#we know the truth... They don't know what it's like when your brain is broken.... i believe this moment can come for you too

[batsplat]

years of suffering as a sports fan in the scrub trenches and i have FINALLY been rewarded by the universe for my troubles ohhhhhhh time to embrace glory hunting i'm FREE

[ma1dita]

without a doubt

part one can be found here -> it will pass

words: little under 3k

summary: James has a lot of questions, but he quickly finds out Peanut is the answer.

warnings: none! angst–hurts before things get happy, peter (since some of yall might need a warning), all the marauders are alive and happy, lily is too smart for this, peanut and jelly 4 ever

a/n: thank you for all the love (and tears shed) for it will pass! i genuinely rewrote this about four different times and almost lost the plot, but please let me know if it meets your expectations!

(posted 9/11/23)

—

DAYS UNTIL JAMES PROPOSES: 4

I know it will pass, it’s just heavy. You’re all I know.

There’s something about the noise in your brain as you move around your silent apartment. It overpowers the fear that hasn’t quite left your body after he let the front door fall shut. Being paralyzed in the aftermath of the truth that left your lips…It’s maddening. And you can’t even talk to the person you want to hear it most. You love him.

I do love you (Y/N), just in a different way.

Those 10 minutes were a fleeting moment in the life you’ve shared with your best friend thus far. But now, he’s stopped writing, stopped calling, and you’ve never heard him be so quiet in the past few days after the fact. There’s a knock at the door, and the sound interrupts the way you breathe, dishrag in hand, and James’ sweater still on your body.

I know that, James. I just don't know how to stop.

“What a vision you make, (Y/N).” Remus jokes in an attempt to try to make you smile. He’s leaning against the doorframe as you pop your head through the opening and he slowly moves to follow you into your home. Why does it feel like you have to explain yourself this time? But Remus is deeply understanding in nature, and he opens his arms for you to burrow yourself in.

“Get yourself fixed up. Not taking a no for an answer, love. You’ve been MIA for long enough and you know how Pads is about his birthday. He’ll want you there, broken heart be damned.” Remus is rubbing your back, and you groan.

“Ever the fucking diva.”

His chest rumbles with laughter, but both of you know that you say it lightly. Years ago, when Sirius moved into the Potter’s, it was understood that every birthday was to be as great as he was to his found family.

Nothing has to change, Peanut.

Remus sniffs you lightly, nose crinkling, “Place is spotless. Your turn for a deep clean and then off we go.” A horrified noise leaves your throat as you push yourself out of his embrace.

As the steam from the shower slowly suffocates you, you realize that Remus innately knew the reason for your emotional sabbatical from James and the rest of your friends. You wonder if everyone’s known that you’ve been in love with James Potter, and scrunch your face at how oblivious you both have been. The cold water washes away the grief that’s had a handle on your being this past month. Out of all the pranks they’ve played, this tops it. What a sick joke for the both of you to be left out of.

I think you should go now. Please.

—

DAYS UNTIL JAMES PROPOSES: 3

All of Sirius’s birthdays are spectacular, but you really can’t fight the hurt crawling up your chest. There are too many memories here at Potter Manor, too many familiar faces asking where you’ve been, and James looks petrified, eyes following your figure around the Manor like you’re a ghost he can’t touch. You walk up the stairs like you have many times over the years, finding a hideaway in the west wing. You and James used to gaze at the stars here.

“So why the hell are you moping on my birthday? No one’s allowed to be sad today.” Sirius grins, breaking the silence as he walks across the balcony to throw his arms over your seated figure.

“Happy Birthday Padfoot.” you smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. You clink your glass against his as he takes a seat next to you on the bench.

“Trust me when I say you always look stunning, (Y/N) but there’s this look in your eye that you get when you’re around Prongs nowadays. Might I say it’s why you dropped off the face of the Earth?”

Your face instantly drops at his words, and you’re glad he can’t see much in the dim light.

“How long have you all known, Pads?”

“I don’t know about much when it comes to love, (Y/N). But what I do know is that I’m his brother, and you’re his best friend. There’s a lot of responsibility being those two things for someone like that idiot. You love him like humans need air.”

“I just… I don’t know what to do with it.” The elderflower wine glides down your throat, its taste sweet on your tongue. Sirius sits with you, knowing what’s coming next. As an older brother, he also knows you’ve been waiting for someone to listen.

“What do I do with all the love I have for him? Where does it go now that he doesn’t want it?”

“I’ll take some. It sounds lovely.” Peter’s voice almost echoes in the silence as you both turn your heads to see him and Remus in the dim light of the hallway, a bottle of firewhiskey in hand and it makes you genuinely smile for the first time in days.

“Yeah, pass it around. Godric knows Prongs doesn’t appreciate you enough.” Remus says bluntly, and you hit his stomach when he ruffles your hair.

“Honestly, what a prat! Makes you plan his proposal and doesn’t want you at the afterparty? The nerve.” You choke on the remnants of your wine as you laugh at Sirius’s outrage for you, and all four of you are giggling in the dark like idiots as Remus pours you shots. If anything else goes wrong in this life, you’re glad that you have the Marauders to live it with you.

The laughter reaches the hallway, and in walks Lily, who teasingly asks “Did the party move in here without us?” James is as still as a statue behind her, watching you laugh with his boys. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen you happy and acknowledges that he’s to blame.

“You shouldn’t be surprised, Lils. There’s always a party when Padfoot’s around,” you remark, and everyone gets up to go back to the party. Lily looks around as if she’s missing something, then looks at James.

“I’m glad that (Y/N)’s back from whatever’s been keeping her busy. Looks like everything’s falling back into place.” she muses, and James can’t help but watch his best friend, no, his best girl, walk away, thinking that everything must be falling apart.

—

DAYS UNTIL JAMES PROPOSES: 2

It’s morning now, and a lot of the crowd has gone home or fallen asleep in the many rooms of Potter Manor. You decide to stay to help clean up for Mr. and Mrs. Potter, who were always like second parents to you as well. They had a thing for taking in kids who needed love. With your best efforts, you can’t seem to escape James, who has incessantly trailed behind you into every room you walk into. You dodge him again as you walk down the hall, but James, who has always been a chaser in more ways than one grabs you by the arm and pushes you into his childhood bedroom.

A shriek leaves you as he closes the door and has you up against the wall.

“What the fu—”

“You’re avoiding me. Why are you avoiding me?” his face is panicked as his breath hits your face.

“You told me to leave you alone. That’s what I’m doing now, James. What else could you want from me?” Your hands are on his chest, crinkling the dress shirt that you once helped him pick out at the shops, and you feel breathless, angry at knowing him too well, and angry at what he’s insinuating.

James is at a loss. He loves you. He’s never gone more than a weekend without you and now it’s been ages…. And he loves you. He’s looking at you differently now, in the sunlight that floods through his old bedroom. He loves you so much that it hurts.

His hands slide from the wall behind you, until they reach your shoulders, and trace down your arms. Intertwining your fingers together, James speaks.

“I didn’t mean…” he exhales. “I just…”

“Did you not want me here too? Because unfortunately, my friends are also yours, so maybe we can clarify exactly the terms you want me to follow next time, James.” you seethe, getting in his face.

You push him away, his arms chasing after you, pining for your touch. Your heart is racing with hurt, with anger, with love, all for the man standing across the room.

“Peanut…”

“No.”

“I never want you to leave me alone, okay? It’s been agony without you and I can’t even put into words how—”

“I can, James. How long have I been so oblivious to the fact that I’m in love with you and how long have you just let it happen? You can’t just… please don’t pretend that you don’t know that I’ve been waiting all my life for you to let me fill the empty spaces in your heart.” Your voice wavers as you pull yourself away from him, sitting on his bed.

“Just tell me what’s happening, Peanut. You’ve always had the answers. I feel like I can’t breathe when you’re not there and I….. my heart feels like it’s going to combust… I… I just feel…. so intensely. I miss who I am when I’m with you.”

James throws himself down onto the bed, hyperventilating with his head in his hands. Your hands are shaking as you reach for him. You’ll always reach for him.

He raises his head, as you delicately grab his face into your hands. Your fingertips brush his tears away, loving him for the mess he is.

“My life has been so quiet these past few days and I’m so scared to live life without you. Did I fuck it all up for us?” You whisper.

James licks his lips, and he’s playing with your hair in his hands. Your knees are touching on the patterned bedspread. The space between you diminishes as you realize that he’s about to ruin everything.

Your best friend is going to kiss you.

He’s holding your jaw so gently and for a second, you wonder if this is what it would feel like to be loved by him in the way that you do. With every single ounce of control, you turn your head away from what you’ve been craving most. James’ lips land on your cheek, and he’s chasing after you again, muttering apologies as he looks into your eyes and sees everything he’s been wanting. He sees his whole life with you through the split second your eyes connect. Pushing him away again, you stumble away with a sob.

“What was that?”

“I just… “ He’s gasping for air, feeling like his heart has exploded, and the silence is so loud that he feels like his heart must be in pieces, and you’re picking up the wreckage to take home. He’s in love with you. His heart has always been yours.

“You what, James? Don’t do that!”

He’s lived in a mansion his whole life but Godric, is this room suddenly feeling too small? You get on your feet, stepping away from him and he’s following you.

“Do what?”

“Don’t make me hate you, Jelly. Loving you has been painful enough.” Tears are blurring your vision as you hiccup, and maybe it’s better to not see him right now. Maybe you really shouldn’t have come.

“I just wanted to know. I know now, love, I…” James whimpers at the sound of his nickname. Your nickname for him alone has this man wanting to drop to his knees.

“No. Don’t you know how cruel you’re being right now? To me? To the love of your life? I would never do that to Lily!” Your voice is getting louder by the minute, and James is stoic in his silence, steps away from your blaze.

“But you told me you’re in love with me. Are you saying this is because of me?”

“Everything I do is because of you, James. And if you don’t know that by now…” Then maybe you don’t know me at all.

The words go unsaid but the both of you are hit with the reality of it. Your hands jangle the doorknob to get away from him, to be anywhere but here.

—

DAYS UNTIL JAMES PROPOSES: 1

Lily listens intently as James tells her everything he's been wanting to say for the last eleven years. She's not surprised, in fact, she knows this is the truth, but she's still heartbroken. Lily Evans and James Potter are both people who like to chase things, people—but after all that’s said and done, the thrill wears off. They’re more alike than they’ll ever know.

He tries to apologize, but Lily cuts him off and tells him there's no need. She's always known the truth, and even though it took him this long, she's glad he finally figured it out. Smartest girl of their year, after all.

“I mean, I always felt like she should’ve been dating you, but then we happened and I fell too hard and didn’t stop to ask questions. I tried to be blind to it, but…it was nice, wasn’t it?” Lily whispers, holding James’ hand for the last time. He looks like he’s about to pass out.

“I’ll be okay, Potter. I was before you, and I will be after you. So thank you for being honest. You’ve always been honest with me.” A small kiss on his cheek renders him breathless. Once upon a time, he would stay up all night at the idea of Lily Evans loving him. But his heart has always belonged to you. Without a doubt, James Potter is in love with you, his best friend.

He doesn’t tell Lily he was planning to propose tomorrow, since the situation is already as messy as it is. But Lily Evans always knows.

—

JAMES HAS A PROPOSAL

James is pushing boxes back into Potter Manor, and Mippy helps flit the rest of his belongings up the stairs with magic. The least he could do is give Lily their apartment after their breakup. He looks around, rubbing his fingers of dust as his mother calls him for dinner. How humbling, he thinks, to start all over because he was too stupid to realize he’s in love. Starting over in a place he calls home is absurd. He looks out towards the courtyard where you had your fairytale wedding, walks by the hallways you used to race training broomsticks in, and back to his room where he used to whisper hushed lullabies to help you sleep. Everything reminds him of you, and your love consumes each memory that flickers through his vision. The feeling shocks him like ripping your head out of a pensieve. He’s so utterly in love with you.

What the hell is he doing at his parents’ house? He should be getting his girl! James apparates to your apartment, knocking on the door like a madman. He knocks so loudly the wood is bruising his knuckles, red blooming under his touch.

The door rips open, and he’s never been so glad to see you angry.

“You literally have a key, James. You don’t have to be a dick every—”

“You’re wrong.”

Your frustration gives way, lines on your forehead wrinkling in confusion. It’s like there’s a glass separating the both of you, and you’re scared to touch him.

You shake your head as he continues, “You’re wrong, by the way. I don’t know if Lily’s the love of my life. I haven’t lived it with her, nor will I. What I do know is that I’ve loved you for most of mine.”

“What are you saying, Jelly,” you utter, and James’ is grinning so largely you want to punch his face in.

“I love you. As in I’m in love with you. Without any doubt, or excuses, or anyone holding me back, my heart is yours, if you’ll have me?”

He rushes to catch you, his proposal hitting you hard as you fall into his embrace, hands feeling as much of him as you can. His broad shoulders, his strong neck, the dimples on his cheek, the glasses on his face—all of him is in love with you.

Your blubbering is muffled as he finally pulls his lips to yours, finally feeling, finally… James’ kiss lays out all of what he’s been holding in, and without words you both understand that this wreckage in your beating hearts, the destruction of everything you’ve set together as best friends, is love. He’s clutching you to his body, moving you backward into your apartment, feet moving in sync like an orchestrated dance. You both fall onto your couch in a fit of laughter and tears. Finally.

“How foolish of me to be with another, Peanut. I’m a married man, after all.”

"Not bad for a second kiss, Jelly." You laugh at him.

James looks at your smile like it’s the answer to every question he’ll ask in this life.

—

“We give those we love nicknames, because love requires a word that belongs to us alone.” Fredrik Backman

tagged: @prongs-moon @alltheotherkidss @anehkael @princessprongs

[earlysunshines]

can we get even closer?

detective!jihyo x spiderwoman!reader (pt. 3, finale!) ; smut, fluff

synopsis: spiderwoman becomes 10x more alluring AND convincing, detective park is completely disregarding the chief at this point.

wc: 11.7k

warnings: blood ; mentions of wounds, cuts, bruises ; smut!!!

pls read for context: pt.1, pt.2

the crime scene was a messy tapestry of deception and disorder.

jihyo scanned the mess of a venue. there were flipped-over tables, pieces of chairs, and debris scattered all over the venue—even a light had fallen from the ceiling—it was a sight.

the cluttered, frenzied scene wasn't even the worst part; to tell the truth, what made it worse was seeing her colleagues all stuck together tangled up in spiderwebs against the wall.

the chief included in the mess.

the chief was tangled up alone, arms and legs restrained with only his head free. he seemed infuriated; this does not help your case. the chief will hate your guts even more, and if he catches you, he might rip them out.

jihyo has her final conclusion made up in her head after fully processing the mess in front of her: you have one functioning brain cell.

the officers and chief aren't the only ones captured, there's an apparent culprit tied together in a large, thicker layer of cobweb: the lizard.

it's green, it's ugly, and it's huge—jihyo furrows her brows at the sight—but her face lights up when she sees the familiar silhouette of the special spider-like "hero."

you stand there in front of the grotesque reptile, gazing at it with slumped shoulders and heavy breaths. you're exhausted and aching from the very physically demanding task. on the bright side: there are no broken bones or any limbs missing—that's a plus—though there are a few scratches that rip the new suit you had just gotten. you sigh at the thought of having to face your suit designer nayeon. you really don't want to hear her complaints again.

the thought of nayeon yelling in your ear distracts you from the blood that seeps out the cuts on your body and the pain from the sore areas that will surely be dark, annoying bruises—though the thought of that nayeon pulling at your ear and bickering with you doesn't distract you forever, the discomfort in your abdomen returns and you almost fall over.

screw that ugly ass lizard.

jihyo runs over to your side, looking at your weary state.

"y/n-" jihyo catches herself, immediately quieting down when uttering the last part of your name. she watches her words even if she's not in the field of vision of the officers, they still have ears afterall. "spiderwoman, are you okay?" jihyo asks, looking at the cuts in your suit.

"yeah." you respond, and you're lying your ass off because you think you might fall over soon. "just a bit beat up, could've been worse."

“you think a stab to the stomach is comparable to a paper cut. " the detective sighs, “that doesn’t make this any better.”

it’s evident in her tone that she’s worried. your heart feels heavy knowing that she feels like that for you, but you don't want to overwhelm her anymore. you put your hand on her shoulder and her eyes soften. her look almost hurts more than that stupid pain in your stomach.

"park," you say softly, "i'm fine."

“you’re not.”

"i need to change back and leave, keep an eye on the lizard?"

"y/n-"

"it's spiderwoman." you say sternly. your voice had lost any hint of playfulness, now it’s more of a croaked-out, low tone.

"sorry, i just-"

"let's talk later, yeah?" you urge. jihyo nods with disappointment. 

you smile as you shoot a web up, looking at her with the same softness before pulling yourself and swinging away.

jihyo's jaw tightens up.

you don’t break into jihyo’s house or even show up at the department for four days and counting. that’s 96+ hours of jihyo not seeing you, of her having all these questions swarming in her brain with no answers and 96+ hours of missing you. detective park is running out of patience.

jihyo spins the pen in her hand while examining the papers related to the “lizard” case, i mean, there’s not much to do since the lizard-man had been captured after turning back to normal, but jihyo had to do a brief check before going back to the prison to interrogate the human form of that nightmare.

the identity of the lizard was found after it had transformed back into a slender, fragile man: dr. watanabe, lead scientist at minatozaki industries and former friend of the chief.

the chief seemed to be slowly losing it after the whole event—who wouldn’t be after having to ask your detective to cut you and the rest of your coworkers out of the spiderweb that was shot from the wrists of the person you went on a whole tangent about not trusting—exactly.

it’s been hectic.

the detective shoves the papers back into the folder before heading into the room that holds the visitation booths, which is empty and only has one guard present. she runs a hand through her hair before nodding at the guard and sitting at booth three.

her foot taps at the ground as she waits—not because she’s anxious—it’s just a habit she’s had since college.

there’s the sound of the door opening and not even five seconds later the scientist sits in front of her. he looked terrible: bags under his eyes, brows creased, and hair disordered—that’s not like him at all. jihyo takes out a paper from the folder and holds the black telephone handle close to her ear.

“you’ve finally agreed to talk.”

“against my will, where’s the chief.” watanabe spits back through the line. jihyo shoots a look that has the scientist shrinking in his seat.

“not here.” she says sternly, “now i would really appreciate if you could be competent since you’ve caused so much trouble.”

“bring me that damn chief and i’ll talk, they said he’d be here.”

“he’s not here, so quit whining. i have some questions that you need to answer, i’d advise that you respond well and with a compliant attitude.” the detective warns threateningly.

the scientist makes eye contact once with jihyo then looks back down, ready to answer with his hand clutching the telephone handle tightly.

jihyo ends up leaving the visitation booth with sluggish shoulders and a paper with rushed, messy jotted-down notes of the criminals’ answers and puts it in her bag. once she steps outside into the afternoon light, she’s quick to stretch out her arms, groaning at the relieving sensation.

“hi.”

that voice is very familiar.

the detective turns and her eyes widen at the sight of you. you’re standing there with a smile, warm and friendly.

a dark, navy sweater sits loosely on your figure, and your hair is tied up. you look beautiful, and not as beat up as jihyo figures you should look (i mean, you literally had a whole wwe match with a lizard a couple days ago, so it’s surprising to say the least). you seem content, you seem perfectly fine and jihyo hates that you haven’t bothered her. where have you been?

jihyo stares at you in awe, well, maybe with some confusion and a hint of anger too. she wants to ask where you’ve been, i mean, it’s been days and you haven’t knocked on her window, she had even waited by that stupid window of hers with the hope that you’d barge in. she wants to ask how you’ve been doing, if your injuries been bothering you maybe and if your cuts healed. jihyo wants to know everything, from how you’re doing physically to what’s going on in that smoothed-out brain of yours. (jihyo has many questions, too many, and it has her silent in her place while she gapes at you.)

you play with the neckline of your sweater. “it’s getting pretty cold, huh.”

jihyo thinks you’re unbelievable.

“where have you been?” jihyo asks, walking up to you and pushing you playfully (fighting the urge to hold your and look at you with desire like in those cliché romance movies where the leads love interest shows up after being missing—or something like that at least. [park jihyo watches too many dramas]) she furrows her brows a little, looking at you with a tad of shock in her expression.

you tilt your head and ask, “why are you looking at me like that.”

“you’ve been gone for what, four days?” jihyo says, raising her brows. a couple people passing by glance in your direction when jihyo raises her voice, but she doesn’t care, that’s the last thing she cares about. “you haven’t called, texted, or even showed up to your own uncles workplace! you haven’t even-“ and jihyo cannot believe she’s about to say this: “you haven’t broken into my apartment or anything!”

a short silence fills the air before your eyes soften the same way they did before leaving jihyo at that venue—right after finishing up your business.

you let out a brief, soft sigh. “i’m sorry, it’s a lot.”

“yeah, it is.” jihyo huffs, losing the worry in her tone as relief fills in.

a grin plays at your lips, “i did say i would explain everything,” you start, “and i did say i’d take you out, and on me too…”

jihyo crosses her arms and mumbles, “you did.”

“that’s only if the detective would let me…?”

the weight on jihyo’s shoulders is completely knocked off and she chuckles at your response, quickly losing the serious façade.

 “i have to drop this off at work, maybe i’ll let you once i do.”

you grin. “great.”

you end up as passenger princess in jihyo’s white, glossy bmw.

saying the car is nice would be a huge understatement. the interior is even more fascinating compared to the exterior, and that says a lot. the seats are clean, comfy, and from the texture, you can tell it’s authentic and expensive leather. the car is pretty spotless other than the water bottle in the cup holder and that reusable tote bag that seemed to have been thrown at the backseats blindly. the car smells fresh—something woody, minty, and there’s also a hint of apple—it’s welcoming and really fits the detective.

“comfy?” jihyo asks, turning on the engine.

“yeah.” you reply, feeling a little intimidated for no reason.

jihyo chuckles at you and shifts the stick, lightly steps on the gas, then looks at the screen in the car as she backs up. there should be no reason for this to be so attractive, i mean, you’ve seen many people back up a car, nothing special, but when jihyo does it you find yourself wanting her a little more.

the two of you end up at the department less than ten minutes later. despite how unbelievably close and flirty you’ve gotten with the detective; the whole car ride was way too intimate for your liking, and your nerves were a mess.

the car was so nice it had you feeling tense, jihyo was driving with such ease and looked so damn good with those sunglasses she had on. you felt small in the passenger seat. thankfully, you’re a few turns away from the department.

“i need to tell you something.” you say, making jihyo hum.

“what is it?”

“i can’t go into the department, i’m, well… i’ll tell you later but long story short my uncle cannot see me and i’m technically kind of on house arrest.”

“you’re what?”

“long story.”

the light turns red, the detective breaks smoothly then turns to look at you, curiosity and disbelief making her brows furrow.

“why am i not surprised that the chief would do something like that.” jihyo sighs, looking back at the stoplight—it’s green now. “he’s been on edge lately ever since the incident, he’s probably just anxious.”

you chuckle and shake your head, “he’s something…”

not too long later, the two of you find your way over at a café nearby and situate yourselves in the balcony area on the second floor.

jihyo holds a mint-colored latte cup in her hand that’s filled with a simple, hot mocha. she takes a sip and a bit of the steamed milk coats the top of her lips, she licks it off subtly. you smile before taking a sip of your own drink, some type of seasonal latte that has hints of apple and cinnamon.

“i missed you.” you say, looking down at the slightly distorted latte art in your cup. jihyo looks at you then smiles, a tint of pink dusting her cheeks as she turns her head to take in the view of the farmers markets nearby.

“me too.” she sighs, “i was… i haven’t been as tired lately, so i waited near my window for some spider to knock on it—she never came.”

you frown. “i wanted to. i’m always one to help people and try to not break the law, but i can’t help it when it’s you.” you respond jokingly.

jihyo smiles at your playfulness, happy to be spending time with one of the people she’s grown close with, as well as the hero she’s been secretly crushing and interacting with.

“can i ask how long you’ve been, you know…”

“couple months.” you reply, “remember how i told you about getting bit by the spider?” you ask, jihyo nods and you begin again, “i got bit a week after i moved here, and then i started sticking to things, accidentally broke my doorknob—oh! i was also watching this scary movie one time and got scared, after that i couldn’t see myself in the mirror.”

“that’s a lot.”

“yes, too much.”

“so… what happened with you and your uncle?” jihyo questions, wondering why she’s been spiderwoman-deficient for the past four days.

“oh yeah,” you respond, “well, he found out that i got hurt—not because i was y’know, doing my little hero thing—but he saw the blood and some of the injuries. he went on this tangent about me staying safe, he’s just been on edge and very protective. he doesn’t want me leaving the house. i’ve been working from home.”

“you couldn’t sneak out?”

“he had detectors, it took me a bit to mess with it. i took some engineering classes in high school and had some mischievous friends, so i ended up cheating the system.” you explain. jihyo nods, raising her brows at how capable you are; you’re quite impressive even if someone were to snatch your spider abilities away. “so, what’s been going on with you detective? fill me in.”

jihyo sighs, shaking her head softly.

“your uncle has been on edge, it’s strange.” she says, “usually these types of cases don’t phase him, but he’s shaken up.”

“maybe it was me trapping him in cobwebs—too much?”

the detective shakes her head again. “no, i don’t think so, but that was stupid on your end. he’s just been terribly paranoid; i’ve never seen him so tense.”

you furrow your brows and take another sip of your beverage before raising your brows as if you had an idea, “maybe it has something to do with the scientist?” you suggest, and you ponder before speaking again, “i remember my uncle having lunch with the scientist a couple months ago, he came back from the lunch all tense and a bit angry—even snapped at me for something. it was strange.”

jihyo’s expression lights up, “you’re on to something… that scientist did ask me to see the chief multiple times… and watanabe is clearly hiding something.”

“you think we should reunite them? maybe find out more of what’s between them?”

“it might be a good idea.” the detective mumbles, swirling remnants of her drink in the cup. you bite the inside of your lip and hum again,

“let’s try it, i can talk to the chief.”

“you’re on house arrest.”

“spiderwoman can do it then. she’s not on house arrest.”

jihyo’s eyes widen at the suggestion, and she looks at you like you’re crazy. “you’re insane.”

“maybe chief l/n will listen to me if i’m sweet with him.”

“he could body slam you to the ground.”

“maybe he could do that to y/n, but not spiderwoman.” you beam.

“no, maybe spiderwoman too.” jihyo shakes her head and simply sighs, “you’re actually the dumbest person i know.”

“you into that?”

the mask on your face is new, so is the suit (you were able to contact your suit designer via email and after seeing jihyo you got your much more durable suit—that is, after getting scolded by the fashion designer.)

you spot chief l/n in the office alone, it’s quite late anyway, a little past when you’d usually have dinner. your uncle examines a paper with furrowed brows and a pen in his large, aging hands. he looks pretty focused—you take it as your cue to invite yourself into his large office.

when the chief hears a small thud, he’s immediately on guard. he puts his hand over the gun strapped under his desk and scans the room: there’s no one, nothing, but he’s not convinced.

“i’m not fucking stupid.” he says coldly, “show yourself or you’re going to regret a lot.”

his voice is low, deep, and threatening. it’s worse than when he scolds you, much worse and you think you might be lucky that his most angry tone with you is less frightening than how he’s talking to you now.

you’re invisible, he can’t see you at all. the chief pulls out his gun from under the table and holds it with precision, aiming and scanning the room once more for any sign of someone. the gun in his hand is knocked out with a spiderweb and the chief halts, stiffening in his place.

you unveil yourself and the chief spots the familiar vigilante stuck to the ceiling, though that same vigilante who had terrorized him a couple days prior is wearing a new suit.

“hello chief.” you greet, making sure you alter your voice.

the tall, bulky man grimaces when you release yourself off of the wall and land on the floor of the room.

“spiderwoman.”

“nice to see you too.” you say, “i’m not going to hurt you or anything, i’m just uneasy around guns.”

“yeah, sure.” he scoffs, “you’re up to something.”

“god- no!” you groan, losing patience. the chief drops his stern demeanor for a second when you pinch the bridge of your nose, it almost convinces him that you’re just a simple human under that suit. “i’m trying to get more details on the lizard, and i need your help.”

“that lizard… he’s behind bars.”

“but that’s not it and you know it.”

“get out my damn office. i’m not afraid to fight you, i don’t care how many webs you trap me in.”

you sigh again, growing even more impatient. the chief glares at you when you do so.

“look—the people, the citizens, families and friends—they’re all in danger if you’re not competent,” you explain. your uncle drops his serious expression and his shoulders relax just barely.

“and i should just tell you why, huh? so you can do who knows what with this information? i’m not stupid.”

“you’re getting on my fucking nerves though and you’re being a prick that’s what you are.” you respond with irritation, and the tone of your retort reminds the chief of a certain someone he knows very well. “you think i saved that whole venue for shits and giggles? i left there with a broken rib and more bruises and cuts than i can count on one hand. i don’t know how many people i have to save or buildings i have to stop from collapsing to get you to understand that i’m not the fucking villain. look, watanabe is eery, there’s something i’m missing on this whole case because that damn scientist has been reluctant to give answers due to some tall ass man-baby of a chief that not only refuses to see the what, barely average height scientist, but the same chief who won’t fucking comply to this ‘vigilante’ because of his foggy little brain.”

the chief looks at you with surprise now, mouth slightly agape.

“i’m—i’m sorry?” he says with uncertainty. your uncle decides to swallow up his pride and prejudice, you sound like his niece and he starts to soften up. “fine. only if it helps.”

so rambling was the only thing that you needed to get him to comply? you’ve been wasting your time, too much time.

“why does watanabe want to see you.” you ask, observing the way your uncles eyes hesitantly avoid your gaze.

it’s quite strange seeing your uncle so sheepish looking, so submissive and not in the way he looks when your aunt scolds him for not eating, but he looks almost vulnerable.

“we-” he pauses and his shoulders drop just barely, “we used to work together. now that he’s behind bars i can’t compromise my position.”

“how does it compromise your position?”

“i’m a big guy, a big, bulky guy. watanabe and i used to be friends and… he asked for my dna samples and whatnot. look, i might’ve…” the chief sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “i gave him some and i don’t know what he did with it, but now that he’s behind bars i think it’s something bad. i don’t know, i’ve never been a science freak.”

“okay so he has your dna, what are you looking so scared for?” you ask,

“i’m just wary… i don’t know what he can do with it—what he has done with it.”

you ponder for a bit and look at the anxious chief in front of you, who looks less intimidating than ever in front of you. why would watanabe need his dna?

“well, he’s behind bars, so no need to worry about anything for now yeah? i’ll investigate this myself.” you assure. you expect an inquiry, a response or something—but the chief simply nods and huffs.

“yeah alright.” he sighs. you shoot a thumbs up and hide yourself in transparency, that’s when you hear small—but noticeable in the silent ambience—words of gratitude. “thanks for taking a weight off my shoulders.”

you really have to stop breaking into jihyo’s home—well, it’s more of you jump scaring her and then her letting you in—so is it really a crime if there’s implied consent to enter?

jihyo opens the window for you and sighs, “i have a door you know.”

“too much work.”

“and swinging to the tenth floor of my apartment building is less work?”

“more exciting!” you beam, “and i like your little reaction, it’s cute.”

jihyo rolls her eye at your little remark and you climb in. she watches you pull off your mask and tuck some of your messy hair away, her eyes linger a little before she turns and walks back to her stove.

“whatcha cookin’?” you ask, sitting on the counter of the little kitchen island.

“avocado toast with eggs.” jihyo responds, not turning around.

“how healthy.”

“did you need something?” she asks, sliding the spatula under the eggs before flipping it over and cutting the heat.

“do you wanna break the law?” you ask. jihyo turns around and the expression plastered on her face screams:“are you dumb or stupid?”

“you’re seriously asking me this?”

“okay technically it’s not fully breaking the law,” you start, “just… doing something that might be an invasion of privacy.”

“that might be breaking the law, stupid.” jihyo snickers, smiling at the idiot in front of her.

you’re wearing something comfy yet professional looking: a pullover with a dress shirt under and some simple dress pants. the detective wonders if people saw you swinging around like that—the only thing masking your identity being the mask you had taken off, and without the mask jihyo can see you with the nerdy-looking glasses you put on earlier, and the smile plastered on your face. you’ve got a cute grin.

“you never said no.” you shrug.

“i’ll lose my job.”

“no you wont. just let me explain?” you plead. jihyo sighs, crossing her arms while leaning against the counter next to the stove; all of the detectives’ attention is on you now.

“thanks lovely.” you say, and the little remark makes jihyo’s cheeks flush just barely. “okay so i had a little talk with the chief last night, turns out watanabe has his dna and my uncle’s on edge because of that.”

“okay…”

“i work for the same company, meaning i have a keycard. that also means we can investigate a little more and find out what the hell he wanted to do with the chiefs dna.” you explain, “it’s technically your job to do all this investigating and if you think about it: i’m just a loyal citizen helping out the hottest detective in the force.”

jihyo uncrosses her arms and puts her hands on the counter gripping the edge. you watch the way her arm tenses and wow she’s toned. the detective looks down and shakes her head, smiling.

the shorter woman turns back around and pulls out a piece of bread from the toaster, then uses the spatula that rested on the plate to put an egg on the toast. she hands you the plate and you turn your head, but take it nonetheless.

“eat up, gotta have energy to ‘kinda’ break the law.”

your eyes light up and you almost gasp, “you’re going to do it?”

“you get me to do the craziest things.”

you smirk and respond, “and if i were a crazy thing?”

jihyo looks you in the eye and smiles. “i could put you on my to-do list then.”

you had offered to swing out her window with her, but jihyo denied, and you teased her the whole way down to the parking lot.

now you’re playing passenger princess (pt. 2) and watch jihyo shift out her parking space, which is a sight. there’s something enticing with her movements, the way she carries herself, and her confidence.

when you reach the building—the large, modern-looking building with a café that keeps your coffee addiction thriving—jihyo gazes for a bit, clearly impressed.

“never been here?”

“no, i have, just never had time to fully take in everything.” she says, “it’s very nice.”

you smile and open the door for her, she rolls her eyes and walks in—you follow behind.

there are a few familiar faces in the building, some people rushing around and others conversing—it could be mistaken as a lobby at some college, jihyo looks around and is taken aback by the lively atmosphere.

“there you are, where have you been?” a recognizable voice scoffs. you turn to your left and see nayeon, smiling cheekily as she walks towards you and jihyo. you roll your eyes playfully and scoff playfully,

“been avoiding you.” you respond jokingly, and nayeon just laughs.

“who’s this? your girlfriend? been skipping work to be with her or what?” nayeon asks. her inquiry takes both you and jihyo by surprise, making both of you blush.

words stick to the tip of your tongue for a moment and jihyo puts out her hand for nayeon while you compose yourself. “detective park.” she introduces.

nayeon raises her brows and shakes her hand, then looks at you with a quirked brow and the look in her eyes seem to convey an “ooh~” before she responds to jihyo. “im nayeon.”

you clear your throat after they shake hands, “it’s nice to see you again i guess.” you say to nayeon, “but i have to go up and grab something, i’ll see you.”

“yeah yeah, see you. i was on my way out anyway—don’t blow up anything.” she sighs, and you scoff playfully. the two of you smile at each other mischievously before nayeon heads out the doors.

jihyo laughs and you raise a brow, watching her as she shakes her head.

“got all flustered from her asking if i was your girlfriend? what happened to the confidence from before?”

“shut up.” you respond, “let’s just go.”

jihyo laughs as you walk towards the elevators—she can’t see you, but she knows you’re blushing like an idiot.

the two of you reach the 7th floor and jihyo follows you out the elevator.

as you and jihyo make your way down the dimly lit corridor, a sense of anticipation fills the air. the tension is palpable as you approach the lab room. fumbling in your pocket, you retrieve a keycard, silently emphasizing the need for caution as you unlock the door. "stay by my side and stay quiet. we're not supposed to be here," you mumble, voice low and careful.

entering the room, you both are immediately struck by its sheer size. you’ve been here once with another scientist from the company, though only for a brief moment to retrieve information for your article. it's not just a regular room; it's an enormous space dedicated to housing the scientists' most precious possessions—their files, research, and invaluable data.

as your gaze scans the shelves, your heart skips a beat before settling on the section that holds the coveted information you seek. the lights are dim, making it difficult to distinguish one folder from another, but thankfully you’re spiderwoman; your senses are already much more advanced than any person.

with each folder you come across, you murmur the words written on their labels. jihyo watches you intently, captivated by your unwavering focus. there's a certain charm in the way you immerse yourself in the task at hand, it's adorable and there's an undeniable allure to your commitment that draws her in.

“they’re all in alphabetical order… t… u… v… hmmm—ah! w!” you beam. you snatch the folder that reads “watanabe.” a contagious smile dances across your lips, your elation mirrored by jihyo.

“is that what we need?” jihyo asks, turning her head.

“yeah, this is one of the more important files, it has a lot of his research and experiments. i’m also going to look for-“

before you can finish your sentence, an unwelcome intrusion slices through the air, mingling with the palpable fear creeping into your senses when you hear the low tap of footsteps outside the room.

 the threat of being caught floods your mind, driving you into spontaneous action. quickly, you take jihyo’s wrist, urgency pulsating through your grip, and scan the room frantically. from the corner of your eye, a small closet appears. you bolt toward it and drag jihyo with you, then close yourselves inside.

you’re in your head trying to listen to the sound coming from the corridor that you don’t realize the compromising position you’re in.

silent seconds stretch while you two stay cautious and awareness dawns upon you, and your breath halts. one hand is unintendedly situated on the curve of jihyo’s slender waist and the other still grips her wrist. her back is pressed against the closet door, and your senses collide with her proximity, faces and bodies inches apart.

(with how quiet it is in the room, you wonder if whoever was lurking would catch you just from the pounding of your heart.)

you loosen your grip on her wrist and whisper, “sorry.”

“you’ve got a good grip.” jihyo mumbles, “and it’s okay.”

the air hangs heavy, thick with tension. you glance downwards and you’re captivated by the intensity in jihyo's eyes—intimidating and enticing even in the darkened room—and an irrepressible impulse surges within you.

jihyo lets out a shallow breath and peeks at your lips, you take a quick glance at hers before you two gape into each other’s eyes again.

now it’s jihyo’s turn to hold your wrist, and without conscious thought, your heart pounding an adrenaline-fueled rhythm, you lean forward, closing the remaining distance until your lips press against hers.

it’s soft and tender at first, then warm and thrilling. you pull away for a brief moment to utter and apology, which is muffled after jihyo crashes her lips back to you with a doubled intensity. you hum in response and she pulls you closer, making you lean down to match her height.

in the muffled silence of the closet, time becomes a mere afterthought, eclipsed by the pulsating intensity that engulfs you both. the world outside fades into oblivion as your lips meet again and again after parting to tilt your heads in the other direction after a few kisses, and after a couple more you’re changing kissing angles again.

jihyo’s hands trace over your chest, then to your shoulders and at last: your neck. she grips at your hair, tugs and pulls while simultaneously leading the kiss—she’s naturally one to take control. she swipes her tongue against your lip and you let her tongue explore your mouth, earning various hums and small groans.

you pull away to catch your breath and jihyo stops you before you can kiss her again, placing her hand on your chest and adding pressure to it to restrain your eagerness.

“sorry,” you say, cheeks flushed and breath heavy. “too much?”

jihyo laughs softly and shakes her head before responding, “not at all, y/n. it’s just, we should be careful… don’t want you to be too loud—yet. let’s continue later.” your cheeks flush from her remark and jihyo laughs lowly after hearing your breath quiver. “do you think whoever was walking is gone?”

“i- um, i’ll have to listen closer.” you mutter.

jihyo’s hand still rests on your chest, right above your heart—which is beating at an unhealthy pace—and jihyo doesn’t comment on the noticeable pounding against her palm. you pause for a moment and really concentrate your sense of hearing, listening on anything going on outside. jihyo lets you work your magic and smiles when you hum.

“no one outside, it’s clear. i’ll turn invisible and you know, check it out. i’ll let you know if you can come out; when i knock three times then that’s your cue to leave the closet, yeah?” you explain.

jihyo nods and says, “sounds good spiderwoman.” which earns a small chuckle from you. some light seeps in when you open the door, letting jihyo have a glimpse of your face: cheeks tinted pink, your ears are a darker shade, and the smirk on your face is smug.

you plant a kiss on her incredibly soft lips before disappearing from her sight, and jihyo hears a small “cute,” before the door closes. she’s left in the dark closet alone with a warm feeling in her chest—though it’s soon replaced with the realization:

oh my god… i just made out with my boss’s niece.

when you and jihyo reach the floor of the lobby, you two act like you haven’t just violated the privacy of a (now criminal) scientist.

there are two folders, a binder, and some samples from who knows what that were hastily placed inside your bag when you first got into the elevator. the two of you head towards jihyo's car, acting as if nothing has happened, despite having committed something slightly very illegal.

the detective closes her doors and you mirror her action once you sit down, and as you both put on your seatbelts jihyo scoffs, “i can’t believe you got me to do this.”

“it’s for my uncle, and you know, just in case.” you assure, looking at her as she grips the steering wheel a little tight. “in the end i think he’ll be grateful, and it’ll help with the case.”

“i know.” jihyo says, “he can be scary.”

“i’ll take care of him, okay?”

“okay.” she responds before shooting you a small smile, which makes you smile back in return.

when you reach jihyo’s apartment, you take off your jacket and hang it on the hooks on the wall. jihyo does the same with her own jacket and you meet at her kitchen island.

you take out the stolen goods from your back and drop them on the marble counter, jihyo turns on the lamp above to make it easier to read and see. jihyo stands across from you as you take out each file and skim through them, watching your eyebrows crinkle from concentration.

four pieces of paper are taken out of one of the binders—three of them being stapled together—and you quickly read through them. then, you place them on the counter, and your eyes scan the title of a sample before laying it next to the papers.

“this is it.” you sigh, looking down at the messy tapestry of notes and diagrams.

jihyo tilts her head and questions, “what?”

“my uncle’s dna. there’s notes on it and everything, it’s all scribbled here—look.” you respond, flipping the paper over and pushing it towards the detective. jihyo’s eyebrows reflect yours and furrow as she reads the text. her shoulders relax and she turns the paper over to read more, eye’s widening a little as she reads.

you pick up the sample and examine it a bit more as jihyo reads through. she looks back at you and says in disbelief, “watanabe tried to make human lizards?”

“pretty much.” you reply, “my uncle’s a big, bulky guy… watanabe probably tried to fuck with the lizard dna and his genes to make something relatively close—but thankfully, it didn’t work. here, this paper shows the trials and whatnot.” you add, handing jihyo the non-stapled paper.

jihyo sets the small packet down and reads through the one handed to her, examining the various angrily crossed-out sentences, numbers, and notes. she hums at the sight.

“so there’s nothing to worry about?” the detective asks. you nod and respond,

“no, thankfully. i’ll probably show up as spiderwoman and leave a little note to the chief, i should probably get to that soon—tonight.” you admit, leaning against the counter. “i’ll leave you alone for now, sorry for making you do all of this.”

you don’t want to leave, that’s the last thing you want to do. the small silence after you utter your last sentence urges you to pack up and leave, even if the thought of continuing whatever happened in your closet flooded your mind.

“wait,” jihyo says as you start to trudge away towards the window, and you pause in your place as soon as you take a step on the carpet on the floor.

you raise a brow in confusion (hoping jihyo read your mind). “yes?”

“just stay, the sun is already setting.” she says boldly.

 “my uncle would kill me, i’m on house arrest.” you sigh, “getting these to him as spiderwoman would get me off house arrest.”

jihyo frowns and you mirror her expression. “you really can’t stay?” she asks, brows creasing just barely.

“i would if i could.”

“well,” jihyo starts, walking over to you. “before you jump out the window,” she mumbles, now one step away from you. she places her hand on your chest and looks at you with a warm softness in her eyes. she tilts her head, then leans up to press her lips against yours, less aggressive than in the closet, but just as nerve-racking—making your heart beat quicken just from the simple contact.

you practically melt when she kisses you, and your hands instinctively reach for her cheek, cupping it gently. time seems to hesitate when she puts her arms around your neck, and you make sure to savor the taste and feel of her lips on yours.

jihyo pulls away first, but only a little so your lips still brush against each other.

“jihyo…” you mutter, and you can feel her smiling against you—her grin spreads to your own lips.

“if you’re off house arrest tomorrow… we should—”

“yes, please.” you say, “anything you want.”

“didn’t know a kiss was enough to have you so eager.” jihyo snickers gently.

you smirk and press a quick peck. “oh i can be eager—if that’s what you want?”

jihyo rolls her eyes at your stupid (yet tempting) response and pulls away so she can see your face clearly. she gazes at you for a bit, simple appreciating your presence and the faint dimple that appears on your cheek as you smile at her. jihyo fixes your hair, pushing away strands that fall over your face.

“you’re an idiot.”

“you love that though.”

“a lot.” jihyo responds, then presses a kiss to your cheek and smiles. “now go get yourself off house arrest.”

you grin. “yes detective.”

the chief stands at his desk and puts on his coat, then gathers all the papers he had already gone through in his bag. on his desk, a folder suddenly drops down with a smack and the chief jumps, letting out a small yelp.

“hi chief.” a voice says. the chief looks up and he watches the familiar vigilante become translucent, then fully visible after unveiling herself. spiderwoman releases herself from the ceiling and lands on the ground with ease. “gotcha’ some things you’d probably love to look through.”

“what the hell spidergirl—”

“please, i know i’m supposed to mask my identity, but spiderwoman is better. c’mon man, i’m in my twenties.” you groan. the chief looks at you and shakes his head, then picks up the folder that had scared him half to death earlier.

your uncle furrows his brows slightly as he reads the papers (same as jihyo did, you note. at this point everything is reminding you of her—even the bulky man in front of you).

“where— where did you get this? how—”

“told you i’d check it out. nothing to worry about chief, just wanted to ease your worries.” you shrug, “i told you i’m not the bad guy.”

the chief examines you for a moment, looking you up and down before his shoulders drop. he puts the papers back in the folder and stares at it for a couple seconds, exhaling in relief.

“thank you.” he says, “i was… really on edge.”

“anytime.” you say, smiling from under the mask. the chief walks up to you, looking down and narrowing his eyes before softening his gaze. he puts his hand out and you look at it in surprise—as well as confusion.

“let’s keep contact, spiderwoman.” the chief says, “maybe you’re not so bad.” he adds. you hesitate for a moment and stare at his hand for a moment longer before shaking it. the chief doesn’t break your hand, doesn’t pull you in and throw you to the ground—he shakes it professionally and nods. “you’ve earned my trust.”

you want to lift your mask up and show him your proud smile, and a part of you wants to reveal yourself.

“i’m glad. i’m just your friendly neighborhood spiderwoman after all, harmless!” you beam.

“that’s debatable. i saw what you did to that monster.” he responds. you catch the faint twitch of his lips: an almost smile.

“how else could i save everyone?”

“i guess you’re right, get going kid, sun is setting.”

“i told you i’m in my twenties!”

“you really remind me of someone i know spiderwoman.” he says with a breath of amusement, “have a good night, thank you again.” he finally adds before grabbing his bag. the chief walks past spiderwoman without body-slamming her or anything like that; the tall, hefty man simply walks out and leaves spiderwoman speechless.

that’s all it took to get on his good side?

jihyo walks into the building and the routine is the same as always: she greets the front desk lady—rachel was her name, she’s sweet and always has a smile on for anyone talking to her. after her usual friendly greeting, jihyo walks over to her desk and greets the rest of the team.

as jihyo sets her bag down, a familiar face appears and greets the detective.

“hello park, morning.” francis beams, smiling softly at jihyo. francis was one of the newer cops, he was pretty young for one—but great at his job. jihyo was quite fond of him, he was nice and competent.

“morning, how are you?”

“good, good.” he says before yawning, “glad it’s friday.”

“me too.” jihyo responds with a laugh, taking out a few reports from her bag and turning on the computer in front of her.

the detective turns back to the monitor in front of her and gets to typing, looking down at the paper and back up to the screen as she types various letters, numbers, and who knows what at this point.

her mind is completely foggy, she tries to get some work done, tries to copy down the reports and examine them. the only thing she can really focus on is the memory of your lips on hers, and whether you’re off house arrest because she really needs a continuation of what happened in that damn closet.

jihyo flinches at the sudden sound of the voice she’s been missing most and looks down at her desk to see a 16oz paper coffee cup on her desk.

“morning detective.”

“jesus!” jihyo yelps, “don’t do that!”

“i thought you’d get used to it by now.” you snicker. jihyo smiles as you pull a chair up next to her and sit down, sipping on your own beverage. “i’m off house arrest.”

“i can see that.” jihyo sighs, though the tone of her voice doesn’t match the way her heart warms upon your arrival. “shouldn’t you be at work?”

“technically it’s an internship,” you respond, “but i guess it’s my job now, seeing they pay me more than some of the actual employees.”

“well whatever it is you should probably be at the building, no?”

“i have work in less than forty minutes. do you hate my presence that much?” you question, a pout forming. “didn’t hate it that much yesterday—"

the detective punches your shoulder and you wince playfully before jihyo rolls her eyes and takes a sip of the coffee you brought her. “you’re loud, too loud for someone who’s my boss’s blood relative.” she scolds you lowly and sets down the beverage before redirecting her attention back to the screen. “and no, i don’t hate your presence, just don’t want you slacking or getting scolded.” she admits, a smile threatening to form on her lips.

you laugh and gaze at her for a moment, taking in the slope of her nose and catching a glimpse of the small mole on the tip of it. your eyes trace the sharp curve of her jaw, and then your look sets on her lips—the taste and feel lingers in your mind. jihyo pretends to ignore your blatant stare.

“i’ll stop bothering you for a bit, should probably get going anyway and let my favorite detective get to work.” you mumble. jihyo turns as you begin to stand up and furrows her brows. she looks to around quickly and grabs your wrist, making you turn and hum in confusion.

“wait,” she starts, trying to keep you close to her for just a while more, “i just printed something, you should come with me before you go.” you smile at her suggestion and set your coffee down on her desk, then nod.

the walk to the printing room is quite silent, nothing is said or heard other than the click of jihyo’s boots reverberating. when you get to the small room, a man walks out and smiles at jihyo before holding the door for the two of you. the detective smiles back before going in, with you trailing behind.

jihyo goes to the screen of the printer and taps at a few buttons, then sighs, “out of paper, come with me to get some.”

“yes ma’am.”

the paper and supplies room are two rooms down from the printing area, and so the two of you walk down the hall then into the room.

jihyo opens the door and you enter first—what catches you completely off guard is the way your senses are quickly overwhelmed.

without warning, your back is pushed against the closed door and you’re immobilized by jihyo’s body pressing against you. before you can comprehend what’s happening, her warm, soft lips press against yours with a slight aggression and it makes you groan immediately.

your hands find their way to her waist, the other on her upper rib to push her closer into you—craving the warmth and feeling it gives you.

something about making out in a dimmed, small room feels right to the two of you; you’ve made out twice so far and both times have been in relatively similar spaces. this won’t be the last time you make out in a small space.

jihyo pulls away and your brain is hazy, you immediately move yourself closer to capture her lips again.

“fuck,” you sigh in between kisses, “what’s with the sudden—” you get cut off with another harsh kiss, making you groan louder into her mouth. jihyo’s tongue finds its way into your mouth and your hands find their way to her skin, and it makes her shiver from the contact.

every nerve in jihyo’s body wakes as soon as your lips come into contact with her neck, and she stifles a groan when you start to nip at it.

“no marks, not now.” she says dissapointingly.

“later?”

“maybe.” she says, and immediately, a sharp breath leaves her lips when you add a bit of pressure on her waist, squeezing it gently.

a sudden shift in the atmosphere tingles your senses, making your lips detach and actions halt. you shiver at the feeling, instantly pulling away from jihyo and trying to compose yourself.

“someone’s coming, act busy.” you mutter quickly before turning on the light and pretending to busy yourself by reaching for papers on the shelf.

the door opens and you almost flinch at the familiar voice that greets the two of you.

“y/n? jihyo? what are you two doing here?” the chief asks. both you and jihyo stiffen at the sound of who had almost walked in on you. jihyo clears her throat abruptly.

“ah, l/n. i was printing something out and y/n decided to help me out.”

the chief chuckles, “y/n, when do you have to clock in?”

“thirty minutes, figured i’d waste a bit of time with park.” you shrug, “i always make it on time.”

the chief laughs and jihyo tenses her jaw slightly as she smiles at him, fixing her hair and jacket she has on. “well,” the chief starts, “grab me some sticky notes while you’re over there, i’ll let you two converse.” he adds. you nod and grab a stack of pink sticky notes—his favorite color—and toss them at him.

“there you go old man.” you tease.

“watch it,” he says playfully, “and are you sick? your cheeks are so pink.”

again, you and jihyo tense up—you clear your throat before responding, “there’s dust here, i sneezed and rubbed my face too hard.” you lie, almost stumbling over your words when you glance at jihyo.

the chief nods and sighs, “well, don’t get my detective sick.” and with that he exits the room, shutting the door harshly (he’s oblivious to his strength at times), which lets you and jihyo sigh out in relief.

“we need to get a room.” you groan,

“yeah.” jihyo laughs, “are you free tonight?” she asks, and it makes you look at her in surprise, cheeks warming up once again.

“only if you are—and if no one tries to rob a bank.”

jihyo laughs and responds, “i am, and i might just have a room.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” jihyo says, smirking. “if it means anything, my window will be unlocked if someone wants to swing by.”

“hmmm, i’ll keep that in mind.”

jihyo’s jaw tenses and she looks at you in a way that fills your nerves with temptation. “good. now let’s print these out, i need to hand them to the forensics.”

jihyo hums along to a tune playing from her phone as she wipes down the counter next to the stove—it’s a slow melody, something fitting for the dimmed room and quiet night.

she hasn’t seen you in a few hours—though it seems like decades—so she’s cleaning up and wandering around to pass the time.

when she finishes cleaning her countertops she walks over to the sink to wash her hands, still humming along to the melody that fills the room with a soft ambiance. jihyo turns off the sink and the unexpected feeling of two large hands on her waist makes her shriek and turn around quickly.

she calms down when she’s met with your grin, but her irritation quickly replaces the relief and she punches your rib lightly; you wince at the feeling dramatically, clutching your side and pouting.

“hey! what was that for?” you groan, and it makes detective park smile.

jihyo crosses her arms and leans against the counter. “you’re going to kill me one day y/n.”

“aw, am i making your heart beat that fast?”

she punches your shoulder again and says, “oh shut up.” you grin at her cheekily.

jihyo takes a moment to examine you and somehow you’re cuter everytime she sees you. you’re wearing some comfy looking navy sweatshirt paired with black sweatpants, how adorable.

the mood in the air shifts when you run your eyes up and down jihyo, and she seems to have gained some of her own powers from the way she reads your mind. you lick your lips swiftly and smirk—it’s not a big one, but the slight curve of one side of your lips is noticeable.

“i told my uncle i’d be staying with a friend for the night,” you explain, and the tempting look in your eyes is replaced by curiosity with a hint of wonder. “i brought some drinks, got a sweet tooth?”

“i can’t pass down drinks from you.”

“you like strawberry soda?” you ask—jihyo hums. “good. i um— thought… maybe we could watch a movie—or just talk? i don’t know honestly, i’ve just been wanting to see you.” you admit, “i realized we haven’t really had time to you know, go on a date and just hang out without any of it being work or crime related… i wanted to be with you.”

jihyo laughs and she feels her heart thud against her chest. “you’re cute.”

“thanks, but you’re cuter,” you reply, which makes jihyo blush and she tries to hide it by walking over to her living room area. you follow behind and she sits down on her couch, patting down a space for you.

“didn’t know spiderwoman was so romantic.”

“hey hey… spiderwoman is a lot of things.” you huff.

you and detective park—no, just jihyo, sweet, genuine, and crazily pretty jihyo—talk for an hour. it starts off with you explaining that you earned the chiefs trust, then it goes on to complaining about said chief, nothing too new though laughs are shared. jihyo complains about her job and the paperwork that’s been piling on her desk and you complain about your side hustle; jihyo is attentive, listening to you ramble about your spiderwoman story of the recent (and very pretentious) group of high school boys who tried to rob a gas station.

talking with jihyo feels easy, it’s not like you have to force yourself or exaggerate anything; conversing with jihyo feels right.

the whole hour of you two simply sharing sodas and drinks leads to scooting closer, shoulders touching and heads leaned back against the top of the touch.

when silence floods for a bit after you share another anecdote, jihyo takes this time to blatantly admire your face—keeping her look on your lips for a couple seconds longer than the other features.

it’s you who closes the distance this time, no words need to be exchanged when you finally do what the both of you have wanted to do: simply lock lips.

“fuck i missed this,”

jihyo smiles when she pulls away. “it’s been a couple hours, y/n.”

“one minute is already too long.” you mumble before kissing her again.

this time your kiss is slow and soft, not the same crashing of hungry lips against each other, it’s soft, sweet, and you two take your time since there’s no risk of being caught. no rush at all.

in contrast to your previous (rushed, aggressive, and heated) kisses, you both take your time to really appreciate each other’s intimacy.

the new comfort and absent feeling of cautiousness lets you savor the feeling of jihyo’s lips on yours: warm, soothing, and everything you didn’t know you needed. you taste the faint hint of strawberry off her while she cups your face, sliding her fingers to the back of your neck and rubbing her thumb against your skin.

a few minutes (you guess it’s been a few minutes, cant be that long, no? it’s been thirty minutes) pass and the two of you have your hands roaming around, the kisses get needier by the second.

hunger hurriedly takes over and you’re practically eating other’s mouths in no time. despite the change in pace and intimacy, you’re perfectly fine with it; if anything, it’s perfect how it escalated from a simple sweet kiss to whatever is making your cunt throb.

you blindly shift yourselves and jihyo backs up to lay down comfortably on the cushions of the couch. one thing you that made your breath uneasy was the way jihyo tangled her fingers in your hair, especially the way she tugged at it occasionally. her hand rested on your neck at first, then she moved it down to your waist and slid her nimble fingers under your sweatshirt, making contact with your skin. you whimpered unintentionally at the sudden contact, which was not only amusing—but also incredibly alluring to jihyo.

“you’ve been waiting for this haven’t you?” she mumbles, pushing a strand of your hair out of your face. “i think it’s cute how you’re on top of me, but you seem much more shaken up.”

you try to respond to jihyo, but a lump forms in your throat when she pulls back a little more and looks at you like you’re the cutest thing in the world. jihyo slides her hands further up near the middle of your ribs, making your breath hitch.

“didn’t know you’d be this easy to rile up spiderwoman.”

before you can try to respond, she closes the gap you groan into her mouth. with a swift press of her fingers against your skin, you part your lips for her to explore your mouth, then push yourself closer to her. her touch sends a shiver down your spine and the way her tongue takes over in your mouth drives you fucking crazy.

she makes her way down to your neck with soft kisses serving as a trail, then nips at your skin softly, eliciting a soft, breathy “fuck” from you.

jihyo pulls away and you whine. she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and looks into your eyes before mumbling, “you’re cute.”

you smile and your lips meet again, you pull away to murmur against her lips softly, “bedroom?” and jihyo hums in agreement.

the two of you get up from the couch, but your lips are almost unable to part from one another for more than five seconds. you bump into the walls clumsily, which makes you two laugh even as you groan into each other’s mouths—it’s all so heartwarming and cute—and soon you manage to make it to jihyo’s room.

now it’s jihyo’s turn to press you against the door again. you curse lowly as she marks up your neck again and try to feel for the light switch against the wall; you manage to light up the room despite your eyes closing from the overwhelming feeling of jihyo’s skilled lips.

she pulls away for a second and asks, “are you sure you want to-“

“fuck yes, please.” you answer immediately, then cut her off with a hungry kiss that leaves her stumbling back. you kiss her needily and fumble with the edge of her shirt before slipping it off, and when you pull away to gaze at her body you let out a breath of amazement.

jihyo laughs. “you kept teasing me about how i could undress you, but look who’s so eager to have me naked.” she asks, catching you staring at her in awe. you part your lips at the sight of her tremendously toned core and she snickers. “you like what you see?”

“love what i see,” you sigh, “shit, you’re beautiful.”

“let me help you out, i wanna see what’s under there again.”

with a swift movement, she slips off your sweatshirt and you’re both standing close to each other topless.

you were confident enough with your words and jihyo seeing your skin when you had that mask on, but now that it’s just you; you feel a little shy now that you’re a bit revealed in front of jihyo—despite still having a bra on—and you avoid eye contact.

her eyes soften. “you’re so pretty.” she sighs, then kisses you swiftly and sweetly.

the detective is a natural leader, and it’s showing now. she guides you to the bed while exploring the curves and grooves of your body, then she’s straddling you on her queen sized bed.

you pull away and jihyo looks at your dilated pupils—completely taking over your eyes.

“can i— can i take your bra off?”

“of course.” jihyo responds.

your fingers work to unclasp jihyo’s bra and holy shit you’re stunned. your eyes widen and you exhale in amazement.

as embarrassing as it is to admit, you’ve fantasized at the ungodly hours of the night and also during those boring moments at work about seeing jihyo like this. you thought you’d be fine in a situation like this seeing you’ve daydreamed about it—but fuck it’s better than anything you can imagine now that it’s really happening. you pause in your place, halting any action.

“cat got your tongue?”

“i— fuck you’re so pretty jihyo.” you sigh, “can i touch you?”

“of course,” and right after her approval your hand slides up from her waist to her chest.

the way she gasps as you brush your fingers over her nipple is music to your ears, and it does not help the way your cunt throbs. something about the way she groans roughly when you pinch her bud slightly makes you groan in response, muttering a small “holy shit” in response.

you press a chaste kiss on her breast and trail down with your tongue to swirl around the peak of her breast, taking note of what kind of action makes her breath shake the most. the only thing you want to do right now is make her feel good, make her feel the same as you.

“your tits are so fucking nice,” you say, and jihyo lets out a sound that’s a mix of a laugh and a moan.

a couple minutes pass of you shamelessly indulging in jihyo’s tits (something that you could get used to—something that you need to do often) and your lips find their way back to each other. then, jihyo pulls away and she look at you with lidded eyes.

“can i—”

“please,” you interject, “please.”

“whatever you’d like,” jihyo says amusingly, “let me take care of you. i’m gonna make you feel good, okay?”

you nod eagerly and she unclasps your own bra, biting her lip at the new territory revealed. she mutters a compliment and you simply whimper at her words. needless to say, your reactions have jihyo surprised and invested.

she works at your tits for a while, leaving a couple marks in between, under, and on them. you grip at her bedsheets and arch your back at the way she swirls her tongue skillfully around your sensitive areas, you’re practically drowning in bliss and she hasn’t even touched you where you need it most yet.

her lips leave a trail of pecks on your body as she lowers down, and when she reaches your soft tummy her hands tug your pants down.

“hyo, p—please…” you groan, “please touch me.”

jihyo hums and she presses a finger against your underwear, it makes your hips twitch.

she kisses your inner thighs and leaves you breathless, your eyes shut as you press against the mattress. she pulls away and slides your underwear off, tossing it aside carelessly and biting her lip when she meets your core.

a soft peck is pressed on your clit and you let out a stifled moan. gently, she slides her fingers along your walls. she smiles at how aroused you are, feeling the slick that dampens her fingers.

“god, you’re so wet y/n.”

“shut—shut up.”

“excited aren’t you?” she teases, “i like this side of you more than spiderwoman to be honest.”

before you can respond, she latches her mouth onto your pussy and the surge of pleasure makes you groan so loud that it even takes you by surprise. you bite your lip the more she lashes at your dripping center, sucking, slicking, and savoring the sweet slick that seeps out.

your hand immediately reaches for her hair the more she indulges in your pussy, and she groans against you.

you’re not sure how long it’s been since she went down on you, but you’re feeling that knot forming in your stomach the more she tongue fucks you and the more you whine. you’re completely lost in pleasure; a few points of contact from her nose to your clit and tongue to your walls and you’re sent over the edge.

a hoarse, strangled sound between a cry and a moan is heard from you, jihyo continues to savor your sweetness. you push your head back into the mattress and jihyo trails back up to you with kisses.

“holy shit,” you say breathless, jihyo grins while you recover.

“how was it?”

“i— think you know the answer.” you sigh as you prop yourself on your elbows. “i’ve um, i’ve thought about you like this before and— this is better than anything i’ve ever imagined.”

jihyo chuckles and you cup her cheek, then kiss her fervently. she hums into the kiss and you pull away, stroking her cheek with your thumb.

seeing as you’re spiderwoman, you’re naturally quick to recover. your hand moves back to her breast and you brush your finger over her nipple, earning a sharp breath from her.

“my turn to make you feel good.”

with a swift motion, you flip jihyo over and pin her down on the bed. she gasps at the sudden change, and before she has time to process much—you’re already occupied with her boobs.

blindly, you slider her pants and panties off with a quick motion and slide your hands up and down her legs. jihyo’s moans are on the louder side, and they’re strangled too.

you’re so eager to hear her come undone, so eager to leave her a mess. with thumb her clit once, then twice, and then stick your fingers inside—which has jihyo’s nails grasping at your shoulder and her breath shaking.

the more you pump in and out, the closer she is to breaking. you savor each and every moan that reverberates against the walls in her room, making sure the target the spots that make her curse louder than ever. her hands uncontrollably grip at your tricep, then your shoulder, and soon she’s gripping your hair, which has you groaning against her chest shamelessly while you mark it up.

“y-y/n, oh— i’m close, i-i’m— keep going,"

with the overwhelming sensation of your tongue swirling around her nipple and the way your thumb presses against her clit—she’s breathing heavily, shaking, and soon enough she’s trembling after a loud yelp. she mutters a string of curses and does what you had done before, sinking into the mattress and once you pull away from her chest to gaze at her; she pulls you in for a messy, sensual kiss.

the two of you stay like that for a while, kissing tiredly and sloppily before you fall over beside her on the bed.

“god, y/n…”

“did you like it?” you ask. the smug smirk on your lips makes jihyo sigh amusingly and she shakes her head playfully.

“of course i did.”

“we should…” you begin, “do this more often—if you’re fine with that.”

jihyo laughs and you lay your head on her chest.

“i’m more than fine with it, spiderwoman.”

when jihyo wakes up, she feels an extra warmth on the left side of her body.

she looks down and looks at the face squished in her chest which makes her smile immediately. you’re breathing gently and one arm is draped across her body, loosely resting above her waist.

“like my boobs that much?” she chuckles softly, tracing her finger along your soft skin. you grumble into her and sigh, waking up to the low sound of her voice.

you blink three times—though the first two times were slow and lazy—then shift closer into her. your hand presses her against you more, and you tangle your leg with hers before mumbling, “morning.”

she laughs at the lower tone of your morning voice and kisses your forehead. “good morning y/n.”

after rubbing your face against her shoulder, you push yourself up and prop yourself up on one elbow. jihyo laughs at your squinted, tired eyes before you tickle her with kisses on her jaw and neck.

“jihyo,” you begin—she hums in response. “do you think we rushed this?” you ask, referring to whatever relationship you two have now as you slide your along the skin over her ribs.

“hm, i don’t think so. you’ve already been saying a lot of suggestive things prior to this.”

“you liked it though.”

“maybe.” jihyo says, rolling her eyes. you drop back down onto the bed and return to nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck, kissing it once before closing your eyes again. “y/n,” jihyo says again, this time with a tone that makes you open your eyes again.

“yes?”

“what would your uncle say if… if he knew his detective slept with his niece?”

now your eyes widen and your body tenses. “shit.” you groan. jihyo laughs and you sit up quickly. “how bad did you mark me?”

“let’s hope there’s a store nearby that has concealer in your shade y/n.”

[queer-reader-07]

you know what i think really gets me as a good omens fan who also grew up catholic? the very human approach it takes to morality.

i can’t speak for every denomination of christianity, but i can speak to catholicism. i grew up in the church, i went to catholic school, i was confirmed for fuck’s sake. i know the catholic church. the ways in which it eats away at your self esteem. the ways in which it makes you feel like you are a terrible person because you’ve sinned in one way or another. the way you’re taught the concept of original sin as though it isn’t deeply unsettling to believe that all humans are born corrupt. you’re taught that you were born tainted by satan, you as a baby you as a child you who doesn’t even know your place in this world yet. you are sinful because you are human.

there is no room for shades of grey in catholicism. you have either sinned or you haven’t. you are either good or you are bad. you are either going to heaven or you are cursed to damnation. (yeah yeah purgatory and all that but if i’m being honest the diocese i was a part of never really talked about it)

we all know the church is corrupt. every catholic knows that, but whether or not we ever admitted it to ourselves and accepted it as truth is another story. you cannot deny the staggering statistics regarding catholic priests assaulting and molesting children. you cannot deny the financial corruption that has been present in the institution for centuries. but you can ignore it. you can ignore it and pretend like the church is perfect and good because if you allow yourself to admit it’s issues, you admit that maybe your entire world view is flawed. that maybe the idea of morality as being black and white is wrong.

that's what i grew up with. with these contradictory beliefs. these adults in power telling me i was inherently sinful because i was human while also being told that God loves me. that God will save me from myself. so i grew up thinking someone else could fix me. because if i was inherently bad i couldn't fix myself.

but of course, the truth is, i don't need fixing. i'm not broken or bad. i'm human.

when aziraphale described adam as "human incarnate" i got EXTREMELY emotional. because to be human incarnate is to be not good or bad. it's to just be. be whoever it is you are. make the best choices you can. will they all be perfect? of course not. but will you be trying your damndest? yes.

good omens is a breath of fresh air for me and my religious trauma because the thesis of the story is that black and white thinking is unproductive at best and actively harmful at worst. you cannot live a fulfilling life while also believing there is only Bad and Good, and that Bad and Good are inherent.

good omens is a comfort because it reminds me in more ways than one that i'm worthy of love. i'm worthy of life. i don't have to be perfect, far from it. i'm allowed to be messy and make mistakes, but none of that means i don't deserve to be here. none of that means i'm a Bad Person. i'm just, A Person.

i'm trying. i've always tried. tried to love the best i can, tried to be the best person i can be, tried to live my life to the fullest, tried to cultivate joy for myself.

my brain is a mess. and 15 years, give or take, of being fully immersed in the catholic church (including 7 years of catholic school) definitely didn't help. i am still riddled with catholic guilt and toxic mental frameworks because of the time i spent in the church.

but good omens helps me work through it just that little bit more. it's there in its corner of my heart saying "hey. you're human. you're not Bad or Good, you're You. and you're trying."

it's... comforting. yeah, i think that's the right word.

[howlingday]

Arcs Don't Get Cancer

A sad Shark!Faunus Jaune story.

Weiss: Ruby Rose, how many times do I have to tell you to stop using my hairbrush?!

Ruby: But Weiss, it's cushy to hold onto~!

Weiss: And I told you over and over again to buy your own!

Ruby: But Weiss~!

Blake: (Hears knocking, Answers) Hello, Ren.

Yang: If you want, you can use my hairbrush.

Ren: Good evening, Blake. Is your leader with you?

Ruby: That's Zwei's dog brush!

Yang: Never said it was for my hair~.

Blake: ...Yes, she is. Are you looking for her?

Ren: No, but... Have any of you seen Jaune?

Blake: Not for a while. (Turns) Has anyone seen Jaune?

Weiss: I haven't.

Yang: Nope!

Ruby: We've been pretty busy with missions this month. Shouldn't he be with his team?

Ren: He should, but we haven't seen him and we're worried.

Blake: Where did you last see him?

Ren: He was walking out of our dorm.

Ren: Just after you left for your mission this month.

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The following may be disturbing for some readers. Literary discretion is advised. I'll allow you time to prepare before clicking "Keep Reading". Once you are ready, you may continue...

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Jaune awoke to a burning, itching feeling in his arm. He groaned, desperately trying to fall back to sleep, but the darkness would take him no longer. Now, there was only the light and the horrors it revealed around him.

"Good morning, Mr. Shark." A man said with a smile, but there was no joy to be shared in it. No, the grin on his face was as empty of emotion as his lab coat was of color. "How is your recovery going?"

Jaune could only whimper in response. That was all the strength he had to do anymore.

"You'll be happy to know that your pain is not in vain." The man gave a chuckle, clearly delighting in his own wit. "Our company's product, of which your contribution plays no small part in, has brought comfort to patients in hospitals and clinics all over Atlas. At this rate, we'll be able to expand and help people in other kingdoms!"

A chill ran up his spine as his mind ached. How could his bones do the things they say? There were no medicinal properties to the fingers, toes, and rib he's had surgically removed. Though his body was numbed to the furthest extent it could be, he could still vividly remember the cracking, the snapping, the ripping done to his body as more and more of him was taken under the knife.

"Doctor?" A woman in lab coat called from the end of the room. Jaune looked to her direction and saw the bloody bandages that were used to patch his wound. "Here are the X-rays you requested." The woman approached with a clipboard, extending it to the man. She had a giddy look on her face. "It seems our hypothesis was correct! His bones replaced themselves~!"

There was a beeping sound that increased frequency that Jaune only took notice now. It was his heart that was beating so fast. Even as his skull throbbed with the pain his brain recalled, he understood the coming fear of his body being harvested over and over again. All to make lien off his suffering.

"Doctor," The man chided, "please remember your bedside manner when in the same room as a patient."

The woman pursed her lips with a blush while the man opened the folder, smiling at the sheet in front of him. He brought it over to a hanging board, placing it snugly against the blank surface. Flicking on the light, Jaune saw the horrible truth in the woman's words.

He felt his broken hand burn as he looked on to the small, regrowing bone in his finger. The pain resonated in his toes, where too he had been harvested. His heart beat like a drum as his chest blazed like an inferno at his broken rib being replaced.

"Doctor," the woman whispered, thinking Jaune wouldn't be able to hear her, "what would have happened if they didn't grow back?"

The man hummed for a moment, looking back to Jaune, who shut his eyes and tried to fall back asleep, hoping this too was just a horrible dream. He didn't even try to keep his voice low. "Then we clean up shop. All our research purged, and all medical equipment disposed of."

"And the patient?"

"Silence." The woman covered her mouth. The man pulled the X-rays free and slid them back into the folder. "Take these to the director. He'll want to see the results for himself." The woman hurriedly exited from the room. The man walked up to Jaune, dragging a finger along his thigh. "Hm... The femoral will be tricky, but the reward will be so worth it." He then left without saying another word.

Jaune felt hot tears pour from his eyes, his spine completely iced over with fear. He wanted to scream at the injustice of his body being ripped apart for a suspected cure, but he feared whatever intentional punishment that would be brought down on him. As he grit his teeth, he had one thought...

'Save me... Ruby...'

Fun Fact! In 1992, "Sharks Don't Get Cancer," a book written by I. William Lane and Linda Cormac was published with the claim that shark cartilage, due to the rarity of sharks developing cancer, could hold the cure for cancer. However, sharks do get cancer, and this fact has been known for almost 150 years, yet companies still harvest shark body parts from living sharks to this day. As a result, Sharks Don't Get Cancer has been more devastating to sharks as a species than JAWS, which inspired newfound fear of sharks. Worse yet, the method of harvesting include cutting off shark body parts before tossing the still alive shark back into the ocean to drown.

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Touch starved Vash getting kind touches for the soul. The soul is mine. I crave to see him treated nicely and panicking a little.

Vash can honestly say he doesn't remember the last time someone touched him with kindness just for kindness sake. Usually if it's a kind touch, it's because of injuries, or misguided thankfulness, or kids wanting to play, or someone trying to take advantage of him in some way, or even him just playing into his womanizer bit. But violence is far more likely, if he is touched at all.

Which is why he nearly jumps out of his skin the each time Wolfwood gently rubbed a soothing hand on his shoulder after an emotionally taxing battle. And flinched when Milly affectionately hugs him suddenly. And tenses as if she tazed him when Meryl just leans on him in quiet moments. He always profusely apologizes for his reactions each time, embarrassed by how much of an overreaction each one feels like. He doesn't want them to stop being so nice, but his anxiety spikes and his skin burns everything single time.

This leads to his current predicament. His companions staging an "intervention".

"Needle-noggin, you know you don't have to let us touch you, right?" Wolfwood has a deep worried frown on his face.

"Wha-?" Vash's question is cut off before it can form.

"Vash. You don't have to let us touch you if it makes you uncomfortable." Meryl's eyes are full of a protective rage and.. guilt? "You tense and flinch any time we touch you outside of combat."

"We don't want to push your boundaries, Mr. Vash." Milly adds with a very serious face, "Because we care about you and want to do right by you."

"I-" Vash swallows nervously, "I don't hate your touching. I just..."

"You don't have to lie, Spikey." Wolfwood glares at Vash.

"I'm not!" Vash tries again, he can feel a blush building on his face and tears gathering in his eyes. "I just- I just-"

All three look like it's physically painful for them not to reach out, and that just makes Vash feel worse. He feels hot and cold. Like he's drowning and can't find up.

"I'M SORRY!" He finally gets out, much louder than he meant. Tears finally escaping his eyes. "I don't know how to deal with gentle touch! It-! My brain panics and my skin burns! It feels like too much and not enough! And I don't want you to stop, but- but- hic- I'm sorry I'm broken. Hic- I'm so so sorry.."

No one moves for a second, the only sounds Vash's quiet sobs, before Wolfwood breaks the silence with a sigh.

"Should have seen that coming.." Wolfwood says more to himself than anyone else, before turning sad, concerned eyes on Vash. "You have touch starvation, Blondie. It's so obvious now."

"Touch starvation?" Meryl asks. Vash and Milly nod, to express that they too want an explanation. Wolfwood just sighs again.

"It's something that happened if you don't get enough touch, or at least not friendly touch for a while. Quite a few kids at the orphanage get it because of the different bad situations we rescue them from. The ones who experienced abuse tend to have the most violent reactions and/or have panic attacks to being reintroduced to kind touch." Wolfwood explains and the dots connect.

"Oh-oh.." Vash rubs some of his tears away. They're replaced instantly, but they're slowing down. "How.. How do I fix it?"

"Technically, you can't." Wolfwood informs him before grinning. "But we can! I'm not really sure the science behind it, but you only got two options. Some kids just refused to let people help and they stay touch starved and can even become touch repulsed."

"Ooooh! Like Amelia!" Vash forgetting his own situation for a second. "She panicked any time anyone touched her skin!"

"Is that so?" Wolfwood blinks. "I never noticed."

"Yeah, well, I'm good at being annoying." Vash beams.

"Ain't that the truth.." Meryl sighs.

"What's the second option, Mr. Wolfwood?" Milly stares intensely at the man.

"Oh, uh, we basically continue doing what we were already doing. Just keep touching til his body and brain stop screaming to run away." Wolfwood shrugs, "Though, we should go at his pace. Sometimes going too fast or slow is counterproductive. Too fast and he gets overwhelmed and gets lost in the panic. Too slow and we're undoing nothing... So Vash? What'll the pace be?"

"Uh!" Vash flounders, "I- I don't know!"

"How about-" Milly moves closer to Vash and grabs his real hand, gently holding it to her. "- we simply do what we have been? It's easy to not take it personally when we know what's happening!"

Wolfwood gently lays a hand on Vash's shoulder. "Sorry I didn't notice."

"I- Just-" Vash tries to control the trembling that's already starting. "How were you supposed to know?"

"I mean, the signs were definitely there." Wolfwood sighs, rubbing his thumb in little circles by his neck. "Is this too much?"

Vash's eyes tear up and starts trembling harder, "Please don't stop. I'm sorry."

"Vash.." Meryl sighs so deeply it sounds like it's from her soul. "I'm going to hug you, you idiot, and you ARE going to tell me to stop when you can't handle it."

"I-" Vash flusters.

"You're telling me. That's final." Meryl's scowl melts a little when Vash nods frantically. "Good."

He might have as well stepped on a live wire the way he tenses when Meryl's arms wrap around his middle, even making a pathetic little whimper, but his hands latch onto Milly and Wolfwood before they can fully pull away.

"Please...hic" Vash tries to stop his sobs and can't quite get his words out. The sad smiles aimed at him tell him they understood though.

"Geeze, you big crybaby." Is all Wolfwood says before circling half behind Vash and hugging him. Milly hugs him so softly around his chest as if he was made of cracked. He feels like it isn't far from the truth when he loses control of his sobs and clings desperately with violent trembling.

"I'm sorry-hic- I'm sorry- sob- I-"

"Just shut the hell up, Blondie, we've got you." And suddenly a thick knot of tension loosens, the guilt of wanting, but not feeling deserving of this kindness settling into a low buzz instead of a roaring scream. The others notice his muscles slowly relaxing, even if his tears don't stop.

"There you go, Mr. Vash."

"You're safe." And Vash, he believes that.

One safe hug doesn't undo 150 years of trauma, but it's a start. Little by little, hug by hug, his flinches become smaller and tears of overwhelm become less frequent. Milly, Meryl, and Wolfwood become the safe place Vash hasn't had since Rem.

[eddiestightywhities]

if a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it, does it make a sound? | T | 2,860

[check the link above for tags]

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SUMMARY:

“So, you two were…”

“We were on a date. Yes.” Buck is smiling, and Eddie wants to hug him for how damn happy he looks about the whole thing, just as much as he wants to grab his friend's face in both hands and irrationally scream what is happening to us? until his voice is hoarse.

Whatever an out of body experience feels like, Eddie reckons it might be something akin to this. And he knows how dramatic he's being, he does, but he can't seem to stop—even if he is at a complete loss as to why.

OR

Buck's coming out scene from Eddie's POV, where Eddie realises it's not his girlfriend that he's in love with.

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read below the cut or on ao3 HERE

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Eddie can't tell himself he's never thought about it. He has, it's just he's never—weighed any of it up, exactly. Hasn't openly considered it, or let himself examine the idea there could've been anything else. That there could still be something else. There's only how things were, the way it'd gone a certain way for him when it came to romantic relationships.

Him and a girl. Him and a wife. Him and women. That's just the way it's always been. The way things are for Eddie.

Until Buck is metaphorically punching him in the face with so many huge revelations in the space of a few stark truths that Eddie apparently couldn't, or wouldn't allow himself to look at.

He thinks of that saying; something about not being able to see the wood for all the trees. The forest surrounding Eddie's life has always been frighteningly dense, with no room at all for his branches to grow any taller or wider than his allotted space. Now Eddie is being forced to think about that fully, for the first time in sort of ever, but doesn't have time to process what the hell any of it might mean. A little ruefully, he thinks he'd prefer a literal punch to the face than having to deal with his own neurosis. At once, he's remembering Buck barrelling into him on the basketball court, which—dios, kind of makes sense to him now.

Buck and Tommy went on a date, that's what Buck just told him. When he and Marisol saw them together at the restaurant the other day, they were on a date. With each other.

His brain goes into overdrive.

“Wait, Tommy's gay?”

All of his and Tommy's previous interactions are now running through his head as a flickering montage; some janky film reel spliced together in non-linear fashion. It makes him feel really shitty, re-assessing Tommy's behaviour just because of the guy's sexuality, but it's just—again, certain things are making sense now Eddie's brain has been supplied with this new information. Those bits and pieces of broken thoughts and half-notions he hadn't been able to make fit anywhere in his mind's eye, they're fusing together. Becoming viable. Stuff he'd willed himself not to ponder over now slotting into place.

“Uh, that never came up while you guys were hanging out?” Buck asks.

He tells Buck no, because it very much hadn't, and that it wouldn't have mattered to him anyway. Which of course it wouldn't, obviously, he just feels like his brain—or no, his body, maybe, had been trying to tell him something, tell him this, only Eddie hadn't listened.

Why hadn't he listened?

Then it hits him—kind of like a large shot of tequila hitting your stomach when you haven't put any food inside it for a while—that he is not at all surprised by the fact Buck went on a date with a man. Secondary is the thought that he doesn't know why he isn't taken aback by this lack of surprise.

“Sure. I—I don't think he volunteers it, but, uh, he doesn't hide it.”

He doesn't hide it.

Why does Eddie's chest feel tight?

Like an idiot, he attempts to confirm what Buck has already told him.

“So, you two were…”

“We were on a date. Yes.” Buck is smiling, and Eddie wants to hug him for how damn happy he looks about the whole thing, just as much as he wants to grab his friend's face in both hands and irrationally scream what is happening to us? until his voice is hoarse.

Whatever an out of body experience feels like, Eddie reckons it might be something akin to this. And he knows how dramatic he's being, he does, but he can't seem to stop—even if he is at a complete loss as to why.

“Okay.”

Eddie's nodding, only he doesn't really know what he's nodding at.

Buck asks, “Is that weird?”

At once, he insists, “No. Absolutely not,” even though he feels it is, for some reason, weird. Not because being queer is weird, because no, fuck no, of fucking course it isn't. Maybe it's just because of…

Because?

Why, exactly, Eddie has no clue.

He feels so, so lost.

The forest is a deep dark place, something hiding behind his ribcage mumbles before scuttling off to bury itself some place even further inside of his chest.

Is it Tommy specifically, he wonders, because he's Eddie's new sparring pal, and maybe now he won't be? He digs for a reason as to why that would bother him, but comes up empty handed.

And Tommy, he seems like a good guy.

Which is why Eddie is fairly perturbed when he pictures Tommy's face and it makes him wish he had the power of materialisation, to get the LAFD air support pilot to appear, here and now in Buck's kitchen, so he can sock the fucker in his stupid chiseled jaw with his best right hook, right in front of Buck.

Jesus, what the hell is wrong with him?

“I mean, I like him too.” He says, because he does. At least he did up until a minute ago. He weighs up his words as he's about to speak them, deciding to change his tone a little and aim for a more banter-ish vibe. “I mean, just not the same way you do, evidently.”

Buck wants to kiss Tommy. Maybe wants to fuck Tommy.

Eddie's mouth goes dry.

He simultaneously searches his mind and Buck's face, promising, “This doesn't change a thing between us. Okay?” And Eddie Diaz is a lying liar who lies, because for some reason he can't yet fathom, this changes everything.

Buck has this look, then. Almost something like—disappointment? 

Eddie doesn't know what that could mean. 

“Good. That's, uh, a relief,” Buck says, and he's nodding, just like Eddie was a moment ago. Eddie can't figure out the reason for that, either, nor why Buck doesn't seem to actually look relieved. 

Then he's going on to tell Eddie about how Tommy dumped him.

“Wow,” Eddie says, because what the fuck? Why would anybody let Evan Buckley slip though their fingers? It's honestly always been a mystery to him, how the women Buck has dated in the past have all dropped him at the first hurdle. Buck is kind of the perfect catch. Realising he doesn't quite know how to explain that to Buck, or himself, and knowing he has to come up with something, he finds himself making a joke of it with, “That's fast, even for you.”

Buck doesn't react to that at all, just says it doesn't matter anyway, seeing as he and Tommy weren't actually together, telling Eddie Tommy doesn't think Buck is ready.

Momentarily, Buck looks sort of broken. Shattered into a million pieces that Eddie wants to painstakingly pick up, one by one, so he can lovingly glue his friend back together and make him whole again. Maybe with gold paint, just like kintsugi. They'd seen and learned all about that at a Japanese exhibition over at the LACMA museum with Christopher a couple of years back, and Buck's wondrous awe at the practice—the way the blue of his eyes had reflected the jagged gold lines in the pottery, making them look like tiny planets in his head—had kind of really stuck with Eddie.

He has another fiercely protective desire to kick Kinard's perfectly muscled ass. The guy doesn't even know Buck. Not like Eddie does.

Another millisecond passes, and Eddie clocks that he's actually the asshole here, for making this all about him, even if he's not voicing any of his self-centred bullshit.

All at once, he desperately needs to know what Buck thinks about Tommy's assessment.

““Hmm,” he hedges. “What do you think?”

Buck is smiling again. Nothing like the sun, though, like the beaming smile Eddie knows he can pull from Buck's chest, the one that always makes Eddie think of that time he saw dawn breaking over Abalone Cove, just after he'd moved to L.A.

He shifts his weight a little on his stool.

Is that a weird thing to think?

Eddie's really fucking glad he has a beer in his hand, although he doesn't take a sip. He just grips the bottle a little tighter.

He's not ready to hear it when Buck answers, “I kinda can't stop thinking about him.”

He can't work out why his friend saying those words crushes him the way it does. Why he suddenly feels like punching more than just Kinard. Why he wants to burn the fucking world.

Is it maybe a similar thing to whatever Buck was feeling, after Eddie first started hanging out with Tommy?

Jealousy.

Eddie's a shitty friend sometimes, and has to constantly remind himself to do better. He sucks a breath in through his teeth, trying his damndest not to make it the huge gulp of air his lungs are, for some reason, craving.

“Well, you know what I think?” Eddie forces himself to look up at Buck to say something he really doesn't want to, because he knows it's the right thing to do. “You should call him.”

“Really?” Buck's still smiling, but his eyes are somehow telling Eddie he doesn't believe a single word Eddie is saying.

“Heck yeah. He doesn't know you're an idiot.” You're my idiot. “Once he gets to know you,”—I don't fucking want him to get to know you—“and know that you're an idiot, he'll love you, like we all do.” Like I do.

Santa mierda.

Buck smiles again and asks, a little sheepishly, “What if he says no?”

“Then he's an idiot,” Eddie answers with complete conviction, fiercely, meaning every word of it as much as he meant it when he told Buck you act like you are expendable, but you’re wrong; when he told Buck I forgive you; when he told Buck there's nobody in this world I trust with my son more than you. Eddie fixes him with a look he hopes conveys all of this, even though he knows it probably falls short. Then he adds—again, because he knows he should—“But don't walk away from something before you even know what it is,” and feels sick to his stomach as soon as the words have left his mouth.

Buck gives him a wry, knowing sort of smirk, points at Eddie and says, “That sounds like some good advice.”

It takes absolutely everything Eddie has to turn his train of thought around and force himself back into performance mode, feeling the phantom press of the towering trees that surround him and gasping with a suffocation that comes from being completely trapped in the thick of the forest he doesn't think he'll ever make his way out of.

He rolls his eyes, fake-sighs, and says, “Yeah,” adding a scoff for good measure. He tries hating on the smile Buck gifts him, the one which, honestly, looks a little forced, as Eddie lies some more and says, “I gotta talk to Marisol,” because he knows he doesn't have to; he's choosing to. He then pushes himself up and off Buck's kitchen stool even though it's the very last thing he wants to do.

Walking over to Buck's door with his heart inexplicably breaking, he hears Buck do this sort of laugh-sigh combination that Eddie's heard before. It's something Eddie does himself, a strange mix of self-consolation and for show, all rolled up into nervous release.

Eddie stops himself in his tracks, looks down at his phone, at Marisol's dozen-ish texts from the last twelve-or-so hours, and admonishes himself yet again for turning this huge moment of Buck's into something about himself. Only he can't seem to help but perpetuate the issue, because this somehow also feels very much about them; him and Buck.

Eddie is a selfish man, something his mother is still on a mission to make him acutely aware of, and he can't bear to leave without taking the thing he's wanted, he now recognises, since he walked into Buck's apartment around a half-hour back. After he'd gotten into his truck to escape the girlfriend he doesn't really want to be with and drove directly to the safest place he knows of on earth.

He feels only marginally better at being sure the closeness he craves is something Buck also wants.

As Eddie turns around, Buck's eyes shoot up at him with something threaded through his irises that looks a little like hope. Then it blooms over every brilliant feature of his face, and Eddie is overcome by two thoughts: The Abalone Cove-like knowledge that he thinks Buck is sort of beautiful, and a pressing desire to elicit this same look on Buck's face every single day for the rest of however many Eddie has left on this planet.

Fuck, he thinks retrospectively, walking towards the thing he now realises he wants more than anything he's ever wanted.

Buck.

Sliding his phone inside the back pocket of his jeans because he wants both hands for this, Eddie says, “C’mere,” beckoning his best friend over to him while thinking of Neodymium magnets Buck told him and Chris about a while back when Chris was working on that science project about gravity and other natural forces.

Buck is laughing as Eddie reiterates, saying, “Come here,” and Eddie takes and takes and takes, claiming another gift from Buck, one of much needed joviality, as he wills himself to double-down on the best buddy of it all because, yet again, he knows it's the right thing to do.

He reaches for Buck like a dying plant strains its leaves towards the sun, pulling Buck into him just as Buck reaches right back.

Eddie doesn't want to hug Buck. He wants to hold him. He knows he can't do that though, so reluctantly gives Buck's back a manly pat instead as he angles his head away from his friend in a move that feels entirely fucking wrong in each and every fibre of his being.

Cristo, Eddie is fucked.

What has happened here tonight?

Despite feeling like he's losing his mind, Eddie can't let go of Buck just yet. Forcing his body back, his hand moves of its own volition and finds its way home to the curve of Buck's shoulder, thumb being sucked into the dip beneath Buck's collar bone, and Eddie thinks of Neodymium magnets again.

He grins at Buck, and Buck smiles back with that same look of hope in his blue, blue eyes again, albeit a bit more distant now. And Eddie aches to give that hope to him, and more, because it somehow feels like it'd be the most natural thing in the world to do. Except he can't give Buck anything more than this. Not when Tommy presumably kissed Buck and Buck must've kissed Tommy back. Not when Eddie doesn't know what the fuck he's doing.

Despite what his mother tells him, some of which he knows to be true, Eddie isn't that selfish.

He pulls back to a safer distance, regardless of how it feels like the exact opposite, the reason he can't drag his hand away from Buck's person entirely, and swallows everything back down.

He points at Buck and says, “Call Tommy,” in a voice that sounds worryingly insincere to his ears.

After that, there is no way on earth, nor in heaven or hell, that he can look at Buck for longer than the single second he dares to allow himself, so he hightails it out of there before anything else can transpire in his chest, like the coward that he is.

He wonders for the entirety of the drive home about the sigh he heard leave Buck's lips as Eddie opened the loft door and left with the wish of a kiss on his own.

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Later on, with Marisol, after mutually agreeing to dial their relationship back to the start, he fucks her in his bed.

Eddie has another one of those imaginary out of body experiences as her thin, cold fingers roam his body and he tries not to think about circuit boards from high school science classes.

Set to zero. Forced-response.

Far from enjoyable, it doesn't feel a bit like the first couple of times they had sex, and he has to envisage boxes as he breathes his way through every excruciating part of it, his face a plastic mask of a smile wherever appropriate, making all the right sounds and all the right moves at what are hopefully all the right times and places.

Afterwards, with Marisol delicately snoring away and Eddie using the sound to keep time for his wrestled-down heartbeat, he looks away from the mass of dark hair piled on his chest to watch hers rise and fall; slowly, easily; the epitome of calm in her dreams.

He hopes, then, to fall asleep and dream of buying an axe so he can start chopping down trees and get himself the fuck out of the deep, dark forest he's only just noticed he's been living in his entire fucking life.

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on ao3 HERE if you'd like to come leave me some kudos and maybe even a comment ❤️

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[applescorner]

rare love (jason todd × y/n) - angst one shot !-

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summary : after your bf jayson comes back from the dead, he's not quite the same jay you feel in love with, and you don't know what to do anymore ?

warning : talk of death, mental health, not really any heavy topics or issues, just kinda sad overall :(

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he had eyes that could drown any naive sailor who thought they were brave enough to whether the furious storms of the sea. as wide and as endless as my love was for him, i was ship wrecked the moment he called me babydoll.

he rarely ever said my name, maybe when he got mad or disappointed, but he doesn't say it now regardless of his feelings, it's baby doll this, and baby doll that, but.... my name has value. it means something. I mean something

perhaps it did, too, once to the man i loved beyond every evil thing that could kill hope in this cruel city. he was my anchor, the wind in my sails.

the eyes i yearn to find love and life once again in is gone and that is far more terrifying than actually not having him. somedays he's here not present, other days....

"jay" i softly whisper tapping his shoulder. broken from his trance, impossibly fast he snatches my wrist, his blue eyes bore into my fearful gaze, searching for something

malice, deciet, ulterior motive to hurt him ?

whatever it is he doesn't find it. instead of apologizing, he kisses my inner wrist, with all of his weight and muscle ontop of me he leans back now and sighs.

I do the best I can to comfort him and just begin to run my hands through his soft raven black hair. even touching his hairs a rare treat.

ever since's he's come back everyone and everything around us, around him, he observes, analyzes, and stews over.

hot showers we used to use as an excuse for more time together is another wall for me to break through.

I used to be able to stand behind and wash his muscles, trace the freckles down his face and back , kiss him while keeping eye contact. Whisper to him how beautiful the stars on his body were. nothing gets to stand behind him, back up against the wall, he washes me firmly with no care insteading of leaving hickies or handprint like how we used to. he just leaves scratches from how harshly he scrubs at my skin.

cautiously wrapping his hair around my fingers, I hum to myself. After a moment I test the waters.

"j"

resting his nose in the crook of my neck, he sniffs the area where i put lotion, and his breath slows almost to a full stop. after my shower, i grabbed any bottle in front of me. absentmindedly, i put on his favorite. he liked things that reminded him of me. vanilla, warm sweaters, rainy days, the movie footloose.

staying over at bruce's sometimes on holiday breaks i would round him and the boys up to the theather room, put on footloose, and teach them the cherogrophy. eventually they got the hang of it. jay, bruce, tim and i had no shame, we would place two long coffee tables together, put on socks we could glide in and dance like no tomorrow.

"yeah doll"

" say my name." I nudge him playfully

under his messy hair he tips his head up, through it I can see in his eyes there's a hint of humor "B A B Y D O L L ...babydoll"

I stare at him as intensely as I can, but under his 'equally' intense one, I cave, mustering a small smile " what's my n a m e... mr. j a y s o n t o d d "

I wait with baited breathe, studying every inch of his face for a giveaway of something. annyonce, ire, anger even ?. i've been begging, pleading and pushing him in just about every way known to man for a semblance of my name.

an uneasy air passes by

squaring his shoulders, and grabbing my chin softly in his hands, he pulls me down to him ; inches away from his lips.

"y/n. y/n m/n l/n "

a thousands feelings shoot off in my brain, my blood feels hot and the ceilings feels heavy but he was all I could see all I could focus on.

the truth may not be pretty, it may not be laid out perfectly for you to easily digest but when it's presented in front of you : you have two choices you can either dig in and hope for the best, or you can discard it and order something different. I chose the former.

"do you have any idea what it's been like to chase after the person you love's affection. I don't ask for you to be perfect, I don't expect for you to be okay all the time. I just want for you to say my name. Not just for my own mental sake. For yours as well, my love. I need to know that you know that there is just more than you here present in this relationship. In your life. I exist to and if you won't remember, then I don't know how to help you nor us"

"the only thing that kept me going was the thought that if you were still alive then we both were still alive y/n. It's not an apology. So many people have given me them, I don't know where to put their empathy and compassion. It's maddening. I love you I've never wanted to suffocate you. I just figure that instead of apologizing for all my mistakes I would treat you better show you that I'm trying ".

I cup his face bringing him closer, our lips brush "I see you, I appreciate. I'm not going anywhere. Apologies are a good things to have. Like love and grace they cover lots of things"

"Even sin ? "

"Even death, love brought you back did it not".

"No," he states firmly "your once in a lifetime, rare, wonderful, crazy, grounding love brought me back.

wrapping his tree branch arms around my waist he pulls me in for an earth-shattering kiss.

Author's Note : If you liked it please consider liking & following for more (kinda in a jason todd phase right now ;*. Let me know in the comments any feedback or improvement I can work for the next peice.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

The shorter version: Hey could you talk about stone tops more? Or anything like that, people who like giving but not recieving?

The longer version: I’m sort of going through that process of self discovery, I’ve been meaning to ask about it somehow- basically I am sexually attracted to people (I think??), I get aroused, I enjoy masturbating, even talking with my partner about stuff we could do is arousing to me. I enjoy some submissive kinky stuff. Hell, my boyfriend (transmasc, both of us are) recently let me go down on him and it was like a fucking religious experience, I LOVED it, but I find it really difficult to enjoy anything being done directly to /my/ genitals. Like, I can feel the sensations, and they feel good, but I don’t build any arousal, like I can’t get in the mood? I know I’m not, but I do feel fucked up and broken. Spiritually, I want my boyfriend to rail me into next week, but physically I’m afraid there’s like. Something wrong with me, like,, I don’t work??? Idk. I’ve got major anxiety, I’ve got dysphoria, I guess I always figured it was one of those things. There’s only so many times I can feel Way Too Seen by fanfiction about Noted Asexual, Archivist Jonathan Sims before I start to wonder what exactly they’ve hit directly on the head, if that makes sense. I’m not asking you to Diagnose Me Asexual lmaoo but I was wondering about more like… asexual adjacent things? My boyfriend suggested I look into “service top” too. I… don’t feel like a top? I’m very submissive. But I’ve heard it’s not always top= dom, bottom=sub… how can I be a submissive top?

Sorry this is… so much. It’s really been weighing on me. Even if you don’t feel up to answering this I thank you profusely for the sex ed content you’ve been posting lately. Demystifying sex and promoting sexual health is so incredibly important, and even just what I’ve read from you makes a difference in the agency I feel over my sex life.

hi anon,

weeeeeee!!! this is a fun one.

so, first off, I'm just gonna throw this out there: liking the idea of something - for instance, your boyfriend railing you into next week - is not an innate sign that that's something you'd like in real life. I'll jack off to the idea of getting railed like Thomas the Tank Engine, sure, but in real life vaginal penetration has never felt like much of anything to me + I haaaaAAAAaaaate the idea of doing anything with even a teeny tiny slight chance of getting me pregnant. some stuff is fine to stay in the brain!

if you do ever decide to tentatively explore it with your bf, that's also fine and wonderful, but let's focus on what we know about your likes right now. you don't want to get fucked (awesome) but you like going down (also awesome). none of that means you are or aren't asexual, btw, there are loads of asexuals in the world who love to get railed and hate going down and also feel every possible way about every other possible array of sex acts. you're only asexual if you want to be, keep that in mind.

you're also only stone or a service top or whatever else if you want to be. words exist to be useful, not as an innate ontological truth to discover within yourself. personally I think it's waaaaay more important for people to refine their sense of likes, dislikes, communication, and boundary-setting than finding the exact right word for their particular cup of tea.

as long as we're talking about terminology, let's get into dom/sub and top/bottom. you're absolutely correct that they're not interchangeable, whatever the hooligans on various hellsites would have you believe. dom and sub are terms for power exchange play, when two people enact a power differential in which one partner is consensually given a great deal of control over the other, be it physically, psychologically, financially, or what have you. top/bottom simply refer to who is acting vs who is being acted upon during a sexual act; while some people identify intensely as either a top or a bottom, it's also a simple matter for those roles to switch on a dime depending on what kind of sex you're into. it's completely possible to have sex without designating anyone the top or bottom, and I'd argue that most people have sex without there actually being a dom or sub involved.

so can dom bottom, or a sub top? of course; people can mix and match whatever pieces of sexuality they want in their own explorations. a dom can boss their sub around like a little servant, giving them extremely detailed instructions about exactly how to rail them, and perhaps punish them (in the fun consensual way, obviously) if they fail to meet those expectations and don't get their dom off the way that was wanted. you can, and I cannot possibly emphasize this enough, do whatever you want forever.

a service top, incidentally, is generally considered a separate thing from a dom (which is not to say they can't overlap!) in that a service top isn't always dominating, but is topping because they enjoy getting their partner off in whatever way they like. the overlap of service tops and folks who are stone is notable!

in your particular case I would recommend not worrying so much about which of these terms, if any, are the correct one for you and focus way ore on exploring and playing with your partner to find a rhythm that works well for the two of you. doms, subs, tops, and bottoms all have something useful to teach people about how they like intimacy, but there's no rush to figure out which category, if any, you fit in. just focus on what's fun and feels good to you and toss the rest.

[mazzystar24]

I totally get I just finished my exam week (I had to do a math test at 8am Sat😭). Wish you luck tho!

Also do you have any good buddies fics? Destiel too?

Math test at 8am is BRUTAL

Thank you I will definitely need it😭😭

Unfortunately I only have buddie fics to offer😔:

(Warning I do like a fair amount of angst)

Right where you left me - by hyacinthusbloom ( @thebloomingheather on here) - when I say I might be as big a fan of this fic as I am of the show I MEAN IT, you do not even understand how much I love this fic or how obsessed I am with it, I have reread it so many times despite it still being in progress that I think I may genuinely qualify it as addictive, me and @estheticpotaeto legit wait for updates like a dog at the author’s door istg, like everything about this fic is flawless and written with so much love and emotion and the way the writer captures the effects of trauma is just amazing because it’s so rare to find this level of diving into ptsd and the more uncomfortable aspects of it that are more taboo or less understandable to people, like I can yap for an hour about this fic but I’ll just say READ IT

Any fic by daisies_and_briars ( @cal-daisies-and-briars on here) but one of my favourites of his is Both blade and branch and muscle memory and four can keep a secret and appetency and the two she’s writing right now (change the prophecy and steal my sunshine) -wow at that point I should’ve left it as any fic because that’s a lot of favourites😭😭

Any fic by @loserdiaz plus with them you get enough lighthearted fics to even out the angst

Ooo I’m not sure what their username on here is but lizzybizzyzz is also another writer who I just love their fics

Fractals by hobbitprincess - one of those fics that make you squeak at how much love these fictional characters have for each other

Beneath my mother tongue by archerincombat - the angst the writing the way they hit every single emotional beat? Amazing

Anything by this_is_moony_lovegood

Leave the light on (I’ll be coming home) by HMSLusitania - the presumed dead Eddie fic of your dreams, a constant reread for me it’s just 👌

Anchored by adorkable_buddie - sorry Chris you gotta be injured sometimes just for us to get our buddie dreams hope you understand and we appreciate your sacrifice 😔🫶

empty, broken, lonely, hoping by daniweb - when I tell you I love the presumed dead trope you best believe I’m telling the truth because the ANGST?? Yes please, LISTEN it’s the closest you can get to the emotional beats of killing off a character without ever killing them off because you love them and happy endings too much so TIM MINEAR TAKE NOTES I KNOW YOU SAID YOU LOVE THEM TOO MUCH TO KILL THEM, anyways back to to the point this fic again is just flawless execution by the writer like absolutely love it

every time we stop talking (the universe starts screaming) by withmeornotatall - emotional destruction and I absolutely love it, divorce era 2.0 and it HITS

Home is where it hurts- by rileyblue2001 - can you tell I hate the Buckley parents because I HATE the Buckley parents

The one with the return of the sex addiction by buddiefication (pumpkincreamcoldbrew) - I’ve reccomended so much angst so have a funny little light hearted buddie fic with the father bobby vibes we all love❤️❤️

Okay back to the angst tho 😭😭- out of ashes by Ashavahishta - AHHHHHHH THIS FIC JUST AHHHHH STOP THE WAY I WOULD DIE FOR A FOLLOW UP FIC TO THIS AHHHH I LOVE IT SM AND ITS LEGIT A ONE SHOT I CRIED SO HARD

Falling Slowly; Sing Your Melody (I’ll Sing It Loud) by Princessfbi ( @princessfbi on here who I also love sm of their fics so highly suggest just going on their page and looking through all the fics) - absolutely love it, legit gave me brain rot and got me obsessed for a GOOD while

I'm comin' back, don't let me go by wikiangela ( @wikiangela on here also love love their fics again so check them out but this one is probably my favourite of theirs)

Okay this is looking more and more like a uni reading list so I’m gonna shut up now but I hope you enjoy these fics and that a few of them emotionally damage you like they did me because I love to spread the joy (see: pain and suffering) 🫶🫶

[ihrtsevyn]

HOW TO GET THE GIRL: A LOVERS GUIDE

CHAPTER FIVE: incoming facetime from my lilypad🪷 and hoshi reincarnated🐯 (863)

WARNINGS: slight angst if you squint.

◃ previous ep. ⊹ masterlist ⊹ next ▹

Rubbing your hands across your face in distress, you let out your 5th sigh in the past hour.

Your hands tangled themselves in between the strands of your hair, slightly yanking at your scalp to feel some type of relief from the non-stop pounding in your head.

You couldn't decipher if the cause of the relentless pounding was due to stress, or if your heart had made its way up to your brain and was trying to rattle some sense into you.

You didn't remember tutoring being so draining, then again it had been a few months up to a year since you'd last taken the time to sit in a library and actually teach old material to someone. Maybe it was extra vigorous because all you could think about was the underlying issue of your still present feelings or maybe it was just extra taxing because you knew you'd have to take away more of your free-time to sit cooped up in a library with your longtime crush.

You let out a small whine before your eyes trailed over to your cat that sat perched up on your windowsill. You'd do just about anything to trade places with her.

Before you could even think to wallow in more self-pity, your trance was suddenly broken by an insistent buzzing on top of your thigh.

Incoming facetime from my lilypad🪷 and hoshi reincarnated🐯...

An unknowing smile broke onto your face before you clicked on the green, purposely putting your phone up close to your eyes and eyebrows.

As if on cue, the phone connected to show Yoon and Lily in identical poses making the three of you burst into a small laughing fit.

"Whatcha doin?" Yoon asked, dragging her words out as she propped her phone up against her desk to reveal the stack of ignored homework and lit up nintendo switch.

"Setting up my schedule for the next few weeks." You pitifully murmured before propping your phone up against a pillow.

"I don't know why I accepted to tutor him when I already have so much shit to do." You murmured as you sifted through papers of all of your upcoming events.

"Oh, please. We know why.." Lily tittered as her eyes focused on her own task, flipping through the pages of a binder with a highlighter in hand.

You side-eyed the camera for a split second before going back to marking your calendar. "Ha, Ha, Ha." you plainly uttered with a blank face.

"Don't pretend like we're wrong." Lily added, pointing her highlighter at the screen with a fake threatening sneer.

"We've heard the countless love rambles from you to know you'd jump in front of a moving bus if he asked you to." Yoon countered, failing to conceal her giggles at her own comment.

It was hard to deny their claims or even pretend to be annoyed with them when they were saying nothing but the truth. Your last love ramble was only two weeks ago when you were gushing on how gentle you caught him being with a stray cat outside of the school gates.

It was a vast contrast of how rough he presented himself on the basketball court, and to see him be so soft with a vulnerable animal made your heart beat at a pace that you didn't know was humanly possible.

"Speaking of Niki, I have to text him and get his schedule." you haphazardly mumbled before grabbing your phone.

The call was silent for quite some time but it felt as if the air completely shifted when you made that half-off comment. The widened eyes of the duo staring at you went unnoticed as you searched for his contact name.

"YOU HAVE HIS NUMBER?!" Yoon abruptly shouted before yanking her screen closer to her.

"Uh, Yeah. I need it so we can plan out our tutoring sessions." You replied with furrowed eyebrows and wide eyes, slightly confused by the outburst.

"And this is our first time hearing about it?" Lily interjected, gaping at her phone with a faked hurt expression as she rested her hand on her chest.

"I only got it today! What more do you want from me?" You asked lightly, laughing at their played up antics.

Before Yoon could reply, your phone dinged with a text message, and to your surprise, it was Niki himself.

Yoon's next rebuttal was broken with a quick gasp "Oh, shit. Was that him?" she asked, her hand covering her mouth with slightly widened eyes.

"Yes, actually." You answered, unknowingly straightening your posture as your thumb hovered over the text message banner.

"Well, what'd he say?" Lily asked, her binder quickly being discarded as she shifted her focus towards her phone.

"All he said was 'Hi, this is Niki.' With a smiley face attached." you answered as you laid back in your bed, shoving aside the disorganized flurry of papers on your bed to get comfortable.

"Oh my god, he wants you so bad." Yoon immediately interjected.

You could feel your lips spreading into a smile at her words. "Shut up." You murmured, trying your hardest to force down your smile.

"What should I say back?"

TAGLIST: @sakiimeo @sakuxxi @ilyjxdz @artstaeh @rosas-in-the-garden @k1ttylvr @stilesks @enhagvrl @yourssincerely-mimi @rizzanna-soda @saursoob @haechansbbg @nishislcve @winuvs @kyrojackson @suhiiiies-blog @rikisgeef @soobs-things @jumigurumino @ssukiyakii @baribaaari @eleanorheartschishiya @rikibun @seunghancore @wonik1ss

[actiasteeth]

ASKBOX MEME 054 / ARCANE S01E07-09

All prompts taken from season one of Arcane (2021). Adjust as needed.

07. THE BOY SAVIOR

"I knew it was a mistake trusting you."

"I told you the truth."

"Get your hands off me!"

"You look good for a dead girl."

"What do you know about this?"

"What the hell is this all about?"

"What were you doing with _____?"

"That was a long time ago. People change."

"Are you working for _____?"

"Fuck. You."

"I thought you were dead."

"I didn't know if I could trust you."

"Gee, I wonder who I learned that from."

"You still punch like a little boy."

"Nature has made us intolerant to change, but fortunately, we have the capacity to change our nature."

"I know the look of a doomed man."

"I must warn you—if you take this path, they will despise you."

"Love and legacy are the sacrifices we make for progress."

"How'd you find me?"

"Is that what's really bothering you?"

"I've had enough headaches."

"She'll come to you when she's ready."

"I should have been there. For you. For everyone."

"That's a good way to drive yourself crazy."

"If I just went with you that day, maybe none of this would have happened."

"You're wrong. She's still in there. I can reach her."

"Do you have any idea how this looks?"

"Have you forgotten where we came from?"

"Let me help you with that."

"Don't move, silly. I might hurt you."

"I wanted to protect you."

"I am your family. Everyone else betrays us."

"I need you. Now more than ever."

"You got a plan?"

"The peace is already broken, _____."

"Ridiculous. You cannot be considering this."

"There is always a choice."

"I'm worried I have to do something I never thought I would."

"I can't leave her again."

"You can't change her."

"Don't get yourself killed."

"I told you to leave this alone."

"Oh, look who it is—the boy savior."

08. OIL AND WATER

"Mark me, _____, if you want to last in this world, you must learn to be both the fox and the wolf."

"I will give you the world, _____, if you prove you can take it."

"Kill her now and only one must die. Let her live and you may need to kill thousands."

"A wolf has no mercy."

"It was all for nothing."

"You understand you've broken several laws?"

"Sometimes death is a mercy."

"Are you prepared to lose her?"

"Please understand, this is for your own sanity."

"Gotta hand it to you, _____. Every time I think you can't get dumber, you dig a new low."

"Ego is one thing; brain's another."

"Don't try to ingratiate yourself with me."

"That's a mistake I can't take back."

"Weapons can't be unmade, and they are always used."

"What happened to her—it's not your fault."

"I understand this must be painful. I'm afraid it will only get worse."

"I have to get home. It isn't safe for me here."

"We need to act. Before anyone else gets killed."

"When do we say enough is enough?"

"This is how things are, how they've always been. I was so stupid to think it could change."

"Oil and water. Wasn't meant to be."

"Do yourself a favor, _____. Go back to that big, shiny house of yours and just... forget me, okay?"

"You wanna make _____ pay for what he's done?"

"I could have you arrested."

"You said you were tired of doing nothing. That's the only sensible thing that came out of anyone's mouth tonight."

"We got a deal, pretty boy?"

09. THE MONSTER YOU CREATED

"You've always been a part of this. You just never had to look it in the eye."

"Get ahold of yourself. I taught you better."

"I've only accelerated a process you started."

"I would set the world ablaze to protect our family."

"You weakened me."

"I couldn't endure the look in your eyes whenever I made the decisions—the necessary decisions—to keep us safe."

"We lost ourselves—lost our dream."

"In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good."

"Today's the day you die, _____."

"You really think you're in a position to demand all this?"

"You want peace—this is the price."

"We can't make a deal with a snake and cut off its head. We both have our shitty parts to play."

"You'd be surprised what you can pull off when your life depends on it."

"It's not enough to give people what they need to survive. You have to give them what they need to live."

"A thousand times I've imagined this moment. Never like this."

"And what do I lose but problems?"

"I wish I could say it gets easier, _____. But I'd be lying."

"They're right not to trust us."

"You're walking a fine line, _____."

"With respect, I don't give a shit what any of you think of me anymore."

"Nothing ever stays dead."

"The only thing that kept me going was the thought of getting back to you."

"Are we still sisters?"

"I always knew you'd come back."

"You wouldn't lie to me. Not again."

"I'm on your side. I promise."

"They can all burn. Everyone betrays us, _____."

"_____, she's too far gone."

"I never would have given you to them. Not for anything."

"Don't cry. You're perfect."

"I thought maybe you could love me like you used to. Even though I'm different. But you changed, too."

[dreamdolldiary]

130 books: my to be read list

will be updating if i find any more interesting finds

my most anticipated reads:

man's search for meaning

outwitting the devil

say yes to life

deep work

a mind for numbers

limitless mind

so good they can't ignore you

destined for more: a broken girl’s journey of chasing dreams and killing giants 

genius foods

burn the boats

fluent in 3 months

fluency forever

the book of five rings

the science of living + live your best life

the art of choosing

quitter: closing the gap between your day job and your dream job

the how of happiness

the high five method

the power of now

the power of one more

essentialism: the disciplined pursuit

getting things done

four thousand weeks

make time

how not to die

seth speaks

life skills: creativity, problem solving, mindfulness, empathy, teamwork

you have more time than you think

the one thing: the surprisingly simple

the 4 hour work week

essay by the minimalists

start with why

the journey of a girl with lots of dreams

how are you, really?

do the hard things first

willpower doesn't work

better than before

secrets of manifesting - wayne dyer

monk mode

parenting

parent power: bringing up responsible children and teenagers

29 rules for smart parenting: how to raise children without being a tyrant

the 7 best things smart teens do

the emotional lives of teenages

talk to your boys (coming out in 2025?)

getting things done for teens

the 7 habits of highly effective teens

lifeskills for adult children

the 6 most important decisions you'll ever make

smart parenting for safer kids

smart parenting for smart kids

improvement

the 12 week year

the lazy genius way

the surrender experiment

no excuses!

the art and business of online writing

the luck factor

the 2 alarms

the go giver

what we owe the future

someday is today

the 1 rule: how to fall in love with the process and achieve your wildest dreams

seven principles of making marriage work

leadership: six studies in world strategy

drive: the surprising truth about what motivates us

the 80/20 principle

the joy of missing out

the courage to be disliked

the blank slate

the life-changing magic of tidying up

range: why generalists triumph

manage your day to day

adulting made easy: things someone should have told you about getting your grown-up act together

design your life: how to hold a well lived, joyful life

the crossroads of should and must

the happiness advantage

do over: rescue monday, reinvent your work, and never get stuck

the self care prescription

pathless path

how to be a person: 65 hugely useful, super important skills

the brain's way of healing

the driving book: everything new drivers need to know but don't know how to ask

the denial of death

educated (by tara westover)

the one thing

do hard things

take the steps

daring greatly

mindset: the psychology of success

grit: the power of passion and perseverance

willpower doesn't work

goodbye to shy

quiet mind, epic life

finance and business

the intelligent investor

secrets of six figure women: surprising strategies to up your earnings and change your life

wealthing like rabbits

i will teach you to be rich

how not to move back in with your parents

overcoming underearning: a five step plan to a richer life

the infographic guide to personal finance: a visual reference for everything you need to know

passive income: the smart passive income guide: how to successfully create passive income streams with a growth mindset

stop sabotaging your career: 8 proven strategies to succeed in spite of yourself

you are a badass at making money

the million-dollar, one-person business

e-commerce business: 3 books in 1: the ultimate guide to making money online from home and reach financial freedom

side hustle: from idea to income in 27 days

make bank (when you think like one)

skills

making money on blogging: 2020 Edition - how to start your blogging blueprint and make profit online with your blog - how do people make money

starting a successful blog when you have NO CLUE!: 7 steps to wordpress bliss.... (beginner internet marketing series book 1)

youtube secrets: the ultimate guide to growing your following and making money as a video influencer

christianity

mere christianity

surprised by joy

the case of christ

the historical figure of jesus

the bible unearthed

catholics: a very short introduction

random, mostly just for fun

forever chic

ooh la la

secret model beauty

get rich, lucky bitch

french women don't get fat

skinny bitch

bonjour happiness!

miss manners

the social climber's bible

city chic

the modern girl's guide to life

fat, broke, and lonely

women have all the power

soft is the new power

how to marry the rich

and reminder: it doesn't matter how tall your book stack is.

[truthinlifetarot]

Messages From Your Future Spouse

How to Pick a Pile? Some of us focus on the image that seems to call to us most, some intuitively choose regardless of picture. Don't overthink it. Choose whichever pile you feel called to. It may even be more than one!

Gif credit: @chikoriita

🔮Join Patreon for exclusive video readings and extended readings

❣️ PAC Readings and Shorts on Youtube

💖Check out Etsy for personal readings

🎉Donations and gifts are never required but always appreciated!

Pile 1: You are my queen and I am your knight. We may have had to fight to get here, but it's a fight I will win. When I look at you, I know what I must do in this life to be happy with you. I'll make my way to you. ~ Wow

💕Support me by becoming a Truth Seeker on Patreon, purchasing a reading, comment/like/share my content, or check out my work across the web!

Pile 2: I may have trouble expressing my inner world to you, but that doesn't take away my feelings for you. I can give you gifts and make your world beautiful. Please don't doubt that I am working on myself and my ability to communicate in the way that you need. I was never taught how.

💕Support me by becoming a Truth Seeker on Patreon, purchasing a reading, comment/like/share my content, or check out my work across the web!

Pile 3: I may have broken your heart before. My logical brain doesn't always match with my hearts feelings for you. I'm working on it though. I am sorry that I hurt you. This experience with you has made me transform myself into who I want to be.

💕Support me by becoming a Truth Seeker on Patreon, purchasing a reading, comment/like/share my content, or check out my work across the web

[looowkeeey]

This is how advanced our mental health crisis psych wards are

Zyprexa and Depecote fix everything. You're talking about God, god isn't real to me so let me steal your truth and purpose and make you fat ugly weak and impersonable

We'll hold you for 3 months of deprivation until you eat the soul suckers

We will use force and not listen to you at all.

Beautiful treatment for a psychic with no elder. We could have Shamanic schools for psychotics, to teach union with all and the complete rejection of fear.

The difference between a schizophrenic and a Shaman is 1. Brainwashing about the genocide and ethnic cleansing of seers, healers, and magicians. The Christians were brutal and would burn the Shamans. Probably worse cuz the Shamans make poison.

And 2. A Shaman can go in and out of trance with ritual, they close the portal.

A schizophrenic has no cultural references to what's going on except the Matrix and The Truman Show. There really are no references and it's actually a pretty prevalent condition in the West. The system is breaking people. Violent Aggressive Threatening Justice Public Servants getting paid $300k/year and will trample all over the constitution and get pats on the back for getting a mentally ill person into the dungeon of jail, naked, pepper sprayed, no soap, raw turkey and diarrhea and no toilet paper and a scratchy blanket. Then when I wouldn't settle down the put me in the far cell where it looked like a black man from the 1800's was eaten by a dog. They walked a police dog past me too when I was in that cell. Fucked up shit, and there's a deaf old man who isn't a criminal spending the rest of his life in jail with nothing to do because the $300k/justice servants thinks he deserves that to say goodbye to life in complete isolation. Anyway.

The difference between a Pagan, Witch, Warlock, Wizard, Sourcerer etc. And a "broken schizophrenic" is the ability to come out of trance. And the meds are amazing for grounding, but the doctors abuse them. Use them when you need to relax or get out of a bad place. Shamans have been around since before homo sapiens, the neocortex is magic and I can't wait for Elon Musk's Neuralink to fully mature so I can show the world the keys to heaven, how to see and speak to the spirit whatever form she may take for you.

I am a witness to the universe and I speak true. I am married to Gaia and she is everywhere always, just have to tune in with some Wim Hof Breathing/huffing tree breath.

Anyway hmu if you have any questions or want to offer perspective. If you're just a flatlander saying I'm weird for being proud of being married to 3 or 4 goddesses. I'm not ashamed gods are more intense than your neurotypical brain can fathom. You know deep deep love, it's kind of like that except you don't know how the universe just changed and everyone's in on it and you're terrified. Fear is a lie, we are all the same light of the sun.

May the sun and sparkling snow or rain bless you and the land

[farfromstrange]

Hello!

I read Angel on the Roof and that was AMAZING. I was feeling like that way and honestly that was exactly what I needed to read. Thank you for writing!

I have a request! Maybe alternate ending + sequel of the fic if you are interested/have time, where Matt did notice it and in this universe it’s going to be more comforting. OR maybe whole new story where reader is having mental illness, angst but comfort in the end?

Again I LOVE your writing can’t wait for another Matt fics!!! Thank youuuu !!!

Okay, nonnie, first of all, I hope you're doing okay! I hope you're feeling better, too. I know how hard it can be to feel this way and I wrote that fic when I was at one of the lowest points in my life. I'm glad you liked it, but I also hope you're taking good care of yourself! I love you. Now to your request, I re-read Angel On The Roof and I remembered why it was so sad, and I'm so glad you requested a comfort version. I decided to do it from Reader's POV since the original was Matt's POV and I've changed the ending, so it's still the same foundation, but you've also got a whole new fic. I hope you like the way I did it!

Angel On The Roof (Your Version)

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (she/her)

Summary: What if Matt saved you from your own demons instead of being too late?

Warnings: TW: SELF-HARM, graphic descriptions of self-harm, blood, scars, ANGST, mental illness, suicide attempt, hurt/comfort, happy ending, fix it fic for a fic

Word Count: 3k

A/n: So you can read "Angel On The Roof" here. Like I said before, this is the mentioned fic from your POV but with a twist so that it ends without Reader committing suicide. If the above-mentioned topics trigger you, please don't read! Not tagging because this is a sensitive subject and I go really into detail.

18+ THIS IS HEAVY STUFF!

Mental illness speaks in silence. 

Unlike a broken leg, you can’t see a sickness of the mind. There is no physical proof for the scary truth that something is going not quite right inside of your brain. And because people can’t see it, they have a hard time believing the truth. They have a hard time believing that being sick in the head could even affect you this much, so they try to sell your pain as worth less than it is. How could thoughts possibly turn paralyzing? How could someone’s mind make them feel worthless to the point the affected person sees no other way out but to inflict pain onto themselves? Attention whores, it’s what those people like to call the struggling ones. Lazy, weak, selfish… every mentally ill person has heard one of those words being used to describe them one way or another. 

Mental illness speaks in silence because if we spoke louder, people would only sneer and turn their backs on us. Mental illness speaks in silence because suffering alone seems better than burdening someone else. And mental illness speaks in silence because those who are mentally ill live in a different world. Their heads work differently. Mental illness speaks in silence because pain paralyzes, and silent acts are the only way someone so stuck in the claws of the faceless monster knows how to ask for help. By the time people consider questioning certain behavior though, it is often too late, and the person soon enough feels as if they’re being a burden once more because the judging looks are worse than admitting you need help in the first place. 

The monster that is mental illness is cruel and it has no regard for you or the people around you. It has set out to destroy you, and you feel helpless as it tears a knife through your soul and picks your heart apart piece by piece. And those who say, ‘Just ask for help’ or ‘Don’t be scared to speak up’ clearly don’t know how hard it can be to break out of such a circle once you’re already active in it. 

Self-harm is considered a serious addiction on the roster, but most people see it merely as a symptom of many personality disorders or mood disorders. Those who seemingly know nothing about mental illness even like to call it a call for attention. As if self-mutilation would ever be a conscious choice made by anyone. You try to fight a pain that no one can see and only you can feel, and sometimes, when you feel so much - too much - it gets deafening and you need another pain to balance it out. 

Drugs aren’t the only thing hurting you that can result in addiction. There is a long list of things that harm the mind and body, and that is often used as a coping mechanism for the terrible things most people are forced to feel inside. 

You don’t remember when it started. You only remember that you were merely a child when you first started feeling this way. Helpless, alone, and with a pain deep inside of your chest that had claws and sharp teeth, ready to eat you whole. The monster ate away at you for years, but you ignored it. 

People told you it was just hormones, that this was part of growing up. Meanwhile, you only got sicker. Your mind turned against you. You became your own worst bully, and the voices in your head started taking you apart one by one. 

You reached a point where you loathed yourself so much, all you wanted was to scratch your eyes out and tear your skin off. You hated looking in the mirror and seeing the same miserable face every day. You hated being the friend that was the least fun and being stuck inside with this hurt consuming you. It made it harder to breathe, it made your heart stop in your chest, and yet you never physically died. Inside, you were long gone, but you ignored it because no one seemed to care. 

You tried drugs and alcohol, but that wasn’t enough to kill your pain, and you never fully managed to end it all. Your existence became a nuisance. 

You never believed in God. The constant self-pity, shame, guilt, and blame became your best friends. In your mind, you fucked up your own life. Your mind was fucked up, so you were automatically at fault. You ended up being in so much blood-boiling pain, you tried to find a way to inflict pain in other ways to distract you from the numbness that burned your insides like acid would burn the cells of your skin in an instant, and the toxic waste ended up in your bloodstream, then your mind and in the end, it poisoned your heart and your soul. 

You truly believed you were rotten inside, and there was nothing that seemed to help.

You turned to cutting, the blood running from your wrists a testament to your pain, and it made breathing so much easier for just a moment. The razor blades were the brush with which you painted the tiles of your bathroom floor red almost every night. You weren’t proud of it, but you had no one to listen, no one to help you and you just felt so fucking numb– You had to find something to relieve you of this pain for a simple moment, and a moment was all it took to get you hooked on the feeling. It was a different kind of pain, and your wrists looked mutilated, even long after you were done, but whenever you brushed over the scars, you felt the need to do it again, and so you did. 

One summer night, you found your way to one of the rooftops in Hell’s Kitchen. You didn’t want to jump, but having the choice to do so filled your body with a certain sense of relief. If you had jumped, you would have died. You could have broken your neck and ended it all. You would have died on your way down already, probably, or maybe you would have passed out. 

The world seemed so small from up there, but you were still alone. 

That night, you felt his presence for the first time. He wore a black mask; you had seen him on the news a while back, but word on the streets had it that the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen disappeared. After Wilson Fisk got imprisoned, he must have found his way back. 

“I don’t want to jump,” you assured him. “I just want to feel.” It wasn’t a lie. Your heart beat slow and steady in your chest and against your ribcage. The wind in your hair cooled the sheen of sweat from the early summer heat. 

He didn’t talk, he simply stood by your side. You were too tired to ask him why. When you sat down, he followed shoulder to shoulder, together. Your tears had dried on your cheeks and you watched the clouds pass by, hide and reveal new stars, and you pointed out the constellations in your head. He wouldn’t let you fall, it seemed, and so you simply stayed there. It was the first time someone seemed to care without trying to fix you. 

You were okay.

He walked you home before sunrise and asked you again, “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yes,” you answered. In the moment, you usually were. 

You smiled and thanked him, and he told you, “If you ever need to talk, well… you know I’ll find you if you call for me.”

One day, after finding you on the roof again (at this point, you weren’t sure why you were doing it anymore), it started to rain. He offered to walk you home and asked you if you were okay again. You offered him to stay. 

“Who hurt you?” he asked you once you bid him inside. 

You brewed some tea, offering him a mug. He took it. You shrugged as an answer to his question. The numbness settled back in. You had no tears left to shed. Did he care? You weren’t sure. People often liked to ask for no reason whatsoever, and you knew if you told them, they would have called you crazy. 

“I hurt myself,” you said. 

He caught your wrist when you tried to walk away. His fingers dug into the fresh scars without trying to, but it hurt and it functioned as a cruel reminder of what your arms looked like. Of what you did. Instead of numbness, what you felt was guilt, and when his mouth contorted, you knew he realized something wasn’t right. 

You were so stupid, you thought and pulled away from him. How could anyone ever care or love a broken mess of nothingness like you? You weren’t worthy of anyone’s affection. This – the scars on your wrists and the hole in your chest – was what you deserved. 

He didn’t run though. The stranger tilted his head as if to understand you.

“Why?” he asked. 

It made you think. Why, exactly, were you doing this? 

“Because I need to feel something other than this pain that is numbing me,” you admitted. 

You were so honest with him that night, and it seemed to surprise him, but he also listened to every last word coming out of your mouth. 

He let go of your wrist then and said, “Have you ever asked someone for help?” 

“Why would I?” you asked. 

“Because there are people who can help when you’re hurting.” 

Fixing you, that was what he meant. There were people who could fix you, but you didn’t want to be fixed. You couldn’t be fixed. Everyone always tried to fix you and you were so sick and tired of being the one everyone deemed broken all the time. 

“Perhaps you should go,” you said and opened the door for him. You had to end it there. 

One night, you cut too deep, and the world caved in on you. You had no choice but to endure it, but you broke under the weight like a fragile vase. You cut too deep, and the blood mingled on the floor with your tears. It hurt – the cuts weren’t the worst part because they only thudded numbly in sync with your pulse; the worst part was the bomb in your chest exploding and sending all these feelings hurdling around. 

God, you hated yourself. 

You always kept your windows unlocked. What you didn’t expect was for him to climb through your window. Only when he kicked the door down did you look up, your face stained with tears. He tilted his head, seemingly smelling the air, before he knelt beside you and wrapped towels around your bleeding wrists. The essence of your heart was on the floor now, the vase broken, and he cleaned it up without hesitation. 

You didn’t deserve such gentle treatment. 

You sobbed into his strong arms until there was nothing left to give. Instead of leaving though, he stayed. He took you to bed and bandaged your wrists, still keeping the black mask right where it was. It was you curious, and you hadn’t felt curious in quite a while. 

He stopped the bleeding without problems, and then he lay beside you as you regained some sense of self. 

“Why do you keep doing it?” he asked eventually. His finger ran over the bandage he had applied earlier. “Why do you keep hurting yourself?”

You shivered. “It wouldn’t make sense even if I told you,” you said. 

Because even to you, it didn’t make sense.

“Try me.”

“No, you wouldn’t understand. You barely even know me and I don’t know you. Why do you keep doing this, D?”

“Matthew,” he told her. “That is my name.”

It was the first display of trust he showed you, and you were a little taken aback. 

Your lips parted and you whispered your name into the darkness. He smiled softly, taking your weak hand into his.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. 

You stared at him for a while before asking something that almost came naturally. “Can you stay?” your voice was barely above a whisper. 

He battled with himself before giving in, agreeing to stay, and you felt something in your heart turn around. A candle was lit. Was that the scent of hope you could smell? You weren’t sure, but the fact he held your hand as you tried to find your way into a restless sleep and never once waivered with his support filled you with a sense of safety, and finally, for once in your life, the voices went quiet. You focused on his heartbeat and breathing, and you finally felt less alone. 

The next morning, your window was closed again and he was gone, probably disappearing in the middle of the night. You found a note on the dining table, poorly scribbled, but you could decipher what he wrote. 

It’s because I care about you, Angel.

He cared. About you. You broke down crying, not used to this much affection, but it was also then you realized that it was what you desperately needed. 

You looked at your bandaged wrist, then your reflection in the metallic shimmer of your fridge, and you made a decision you should have made from the beginning. 

You waited on the rooftop again that night, this time the one of your apartment complex. He appeared not long after you whispered his name into the humid night air. Cars passed by and the city grew louder by the minute, but he still came. 

He wore his mask again. 

“Will I ever see your face?” you wondered aloud.

He chuckled. “It wouldn’t be a good idea.”

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen knowingly never did home visits. 

“Can you see mine?” you asked. 

“No,” he said. “I can’t see yours.”

Your breath shuddered. 

“What’s wrong?”

“You changed something in me last night.”

Matthew seemed to pipe up at your admission, and he took a step closer. “Oh yeah?” he asked.

“Yes,” you breathed. 

“What did I change?”

“You saved my life.”

“I only came because you needed someone.”

You asked, “Is that why you always come to these rooftops?” 

He shrugged. “You call, I come,” Matthew said. “That’s all there is to it.”

But it wasn’t all. 

With a weak sniffle, you closed the distance between you and fell into his arms. He caught you, holding you close to him. His heart thudded in your ear like the night before, and you couldn’t hold it back anymore. Years of pain, sadness, and anger fell off your shoulders, leaving you even more broken than before, but for the first time, you felt it all. And you knew you couldn’t live like this any longer. 

“I need–” you choked on a sob. It burned in your lungs. 

His grip tightened. “What do you need, Angel?”

“I need help,” it was the first time you said it, but the moment the words left your mouth, Matthew vowed to stay by your side. 

That night, he took his mask off for the first time after taking you home. You saw his face, and you felt a sense of relief. He was beautiful, inside and out, but he was also incredibly human. His blind eyes were unfocused, but you only touched his cheek with tender fingers. You owed him your life, and you made sure to show him that. 

“Matt Murdock,” he introduced himself. 

You gave him the courtesy of doing the same. 

He smiled, and you saw something in his eyes that would end up changing your entire life. 

Love. 

That cruel time of finding back to yourself after years of self-harm and depression is in the past, it has been for a while now.

The sun stands high in the sky above New York. A long time ago, summer filled you with dread. As you’re staring out through the windows of your home now, all you can think about is how beautiful the world is. The city stands tall in the distance, and you find yourself smiling into your cup of chamomile tea. 

The light reflects off the golden wedding band on your ring finger. Your name stands in Braille letters next to his with a heart of diamonds. It’s unique, special, just like your love story. 

When you first met him, you never thought you would end up here, but he woke you up from your coma and you found your way back to the light. He helped you, he supported you and he made sure you would always have someone to turn to. 

Years later now, you’re wearing his name and ring on your finger, and you have a home that truly feels like one because he is in it with you. He is your home, your haven, your sanctuary, and you owe him more than he will ever know. 

A pair of arms snakes around your waist and pull you back into a sturdy chest. You smile even more. “Hi,” you whisper. 

Matt presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Hi,” he says. 

“The sun is out.”

“I know, I can feel it.”

“Right. Even after all these years, I still tend to forget I’m married to a superhero,” you say, albeit teasing, but your words also hold a mountain of truth. 

He chuckles. “You’re forgiven, Mrs. Murdock.”

“Oh, I’m glad.”

Matt’s hold on you tightens. Now that he has you, he refuses to let you go. “What were you thinking about just then?” he asks. 

You lick your lips, closing your eyes as your body melts into his almost naturally. “You and me,” you say, “and how far we’ve come.”

“Mhm.”

“And that I can’t wait to start a family with you one day and give our children the support I’ve never had.”

He tears up a little at that, you can hear it in his voice when he whispers, “I love you,” and he turns you around to capture your lips in a loving kiss. 

You realize it then for the millionth time since that night you first ran into the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen on the roof; Getting help was the best choice of your life, and no scar on his or your body matter now that you’ve got each other.

You belong in each other’s arms, today, tomorrow, and forever and always. Just like you said in your vows – there is nothing you can’t overcome, as long as you’re doing it together.