to go. Now! "Well thank you, for stitching me up. But I think it's time for me to go now."  Sam tries to stop me when I stand up on my unstable legs.  "I'm fine, thanks! I'll just go. I really don't want to intrude." I walk past Dean and open the door but before I run to the exit, I stop myself remembering, I was not supposed to know the layout of this place. I look both ways and turn around with a confused look. "Ahum... Can you point me to the exit? And…um… I suppose my car is not here?"

"Who are you?" I am sitting in the back seat of a black Impala. We have been on the road for about 40 minutes before Dean speaks to me for the first time. I'm looking through the window, lost in my thoughts, so I'm not entirely faking this time when I startle at his abrupt question. Sam looks at him with a scolding expression, like he is on the verge of lecture him for being impolite. I stifle a scoff and instead, put a confused look on my face. "What do you mean? I already told you who I…" Pain grips every nerve in my body. "Stop the car!" I hiss, grabbing at the door handle. "What the hell are you doing!!!" Dean exclaims. "Dean, stop the car! Something's wrong!" I can hear Sam saying. "Her nose is bleeding!"

Created with Microsoft Designer

I stumble out of the car and start moving back down the road frantically. My mind is trying to grasp what is happening. This is not possible. Not now! Not here! When I'm about a hundred meters away from the car, the pain suddenly stops. I gasp for air and when my breathing normalizes I hear the Winchesters running toward me. "What happened?" Sam asks, the concern in his voice even more evident from when I woke up earlier. I wipe out the blood from my nose ignoring the question and dig out my phone from my jeans back pocket. I already know what is going on but I open my navigation map anyway. The exact distance from the Men of Letters bunker is… 64 kilometers…  Fuck!  Fuck!  Shit!  Fuck! "What the hell is all of that about?" Dean asks, raising his voice. I take a deep breath and straighten my back. I knew this was coming. It was inevitable. And it is just the beginning. And, of course, it has to be the renowned Winchester brothers. "I asked you a question, damn it!" Dean growls.

I slowly turn around to face the boys. I compose myself despite the panic and dread in my chest.  My feet - slightly apart… my back - straight… my hands - clasped behind my back… my chin - parallel to the ground… my face - expressionless. I lock all of the feelings in the tiny little black box inside my head. There is no point in panicking… there is no point of feeling any of this… It is what it is… I had accepted that a long time ago… "I'll have to make a call first, and then I'll explain everything." Dean tries to argue, but Sam stops him.

"Commander! Where are you? You've missed your exit window." I hear the voice of the general on the other side of the line. It looks like I'm on speaker because I can hear the usual noises of the command center. "Sir, I just initiated protocol EG-64." The line goes silent. The entire room around him is deadly quiet. They are just standing there not knowing what to say. "Em..." I hear the general's gasp. "It's right on time, sir."  Another long time of silence. "Sir, I need confirmation." My voice is monotone, drained of any emotion, like a good soldier. The man on the other side of the line clears his throat. "You have confirmation. Initiating protocol EG-64."  Silence…  "Soldier!" The general says and I hear the familiar noise of a keyboard. Everyone else is just quiet... I can imagine their faces and the looks that they are exchanging… "Can I do anything for you, commander?" "Sir, I need official permission to disclose my full identity to the active members of the American Men of Letters - Samuel Winchester, born May 2, 1983 and Dean Winchester, born January 24, 1979." The brothers are staring at me with curiosity, distrust and disbelief. "You have permission. You know the rules - only the need to know information." "Yes, sir." "And… you have permission to disclose your identity to everyone that is involved with your task as you deem needed. Call if you need anything!" "Thank you, sir!"

Created with Microsoft Designer

There is nothing left from the confused and fragile girl that woke up in the bunker a couple of hours earlier. That was actually the thing bothering me about her. She had barged in that cabin, killing those werewolves… And when she woke up… She played… almost helpless… But not anymore… The person standing in front of me is the same small framed, 5 '7 tall, 115 pound woman, wearing the same bloodied jeans and my too big plaid shirt under her leather jacket, but she has the stand of a trained soldier.  Who, the hell, is she?  I knew something was up with her, from the moment she stormed in that cabin, but I was not able to put my finger on it until now.  I look at her closely. Her dark hair is held in a tide braid, her military boots are perfectly laced and going around her ankles, definitely not just a style choice.  It all makes sense now.  She was holding back.  She was trying to hide her training this whole time.

She is standing still like a rock the entire time she is talking on the phone. Not moving a muscle. Her expression is cold and distant, showing no emotions. "Yes, sir." …. "Thank you, sir!"

She hangs up the phone and puts it in her back pocket. Her right hand joins the left one behind her back.  "My name is Emilia Nikolova. I'm a tac team commander of The European Division of The Order." She recites with a monotone voice. "The bad news is that there is something wrong with your bunker. The worse news is that I'm going to kill one of you and the other one is going to kill me."

Chapter 3: The stand-off >>

||The Prophecy Series||

[ladylooch]

Loving & Leaving- Part 4

Visit the series page here.

A/N: Now, we are seeing a shift for our little “non- lovers”. And that’s all I’m gonna say about that 😘 Thank you so much for your love and support on this one. It’s been dreamy and exciting!

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Swearing, lots of vomit talk, pregnancy, angst.

The month of December is hell on earth for event planners. Between your own personal celebrations leading up to the holidays and your client's, you never have a moment to yourself. I’ve seen the inside of my house for a maximum of two hours since I returned back from America. The other times I’ve been there its falling into a pile of exhaustion on my bed before my alarm goes off to do it all over again. My work weeks have transitioned into 70+ hours. At least I know there is light at the end of this tunnel when I return to New Jersey with my parents on Tuesday.

Then, I’ll be able to spend time with them and… hopefully Timo, depending on if I can slip away or not. Communication between the two of us has been limited the last two weeks. I’ve responded to his texts and we have shared a few brief phone calls. At least he’s understanding and supportive. It helps that his season is ramping up and requires a majority of his focus.

We send pictures and TikTok’s, but I haven’t responded to those in five days. I’ve missed every one of his FaceTime calls this week too. Despite my admitted history, I am honestly not avoiding him. The grind of the holiday season is simply catching up with me. I find myself falling asleep the moment I sit down on my couch with a glass of wine. When I’m awake, I feel so overwhelmed that even keeping up with my friends and family here is disappearing from my never ending list. I’m overwhelmed, nearing burn out and honestly, sick. So sick. The last three days, my body has seemingly rejecting all this stress with a nausea I can’t seem to shake.

Which brings me to where I am now, puking, knees quivering on the tiled bathroom floor of an event center for the third time in three days. It’s my last event before Christmas and I’ve spent more time in the bathroom tonight than anywhere else. This is a different kind of sick. It feels like my body is purging everything I put into it before I can get any sort of benefit from it. All I ate was a piece of bread, fast, while rushing back from a dessert emergency in the kitchen. I barely got the last bite down before I was sprinting back to the bathroom.

“What is wrong with me?” I moan, laying the side of my head against the stall. I move to wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. I rest my forearm into my breast and groan at the tenderness. Awareness begins to seep into my thoughts. “No. This is not happening.” I whisper to the empty bathroom.

The door swings open and I grimace, not wanting to have any of the guests of my high-end client hear me. I thought I would have some time alone with the speaking part of the program under way.

“Em, are you okay?” Rhea, my assistant and long-time friend, asks.

“Um.” I pause, pressing the back of my hand furthering into my wet lips. My stomach lurches and I vomit again. I can hear Rhea sigh outside of the stall.

“This isn’t like you.” She says what we are both thinking. I’m rarely sick. This is new. “I’ll be back.” She calls before leaving the bathroom. I sit on my knees, eyes screwed shut, spitting into the toilet. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, seeing Timo’s FaceTime call. I can’t answer that right now. Not when I think… I won’t let myself even finish the thought.

Rhea returns, kicking a pink, pregnancy test box under the stall. The woman on the front grins joyfully. I can’t say I feel the same. I consider denying that I need one of these, but Rhea and I spoke this morning about how weird my cycle has been. I had my period a few weeks ago, but it was almost non-existent. I chalked it up to stress, except… now I’m sick.

“How do you just have one of these?” I mumble, hating that we are both on the same page. 

“At some point, these things are like strips of gum in your purse.” 

We fall quiet.

“This is a low moment for me.” I mutter, ripping the box open. “Taking a… test at a client event is so embarrassing.” I work my way to sitting on the toilet. 

“You need to be able to eliminate this.” She responds, leaning against the bathroom door. I scowl, hearing my phone vibrate against the toilet paper dispenser. I know that’s him again. So does Rhea. He has the same routine. Calls three times and leaves a message on the third. “Interesting timing. At least you'll know who’s baby it is.” I glare at the stall door as I snap the cap of the test back on.

“Can I have a minute here?” Guilt squeezes my throat at how unfriendly my tone sounds. My whole world seems up in the air right now and I just need her to stop talking. 

But the absence of Rhea’s voice makes my phone vibrating louder until it feels like it’s rattling between my ears. A ping echos in the bathroom signaling a voicemail. I grab my phone, listening to his message.

“Hey Em… uh, it’s me again. Look, I know you’re busy but I’m going to be honest this feels like you’re kinda ignoring me. Did I do something? Or… *heavy sigh* I don’t know. Can you just call me? I miss you. We play tonight, but call me.. I’ll pick up. Just… I want to know you’re okay. Bye.”

My bottom lip trembles at the sound of his voice. No. I am not okay, sitting on the floor of this bathroom, trying not to puke again at the reality of the test in my hand. Worried tears build as I sense the two minutes pass. I know the test is ready, can feel it in my shaking hands and the passing of another song from the band beyond this room.

I move my fingers and die at the distinct plus sign that greets me.

“Fuck.” I cry, throwing the test down on the floor. It bounces underneath to the next stall. My abdomen shakes with sobs and terror as I clasp my hand over my mouth. “Fuck.” I say into my palm again, quieter, listening to the classical strings float into the bathroom from the event space. The soft music is an ironic soundtrack to my whole world crashing down on top of me. I look up at the ceiling, tears crawling from the corners of my eyes. They drip into my ears as I shake against the cold floor.

What am I going to do?

How am I going to tell Timo?

A few days later, after arriving in New Jersey for Christmas, I’ve come to the, admittedly, irrational decision that maybe I just won’t. It’s been an exhausting few days that’s accompanied more nausea and tons of smell aversions. One of them is eggs which Nico is innocently frying up for breakfast.

“You want some?” He asks me as he cracks three eggs for himself.

“No.” I can barely respond without gagging.

Our parents went off on their own for a walk around the city and to grab a cup of their favorite coffee. Usually, I would join them, but my stomach has been so touch and go this morning that I didn’t think I could. Nico continues to move the eggs around and they get more fragrant. I try to switch breathing through my mouth, but the smell seems to coat my tongue. My stomach squeezes and I rush from the kitchen with my hand clasped over my mouth. Nico watches my back with confusion. I return to the kitchen wordlessly when I am done, grabbing a glass of water. Nico stares, eyebrows cocked in question.

“Not sure that motion sickness lasts for days, Em. Maybe you need to see a doctor. I can ask one of the team doctors if they can come over?” I’ve already seen a doctor to confirm my pregnancy. And the thought of getting a team official involved has my throat tightening. I come back to the counter, slowly sitting down and rubbing at the tense muscles in my neck. My gaze drifts to the dining room table, grimacing at the reminder it’s one of the places we could have conceived this baby.

I was so stupid to start us down this road. Yes, I’m on the pill. Yes, I take it regularly. No, I have no idea how this happened. When I brought it up to my doctor, she shrugged, saying no birth control options are completely guaranteed. Then she handed me the sonogram I didn’t ask for, that’s now tucked in my suitcase, buried beneath all my clothes.

I watch Nico scrape his eggs onto a plate, then sprinkle more salt and pepper onto the fluffy peaks. He’s right here in front of me, but it feels like we are a thousands of miles apart. Loneliness grips my heart, making my eyes wet as Nico comes to sit by me. The heaviness of being the only person who knows weighs on me. But, here, in his kitchen, I can feel my little brother’s safety being stable enough to take some of that weight from me. I’m going to tell him, I decide as he shuffles his eggs around, spearing a few onto his fork.

“It’s not motion sickness. I’m pregnant.” I tell Nico, who pauses with his eggs at his open mouth. The egg flies off when he exhales sharply. I bite my tongue against the vomit pressing into my esophagus.

“What?” 

“And it’s Timo’s.” I didn’t intend to tell him, but it flew out before I could stop it.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.” Surprise absorbs my face now. “I know you two fuck around.” He motions at me with his fork. “Have for years. You two are awful at hiding your obsession with each other.” My mouth is slightly slack as he stabs the egg back on his fork. He stuffs it into his mouth and continues while he chews. “Never understood why you wouldn’t go all in.”

“Because I have a life in Switzerland.”

“Yeah, that’s gone now.” He swipes the air in front of me with his fork again, gesturing to the pregnancy. I narrow my eyes at his bluntness and obvious lack of empathy. “What did Timo say when you told him?” I am silent. He brings his brown eyes back to mine, squinting. “You did tell him, right?” More silence “Emma.” He snaps. 

“I just found out.” I defend myself. “Not that I really owe you an explanation.”

“Get dressed.” Nico says, pointing down the hall to my room. “You’re going to tell him now.”

“No, I am not.”

“Yes, you are. It should have been your first stop when you got here.”

“I can’t just show up at his-”

“Are you keeping his baby?” He cuts me off. A heavy inhale pulls my lips apart.

“Yes.” I say without question. It never crossed my mind to not go through with this.

“Then get downstairs.” His voice is final, like there is no reason to continue to argue further with him.

“When did you stop being my protector?” I grumble while rising to leave the counter. 

“Who says I stopped?” His stare is pointed. “Go.” His tone has softened at the obvious tears in my eyes. “I wouldn’t send you if I didn’t think it would be okay.”

I try to remember those words as I stare at Timo’s apartment door seven minutes later. I thought about texting him, but then there would be so much small talk and I can’t do that right now. I contemplate bailing, but my brother comes to mind, knowing he’s going to expect a report from the conversation when I return.

“Damn you, Nico.” I mutter as I raise my hand to knock.

I wait for a minute, maybe two, gripping the sleeves of my sweatshirt in my hands. No sound comes from the other side of the door. I think I might get off easy. I even turn to head back towards the elevator. Then the sound of the lock flipping halts me. My stomach drops out of my body, hitting the floor and flopping around in unease.

“Hey.” Timo is breathless as he opens the door. He is wearing a pair of jeans, waistband of his Calvin Klein underwear taut against his abdomen. He stands shirtless in the entry way, rubbing a towel over his hair. The brown strands flop against his forehead as he looks expectantly at me. He looks so sexy, warm and welcoming, with a gentle familiarity. “Didn’t realize you were in Jersey.” He becomes obviously tiffed, understandable since I dropped off the face of the planet… again.

“Yeah.” My voice is breaking, so I clear my throat. “I’ve been here for a couple of days.” I say, fingers twisting the cotton tighter in my palms.

“Ah.” His voice goes flat and he looks away in annoyance. “So we are back to you ignoring me?” I shake my head, dropping my eyes to the floor. I feel queasy and start shaking. I hope he can’t tell.

“Can I come in?” He pauses, dropping the towel down to his side, like he might not let me. But him and I both know that’s now how it goes with us. The smell of his cologne is strong with my heightened senses and I cough in discomfort as I walk past him.

“I’m going to get a shirt.” He disappears down the hall, coming back in a black t-shirt that hugs his body. He runs his fingers through his wet hair while looking at me. “I don’t have long. I’m… meeting a friend.” I stare at him, wondering if it’s a friend of the female variety. I really don’t have a right to ask, so I don’t. My gaze drops to the couch. “It’s just Kevin, Em. The Kings are playing the Islanders.” He crosses his arms and leans back against the island of his kitchen well across the room from me. His biceps bulge against the fabric as he studies me. “You don’t look like you came here for small talk. What’s up?”

“I’m pregnant.” It’s abrupt. I know. Almost too fast for him to catch in real time, but I can’t hold it in anymore. The words are too full and tumble from my mouth in a rush. My heart shutters with each anxious beat. I bravely lift my eyes back to him.

Timo seemingly glitches. He is confused, not quite understanding, like he wants to ask me to repeat what I said. Then, I watch as the registration gradually fills his body. He begins to stand taller, eyebrows dashing up his forehead. When it clicks, his blue eyes widen in alarm.

“Mine?” He asks quietly. I try not to flinch at the question, realizing he will, logically, want a paternity test. He has assets and money and a career to protect. Funny, I thought being pregnant without a boyfriend was the most shameful thing I’ve done in my life. I think that experience is going to top it. Eventually, I nod in response as tears fill my eyes. He pushes out a loaded breath that fills my chest with discomfort. I look briefly back to his face, seeing a million emotions dash across his features, none of them actually registering.

I can’t watch him process anymore. I begin to soothe myself with internal thoughts. It doesn’t really matter what he wants from this. I’ve already made my decision. I’m only here because Nico forced me. I cross my arms over my tender chest, walking towards the windows to see the city skyline. Tears distort the buildings together. I’m collapsing under so many different emotions. It’s like I’m seeing that plus sign all over again.

A drop slides from my left eye, gradually dragging down my cheek. I reach my hand up, flicking it away. My teeth dig into my trembling lip as I sniffle. Timo’s hand comes along my upper back, wrapping around my neck and gliding me into his body.  His other hand wraps around my waist as he buries his face into my cheek. I enclose my arms around him, shoving my face into his chest and releasing my suffocating sobs into his shirt.

“I’m freaking out.” I squeak.

“I know. It’s going to be okay.” Even as his voice shakes, he is so, so gentle with me. His hands press me into his body like he wants to absorb and shield me. “What do you want to do?” He whispers into my hair. “It’s your choice.”

“I’m gonna do this… I’m keeping the baby. ” I tell him. I can feel his body deflate beneath me. For a moment, I don’t know why, but then he presses his face deeper into my hair, kissing my scalp with feathery kisses meant to soothe.

“Okay. I’m happy to hear that.”

I nod, glad that he isn’t pressuring me any which way. I don’t think I could handle his anger with me for wanting to see this through.

“Em, I’m here. You don’t have to do this alone.” I begin to tremble in his arms. He’s not even questioning further about this being ours. “Does Nico know?”

“Yeah. About everything. He is why I am here.” 

“You weren’t going to tell me?” He stiffens, pain deepens his voice which makes me feel like shit.

“I.. well yeah, but maybe when we ran into each other in July and I was 9 months pregnant.” I pull back, tilting my chin to see his face. It’s calm and measured, which helps soothe some of the turmoil in me. He reaches up for my cheeks, stroking his thumbs to collect my tears.

“July?”

“Yeah, I confirmed everything at the doctor on Monday. I’m due July 26th.”

“Off-season.” He murmurs with appreciation. “Most NHL couples plan for years to get a July birthday.” I look away with a scrunched nose at the word couple, causing a heavy sigh to drop his shoulders. “Can we agree right now that you’re going to stop fighting the way you feel about us? Please. For our kid?” He says it so casually, like he’s used to and accepted the idea of our kid. My heart grows in my chest for him.

“Becoming a mom isn’t the only thing I’m terrified of.” I confess.

“Baby, I’ve promised you since day one that I would take care of you. I’m not going to let anything hurt you, including me.” He is so sure as he speaks to me. I drop my forehead back to his chest.

“Do you really want this?” I whisper to him, even as he wraps me tighter into his arms, tears dashing down my cheeks again. “You don’t have to do this.” I pull back, reaching up to hold his face in my hands. My thumbs rippling his skin with their pressure.

“You’re all I’ve wanted for years.” He presses our lips together. I cry into his mouth, feeling overwhelmed with everything that has and will happen between us. I feel like I don’t deserve this. Not his sweetness or his understanding at our situation.

“I’m sorry.” I bubble out between sobs. He runs his hand up my back to my head, encouraging my forehead to rest against his shoulder as he rocks us gently. There’s a whole laundry list I could apologize for, but I start with the big one. “I shouldn’t have taken the condom away from you. This is all my fault.”

“Weird, I thought I was the one who came inside of you… three times.” He chuckles at the memory.

“I encouraged it.”

“We both did.” He takes his share of the blame easily from me. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.” I need him to know that.

“I know, Emma. You’ve been trying to get out of loving me for years. You would never do this on purpose.” I stare at him with blurred vision, blinking so the tears fall down my cheeks. Now I can see him clearly, looking at me like he might finally get the chance to love me for the rest of our lives. I swallow hard, then let myself surrender to him for good.

“I’ve loved you for a really long time, T.” I hum, eyes brightening in earnest with my confession.

He smiles because unlike me, he already knew that.

[makostarz]

pikmin 4 incorrect quotes ^-^

Dingo: If I say I love you, will you say it back? 

Shepard: Yes. 

Dingo: I love you. 

Shepard: It back. 

*Later* 

Bernard: Why is Dingo crying face-down on the floor?

Pom: What’s it like being tall? 

Pom: Is it nice? 

Pom: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards? 

Yonny: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb 4 chairs, 2 boxes, a small coffee table and 6 oddly placed stools to get what they want. 

Bernard: It was one time!

Dingo: Caffeine no longer keeps me awake while I work, so instead I have Yonny periodically send me texts saying ‘we need to talk.’ 

Dingo: It gives me the right amount of adrenaline and fear I need to keep going.

Shepard: *trying to get five seconds of sleep* 

Bernard, poking Shepard’s arm: Shepard Shepard. Shepard. Shepard. 

Shepard: WHAT? 

Bernard: …We’re out of Capri Suns—

Shepard: Hey, Yonny, where are you going? 

Yonny: Well, it depends. When I die, probably hell. 

Yonny: But right now I’m going to McDonald’s.

Dingo: Let’s write Bernard a friendly note, shall we? Dear... Incompetent... Dumbass…

Shepard: I personally don't think it's possible to come up with a crazier plan. 

Dingo: We could attack them with hummus. 

Shepard: I stand corrected. 

Dingo: Just keeping things in perspective.

Shepard: Alright, listen up you little shits. 

Shepard: Not you Pom. You’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here.

Yonny: *eating a cinnamon roll* 

Dingo: Cannibalism. 

Yonny: *confused chewing noises*

Collin: A person can really hear themselves think out here. 

Collin’s mind: Did you leave the stove on? The front door unlocked!? WILL YOU DIE ALONE!? 

Collin: Well, that was a mistake.

Bernard: No problemo! 

Bernard, internally: But it was all problemo.

Bernard: Yonny and I were crossing the street, and this man drove by and honked at us. 

Collin: What did you do? 

Bernard: They chased him to the next red light, and reached into his window, and- 

Yonny: *walking in* Who wants a steering wheel?

Dingo: I hate you. 

Yonny: Well, according to this picture I drew of us holding hands, that is untrue.

Yonny, texting: Answer your phone 

Dingo, texting back: Wait a minute, I can’t find my phone 

Yonny: Understood 

Yonny, 5 minutes later: You’re a terrible person. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing me, Dingo.

Dingo: Wait a minute, how did this happen? We're smarter than this! 

Shepard: Apparently, we're not.

Dingo: Why does my arm shake and turn bright red when I’m eating dirt? 

Yonny: 

Yonny: Why are you eating dirt? 

Dingo: Did I ask you if I should eat dirt? No, so answer my question.

Yonny: Sometimes I wonder if I’m hearing voices. 

Yonny: Then I remember that’s the last bit of sanity I have trying to get me to fall asleep at a reasonable time.

Collin: Well, needless to say. Uh-oh Spaghetti-os.

Yonny: I got us matching friendship bracelets, and you say I don't care about our relationship. 

Dingo: These are handcuffs. 

Yonny: Yeah, 'cause we're partners in crime!

Dingo: I am so cool. I am an absolute Chad. I am the epitome of coolness and awesomeness— 

Yonny: Hi. 

Dingo: *melts down in a flustered heap of softness*

Kidnapper: I have one of your friends. 

Pom: Which one? I have seven. 

Kidnapper: The loud, annoying, rowdy one who never shuts up. 

Pom: Which one? I have seven. 

Bernard, distantly: HEY!!!

Pom: I sort of did something and I need some advice, but I don't want a lot of judgment and criticism. 

Dingo: And you came to me?

Dingo: I don't dab. I stab.

Shepard: You really believe in Dingo? 

Bernard: Luckily, they believe in themself enough for the both of us.

Dingo: Sweet dog you got there. 

Police: Yes, this is our new drug sniffing dog. 

Dingo: Still training huh? 

Police: What do you mean? 

Dingo: 

Dingo: Never mind.

Shepard: Alright, what pizza toppings should we order? 

Dingo: Anchovies and pineapple. 

Pom: I like beets! 

Yonny: Have you guys ever had a cheese-less pizza? 

Shepard: I’m disowning all of you.

Dingo: You use emojis like a straight person. 

Yonny: That’s literally the worst thing anyone has ever said about me.

Dingo: If I'm extra sarcastic with you it probably means I'm flirting with you or you really annoy me and I can't handle your crap... have fun figuring out which one.

Bernard, talking to Dingo: Well Dingo, whenever I’m about to do something, I think ‘would Yonny do that?’ and if they would, I do not do that thing. 

Dingo: … 

Yonny, from the distance: They’re not wrong though!

Dingo: Is stabbing someone immoral? 

Yonny: Not if they consent to it. 

Bernard: Depends on who you're stabbing. 

Collin: YES??!!?

Bernard: I’m so happy two of my favorite people are getting along now. 

Shepard: Uh, Dingo and Pom are not getting along. 

Bernard: They’re not trying to kill each other. 

Shepard: You may have a point.

Shepard: Yesterday, I overheard Bernard saying “Are you sure this is a good idea?” and Yonny replying “Trust me,” and I have never moved from one room to another so quickly in my life.

Collin: Which one of you was going to tell me that tea tastes different if you put it in hot water?? 

Dingo: Y- you were putting it in cold water?? 

Shepard: Collin. Answer the question, Collin. 

Collin: Yeah??? I thought people just put it in hot water to speed up the tea-ification process. didn't realize there was an actual reason. 

Collin: Plus you think I have the patience to boil water? 

Dingo: You don't have the patience to microwave water for 3 minutes?? 

Shepard: Why are you putting it in the microwave to boil it? 

Dingo: Do you think I have the patience to boil water on the stove? 

Shepard: It takes less than a minute. 

Dingo: Is your stovetop powered by the fucking sun??? 

Shepard: How long does it take you to boil a cup of water on the stove? 

Dingo: Like seven minutes?? 

Bernard: Just stick the mug on top of the stove on medium heat and it boils in like 2 minutes... less than that if you use a saucepan! 

Shepard: Why are you putting the whole mug on the stove?? On medium heat?? Bernard? Your stove is enchanted! 

Collin: Every single person here is a fucking lunatic. 

Pom: Do none of you own a fucking kettle?!

Bernard: I'm having problems with a guy... 

Yonny: Like his dead body won't fit into your trunk kind of problems, or you like him kind of problems?

[kyeomyun]

It's Time For Me To Go...

pairings: child!san x child!reader (gender neutral)

genre: fluff if you squint, HEAVY ANGST, thriller/horror sorta, also comfort if you squint REALLY hard

warnings: major character death (sorry), mentions of sharp objects and being in a hospital, a patient with cancer, i think that's it ;-;

word count: 2.2k

synopsis: you were lonely, he was lonely, nothing could go possibly wrong for San wanting to make a new friend during his small hospital stay, right?

::note: this was inspired from the YouTuber "Snarled" so.. yeah :))

:::note: this is a rewrite of my favorite pieces I once had on insta so... i hope you enjoy it <3

Choi San.

The last few words he heard from his mother continue to rang through his ears. A new kind of tinnitus as the words did not stop clogging his ear drums. Even when they became so tired of the constant voice.

"You're staying here for just a few days, love. I will be back after my job, ok?"

Choi San.

The boy that blames his mom. Not because of what happened. But because she left him here for too long... A little too long. Long enough to leave him to experience at first-hand what he had to withhold.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

Choi San simply just a child with such a pure and sweet heart. Such a gentleman at such a young age.

Choi San, only 7 years old, was laying on a hospital bed wearing a blue gown.

At such the fresh years of 7, it was not a major cause for him to be spending countless nights in a room that smelt like almost every element that was on the periodic table. The bed was stiff; surely stiff enough to straighten his back quite a bit. One less thing he needs to work on in the future, huh? Guessing his mom leaving him in this hell wasn't THAT bad..

The reason he even ended up with stickers with attached wire sticking to his upper body was simply because his mother grew worried of San at night.

At night where the sun would rest for hours, he would be as well. Well... until he wasn't. The sudden lack of exchange of carbon dioxide and oxygen making him jolt awake with a rapid pounding against his ribcage, heaving until his breathing became even just like before he closed his eyes. Like before he arrived home after dashing around the park, his laughs being high-pitched.

"Sleep apnea," the doctor predicted just a few weeks before San went to his sleep studies to see if this so called "Sleep apnea" was the imposter of his sleepless evenings. The cause of the eyebags that the children at his table would sometimes gawk at but he wouldn't care or pay no mind. Just simply blink lazily at the video that talked about the various costs of coins and colorful papers his mom would exchange for the seaweed soup he would slurp down on his birthdays..

Now, day 4 of his sleep studies passes on. The monitors that latch onto his body growing quite irritating to his honey-like skin, leaving angry red marks that signs irritation.

But even though his skin felt as if fire ants munched onto it until they got their fill,  there was always one pondering thought that restlessly jogged San's mind.

Who was the person behind those curtains?

You see, San laid in a room full of other children as well. but there is one secluded space where the curtains would be drawn opened and he would see.. a child.

The child would just lay there, playing with their small fingers and would sometimes return back San curious gaze and stare whenever they senses his eyes.

But most of the time, they would just watch the other kids play around.

Today was nothing out of the norm, but today was the day where San would let this jogging question rush out of his mouth and into the wilderness. He needed to know or else his nights would not be disrupted by just his respiratory struggles.

"Ms.Park?" started the boy. His voice almost small like his figure that has now left his body dent in the hospital tough mattress.

He waited for her small hum before he continued on. "Who are they and why do your eyes always seem red after you leave their room?" his finger darted towards the window which the girl was clearly seen, fingers nipping the skin a bit.

Forgot to add, yes, San did take note of the puffy skin below the nurses moist eyes. Eyes heavily irritated by the stinging of salty tears that she prevented to leave any further than the tip of her cheekbones.

"Ah..." she sighed. the dreadful tone made San turn towards her. "That's y/n. They have been here for a while." She responded back to the curious young boy. But this sparked something in San.

"Can I go play with them? They must be lonely.." Ms.Park cracked a gentle smile, allowing San to boost up on his feet and make his way towards the small room where heart monitors beeped and many sharp tools were kept put away.

"Hello!" San beamed right after he stepped foot into your room.

Your eyes lit up. As if you didn't have that contact that you longed for since... forever. That longing being in arms distance now made your heart glow gold to actually talk to someone who.. seemed about your age at least.

For the past 4 months, you have only responded with short "yes" or "no" and majority of the time, the topic at hand was just not something a 1st grader like you would not even ponder about.  It's not like you were prohibited to make contact with anyone. Children that often judge before action just never thought to strike a date for playing with dolls or simply just exchanging names and interests.

You would sometimes give the kids a small wave but they would never wave back.

So having someone here willingly was almost like the dream you wanted for the past months.

"Hi.." you responded back in almost a whisper. San stepped even closer to you, his dimpled smile making you beam. He didn't seem.. judging.. of you like the other kids.

The other kids would always look at you as if you were some kind of alien. Maybe because of the loss of hair? Maybe because you were the only one in a room by yourself? Maybe because of the clear breathing monitor that was plunged into your nose? But other children had that machine to and was still accepted. You never knew.

"Do you want to play with me?" The small boy quired you and you didn't waste anytime agreeing to the offer.

Playing means talking.

Playing means friends.

You missed having friends.

You liked having friends.

Afterall, this is what you craved for.

San cheered, his smiled only getting bigger. If that was even possible. His eyes turned into crescents as he quickly ran out.

You were confused. But before you could overthink this situation, san ran back in with an adorable stuffed animal.

"This is Shiber!" The dimpled boy exclaimed, placing  the stuffed animal next to you. "Shiber is now your friend too!"

You smiled. This is the most happiness you ever felt.

As for San, this day marks where his childhood began to go downhill. The day where his gut wants him to push away his mother as if she was some kind of acid just waiting to soak into his skin and kill his many organs.

As days went by, San would always come in and talk to you. Stories about his school, where he met his best friend he calls Wooyoung. You would sit and listen, slowly opening up to him yourself. Even on some nights, he would sneak into your room and just snuggle next to you.

There was once instance, the moonlight creeping through the large window pane that stood high and gave the therapeutic view of grass that swayed along with the spinning dandelions that begged for attention from the world.

San was up, debating if he should risk his mother being alerted by Ms.Park but it was only one time. One time would not hurt that much. Plus, being a little rebellious was the trend nowadays so... just one time. To join the trend.

He was quick to rip off the monitors. Small hisses and whimpers escaping his chapped lips. He made sure to massage the red marks, calming down the irritated skin for it can stop punishing him for his half-hearted actions.

Then he was off to your room.

You were drifted off as well. Your room was still and collected, just like your figure that slowly rose and fell with slow breaths.

San was careful. Extremely careful not to tip over the rolling desk that held scaples, scissors, and many more sharp potential weapons that will cause a commotion within just seconds of clanging down onto the solid ground.

This was the moment San knew his attachment on you was special. As if his phone cable finally found the perfect angle to fill his phone with juice.

The moment San replaced Shiber with you in his arms and slipping Shiber between yours.

If only his mother came to discharge him just a bit earlier, this bond with you would have never existed.

Day 6, it was bedtime for all the children. As San was asleep, he was soon awoken by a small hand shaking him slightly.

He glanced up and saw.. you. You stared down at him.

"Y/n? What are you doing?"

"I need you to come with me. It's scary."

Of course, San body was still in rest mode. His body still felt light and heavy at the same time. As if a weightless brick used all its force to shove him down. But it surely didn't take long for him to notice that.. the rest of the kids were gone. Him and you the only kids present in the room.

San was pure hearted. So anything you would ask him, he would go along with it. Even with this strange request so late in the night.

So San got up on his feet and unconsciously grabbed your hand. You then dragged him with you, down until you reached the hospital halls.

The halls were... empty. No one was around.

Usually the halls will have doctors monitoring or even some with their bags, ready to leave for the night. Or even security guards to watch for the night and do their hourly hallway sweep to make sure what you and San was doing never happens.  But it was quiet and... unsettling.

To add on to the strangeness, the clocks were all stuck at 9:09 pm.

You began to walk down the long hallway, not looking back at the boy you were currently dragging along with you. But San was just utterly confused.

It was when you halted, the boy almost running into you head on but was quick enough to hit his brakes as well, his feet screeching the floor. Glancing up, the two doors where patients come and go awaited you both.

"It's time for me to go.." Your voice was almost as dark as the hospital. But not menacingly. The dark that has locked up memories just waiting to be upheld and clouds that are ready to break before the thunders clash.

San just tilted his head, you soon turning around and facing him.

"What do you mean?"

"It's just.. time for me to go. Is it time for you to go? Did he tell you?"

"W-What are you talking about? I can just come with you!"

You shook your head. That made san smile slightly falter. His heart almost dropping. He already attached himself to you within these past few days so even hearing that you will leave the hospital so soon almost made him tear up.

"No. It's not your turn. You have to wait for your turn." you spoke.

"Will it be my turn when you come back?"

You shook your head once again, tears starting to form but just like Ms.Park, you never let them spill.

"You have to go back now."

"We are.. still going to play together tomorrow right? Shiber misses you.."

You shrugged. simply just responding back.

"Go back. Now."

San turned back, the halls seeming.. more.. dark. Darker than before. But as he turned back around, you were no where to be found.

No footsteps signaled when you began to strut towards the large doors or even the shallow sound of when the doors slowly closed.

But San was getting creeped out with the darkness of the empty hospital and quickly made his way back to the room where children were supposed to be.

Then again, he glanced back at the clock. The time now on 9:10 pm.

He didn't waste anytime and laid down in bed, soon drifting off to sleep again.

The morning came and.. the kids were back. everyone was back. He blinked a couple times but it didn't take him long to notice that your curtains were now closed.

Confused, he began to tip toe over. He heard someone.. crying. but it wasn't Ms.Park as he expected.

It was another female.

"They died at 9:10 pm last night. I am so sorry.."

San was.. Shocked. Lost. Heartbroken when the realization and your words from last night sunk in.

"It's time for me to go." He recalled.

And the time. 9:10. when you suddenly disappeared from his sight.  The last time he would ever see you again.

As he walked back to his bed slugging slightly, he grabbed ahold of shiber, tears falling from his face.

"I guess.. they can't play with us no more, shiber.."

Now... it's not completely his mom fault. She didn't know you nor would she have even tooken notice of you.

But the moment you left...

Part of him left as well.

I guess you will forever have a part of him. A part that will never come back.

did you enjoy your order?

if so, please reblog, like, (pls) comment, all of that jazz :>

have a good day, sweets hehe ^^

tagging: @star1117-archives @dreamyyeosang @trblsvt @m4rsluv @luvhyun3

[decepti-thots]

Do you have any tips for getting back into reading?

I do, anon!

So for context, as I said previously, I went from reading 50+ books a year to 5-6 a year max for about half a decade. Most of this related to a longterm downswing in my overall health and my executive dysfunction specifically. I would pick books up and never finish them; my attention span was dead in the water, as was my motivation to even try half the time. It took a couple years of active effort to get back to a 3 book a month average. So here's a few subjective tips I personally found helped. They may not be useful for everyone, but this is what personally helped me!

Some of the techniques I used:

Follow your interest and enthusiasm, and don't be afraid to hop around books. I was stuck in a rut for ages where I'd start a book, lose steam, and vaguely want to read another one instead... but I insisted to myself 'no, I need to FINISH this one, I can read that one when I'm finished!' Obviously, I just never finished the books period, rather than methodically finishing everything one at a time, as I'd hoped I would. I read less, not more. The most important thing period is getting momentum back up; better 4 'still not finished'-s on the way to the book you unexpectedly finish in one sitting than nothing finished, and just a vague sense of guilt. If a new book calls to you and your current one feels interminable, seize that urge and start the second book so you can keep your motivation going. At least you're reading something then; the alternative was usually just not reading either book, for me.

Try some shorter books. I read a lot of novellas to get myself going again last year especially, and it was fantastic. Again, it helps get the momentum going, to be continually working up to longer stuff. (Plus novellas are just a great medium in their own right! Length =/= depth. SFF especially is having a real Novella Moment rn!) Hell, read short story collections, read poetry chapbooks, read plays- if you can only read 75 pages before losing steam, find a 75 page book worth reading. There's tons of them.

Try and carve out reasonably consistent times to read. For me, I started saying that after work most evenings if I was still awake really late, that was now book time, not Twitter/etc time. I read on my lunch a lot at work, and on Sunday afternoons. You don't need to be rigid, that can just be restrictive, but make it a routine you can easily make time for on a predictable basis without hoping you'll spontaneously 'feel like it'.

Read shit you love. This sounds obvious but like. You can't easily branch out of your comfort zone into more challenging-to-you stuff til you have the momentum going, IME. Start off reading the shit you know you like, heady intellectual ambitions be damned. Yeah yeah, reading outside your usual lane is often rewarding, but it'll wait a year til you get back in the swing of it. Read 50 romance novels in a row if that does that for you. The other books will wait. Likewise: reread shit you know inside out. Your to-read list will be here once you got a few of those old familiar faves in.

Those are the big things I guess. A lot of it was locating what really resulted in bottlenecks for me and tailoring what and how I read to them, instead of trying to force past them. Finding the books that fit what I could manage helped me reach a point now where I can read more broadly again. It's like building endurance, you can't start at 110%, I found.

[xxavengingangelxx]

Long Way From Home 4/?

Notes: I have finished writing this. Kinda. So it's going to be a series most likely. I need to see MW3 in November to make it as correct and canon as possible. So it's kind of a cliffhanger but it should continue once I play MW3. Time runs a little slower in this universe but should still be relatively canon. I still don't know how many parts are left but I have 50 pages of this. Expect more parts until I post all 50 pages :)

Also, if you wanna cry, go listen to Paralyzed by NF. :'( It helped me write the end(?) of the first part of these series.

Also, this quote applies to OC/Val/Reader and will be THE quote to summarize this fic: "There's a story behind every person. There's a reason why they're the way they are. They aren't just like that because they want to be. Something in the past created them, and sometimes it's impossible to fix."-Hanny Quinn

Ya'll know the drill. I assume this isn't ya'll's first rodeo when it comes to reading this but alas, because it's a dark fic, I will post triggers again. MDNI, 18+ TRIGGERS: Implied/attempted suicide, self-harm, torture, brainwashing, physical abuse, mind fuckery, Stockholm syndrome-related mental gymnastics, trauma bonding, mentions of foster care, threatened/implied/referenced rape, EXTREMELY dubious consent. If I miss, any let me know, please! DARK FIC

-

“I need you to do something for me,” Graves had you sitting in a large conference room. You wringed your hands in your lap nervously. The room was cold and so sterile. It was just you and Graves and you felt so small.

You’d thrown on a hooded sweatshirt because it seemed like you were always cold here. You’d apparently slept for 14 hours straight but you still felt tired. Considering they’d kept you awake for days on end at times, that wasn’t surprising.

“What’s that say?” he slid a manila folder your way.

You hesitated in opening it because what if it was code from 141? You couldn’t betray them. But at the same time you felt abandoned, forgotten. Whatever happened to never leaving a soldier behind?

But open it you did. They were newspaper clippings. All about El Sin Nombre. And about the gunshots that had been heard the night you were taken. And about Hassan. They were in Spanish.

“The newspapers?”

Graves nodded.

“Do you have something I can write with and on?”

-

You spent hours translating all the clippings into English, writing them into a small notebook. Hours turned into days and you translated newspapers, articles, military documents. They let you sleep at regular intervals. You had water, you had food. Hell you’d fallen asleep with you head on that cold conference table a few times now and they hadn’t bothered you.

Graves would come in periodically to get what was already translated and take it somewhere, you had no idea where.

One time he came in and sat right beside you. You instantly got nervous…and scared. You glanced up at him, dark gaze meeting his electric blue one.

“What?” you whispered.

“It��s not so bad, is it?”

You shook your head, not understanding what he was getting at.

“What do…what do you mean?” your voice trembled and you hated it.

“Workin’ for me,” he stated simply.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Can’t promise I’ll answer but shoot,”

“Did I break?” you asked, wanting to know if you’d given in amongst all that pain and torture and given him something useful.

“I can’t answer that,”

-

What you guessed were your days were spent translating. Your nights were spent on your knees, on your back, or with Graves’s face in between your legs, his stubble rubbing roughly amongst the inside of your thighs, drawing out unholy noises from you all while holding your hips down so you couldn’t escape him.

You push the thought that he’s borderline raping you away from your mind because your mind and your sanity just can’t fucking handle that. Yes you’d admitted to yourself that this wasn’t entirely consensual. He was your captor and you were his hostage for fuck’s sake. You had no idea what would happen if you refused him but you were scared to. Still, you convinced yourself this wasn’t rape. Your mind would finish breaking down if you did. You’d been through enough.                               

One day he randomly told you that you didn’t remember certain things because they’d been drugging you. But he assured you they weren’t doing that anymore, now that you were just so cooperative. Your homing beacon had been left behind in Las Almas. 141 had probably come across it and only that when they thought your homing beacon would lead to you. They’d probably found your radio ripped to pieces somewhere, too.

Graves assured you there was no way 141 was going to find you. You didn’t know how to feel about that. You’d been feeling abandoned. You’d been wondering why they hadn’t come for you. Surely 141 would have found you if they tried hard enough, right?

At the same time Graves told you that you probably didn’t want them to find you. “You’ve been working with me for almost a week now. They don’t want you back.”

You told yourself he was playing mind games, that he was slowly peeling away your identity so he could rebuild a new one. 141 would understand, right? They’d understand when you came back to them with broken ribs in several stages of healing, bruises that were blue and purple and yellow, a nose that had been broken multiple times, and possibly a hairline skull fracture all inflicted over you captivity. Right? They’d understand that you only did what you had to when they saw the numerous scars all over your body, right? One of them from a suicide attempt.

“You would’ve died on the streets of Las Almas without us,” Graves mentioned one night. “No telling what would’ve happened to you,” he continued. “I know how you grew up.” Those cold blue eyes focused on you in the low lighting of his bedroom. “Foster care. In and out of homes, being bounced around.”

You didn’t know you were crying until you felt tears falling down your sweaty face.

“You don’t have to keep that shit up anymore,” he said, brushing the tears from your face. “They’re not gonna take you back. They see you as a traitor. Stay here. We’ll take care of you.” He paused before adding, “We’d tear the world up lookin’ for ya if you went missing. Can’t same the same for 141.”

So you stayed. And not once did you think about leaving. Besides, even you attempted escape, Graves would find you and rip you apart all over again. It wasn’t worth it.

141 didn’t want you back, right? Your worst fear was being bounced around, being homeless, not wanted.

-

You got a watch one random day. A Samsung. Of course the location features had been disabled. But you knew the date.

Shadow Company had been protecting you for one month now.

-

You were learning the black site, at least the layout. There were still areas you weren’t allowed to go. You tensed when you passed a Shadow. They looked at you different now, though.

You heard Graves’s voice coming from a conference room.

“She’s ours now. So you protect her and you look out for her. Think of her as your little sister.”

-

You woke up to Graves shaking you.

“Get dressed. We gotta move.”

“What’s going on?” you asked sleepily.

“We’re under attack,”

-

You were in oversized fatigues, rolling up the sleeves and pant legs at least half a dozen times over so they would somewhat fit you. You felt like you were overheating as Graves tightened a thin Kevlar vest under your black uniform shirt before strapping it on. Tight. He pulled the zipper up on the shirt and then placed something at your feet. It was a heavier vest, similar to the one you’d had with 141.

But it was a Shadow Company vest. Your mind tried to reason that they weren’t giving back your old vest because it associated you with 141. They wanted to erase that identity and build a new one, remember? All the vests you’d seen on the other men as well as Graves had the Shadow Company emblem. The name tag?

P-80. It stood for Phantom-80. The name looked new and an increasingly fading part of your mind whispered that they’d given you the name Phantom because it mocked 141’s Ghost. You ignored it. What were the chances of that?

“Why do I need two?” you asked as Graves fastened the Velcro on the larger vest.

“Trust me,” was all he said.

He gave you a sidearm.

-

Shadows were engaged in gunfire. It was night. It was cold. Wasn’t it autumn? You’d forgotten how loud gunfire was. You were used to only hearing your own screams and other sounds that weren’t gunfire.

You had gotten so used to being indoors, to being in relative silence for the last month and a half now. So the gunfire was deafening, disorienting. Graves demanded you stay low and stay close to the Shadow he paired you with. Graves then disappeared.

Time seemed to drag on. You stayed low while you were both fired at and the Shadow returned fire.

Then the world went black for a few second and you found yourself in dirt. The breath had been knocked out of you and you felt a familiar sensation…you been shot but your vests had stopped it. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. You gasped for breath.

The Shadow with you dragged you somewhere by grabbing your vest. He pulled you out of harm’s way. Then more bangs, closer this time, and you were dropped to the dirt. The Shadow dragging you to safety had been shot. You crawled over to him, the momentary stop in the gunfire allowing you to do so. The bullet had slipped in just under the rim of his helmet and entered his brain on the left side of his face, just above his left eyebrow.

“Oh, my God!” you shrieked. You shook him but he just stared at the sky with lifeless grey eyes. “Hey—” you shook him but it was no use. He was dead, and he probably never even knew what killed him. So you slipped his rifle off of him and ran for cover.

You found yourself in another dilapidated building as you tried to catch your breath. You began hearing familiar voices. 141?

No, no, no, no, no…you’d been separated from them for so long that you would honestly feel like an enemy combatant in their hands. So you hid. You ran to the second floor of the building, stepping over gaps in the floor. You curled into a corner, rifle pointed at the doorway. You then cursed yourself because fuck going up to the second floor effectively trapped you. But maybe the soldiers below were too engaged in killing each other to even bother going up to a second floor if no one was firing from it.

You covered your ears when the gunfire got louder. It was getting closer and you had no fucking idea who was shooting. You really were a broken soul because you never used to cover your ears at the sound of gunfire. Things then became eerily quiet. Gun smoke hung heavily in the air, almost blocking out the thunderstorm clouds gathering.

You jumped when you heard thunder and you had to convince yourself if was thunder and not gunfire.

You stayed there for minutes, hours, who knows how long as sporadic gunfire filled your ears. You jumped with each shot, covering your ears. You were a shell of your former self. That much you knew.

Now that you were still your ribs ached. At least the vests had stopped the bullet.

Rain started and while you normally loved stormy nights, you cursed it now because it made it hard for you to see your environment and hear what was going on around you. Staying on alert so long without anyone to help you keep watch was exhausting.

You heard a creak. You opened your eyes, instantly awake. The gunfire had stopped. Where the hell were you and where was Shadow Company? Was Graves okay?

Downstairs you heard two gunshots and what sounded like a heavy body hitting the floor.

You raised the rifle, almost certain you were hearing footsteps. Someone was coming up those stairs. And whoever it was sounded large and heavy.

“Graves?” you called out.

No answer.

“Graves please tell me that’s you,” you added.

Whoever was there was now on the second floor. You were sure if you heard more footsteps coming up those stairs as you were focused on trying to pinpoint how close whoever was on the second floor was in reference to you.

You were sure that the person on the second floor would be at your doorway soon. You held your breath.

The footsteps stopped but no one appeared in the doorway.

You wondered if you were losing it. What if you were half asleep and dreaming?

“Graves, c’mon, man,” you whispered.

One more soft noise and the doorway was almost entirely blocked by a dark, tall figure.

Not Graves.

Not a Shadow.

König.

You didn’t know what to think. But you didn’t lower the rifle either. What was he doing here? Was 141 here?

“Don’t come any closer,” you warned.

“Val,” König’s voice seemed confused. “It’s me. It’s us.”

You kept the rifle raised but fuck because you couldn’t shoot.

“Please don’t come closer,” you begged.

“He can’t hurt you anymore, ja?”

So you faked it. You pulled the rifle’s strap over your head and set it down next to you.

“Okay,” König replied calmly. He got closer. He had long since dropped his rifle, leaving it to hang off his shoulder.

As soon as he got within arm’s length you ran past him. He definitely wasn’t expecting it but he still tried to grab you. You being small, you found it easy to escape his grasp, especially because he had not been expecting you to run. You knelt below his reach and ran.

You sprinted down the stairs, praying to God you’d run into Graves.

You were halfway down the stairs when you ran into Soap. König must have said something over the radio because Soap was ready for you.

Soap grabbed you, led you down the remaining stairs and easily put you on the ground on the first floor face down. Soap then got on top of you, straddling you from behind in an attempt to gain control and calm you.

You heard him say something but it didn’t register.

Mindlessly, you reached for your sidearm, getting desperate. Graves had told you they’d kill you if they found you and while you weren’t willing or able to shoot before now the idea was starting to look like it might be your only option to save your life.

“No, Val,” Soap said calmly. He pried the gun from your hand effortlessly and tossed it aside.

You reached for a knife on your vest.

And the same thing happened. He disarmed you without really putting any effort into it.

Boots stepped into your line of vision and you looked up. Ghost. He handed Soap something.

“Don’t kill me,” you begged.

“Never,” Soap replied. “But you’re unpredictable right now, lass, okay?” Zipties enclosed your wrists and pulled tight.

-

You snapped back to reality, gasping awake. You were on a bed. You’d fallen asleep apparently. So you had been dreaming.

“What’d you dream about?”

You recognized that voice. Graves.

“That they took me,” you replied. You sat up. You were at another black site. “How did we get out?”

Graves moved to sit next to you. He still had that battlefield smell of gunpowder and sweat. “You don’t remember getting out?”

You shook your head. You were sure you were losing your mind.

“Bad dream, then?”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “A nightmare. I was scared they’d kill me.”

“They will if they catch you,”

You ran your hand through your hair, pushing it out of your face. Your bangs still fell over your eyes and forehead.

“141 shot you,” Graves added.

“Were they aiming at me?”

“Who’s to say they weren’t?”

“Where am I?” you asked. Graves was sitting next to you, still geared up.

Graves scoffed. “Safe.”

“You okay?” You ask him. “I was scared you’d get hurt.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.” Graves then added, “It pissed me off they hurt you.”

“What’s next?” you asked.

“Staying in the shadows,” he responded simply.

You didn’t know why that made you tear up but it did. You sniffled. Wait…did it mean you were going to spend the rest of your life running with Shadows and looking over your shoulder?

“C’mere,” he muttered.

So you sat up and he pulled you into his arms. And you let him. He pulled the Velcro off your heavier vest and lowered to the floor and off the bed where you both sat. While you could barely hear his heartbeat through that big vest of his, you heard enough. His scent, his heartbeat, his body heat lulled you into a dozing state. You felt him place a hand on the back of our neck, brushing your hair softly. He placed his chin on top of your head.

And that was one of the first times that his presence settled you and calmed you.

You were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep but you were scared of having another bad dream. You needed to feel sure this was your reality, that you were really there.

So you shook off Graves’s hands and grasped his vest. You crawled into his lap, straddling him before kissing him.

By kissing him you could almost feel the tension he was under. It was almost like you were starting to be able to read him just by looking at him. He needed stress relief and you needed to feel him to remind yourself that you were still there. With Graves. You had no idea what 141 would do to you if they caught you but you didn’t want to find out. You felt him moan underneath you when you ground yourself against him.

Apparently that was all the invitation he needed. He easily picked you up and tossed you onto the bed. He climbed over you and straddled you, his gloved hands pulling down the zipper on your oversized shirt before tossing it aside.

The sound of Velcro ripping only made you hotter. What was it about vest Velcro ripping that turned you on? He easily pulled the lighter vest off of you and placed it next to the bed. Your shirt underneath the vest was pulled from you followed by your bra.

“I’m busy, darlin’,” you heard Graves growl. He leaned down to kiss you before then unbuckling your belt. So you kicked off your boots, hearing them fall to the floor heavily. You heard your uniform pants hit the floor, the sidearm attached to them causing a metallic clank.

“I don’t care,” you whined.

You were completely naked beneath him yet he was still fully geared. You found that hot.

He flipped you around, roughly putting you on your chest and stomach. You heard him unbuckling his belt and you pushed back against him. “So needy,” he gasped.

“Show me who I belong to,” the words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. Who the fuck were you turning into?

Graves then placed a rough, gloved hand at the back of your neck, pushing you into the mattress and used the other to wrap a hand around your waist, pulling you into an arched position. It was like he could read you as well. You wanted it rough and he knew.

“Don’t move,” he demanded.

So you didn’t. Your breath came out in short huffs, blowing your hair from your face before having it fall across your eyes again.

Graves placed two bruising hands on either side of your hips.

He didn’t go slow, didn’t give you time to adjust to him like he had all the previous times before. He pushed inside of you so roughly that he bottomed out inside of you and hit your cervix.

 A scream was ripped from your lips. It was pain and pleasure and pressure and just feeling owned, feeling wanted. It reminded you that you hadn’t been taken away from him, that you were still there, with Graves.

“Quiet,” he snapped.

Graves grasped your hair, pushing you further into the bed in an attempt to muffle your sounds.

A ragged moan left your mouth when you felt him move inside you.

“Fuuuuck, Graves,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Slut, you’re getting off on this,” he stated between gasps.

You wanted to snap back, “So are you,” and you started but his relentless thrusts cut you off. He’d never been this rough with you ever but fuck you liked it.

You were cockdrunk and lost in the pain and pleasure.

Graves removed one of his hands from your hips and reached between your legs, roughly rubbing your clit all while carrying out deep, penetrating thrusts and hitting that spot deep inside you. The combination of the sensations, of feeling a slight hint of his nails between your legs finally pushed you over the edge. You surrendered yourself, your soul, your body, to him just as you’d done every time before. You screamed his name, although not audibly, more into the covers of the bed.

Graves followed shortly after, his thrusts faltering almost and becoming sloppy as he gave into his feral, untamed, animalistic desires.

He pulled out of you and let go of you. So you collapsed onto the bed, gasping as you tried to catch your breath. You heard him rebuckle his pants and he placed a shaky hand on your back, steadying himself before he moved and sat next to you on the bed.

You curled up next to him, feeling your combined fluids start to spill onto your inner thighs. “Where’d that come from?”

“It’s been a long time comin’, sweetheart,” he used his hand to brush hair from your sweaty face. “Hey,” he caught your attention before saying, “I need your dog tags.”

You frowned. But you didn’t care. You’d been conditioned to do what he said without questioning it. “Have ‘em,” you handed them over.

He took them and pocketed them. You were curious but knew better than to question him.

“I’m tired but I’m scared to sleep,” you admitted.

“Go to sleep,” he said. You felt him lie down next to you. With all that gear it couldn’t be comfortable. He wrapped an arm around you.

“Hey, what’s up with Phantom-80?” you mumbled.

“Your callsign,” Graves responded. “You’re ours now. You’re mine now.”

And weirdly enough that was all it took to lull you into sleep.

That night you had your worst dream yet.

141 had found you. But they were…different. They wanted to know where Graves was. You knew but you weren’t willing to give them that information.

But even when they were making you scream from the pain they were inflicting on you, something deep down was telling you this wasn’t them. But then again what if this was how they were going to treat you from now on?

-

Notes: Feel free to let me know what you thought ;) You'll keep falling down the rabbit hole of Stockholm Syndrome with each post.

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

I have reached the point of "regular sleep" where the insomnia hours have completely devoured my original sleeping time. I lay there relaxing for hours on end until it's nearly 5am and I have to get up, then I need to be awake from 5 until at least 10 so I can run errands safely, and then I can only sleep from about 10am until 2 pm...

That's 4 hours out of 24, with chronic fatigue

And yet sleeping that little doesn't help me fall asleep any faster the next night.

And that's the ongoing problem.

I am exhausted so I sleep

My brain forms and breaks patterns at a single repetition so I sleep at the same time the next day

This keeps up for a week of okay sleep

I start experiencing really wild dreams or worse depending on how long I push myself to stay on this existing schedule and not just nap when I am tired or get the sudden overwhelming sleepies

This escalated until insomnia and alertness completely overtakes the times of day my brain had JUST decided it wanted to be sleeping

This happens twice as fast when I am trying to sleep at night rather than during the day

No matter how many migraines I force myself awake through to sleep at bedtime, once it gets to bedtime I am so awake and alert I cannot physically sleep even if I take melatonin or sleeping pills, or both and lay there thinking calm thoughts, even for 10 hours

I get so exhausted I just let my body sleep whenever it wants and the cycle starts again

The only alternative I have ever had is just sleep when I get sleepy, which can be for up to 16 hours a day.

The problem is that tends to be during the day. It has been that way since I was a literal baby. My mothers tells me stories about me being so sleepy all day I'd fall asleep in my food and being awake all night cooing quietly to myself on the baby monitor. She tells me stories about me being a toddler and getting up in the middle of the night to play.

So now, my options are:

Try to force myself to stay awake all day and hope that means I can sleep tonight at 6 pm, which looks doubtful and will give me a migraine while I have no advil left in the house, and which will perpetuate the increasing night terrors, sleep paralysis and waking-up/falling asleep hallucinations problem... OR

Let myself sleep during the 4 hours my brain will let me and then continue this cycle of only sleeping 4 hours a day and being too exhausted to do anything.

Caffeine hasn't been helping, not even having both tea and coke right before my 10 am nap time. All it does is focus me, which -if I am already tired- just helps me fall asleep. Caffeine before my bedtime doesn't help because the problem is already that I feel too alert...

Complicating this is the fact that Pumpkin is DEAD SET on screaming every 3 hours for food and will not fucking quit it even when we are on a regular schedule. So on the off chance I don't wake up on my own after useless intervals, he does it.

I just want to sleep at night during regular times and wake up feeling rested. That is all I want. That is all I have ever wanted, but people keep acting like my irregular sleeping patterns are a choice or a product of me not trying hard enough.

My last option is go to bed now and ride the sleepiness all day and night if I can and maybe finally wake up at 3am tomorrow, but the problem is that requires skipping meals. Also Pumpkin will scream the entire time because he won't just eat the food that's already in his dish.

Failing all that, I let my schedule flip and be nocturnal.

The problem with that is then I can't clean or organize anything because that would be making noise at night. My neighbours are okay blasting dance music till midnight, but if I make noise cleaning they will try to report me.

Maybe if I keep myself warm, keep sipping hot drinks and eating a lot, and keep myself moving periodically and watching something, I can stay awake without a splitting headache and continue the regular sleep experiment.

[syn4k]

Hey I have a question for whenever y'all have the spoons to answer - you guys have chronic fatigue right? What can you do to not just straight up die? I don't have chronic fatigue as far as I'm aware but I've been ill A LOOT this past year and since then my energy levels seem to be permanently on sick mode. Got a better sleep schedule than I have in the past two years but harder time staying awake too. If you have any advice on how to avoid being so exhausted you're gonna pass out through halfway through the school day that would be appreciated, my grades are suffering </3

oh yeah

so our energy levels fluctuate but when referring to this chart-

but usually we hover around a 4 or 5. we tend to hyperfocus at school and blaze through all of our work and then get home, crash for an hour o so, and then be too tired to usually do any chores. the entire weekend is spent recharging.

there was a period of time where we had to use mobility aids to get around at school because our fatigue was just That Bad during the day. thankfully things are much better now that we have meds and now that we no longer have P.E (which was absolute and utter hell) but still we are never at full capacity energy wise. it's enough to take notes in classes and get our work done and then just coast for the rest of the day

generally, this is how we've been getting along lately:

our teachers are fine with us taking naps during class because we consistently get our work done and turned in by the time class is out

our teachers are also fine with us wearing headphones because it's written into our IEP (there are a couple of benefits to having an autism diagnosis).

we just kind of... seize the energy we do have to do things like laundry when we're home. candy is good for short bursts of energy. if nothing in the house is appetizing, grab yourself a protein bar or a glass of milk or something- it's better than nothing

somehow we got it embedded into our brain that part of our Daily Routine™️ is taking a shower nightly or else things get bad. on the rare occasion that we skip a night, we make up for it the next morning

group together tasks! if you need to go downstairs to do laundry or something then get yourself some ice water as well before headed back to your room. if you get the sudden urge to clean off a table or something, don't ignore it. just make sure you don't physically collapse in the middle of it

things have gotten way better ever since we've started taking our ADHD medication but the years before that were absolute hell so yeah, wishing you the best of luck anon <3 you'll learn your body's warning signs and limits soon enough and learn to work around them like we did. you'll be alright