#and not once did i call in sick which i know is probably a contributing factor but i just can't right now

[theroseapothecary]

my immune system is apparently f u c k e d because i am sick once again that's literally every week for the past 4 weeks where i've had something i feel so shitty

[dirtbra1n]

AA4 SPOILERS/////

that quote you called krisnix is soooo fascinating to me bc, they really had dinner together most days, like that’s a level of commitment we didn’t even see from most of the ppl who phoenix considered important and that whole time on kristoph’s end it was to keep an eye on Phoenix and on phoenix’s end it curiosity bc kristoph voted against him losing his badge and also it was to find out the reason why he lost his badge and kristoph was just this name that kept popping up, and for Phoenix and kristoph it was so many red flags bc kristoph knew phoenix wasn’t the type to let something rest and Phoenix knew there was more to kristoph then at first glance but somewhere along the way it become genuine, but at the same time kristoph still kills shadi after a single convo with phoenix and phoenix still pressed record before even asking kristoph to be his lawyer, it’s Phoenix recording every single one of those convos with kristoph but still (probably) having him meet truck, but it’s kristoph keeping himself at arms length from Phoenix but Phoenix taking it bc he’s never been the type to give up on a person, whether it’s to their doom or his and for better or worse he wouldn’t want anyone else to really see him the way he currently is besides kristoph, now what the hell could that possibly mean?

(that quote I called krisnix)

anon you will never know the extent of the joy I felt seeing this initially and the extent of it I still feel now. but I’d like you to. Thank You For Biting. and for waiting a little over a month Sorry about that. I'm gonna ask you to forgive me if this doesn't make any sense or hold up to scrutiny. the demons have got hold of me and I'm making do

because I get to talk more about krisnix. Ha ha. pulled out all my silly little suppositions to review again I think I was waiting for an opportunity like this. like my hubris is getting me. I recklessly called that quote krisnix and now a little over a month later I'm completely sick about it.

I'm going to reiterate that I'm very sorry if this reads like shit, and I'll apologize just this once that this post got as long as it did. go fish

you ever think about how kristoph's a dog guy. guy who has a dog, guy who brought a photo of his dog into solitary confinement with him. also a caged blue bird which alive or not happened to contribute significantly to the krisnix breakdown of dec. 2023 There are really some very bright minds in krisnix pit. me and you included anon. that's a tangent. I'm sick. I'm drafting this in a terribly disorganized fashion. I'm reading transcripts. I'm getting dizzy.

this fucking room haunts me

vongole, though

a man's best friend, who's known to bite if handled roughly. her name means clams.

I've been doing some web surfing. I can't move in one straight line to save my life so I've been doing some web surfing. kristoph doesn't say what kind of retriever vongole is, which is fine. retrievers are dogs bred to retrieve game, tasked not to break skin, to be gentle, to keep soft mouths. vongole is a retriever who bites (literal) when bitten (metaphorical); a clam that clasps shut.

kristoph's a dog guy and sometimes he's the metaphorical dog. not One straight line to save my life. it's funny that seven years have passed without phoenix meeting vongole. held at arms length but indisputably held. a man's closest friend. besides his dog.

a lot of the time phoenix is the metaphorical dog. putting all tangents aside A lot of the time. phoenix is that metaphorical dog. what is seven years of companionship, eating dinner after dinner together, and being seen at your worst... worth? indulge me: this guy, you pieced together pretty quick, was behind the forged evidence that lost you your badge. this guy, as you saw happen in real time, was the one person on that committee to vote against that "strictest punishment".

this guy, as an indisputable fact, is a big fucking weirdo. you'll need to snare him eventually, for the forged evidence, but--you're kind of in the habit of liking weirdos. is the thing. he sunk your career, he lost you your badge. he's kind of an asshole, also.

he has bought you and trucy dinner more times than you could ever hope to count. there's a curve in your sofa from all the times he's sat in the same spot, wrinkling his nose at greasy takeout boxes and your grape juice breath. he talks to trucy in a voice slightly less haughty--warm, if a gun was held to your head about it--than the one he plays up with you, and she completely eats it up; thinks he's real fun to tease. his eyebrows wrinkle, an almost nothing frown, when she puts on a show with a trick that he can't immediately come to some conclusion about. he'll put on obnoxious rubber gloves to wash your dishes, to protect his manicured nails, as he goes down a dozen rabbit holes trying to reason out what he's missing. you've seen him doing casework. he's seen you delirious and half out of your mind. his mouth, in your experience, is soft.

you're kind of in the habit of liking assholes, too.

neither of these guys can be vulnerable for shit. over the course of seven years, they've seen each other as close to vulnerable as they can get, which isn't very, because this span of time especially--phoenix stubbornly keeping a little girl's head above the water, kristoph, for reasons we will never, ever understand, constantly looking over his shoulder--really doesn't see either of them in a place to get through any skin-flaying conversations about what they want with or from one another.

kristoph really does want control, though. he wants to be in control of things, have a handle on things. and he probably figured out something like immediately that phoenix wright really isn't the sort of guy you go to for that kind of thing. and yet! sunk cost fallacy's a bitch, kristoph! what good does a beautiful bluebird do you if you don't keep it with you on display heavy-handed. I know. don't I know it.

gonna rein myself in a little. because I'm off the deep end and you're posing really interesting ideas. kristoph couldn't rest for seven years because "shadi smith" was unaccounted for, out there somewhere. kristoph couldn't rest for seven years because he was scared for his life. "shadi smith" played a game of poker against the best and got whacked. and then murdered! tough luck!

really it's my curse. that so much of krisnix is personalized person to person, because of real aa5 shaped smoke and mirrors. because it gives me the space, the soapbox, the platform, microphone, and spotlight, to ask, In that trial, of the murder of Shadi Smith, where Kristoph Gavin was supposed to defend Phoenix Wright, what verdict was he looking to see through?

because I'm sick, you see. kristoph had just, finally, gotten rid of the man he spent so long being scared of, just clawed his way to the path out of the woods, and all he had to do was--

Have you ever stood at a crossroad. the decision laid out in front of you's not actually that tough, if you can believe it. even space for you to completely rationalize any attachments away: you get phoenix wright off (haha), you keep your reputation as the best defense in the west (opinions on the name notwithstanding), and you could, as a possibility to consider on occasion, maybe even learn how to have a slightly more-vulnerable-than-usual conversation.

or you could lose.

pretty simple choice to make, right?

and then phoenix goes and fucks it up, of course. dogs get restless with nothing to do. they want to be of use to you, kristoph, did you ever think to fucking ask phoenix for help? you come when called, you let yourself be persuaded, generously, to help keep food on the table. to keep a warm body company, one way or the other. to be some fucked up psychosexual approximation of a friend. but phoenix comes running when called, too, and you haven't once given him the chance.

big fucking stink you're in, kristoph! You didn't just brain a guy with a juice bottle for no reason. Tell me why you did it.

the big question you won't answer. five black psyche locks pulsing with a despair you don't have the tools to register. you said it already: I killed a man named "Smith" with a bottle because I am an evil human being.

what does phoenix hope to get out of this. motive for a murder, then what?

you really get me anon. phoenix never the kind of guy to give up on somebody he loves, up against someone who's finished with even arms length, stubborn as all get-out, and, even to himself, completely unsalvageable. irredeemable. an evil human being who killed a man named "smith" with a bottle.

it's not that phoenix would help kristoph hide a body. he pretty evidently did not do that. and it's not that phoenix would just forgive kristoph for trying to poison a twelve year old girl either. but there were seven full years between the disappearance of zak gramarye and the murder of "shadi smith", and vera misham hadn't been poisoned yet, and phoenix wright is an awfully loyal, terribly stubborn man himself.

I don't really know what the hell the lot of this means to tell you the truth. but I think now as much as ever that phoenix should chase kristoph's chance at life to the death, and I think that regardless of the stopping point on the line of time kristoph's last words to phoenix should be ...Later, then.

[riversofmars]

Femslash February is here! And here is my contribution! The period military AU we deserve! Liv/Helen and Kate/Osgood in a military/Bletchley Park style setting. Honestly, very little to do with DW this one, can probably be read as an original tbh XD

Summary: When studying ancient languages and linguists, Helen Sinclair hadn't imagined taking her skills to an army base, but there she was. Everyone was doing their bit to help the war effort, and when she had been called upon to assist the special military branch UNIT with breaking codes, she could hardly refuse. Alongside another civilian specialist - the brilliant tech-whiz Petronella Osgood - she finds herself in the unfamiliar world of the military. Brigadier Kate Stewart turns out to be a kind, admirable leader and as Helen is eager to exceed expectations, she pushes herself above and beyond. When she collapses from exhaustion, she's taken to UNIT's medical officer.

Home Front - Part 1 of 28

Helen Sinclair looked dreadful at breakfast. Listlessly she pushed her spoon through her porridge without eating much at all. She didn’t feel like it. She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to fight the piercing headache that ran through her skull. It was no use. It had reached the point of making her feel sick, and the watery porridge, which was all military rations allowed for, was doing nothing to awaken her appetite. But at least she had food, she considered, as she scooped up a spoonful. A lot of the population had it far worse than her. It was one of the benefits of working for the military, even in a civilian capacity. Never in a million years had she expected to be eating her breakfast in the mess-hall of a military base and yet, here she was. So much for her father telling her that languages and linguistics were empty, vain pursuits…

“How much sleep did you get?” A voice cut through Helen’s thoughts, pulling her from her musings back to reality. The linguist startled, lost her grip on her spoon, and the piece of cutlery tumbled to the floor in a damning, metallic clunk. She looked up to find Petronella Osgood giving her a concerned frown as she slipped into the seat opposite her.

“I don’t have to answer that…” Helen mumbled, fishing for her spoon, effectively hiding from her room-mate’s scrutinising glance.

“You sleep even less than I do!” Osgood observed once the linguist straightened up again and placed the spoon next to her bowl. At least now she had an excuse to stop eating…

“Only because you fell asleep over your work last night…” Helen answered, rubbing her eyes.

“And I appreciate that you put a blanket around me, but that’s besides the point,” Osgood retorted pointedly. They had been sharing a room for some time now, two civilian specialists to help the special forces of UNIT. While their fields of expertise were vastly different, there was plenty they had in common to start building a friendship among the grim day-to-day and working tirelessly on carving out advantages for their soldiers. Helen was the language specialist, working on enemy codes and secret messages, whereas Osgood had the technical, scientific know-how none of the male UNIT staff could match. “When was the last time you had a decent night’s sleep?” The scientist inquired sternly.

“It’s just a lot. There is so much to do and I can feel that I’m getting close to something. Every day that passes without a breakthrough is another day that people die and I-” Helen rubbed her face, too tired to make up excuses. She knew Osgood understood her. They were in it together and she was grateful to have a friend to rely on.

“You can’t carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, Helen,” the scientist dropped her voice as a group of soldiers walked past, flashing them smiles that neither one of them cared for. It came with the territory of being the only civilian women on staff. “No-one is expecting you to either,” she carried on, trying to meet Helen’s eyes who was feigning interest in her breakfast once more. “We’re all doing our bit. You heard what the Brigadier said yesterday, we are making a difference.”

“She’s just trying to keep morale up,” the linguist gave a defeated sigh, burying her face in her hands. She took a deep breath. Kate Lethbridge-Stewart was an outstanding leader, smart, resourceful, confident… she easily commanded the attention of her troops, despite her gender, and Helen wished she could muster the same level of confidence and determination as her.

“Even so!” Osgood argued. “You’ll be no help to anyone if you work yourself into the ground.”

“I know, I know…” Helen sighed and folded her arms in front of her chest, leaning onto the table. Her neck ached from hours of hunching over her desk, her eyes burned from the strain of staying up all hours, and her brain was fried with exhaustion. She could see all the warning signs, felt them excruciatingly keenly, and yet she thought herself unable to eliminate the root cause. There were people relying on her. She couldn’t buckle under the pressure.

“Please, go back to bed,” Osgood reached across the table and touched her arm to refocus her wandering attention.

“I can’t. I’ve got so much to do. And besides-” Helen shook her head but her friend wouldn’t let her finish.

“You’re not a soldier, Helen,” she cut in decisively. “We are not soldiers. We’re here to support, we don’t have to abide by iron military rule,” she reminded her.

“I suppose not but… I just don’t want to disappoint,” Helen mumbled a confession as she was too tired to put up her walls of deflection. “To be thought of as capable enough to help is- I want to make good on that.” The Brigadier had placed a great deal of trust in her. She couldn’t let her down. Besides, she didn’t want to prove her father right. And if she failed and was the reason one of her brothers, who had been drafted into the war, lost their lives because she wasn’t quick enough to- She stopped herself from going down that terrifying road any further. She knew it was no good. All she could do was work her hardest. Her brothers were fine the last she had heard…

“And you will. But not if you collapse from exhaustion,” Osgood insisted.

“It’s easy for you, you’re just naturally brilliant, you just look at a piece of technology and know how it works. I, on the other hand-” Helen shook her head to herself. In her exhausted state, she was much more susceptible to the nagging doubts years of being told she wasn’t good enough had left on her.

“You are a linguistic genius,” the scientist implored her, and, instinctively, the linguist shook her head.

“You overestimate me. The Brigadier overestimates me and-” The frustration she was feeling with her lack of progress through the night became directed at herself.

“No. You underestimate yourself,” Osgood interrupted and Helen didn’t get the opportunity to argue back.

“Miss Sinclair?”

The linguist’s head snapped up, all traces of tiredness suddenly blown away, as Brigadier Lethbrige-Stewart walked towards their table. Quickly, Helen stood up and so did Osgood, as the head of UNIT came to stand in front of them. Helen wasn’t quite sure if they strictly had to stand to attention but it seemed like the right and natural thing to do. Kate Stewart's presence simply demanded something to that effect.

“Good morning, Ma’am,” Helen and Osgood spoke in perfect unison; their surroundings had certainly rubbed off on them over time.

“Please, no need for all that,” Kate answered with a trace of bemusement, but neither of them moved to sit down. The Brigadier seemed to realise as much as cut straight to business: “I was hoping you could give me an update on your progress later today, Miss Sinclair?”

“Yes, of course,” Helen nodded hurriedly, even as what little colour remained on her cheeks drained away. She had made some progress but not enough. The Brigadier surely expected a breakthrough and she simply couldn’t deliver, not yet. The linguist fought tears as she struggled with the disappointment she felt in herself and that surely, their commanding officer would as well. The prospect was terrifying. She had to go back to her work and try to come up with something helpful by the time she was asked to report.

“Wonderful, come and see me in my office at eleven. I have recruits to supervise and scare until then,” she gave a good-natured chuckle that would have put Helen right at ease had it not been for her mind already working feverishly on a particular cypher that she hadn’t been able to work out yet. Kate Stewart had never said an unkind word to her or anyone, which made the thought of disappointing her all the harder to bear.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Helen answered, as steadily as she could manage. She could feel Osgood’s eyes on her, filled with concern, but she chose to ignore her. Mercifully, her friend’s attention was diverted when the Brigadier turned to her:

“I was hoping to see you after lunch, Osgood. There are some matters of strategic importance that I want to discuss and get your insight on.”

“Yes, of course,” Osgood replied eagerly and Helen’s heart sank even more. She didn’t begrudge her friend her success or the faith that the Brigadier was placing in her. She only wished she could be worthy of the same.

[that-banana-headed-bovine]

i was thinking

which is not a good idea but i digress.

I wonder if the reason every attempt to reboot/revamp/reimagine Knight Rider has “failed”--I say failed very loosely because I know that the ‘08 show has a solid fanbase, TKR less so but still definitely some supporters, even the movie has its fans...and I don’t mean to invalidate that, because I hate when people crap on media just because it doesn’t fit their standards and genuinely love that so many people get enjoyment from these spinoffs/reboots...just that these shows didn’t resonate with fans of the ‘82 show as much as they’d probably hoped for which is why the movie’s reboot never happened and ‘08 only got one season and TKR faded into relative obscurity--is because Knight Rider as a concept doesn’t really have a fulfilling way to wrap up.

Like, every other iteration of Knight Rider relies on stuff happening after the original show, and what could possibly have happened that’s good for everyone involved?  In order for KR 2000 to happen, Kitt had to be deactivated for like, over a decade, just to be brought back for the movie and the spinoff that never really happened... and now you have to live with the knowledge that it will just happen again after that spinoff.  That’s not Fun to Think About.  It, as a concept, is taking a crap on the original--not necessarily because it tried to, mind you, but it’s the only way to write Kitt out of the story for any amount of time because he can’t get sick, he can’t retire, he doesn’t have a life outside of This.  When This ends, what’s left for him?

I don’t know as much about ‘08 and TKR, I’ve just been obsessing on KR 2000 a bit recently, but the same thing kinda happens.  If I remember correctly, ‘08 implies that Ki2t’s been dismantled in a similar fashion to KR 2000... but even if they didn’t have a scene directly calling for that, the absence of Ki2t in any capacity would likely lead us to assume the worst, possibly running with KR 2000 being canon or just writing off reasons, because if Michael makes a cameo without Ki2t, then surely SOMETHING went wrong.  Even if it didn’t, even if Ki2t had returned with Michael by his side, the existence of a next generation gets us thinking.  About the mortality of our heroes.  About the fact that someday Michael will be gone, and considering that Mike has his own special pal at this point, what’s left for Ki2t?

And for TKR, it probably handles Ki2t the best ironically from what I can tell, but still.  If Kitt’s there, helping out our new heroes, by himself... that means he’s alone now, doesn’t it?  Still contributing how he can, never dropping his allegiance to FLAG entirely, but they didn’t do the same in kind.  Without any arc to indicate that he’d want a life on his own, we’re left to wonder how on Earth he’d fend for himself as a car, not like he can pump his own gas, and if he ever did find another companion then, well, it’s only a matter of time.

It makes it really hard to reboot something where all of the implied endings are grim, where it thrives in thinking about the Now and not giving the Later much thought.  The closest I’ve come to a satisfactory conclusion is in a human/android AU, because at least then Kitt going on to live his best life is feasible.  As in, he is physically capable of providing for himself once the others are gone, as tough as it is.  Right now, the best I’ve got is that when Michael retires he brings his friend with, who gladly continues to provide for him until the end, at which point he’s developed the skills to be on his own and help others along the way... it’s still not great though, no?  Genuinely curious, what are your thoughts on this?  Or am I just,,, being a killjoy for no reason LMBO I don’t mean to be really, just wondering

oh and Edit that’s not even talking about how Stevie fricken died so rip Michael’s happiness ig uwu

[badnikbreaker]

null space is majorly wasted in-game, and i’m obsessed with breaking characters into and out of reality and what it does to a person to be rendered Unreal, so i’m expanding the concept because it should be SOOO COOL. 

obvious caveats that, where sonics are concerned, this is all flexible — since null space involves your muse as much as mine.  i’ve separated the below into two parts; part one is basic stuff that’s probably generally applicable and which focuses more on ava, leaving space for sonic’s experience to be a bit different; part two’s got some more specific (  and traumatizing!  ) thoughts that i’ll treat as non-canon when writing with sonics unless the aforementioned sonic seems game.

general stuff —

when sonic and ava were pulled into null space, they were separated; torn from one another.  ava knew that she had to find sonic before anything else, and set off to do so.  on some level, she sensed that double boost might be enough to get them out, but at her base, she just — didn’t want to be alone.

the experience of being in null space was — disconcerting, in the extreme.  they quite literally did not exist for that period, and the feeling of ‘i am not real’ was deeply, deeply sick and horrifying.  the longer she spent in there, the more she struggled to maintain a sense of identity; her self broke down.  body coming undone.  they just kept repeating in their head, find sonic.  find sonic.

it took longer than it did in canon.  a few hours, probably.  but nothing exists in null space, including time — to ava, it feels at once like hours and days.  weeks.  you can imagine how that fucks with your perception of reality.

once sonic and ava reunited, it still took them some time and a few tries to escape.  ava was giving up hope they’d ever get out, but sonic kept their spirits up — “everyone is waiting for us!”

assuming we’re going with my personal canon of forces taking longer than it does in game, ava takes a week off missions directly after, and honestly should have taken off longer.  they were incredibly shaky and constantly hallucinating for days after, sure sure sure this wasn’t real — again, it fucked with their perception of reality badly.  I DON’T EXIST I NEVER GOT OUT THIS ISN’T REAL.

outside of that canon, where the next mission happens almost immediately after, ava’s notably shaky and unsettled throughout it.  off their a game.

either way, it contributes to their willingness to throw themselves into the sun and (  as far as they know  ) die to save the others — they only sorta halfway feel like they exist anyway, so, like, what’s the harm in dying?

specific stuff —

null space doesn’t exist, but it wants to.  or, at least, that’s how it felt to ava.  maybe it doesn’t want anything.  maybe it’s simply the nature of nothing, to try to fill the space of whatever it’s poured into.  there was nothing in null space, and now there is.  there is ava, and ava’s memories and terrors.  it fills the space inside her chest.

similarly to the phantom ruby copies, but more advanced and more erratic, there were — visions, memories, monsters.  ava experienced infinite’s killing of their town again and again as they struggled to find sonic, as well as memories of when infinite trounced them in metropolis.  eventually, they did find him, but — not.  null space filled the space of ava’s fear of her own uselessness next to sonic, her fear that he’d come to hate her, and created an illusion of sonic.  it acted warmly at first, but soon devolved into a monster that attacked her.  ava destroyed it, once there was no other choice.  she knew it wasn’t sonic, knew sonic would never do that, but it —— it was still difficult and frightening, to kill something that looks like your best and only friend.  let alone while that friend calls you a useless nothing, so much anxiety and doubt —

they found the real sonic not long after and never mentioned it to him.  they’re not sure why.  or maybe they’re just trying not to think about why.

null space doesn’t exist, and neither does anything in it.  anyone.  while sonic and ava were in null space, others forgot about them, at least mostly — or, can you forget about something that isn’t real?  it wasn’t until they escaped that the others remembered them fully.

[savejamiecampbellbower]

proof A part 01

jessica moloney is evil in person. she's a filthy rotten, horrible malevolent individual with nefarious connections to extremely vile, depraved, and revoltingly sickening monstrous beings.

james campbell bower may have become a victim of human trafficking.

https://archive.is/wip/DD3E3

Hi Jamie Campbell Bower fans of Twitter/X, please look at this VERY important post regarding someone who’s been grooming minors in this fandom (you all know this person)

https://archive.ph/Us7DM

This post is about Hannah @/jamiebowerserenity. Which, as some of you may know, was my “best friend” in 2022 - start of 2023.. I’m going to start off by saying that our friendship was not perfect at all, and i see that now. She has groomed me, manipulated me a whole lot.. There’s a lot to fucking talk about as it was a whole year of her manipulating me and doing a good job of it because i was incredibly vulnerable at 16 & 17. I simply can’t talk about EVERYTHING because of the space Instagram has for captions… So i’m going to talk about everything i can that she’s done to me in simpler forms. She tried to manipulate me into isolating myself from my sister- my own family?! she tried to manipulate me into leaving my friends. She talked about such sexual things in front of me (which includes sexual things about herself) She would spread such fake bullshit like “Don’t sexualize Jamie!” and HEAVILY sexualize him in private which made me very uncomfortable. She once sent me photos of her thighs, bare stomach, and feet.. At the time i had only just turned 17, and i was so blinded to see how wrong it all was because i was IN LOVE with her.. She really lead me on for a very long time and it really fucked with me.. I would fall asleep crying about her often.. She kept her friendship with me VERY private.. She always wanted me to repost and share everything that she posted, and i felt forced to do it.. whereas when i wanted her to share my posts around about the petition she only did it twice.. Another thing: With the Bring Back ‘Will’ Petition, She never contributed much!! It was my sister Jenesis and I’s idea and we didn’t know how to create a petition so she did it and slapped her name on it, only shared it for TWO weeks and gave up and began promoting her YouTube channel.. Most of those signatures were because of My Sister and i, and all of you continuing to fight for a second season and sharing it around!! Hannah might be petty enough to delete the petition because of this post.. And if she does, i’m so sorry that this will all feel like it was for nothing. For a whole year it’s meant something.. (Read pinned comments)

https://www.instagram. com/p/CyEcq2Vv0Do/?igshid=MTc4MmM1YmI2Ng%3D%3D&img_index=1

https://archive.is/RgbKg

Please read these, after finding out that one of my good friends Hannah has groomed and has done other disgusting things to @keplerdarling . I’m honestly so disgusted I can’t even explain. Knowing I was friends with her makes me sick. Hannah’s @ is jamiebowersfan.

YOU ARE A GROWN ASS ADULT YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT YOU DONT SAY STUFF LIKE THAT TO MINORS AND THEN WHEN YOU GET CALLED OUT SAY THAT YOU WERE JUST PLAYING AROUND

“Im just a silly person sometimes” literally colleen ballinger, u need to get out. You arent safe. You are a danger to kids and probably still are under cover

[theamericandisappointment]

001

I’m not going to start writing until I start writing, so I’m just gonna ease into this with a first post, I guess.

I think that a lot of the causes behind depression are unmet needs. I experience what I’d objectively call pretty severe depression, and I recognize that due to not having my needs met, by myself or by others where applicable, I felt a sensation of pretty urgent distress and anxiety, which was drawn out over a long time.

In my career I did a lot of audio editing and show notes for a podcaster who emphasizes “inner child work,” “parenting yourself as an adult,” and other pain points for parents. I think it’s safe to say that at the time of writing (January 2023), most parents in the West, and in the United States in particular, did not get what they needed most as children, which was compassionate care appropriate to their age and stage. I love my parents dearly. I know they tried really hard. And I know that they messed me up pretty badly. (I sense that other millennials are feeling this way too, which lends urgency to our collective push toward mental health awareness, healing trauma, reparenting ourselves, and so on.)

My mom was full of passive-aggressive energy, easily-hurt feelings, and sarcasm as a coping mechanism, inherited from her parents — who surely got it from theirs. On my dad’s side, my grandpa inherited all kinds of baggage from his dad. Grandpa became a yeller, a stomper, and a door-slammer. My dad learned that pattern and, against his own will, reenacted it raising me. But I can’t blame my parents, my grandparents, my great-grandparents, or any other progenitors, for doing what they did. Every generation in my family has suffered real, permanent psychological damage because the generations before lacked the tools, knowledge, and wisdom to absorb their traumas.

Frankly, the ever-present need to be working just to afford to exist has not helped. American work culture (what an oxymoron, work “culture”) values “grind” and “hustle,” but these are the fleeting qualities of youthful energy. If a man has not been given appropriate care of body and mind — and if he is not armed with the right knowledge or sense of self-worth — he will not know how to turn “grind” into sustainable success. Once his energies are expended, there is no regaining them without a long rest.

And at any rate, no man can be spiritually well if he lacks the time during each day to breathe and self-assess. Weekends don’t count — that’s scarcely enough time to do the household tasks that got left undone during the whole week! No, we as a society are are too far entrenched into automation and easy wealth creation to continue to justify playing the slave driver, demanding eight-hour days and forty-hour weeks and paying peasants’ wages when adjusting for inflation.

I am willing to accept that the Bill Gates, Jeff Bezos, and Elon Musk types work 3 or 4 times as hard as a median wage earner, but not 400 times as hard. That is nonsense, and besides, what a terrible metric that is for whether people “deserve” even the most common comforts of a modest but handsome house, clean clothes, nutritious food, and treatment of physical and mental ailments. I am sure there is enough wealth for no-one in America — probably no-one in the world — to go hungry, naked, or sick. Instead, gross inequity persists, and the very rich, the people with vast stores of wealth who contribute to humanitarian causes play the long-suffering servant and the philanthropist as though they were stage roles. And yet it is the wealthy who, by virtue of their own business practices, by virtue of their own excesses, uphold and maintain the broken systems which continue to oppress the poor and workers and make their “charity work” necessary. What a twist: the doctor is the disease!

I posit that the so-called “American Dream,” the “good old days,” whatever you want to call it, is nothing more than blissful, willful ignorance of individual and collective emotional and mental health. As individuals, families, communities, and society as a whole, we can only heal if we consciously adopt what I call the “Christ archetype” personality, viz:

We must level with our disappointments, heal our traumas, grieve the gleaming future we have denied ourselves and our posterity by consistently choosing profit margins over people, repair the damage done to our environment, listen to the people on the margins who express their visceral hurt, repent of our wrongs, and manifest our repentance by enacting social changes to heal, ennoble, enable ourselves and those around us.

[macgyvermedical]

How Nurses Started Working in Hospitals in the USA:

One thing I learned recently is that in the late-1800s-early-1900s USA, doctors pretty much ran the show in medicine, and were extremely territorial about it. There was a lot of infighting and patient-stealing (to the point where if a doctor called a consult, the AMA had rules on who would walk into and out of the room first so as to prevent the consulting physician from saying anything rude about the primary doc while the primary wasn't there).

This territorality also extended to nurses. Up until this point, nurses did not work in hospitals for a variety of reasons. One of these reasons was that doctors generally saw them as a threat to their practice and wouldn't let them in the door. Nurses were typically private-duty and most nursing care was provided in the home. Nurses were often hired because as family sizes shrank and more people worked outside the home in the late 1800s, there would be fewer people in a family able to devote time to the sick (this also contributed to the rise of hospitals as we see them today).

In this time period, hospitals were pretty terrible places. They were basically locations where you could live while you were sick, but nursing care was not provided unless you brought a family member or hired a nurse to do it. Doctors technically worked there, but generally they were not paid beyond room, board, and some networking opportunities, and most of them were first or second-year doctors still learning the trade (where the term "resident physician" comes from- because they lived at the hospital). Once a doctor finished (or gave up) on a residency post, they would go into private practice, where they would finally be able to charge for their services.

Now back to nurses. Hospitals sucked, but since rich people were typically the only financing a hospital got (patients did not pay at this time. They generally just petitioned the rich people to use the bed(s) they had "purchased" when funding the hospital and the rich people generally had pretty immense say in who was admitted. Later, you paid if you were in a private room, but not if you were on an open ward, leading to additional infighting among doctors who wanted to take care of as many private-room patients as possible due to the possibility of pay for their services).

The rich people did get to tour the hospitals, and their wives generally thought that the hospitals sucked. And since they were traveled and learned and had probably at least read that this weird nurse had decreased mortality in a crimean war hospital from 40% to 2% over the few years of her being in charge, they figured nurses were probably the way to making it suck less.

Doctors pretty much universally hated the idea of bringing nurses into their hospitals, claiming that trained nurses would be a threat to their authority. So the rich wives basically were like "yeah, don't mind us, we're just building these nursing schools near your hospitals- and you know how you're training your doctors on the hospital wards? Yea? Well, we're doing the same things with our student nurses. So they'll just be there with you, huh? And they're just gonna live at the nursing school across the street." And the student nurses pretty much just started caring for the patients in shifts, with more seasoned nurses from the nursing school across the street there to answer questions.

Which is how we got the concept of "diploma nurses" today, as well as how we got nurses in hospitals.

I got this info from the book "The Social Transformation of Medicine in America" By Paul Starr, which is an absolutely buckwild journey through US medical history. Because man, did the US evolve medicine in a completely different way than Europe did, my gawd.

[seijorhi]

Inexorable ♕

My birthday present for my beloved wife @iwaasfairy​ and my contribution to her birthday bash collab you can find here. I love you, you’re incredible and I hope you like this i even wrote smut for you smh

Iwaizumi Hajime x female reader

tw: dub-con, stalking, unhealthy relationships, very questionable decision making, smut, nsfw, um... implied murder?

He’s sitting on the steps outside your apartment when you get home from work, a lit cigarette dangling between long fingers. He brings it to his lips, the bright cherry red tip glowing as he takes a nice, slow drag and you scurry on past.

Not a word passes between the two of you, but olive eyes follow you up the stairs regardless, just like always. His name is Iwaizumi – Iwa – but you only know that because you’ve heard his friends yelling it down the hallway. In the three months since you’ve moved in, you haven’t so much as introduced yourself to the guy, but like most strangers crammed into the same shitty place there’s some kind of a routine between the two of you.

Why he religiously chooses this time of night to take his smoke break is beyond you, but like clockwork you’ll arrive home, having walked back from the bus stop and Iwaizumi’ll be there waiting for you, cigarette in hand.

Well, not waiting, just… there. Black leather jacket with a hoodie underneath, there’s a cut above his eyebrow tonight that he hasn’t bothered to clean, a purpling bruise colouring his jaw. Whatever dealings Iwaizumi’s tangled up in, you don’t like to think about too much, but you know it can’t be anything good. His friends dress like him, all have the same ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe. You’ve seen their scrapes and bruises too – the weapons that stick out from the waistband of their pants – though you’re always quick to avert your eyes when they catch you staring.

You’ve heard them snickering about it when you hastily dart past, all but slamming your front door shut. 

And it’s not that you’re scared of him. There are people who play at being dangerous, and ones who are. Iwaizumi doesn’t strike you as somebody who enjoys playing, and while you don’t doubt for a second that he is dangerous, he isn’t to you. He wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt or scare you – you’re not even a blip on his radar – but what Iwaizumi is, at least as far as you’re concerned, the reason your step quickens and you can’t bear to meet his eyes, is intimidating.

Tall and broad shouldered, with those piercing green eyes. You’ve only seen him smile once, though it was more a quirking of his lips than anything else – usually he just stares, his expression halfway between impassive boredom and a scowl. 

No, Iwaizumi doesn’t scare you nearly as much as the bouquet of flowers you find sitting on your doorstep, a handwritten note tucked in between the roses.

—

The calls come next. You block one number and he rings from another, followed by endless texts. Cute little messages you suppose are meant to brighten up your day. 

Hi baby, love the skirt you’re wearing today. You know blue’s my favourite on you, always look so damn pretty. It’s like you’re trying to drive me crazy haha

Morning babe, I was thinking about you last night. You remember that trip we always said we were gonna take in the summer down to the lake? I can’t wait to bring you there.

Why won’t you answer my calls? I just wanna talk to you, hear your voice again. Let me make things right. I love you.

Don’t you miss me? I miss you. So, so much… You look beautiful today, by the way.

Baby, I love you, but you really shouldn’t be staying out so late with your coworkers for drinks. I just want you to be safe.

They’re not all soft and sweet though. Sometimes he just sends you pictures, and those creep you out most of all.

You change your number, and it doesn’t make a difference.

—

It’s hard for you to try and convince yourself that you’re imagining the prickling sensation on the back of your neck as you go about your day. You know he’s watching you – the messages and the voicemails just drive that home, but what else are you supposed to do?

You can’t just pack up and run again, and what good is a restraining order when you have no proof he’s violating it – and by the time you do, it probably won’t help you.

Kazuma’s always had patience, but only up to a point.

The final nail comes the day you arrive home to find one of Iwa’s friends heading out from his apartment – the tallest, with the curly dark hair. Barely spares you a glance until he seems to think better of it.

“Didn’t realise you had a boyfriend, sweetheart.”

He says it so casually, but the words make you falter, a sinking feeling in your stomach. “What do you mean?”

And for a moment, he looks half surprised that you’ve bothered to reply – so far you’ve done nothing but pretend to ignore him and Iwa and every last one of their friends. But the mirth slips from his expression quickly enough once he gets a good look at yours, “Blonde guy with a shitty dye job, tall-ish. Saw him leaving your apartment an hour ago.” 

But to walk out of your apartment, he had to have first gotten into it.

“Guessing he wasn’t your boyfriend then,” he says, eyeing you with an odd look. But you don’t respond and after a short pause, he simply shrugs and continues on his way. 

You couldn’t care less.

Kazuma was in your apartment.

Leaving flowers at your doorstep is one thing, but now he has a key. 

And it feels like there’s somebody else moving your body as you stumble towards your apartment, your hand shaking so badly that you fumble and drop your own keys twice before you finally manage to slide them home and push your way inside.

It’s waiting for you inside your bedroom, sitting atop your pillow; a pretty blue box wrapped with white ribbon.

Your phone flashes to life a minute later; an incoming message from an unknown number. 

Did you like your present, baby?? I hope you don’t mind, I kinda borrowed a little something too… 

With your heart in your throat you watch those three bouncing dots as the image comes through. 

A pair of red lace panties – yours – scrunched up in his fist, wrapped around his–

Your stomach heaves, and you barely make it to the bathroom in time before you’re hurling your guts up.

—

You’ve always had an impulsive side, and more often than not it’s landed you into trouble.

So you force yourself to calm down and think before you do anything rash. You head to the police station the very next morning to file a report, fresh off a sleepless night. The officer seems sympathetic, but you know before she even opens her mouth that there’s nothing they can do.

There’s no proof of a crime committed; nothing was taken (nothing you can prove, at any rate) and because your door wasn’t tampered with and the windows weren’t smashed, there’s no evidence of a break in. She suggests changing your locks and going to stay with some friends or family for a few days and you don’t know whether you want to laugh or burst into tears.

And instead of going back to work, you call in sick.

Iwaizumi isn’t sitting on the front steps when you get back home, and why would he be? You’re not supposed to be home for another few hours – so instead you head to his apartment door and mustering every last ounce of courage you possess, you raise your fist and knock.

Silence greets you. 

You wait for a moment, a heartbeat, not daring to breathe, but there’s no answer. Which, really, shouldn’t be that surprising considering it’s mid-morning on a Tuesday, but you can’t help the crushing sense of disappointment that washes over you. The thought of trudging back to your apartment to sit and stew alone for the next few hours while you wait for him to come back makes your skin crawl. You can’t just sit still and twiddle your thumbs, not when–

Abruptly, the door in front of you swings open, and you find yourself face to face with a glaring Iwaizumi. His expression falters, momentary surprise flickering across his eyes at the sight of you standing in his doorway.

This time you don’t avert your eyes. Your heart’s pounding, your hands clammy and trembling by your side, but this is the only choice you have left. And so as a single eyebrow cocks and Iwa falls into a lean against the doorframe – the only invitation you’re gonna get – you steel your nerves, take a deep breath, and speak.

“I-I need a gun.”

To his credit, Iwaizumi doesn’t snort. “You planning on shooting somebody, princess?”

They’re the first words he’s ever spoken to you, and they make your cheeks burn, your stomach twisting into a knot. It’s not a dismissal, but there’s a tinge of amusement colouring his tone and you can’t help but wilt a little under the weight of his gaze. 

Better sense would tell you to turn around, walk back to your apartment and curse your own idiocy for entertaining this stupid idea to begin with But Iwaizumi’s staring at you like he’s expecting an answer and all you can think about is the fear that gripped your heart last night, how you couldn’t bear to turn the light off, half terrified that at any moment Kazuma would come back – and this time he wouldn’t be satisfied with just some panties.

You can’t live like this, and you can’t just pack up your life and wait for the same thing to happen in the next place, and the one after that. Kazuma won’t stop, you know that. 

“I…” you chew on your bottom lip, dropping your gaze so that you’re staring at his chest instead of those piercing green eyes. “I don’t, I-I’m not–”

“A killer?” he interjects, and you almost flinch at his bluntness“Yeah, no shit.”

Taking another breath in through your nose, you force yourself to meet his gaze, even as your nails bite into the palm of your hand and your heart skips a beat. “I just want…” but you can’t even bear to say the words aloud, not without your voice shaking like a leaf. “It’s for protection. I don’t know who else to go to. Please,” you beg.

Iwa exhales heavily, a crinkle appearing between his brows as he frowns, “This got anything to do with the blonde asshole that’s been sniffing ‘round your place?”

Your bewilderment must show, because he snorts, finally stepping back to let you inside. “Mattsun told me,” he says, answering your unspoken question. 

The unmistakably hard edge to his words takes you a little by surprise, but you nod anyway, gingerly taking a seat on the couch when he jerks his chin at it. “Oh, uh, yeah. He’s my ex, kinda. We… didn’t end well.”

It’s the understatement of the century, but you somehow doubt a man like Iwaizumi gives two shits about your past relationship with a stalker. Your fingers play with the hem of your skirt as the imposing man settles down beside you. “So does this mean you’ll get me a gun?” you ask. “I can pay you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I have some money–”

Iwa scoffs, cutting you off. “If you think I’m letting you anywhere near a loaded gun, pretty girl, you’re dumber than I gave you credit for.”

You reel back as if he’s slapped you. But Iwaizumi’s staring at you with that steely expression and blood rushes to your cheeks. Why are you surprised? Did you actually think he was going to help you – a veritable stranger – just because you have some sob story? Why even bother letting you in if he was just gonna make you feel like an idiot? And for a moment you forget the gnawing terror that’s kept you up all night, letting yourself become awash with indignation. You have no control over the hurt noise that leaves your throat, but the ‘Fuck you’ that follows; that one’s intentional.

You don’t have time to regret the insult as you jump to your feet; his hand shoots out to wrap around your wrist, jerking you to a halt the moment you try it. 

“I didn’t say you could go,” he tells you, and you can’t fight the shiver that rolls down your spine at the unmistakably commanding tone. “Sit.”

Wordlessly, you comply.

“Look at me.”

Again, there’s that harsh undercurrent in his voice that tells you he’s not asking, and you lift your gaze with a tense swallow. Iwa still hasn’t released your wrist, the warmth of his calloused palm searing against your skin. 

He doesn’t speak for a moment, olive eyes studying your face intently as you force yourself to sit still under the appraisal. “I said that I wasn’t going to give you a gun, not that I wasn’t going to help.”

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, “What–”

“I’ll take care of it,” he snaps, cutting you off once again. And as you inhale sharply, you realise that it’s not anger you see burning in those pretty eyes, but sheer, unrelenting fury, an icy rage that you don’t understand, that terrifies you as much as it enthrals.

Because you feel like it’s on purpose. Like he’s finally letting you get a glimpse of what silently seethes beneath that impassive mask of his. Are you scared now, sweetheart?

“H-how much?” you ask breathlessly, eyes wide and heart pounding. 

“I don’t want your money,” he says quietly, his voice low and husky. And just in case there was any confusion as to what he does want, his other hand comes up to your face, a broad thumb tracing along your bottom lip as he cups your cheek.

Iwaizumi leans in slowly, as if he’s giving you time to shove him away and tell him that you’re not that kind of girl. Part of you – the part that’s terrified, frozen stiff and regretting the very moment you decided to step into his apartment and cross that line – wants to. Even now, as those hooded olive eyes drink you in, his warm breath ghosting across your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake, you’re afraid that it’s too late for that. You’ve opened a door that should never have been opened and there’s been a fundamental shift between you and him. There’s no going back for either one of you.

And the other part of you revels in it.

“Don’t kill him,” you murmur the second before his lips meet yours. “Not unless you have to.” You don’t even know if he heard you, and as Iwa deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours you find that you don’t care. You lose yourself to Iwaizumi as he leans closer, gently pushing you to lie back on the couch.

He isn’t satisfied with just your lips for long, planting hot, open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat, sucking on the sensitive flesh. His teeth nip at your collarbone as he busies himself unbuttoning your shirt, but your gasp sounds more like a needy whine than a plea for him to stop. 

He laughs a little at that, his chest rumbling against your stomach, but he makes no moves to slow down. Instead he turns his attention to your bra, his hands far less gentle with the delicate lace than he was with your shirt, and then his mouth is on your tits, licking, sucking, biting. Tomorrow, your skin will be littered with pretty red and purple marks, and judging from the single minded focus glinting in his eyes as he stares up at you, that’s exactly his intention. Iwa drags the flat of his tongue along the swell of your breast, circling it around your nipple before he sucks it into the wet warmth of his mouth, and the whimpering moan you give him in response is a thing of beauty. 

“Good girl,” he croons. “Such pretty, perfect tits.”

Your back arches when he cups the other in his hand, and you cry out when he roughly tugs the sensitive bud. He waits until the sting fades and you relax, sagging back against the cushions with relief before he does it again, harder this time. The sharp, searing pain ripples through you, your breath seizing in your chest as you try in vain to writhe away from his touch, but it’s followed by a flood of pleasure so strong it almost makes you dizzy. The fleeting kiss Iwa bestows on the supple flesh a moment later could almost be taken as an apology – if not from the satisfied smirk curling at his lips. He has no desire to be gentle with you, not today or any other day. That’s not who he is. 

Large hands ease down your side, reaching for the hem of your skirt. Iwa doesn’t bother trying to pull it off of you, merely flips it up, exposing your soft thighs and the delicate panties lying underneath. 

In an attempt to be helpful, you lift your hips to allow him to drag the lacy scrap of fabric down your legs and discard it, but Iwaizumi seems perfectly content with leaving them where they are. Even so, it takes you by surprise when his mouth descends on your cunt, the wet, pink muscle laving along the seat of your panties. You shiver in response, one hand instinctively reaching out to tangle in those spiky brunette locks, but if you’re about to tell him to stop teasing, the words are robbed from you when Iwa pushes the fabric aside and buries his face in the heat of your pussy.

His nose nudges at your clit and you jerk at the first lap at your folds, already shamefully wet for him. There’s no rhythm or rhyme to the way he eats you out, letting a long, thick finger slide into your cunt while he suckles and licks at your clit, but you can’t deny that it’s working. Your thighs tremble and quake beneath his hands, every second of his attention dragging you closer to unravelling entirely. And you’re awash with pleas, little whimpers and moans as he chuckles, the low vibrations making your fingers tighten in his hair as another burst of pleasure flutters through you. Your hips rise and fall against his face, desperate for more when he finally slides his tongue inside of your heat, eager to taste your cunt properly. You want more, you’re desperate and aching for it; but Iwaizumi’s grip tighten bruisingly against your thigh in warning. 

You’re at his mercy, and he’s in absolutely no hurry.

The first time you cum, it takes you by surprise. It feels like an endless build-up, Iwa’s tongue lapping at your pussy like it’s heaven sent, his mouth working diligently to drive you insane. Every touch feels unbearably good, from the long, slow strokes to the way he drags the tip of his tongue along your clit. Your toes are curling, your tits heaving with the desperate breaths you choke down, and all of a sudden his mouth latches onto your clitoris and he sucks hard at the swollen nub. You almost black out right there and then, stars bursting behind closed lids as pleasure wreaks havoc over your body. But as good as that feels, it’s not until you open your eyes and catch sight of the hunger blazing in Iwaizumi’s eyes that you tip over the edge, cumming into his waiting mouth with an earth shattering moan. 

At some point he must have let you go to rid himself of his own clothes, and your panties, but you’re boneless, basking in the afterglow as he shifts you once more, lifting one of your thighs up to hook your leg over his shoulder as he settles back onto the couch.

You just watch through hazy eyes as Iwaizumi gives his thick cock, already hard and flushed an angry red, a few cursory pumps. And his eyes are fixed on yours as he leans down, guiding the tip to your sopping cunt. 

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of this, princess,” he grunts out. 

Warning bells sound in your head once more, your gut clenching uneasily, but any protests you might have voiced fall by the wayside as he slowly presses into you. It’s the girth, more than anything else, that takes you by surprise. It hurts, stretching out your poor, oversensitive cunt as his cock fills you up, inch by agonising inch. 

Iwa hisses from between clenched teeth and your eyes squeeze shut, trying to breathe through the pain. It won’t last long, you know that, and until it does you just have to grin and bear it.

You can feel it twitching inside of you, every ridge and vein, the way your slick walls hug his cock. His thumb strokes along your hip, soothing you as your face screws up and another whimper slips out. You think you hear him say something, praise maybe, or encouragement, but all you can focus on is the way his cock throbs inside your pussy when he finally bottoms out and stills.

And for a moment, he doesn’t move. A small kindness, letting you become adjusted to his size before he fucks you the way he’s dying to. 

“Look at me,” he says, and while his tone isn’t as sharp this time, it’s no less of an order.

Your eyes flutter open as Iwaizumi turns his head just a fraction without breaking eye contact, pressing a soft kiss against your calf. His eyes are glazed with feverish lust, pupils blown wide, almost swallowing up that thin ring of olive green entirely, and you wonder whether you should feel afraid right now.

You don’t have the words to describe it, the distant unease that seeps through you as you stare into the eyes of a man who’s clearly not in control anymore. If you screamed right now, tried to fight back or stop him, would it make a difference? 

Do you actually want to?

“You’re mine,” he growls out, drawing his hips back and slamming them forward ruthlessly as you choke on a scream. 

He’s relentless, hissing out curses as he fucks you like a rag doll, filling your wet, tight little cunt again and again and again. It’s all you can do to fist at the edge of the cushion, one hand wrapping around his back, your nails raking down his skin, drawing blood in their wake.

And Iwa doesn’t care, tossing his head back as he pounds his cock into your needy cunt, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. “Iwa,” you plead between gasping breaths, clinging to his broad frame. You don’t even know what you’re begging for, not as he grabs you by the hips and lifts you up, hauling you closer so he can fuck you deeper. And you can feel his cockhead rutting against your cervix with every vicious thrust, the painful stretch of your cunt as you’re forced to take his fat cock. It hurts, it does, but holy fuck you can’t focus on that when his fingers slip between your legs and he starts to rub at your puffy, oversensitive clit.

You’re whining, mewling, hips shifting as you rock against him, desperate for more friction. “Please, Iwa,” you moan.

The sound of it, the lewd slaps of skin against skin, the wet squelching as he drives his cock home again with an unforgiving pace would be enough to make you burn with embarrassment, but you don’t care because you’re quickly losing yourself to mindless pleasure. Every stroke fills you completely, it’s hot and thick and the drag of his cock against your plush walls, the way it kisses that sweet perfect spot with every thrust is driving you to insanity.

“Fuck!” you cry, clenching tightly around his length as you hurtle over the edge for a second time. You’re gushing, convulsing, back arched up off the couch, lips parted and–

Iwaizumi stops with a growl and you barely have time to process it before he’s flipping you onto your front, yanking your ass up into the air and hammering his cock back into your swollen, abused little pussy. It’s a bruising pace he sets as he chases after his own end, your name falling from his lips in harsh, breathless grunts. 

It doesn’t take long for his thrusts to become sloppy, your cunt sucking him in and pulsing around his cock. And you don’t have the mental capacity to beg him to pull out, not as his muscular chest collapses against your back, his arms wrapping around your waist and he pumps you full of his seed.

Neither one of you move straight away, both fighting to catch your breath and calm down in the afterglow of your orgasms. Your eyes flutter shut as he presses soft, sweet kisses to the back of your neck, your shoulders, anywhere he can reach. It’s an intimacy that doesn’t belong here, but you find yourself arching into it, a small, tired smile curling at your lips as Iwaizumi lavishes you with affection. 

And you can only whine softly when he finally pulls his cock out and stands, lifting your boneless form up into his arms, chuckling quietly when you bury your head into his chest. Your head’s empty, your thoughts a jumbled mess as he carries you into his bedroom, depositing you carefully onto the bed. 

Iwaizumi leaves you there like that, and when he returns a few minutes later he’s dressed again. He doesn’t smile, but there’s something oddly content about his expression as he stops by the doorway and takes in the sight of you; naked and thoroughly fucked out, curled up amongst his covers. 

“Iwa?” you ask sleepily, stretching your aching body to make yourself more comfortable as you nestle further into the soft mattress.

He doesn’t answer you as he strides in, but you watch through half lidded eyes as his expression hardens. Stopping by the bedside, Iwaizumi reaches for you. You think he’s going to cup your cheek again, maybe run his fingers through your hair, but instead his hand slides between your thighs, gathering up some of the cum that’s seeped from your pussy with his fingers and slowly pushing it back inside of you, humming when you whine and shift under him.

“I’m leaving for a bit,” he tells you, your gut clenching as you remember why you’re in this position in the first place. “You don’t leave this apartment until I get back. You don’t answer the door, you don’t tell anyone you’re here, you don’t leave this bed unless you have a goddamn good reason. Understand?”

Weakly, you nod.

“Such a good girl for me,” he breathes, and this time when he leans over he does kiss you, sweeping your hair back from your face before his warm lips meet your cheek. He lingers there for a beat longer than necessary before pulling away with a sigh.

And as the door swings shut, the sound of the lock clicking into place behind him, you begin to question whether you’ve made a mistake. You don’t doubt for a second that Iwa will follow through with his promise. Whether it’s tonight or tomorrow or a week from now, he’ll find Kazuma; him and his friends, and they’ll make sure he stays away. And until they do, you won’t leave this apartment.

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that despite your pleas, Iwaizumi’ll kill him. 

Not because that’s the only way for this to end, though you realise that that’s always been a possibility, but because of what you glimpsed in his eyes today. Stupidly, you’d thought you had Iwa pegged. But there’s something that lurks beneath that facade, something more dangerous than you could’ve possibly imagined and the moment you opened the door to Iwaizumi it sunk its teeth into you and now you’re not sure if it’ll ever let you go.

And as you lie back in Iwaizumi’s bed, covered in the marks he left behind you wonder whether you’ve merely traded one monster for another. Perhaps it was inevitable. Inexorable.

[deobi-scenes]

matchmaker— lee h.j.

synopsis | when it comes to love and matchmaking, y/n is the perfect person for the job. Despite her successful career, ironically, y/n finds it hard to find love. What happens if the matchmaker herself is set up for a date that will hopefully change her life?

theme | romance, fluff

word count | 3.5 k

“guess what? I heard client 4913 and client 4914 are engaged!” Se Hee, my co-worker said blasting through our office.

She placed a coffee mug on my desk and sat on the edge of her desk.

“so… I’ve heard. Let’s just send them a gift basket later.” I said typing away.

There were tons of inquiries and things to be done to get the matchmaking business smooth and ready.

‘Made4u’ is Se Hee’s and I’s business plan back when we were in college. What started as a mere business for grades turned out to be one of the trendiest apps and businesses in Seoul.

“ Se Hee, I’ve been receiving lots of complains regarding the app. Have our IT team fix it please.”

“ I already did. You know what, I’m older than you and yet you act like you are already in your 40s” she teased as she wrote on our big schedule board.

Se Hee was all teasing and banter but when she got serious, she was really like an older sister for me.

“ I’m sorry… I’m just a bit pressured and overwhelmed with all the love we’ve been receiving and-”

“loosen up, y/n.” she smiled half-heartedly.

" you know what, you're right. A few hours won't hurt right?" I said finally closing my laptop.

" yes and I need help with sorting these." she said handing me over an ipad that contained information and pictures about our clients.

I scanned through each profile making sure that they were 'clean' and fit for our matchmaking process when I stumbled upon an interesting profile.

my old happy crush, Lee Hyunjae.

"is... there something wrong with him?" Se Hee suddenly said making me focus back on his profile.

" n-no. I just know him from way back." I said handing back the ipad to her.

" oh... I see."

I've made up a bunch of scenarios in my mind thinking why on earth the most popular kid in high school will use a matchmaking app. MY matchmaking app.

To my dispute, no reasonable and realistic scenario popped inside my head.

---

Hyunjae's POV

" oh come on. All my friends use this. It has a guarantee rate of 99.99%" Eric whined following me all over the apartment which I share with him and Jacob.

" yeah... I know how hot topic it is but why do I have to get myself involved with all this nonsense?"

"hey, love isn't nonsense." Jacob shouted from the kitchen.

"he's right and who knows, with all these matchmaking, you might just find your true love."

---

y/n's POV

Se Hee just called in sick leaving all the work for the day to me. I've been going around Seoul and interviewing people left and right. It was an exhausting process but it got the job done.

"so, tell me, where is 91397 again?" I asked Se Hee on the phone making my way over to a quaint café the profile's pin led me to.

" says here on my tablet, he's probably inside the café right now."

"okay, I'll go meet him." I said hanging up

I went inside and was immediately greeted by the beautiful aroma of coffee and pastries.

"good morning." A barista greeted as I bowed back and looked around to check if my client 91397 is here. Considering that the cafe is small, finding him or her would be a breeze.

I scanned the room and immediately my eyes landed on a very familiar face.

Lee Hyunjae.

I double checked my ipad and that's when his profile started to reveal his picture. It was indeed him.

The beauty of the Made4U app was that it kept the identity of the person hidden until you 'match' or at least when the app matches you together. We believed that the element of surprise contributed well to the process of genuine matchmaking.

It wasn't an exception for Se Hee and I. Every time we would meet clients, we would only see their full profile once the app reveals it.

I shut my eyes together and hoped for the best.

' be professional y/n.' I said mentally scolding myself for being nervous.

I walked over to where his table was and greeted him.

"uh, hello. You must be client 91397. I'm Kim y/n from Made4U." I said putting my hand out for him to shake.

I knew that he was just as surprised as I was because his eyes went wide.

"Kim y/n as in Hanlim's Kim y/n?" He said shaking my hand.

" the one and only." I said smiling at him

'so far, so good.'

" oh, please have a seat. Do you want anything?"

"just iced americano please." I said. I was about to grab my purse when I found him already making his way to the cashier.

His features have gone more mature and his physique looks stronger and well built.

'what are you doing, snap out of it.'

I immediately shook my head and proceeded to look at his profile.

Moments later, he came back with Iced Americano and croissant.

" this café serves the best croissants in the area. You should try it." he said sitting back on his seat."

"oh, thank you so much. I'll just pay you-"

"no need, it's my treat."

I just nodded and proceeded to get my ipad pencil and scribble on the ipad.

"so, once again, thank you for choosing Made4U. Before we proceed with the matchmaking process and helping you find love, I would just like to ask some questions. Would that be okay?"

" sure, feel free to ask me anything."

"okay, so Mr. Hyunjae-ssi, why did you decide to join Made4U?" I looked up at him. I was lowkey curious of his answer because I would finally hear from himself why he used the app.

" well, to be honest, I didn't really make the profile myself. It was done by a younger friend of mine who thought that it was a good avenue to find love."

I scribbled whatever he said and proceeded to the next question.

"so, what are you looking forward to in Made4U?"

"I don't really expect much but if it'll help me find love, then I will be amazed."

" I see, I see. So, can you tell me a little something about your ideal girl or at least someone you look forward to dating?"

"hmmm, I'm looking at her right now."

I looked at him wide-eyes and expected that he will smirk or something but instead he smiled.

' be professional.'

"o-oh come on. You almost got me there. But really, what is your ideal type Mr. Hyunjae-ssi."

"then... someone who I can click well with."

"okay, so I got necessary information I need. We'll just be processing this and hopefully through us you will find someone who is Made4U."

I closed my ipad and put it back on my bag.

" uh, y/n do you have somewhere else to be?" Hyunjae suddenly spoke.

"not that I know of. I think you're my last client of the day." I said checking my phone to see if there were any other schedules set by Se Hee.

he nodded and said,

" do you... perhaps want to catch up? Spiderman is showing and I remember how much you love him."

"sure, I would love that." I smiled.

He and I went outside the café and walked over to his car.

He owned a Mercedes Benz. It suited him well.

He gladly opened the door for me, sat on the driver seat and drove off.

He and I were talking about each other’s lives trying to catch up with whatever was going on with our lives.

"you drive a mustang?" he said surprised

"yeah.. it got me out and about faster than public transport." I said scratching the back of my head.

" I'm impressed, y/n."

"thank you and likewise? You sure do keep your car clean for a guy.” I blurted out; not even thinking about a word I said.

He just chuckled at my remark and sped away until we stopped in a cinema complex.

he parked the car and we went inside the cinema.

" I'll go buy the tickets." He said

"but you already treated me earlier. Don't make me feel bad."

" it's nothing really. If you want, you can get the snacks."

I just nodded my head and went over to the snack station and bought some snacks.

considering that I do not know what Hyunjae would like, I bought two sets of caramel pop corn and cola.

Moments after, he came back and stood beside me.

“well, I bought the tickets but we would have to wait for another 35 minutes before it starts.” he said looking at his watch.

“hmmm… why don’t we sit there for the mean time?” I asked pointing over to the empty chairs in front of the glass window.

Hyunjae helped me with carrying the snacks and got settled.

The silence was killing me so I just blurted out whatever was on my mind.

“so… what does the legendary Lee Hyunjae do now?”

“well, I work in a bank as a senior consultant and do some modeling here and there but believe me, compared to the models you see, I am nothing.”

“what? You definitely aren’t nothing. You weren’t called THE most popular and handsome kid in school just to be called that. All of the girls back in highschool wanted to get noticed by you.” I said recalling the time back when we were in highschool.

“ I only noticed one girl though.” He mumbled. It was almost inaudible for me to hear but I knew he said those words.

“so… what about you? What are you doing now?” He asked looking intently at me.

“I don’t want to appear as if I’m bragging but I co-own Made4U-”

“what?! you co-own one of the hottest apps in Seoul?” he shouting. People soon heard his voice and looked at us weirdly.

Absentmindedly. I held his hand and shushed his lips.

Before regaining my senses, I immediately removed my hands from his and looked away.

I saw him also looking away but the faint rosy tint on his cheeks seemed like he was blushing.

‘did I just make Lee Hyunjae blush?’

“i-it’s not like that. I mean, we still have a long way to go.”

“if you don’t mind me asking, why matchmaking?”

Out of the many questions asked by interviewers and hosts, it was the very first time someone asked me that.

I thought long and deep before arriving at an answer.

“I guess I just love the idea that somewhere out there, there are two people destined for each other and I am just an instrument for them to find each other.”

“ so basically, you are like modern cupid?” he teased

“ I guess so I mean, Hyun joo paid me to set you guys up back in -”

‘shit.’

———

Hyunjae’s POV

“ I guess so I mean, I set you up with Hyun joo back in -”

I looked at y/n whose eyes turned wide.

*Flash back 6 years ago.*

“another note for the pretty boy.” Kyungwoo, one of my classmates teased as I looked at my desk to see a note stuck on it.

‘ good luck on your basketball game later.’

my thoughts were interrupted when a voice called.

“Hyunjae-ssi.”

I looked around to see y/n holding a sports drink on her hand. She handed it over to me and said,

“here. Hyun joo wanted to give this to you.” she smiled half-heartedly.

“T-thanks.” I said slightly disappointed.

“good luck on your basketball game later. Fighting.” she said before going out of the room.

It had been a series of Hyunjoo “coincidentally” bumping in to me and y/n.

There was one time where y/n invited me to a cafe only to be left with Hyunjoo.

Eventually, Hyunjoo and I dated. It was fun at first but the spark was definitely not there.

I know to myself that there was only girl for me.

———

y/n POV

There really isn’t wrong with him but I know that I’ve betrayed him. Of course, he was smart enough to know it but I was the one who kept pushing it.

“ let’s go… the movie is about to start.” I mumbled and he just nodded.

He and I went inside the cinema proper and went to our seats.

For the past 25 years, it was the very first time that I felt tormented in watching a movie.

whenever I would sneak glances, Hyunjae was just there completely quiet.

‘you messed up.’

despite my favorite Marvel character playing on the big screen, I could only look at Hyunjae. I felt so bad.

To add to a once happy day, I knocked over my cola pouring it all over my body.

“shit.” I cursed

It was a good thing that there weren’t much people around to witness my humiliating scene.

“here, wear this.” Hyunjae suddenly spoke taking off his sweater leaving him in his white shirt.

“aren’t you going to be cold-”

“please y/n. Just wear it for me.” he said looking intently right through my eyes making me nod in response.

After the fight scene, I hurried over to the ladies room and changed into his sweater.

I went out back to our seats only to be greeted by the ending credits.

The lights turned on and revealed an amused Hyunjae.

“so, what happened?”

“Venom is will be on the next movie!” he excitedly cheered as we made our way out and back at the parking.

“this was fun.” Hyunjae suddenly said

“it… was and Hyunjae, I’m sorry for -”

“don’t worry about it. It’s what you’re good at.” he said smiling halfheartedly

“uh… I’ll return your sweater I promise just give me your address.”

I took out my phone and handed it over to him so that he could type in his address. After some time, he returned my phone with his number and address.

“Lee Hyunjae 🐻”

“I didn’t expect you to be fond of bears but…okay.”

“ your other contacts doesn’t have an emoji and I wanted to have a special place; even not in your heart yet.”

he said cooly opening the passenger door for me and went on the driver seat.

I couldn’t really process my train of thoughts because of Hyunjae’s flirting or whatever you call it.

‘wait, is he flirting with me?’

“ l-let’s go.” I said showing him my address.

it was a silent but a peaceful way back home.

I could hear Hyunjae singing songs that were on the radio.

“You have a nice voice.” I said complimenting him

He just smiled at me as he parked right in front of my apartment complex.

something was telling me that I shouldn’t leave just yet.

“uhh.. thank you so much for this day.”

“thank you too. I enjoyed our little hangout.”

I grabbed on the door’s handle and before I knew it, Hyunjae’s hand was on top of mine.

His presence above me made me freeze on my spot.

He and I locked eye contact and I could see him looking at me lips.

If I wasn’t over thinking, it was as if he was asking my permission to kiss me.

Slowly he leaned in and soon his lips were on top of mine. What mattered more is that soon after I was kissing him back.

‘I was kissing my old happy crush. I was kissing Lee Hyunjae.’

As we parted, Hyunjae suddenly whispered,

“ I like you y/n. I always have.”

then it occurred to me. This is wrong.

“Y-you’re my client.”

I gently pushed him off me and opened the door. I got out of his car and before I could shut the door, the only words I left behind was,

“Thank you for choosing Made4U.”

———

y/n’s POV

“ why are you so quiet, y/n?” Se Hee suddenly said from her desk.

Ever since the night Hyunjae and I kissed, I was bothered on why on earth I said those words. Well, it was a shock for me to know that he likes me. My childhood happy crush likes me.

‘Hyunjae likes me.’

My hands were itching to reach out my phone and call him but because of the situation I was at, it was a bit off to have that connection with a client.

It’s been days and I haven’t heard from him since.

“Hee-ya, are you done with this week’s clients?” I asked hoping that she will give me some updates on Hyunjae.

“yeah. Actually, I just finished matchmaking. I’ll be making reservations at the restaurants right now.”

“uh… thanks?” I said while looking at the paper bag on the floor which had Hyunjae’s sweater on it. I had it cleaned and dried.

“ you know what y/n, just go and take the rest of the day off. You’ve been so off since Tuesday.” Se Hee said looking at me.

‘shoot your shot.’

I just nodded my head, fixed my things and grabbed my coat.

I hurriedly went down to the parking basement and drive straight to Hyunjae’s address. I was also calling his number hoping that he would pick up.

Once there, I hoped for the best, got out of my car, gripping on the paper bag and went inside the apartment complex.

I took a ride of the elevator and pressed the floor where his address told me to go.

I stood for a good two minutes in front of his apartment before I mustered the courage to ring his door bell.

All my excitement fell when I was greeted by an unfamiliar man.

“ uh… hi?” he said looking at me

“Hi… Is this Hyunjae’s apartment?”

“yes. I’m Eric by the way. His room mate.” he said stretching out his hand for me to shake.

“I’m y/n.” I said shaking his hand back

“sorry but do you have an important agenda with him? He’s not here as we speak. He’s with Jae Ryung noona.”

‘ he moved on that fast.’

“a-ah, I see. I just stopped by to give this back.” I said handing him over the paper bag.

“alright… then. Have a safe way back.” He smiled waving his hand and eventually shutting the door.

I rode an elevator back and walked out of the apartment complex.

I completely lost it. I lost him.

———

Hyunjae’s POV

I was just coming back from babysitting my nephews when I was greeted loud voices from our shared apartment.

I opened the door to see Eric and Jacob playing FIFA.

“ I’m home.” I said removing my shoes.

“ Hey.” Jacob said not even sparing a glance at me

“Hyung, someone went over just 5 minutes ago. She left that.” Eric said pointing at the paper bag on the floor.

I took the paper bag and took out its content.

It was my sweater.

“did… that person say what her name was?”

“wait… y/n? yeah it was y/n.” he said

that’s all I needed before I wore my shoes back and went outside.

‘I hope you’re still here y/n.’

I rode the elevator and went done to the lobby searching for everywhere and scanning if y/n was still there. I was losing hope until I found a mustang parked in front of the complex.

I slowly walked towards the car and saw the person who had her head on the steering wheel.

‘please be y/n.’

I knocked on the window and waited for her to raise her head up.

———

y/n’s POV

I was having my moment when suddenly someone knocked on the window.

I looked up and was surprised with the person I saw.

“Hyunjae.”

I went out of my car and went to him.

“Hi-”

I don’t know what came in my head but I just engulfed him in a hug. Finally burying my face on his chest.

“I’m too late aren’t I? ” I mumbled

“huh?”

I looked up to see his confused expression

“ your room mate said that you were out on a date with Jae Ryung-”

“eh? a date with my sister?” he said laughing.

I was shocked. He just ruffled my hair and pat my back.

“ I’m not dating anyone.”

“ but you’re still my client and Se Hee already made reservations for your date-”

“ I already deactivated my account.”

When he said that, I removed myself from his body and looked at him.

“w-what?”

“ I don’t want to be set up with someone. I know who my perfect match is.” He said stepping forward and putting his hands on my waist.

“Ever since High school, I knew who I was already made for.”

He looked at my eyes and smiled

“b-but Hyun joo-”

“ I only dated her because it seemed like you wanted me to. It didn’t work out because she knew how in love I was with you.”

“I liked you also, ever since.” wrapping my arms on his neck.

He slowly leaned in, kissing me again.

“ I was made for you y/n. ”

[randomrosewrites]

I would like to request Xiao getting sick and the reader has to take care of him! uwu thank you in advance <33

a/n: You can! Sick fics are my guilty pleasure, I hope I did Xiao justice <3

Under the weather

Pairing: Xiao x GN reader Summary: Xiao falls sick, and tries very hard to not let a certain someone help him out. Words: 1.5K Tags: Sickfic, fluff, comfort, Xiao acting tough when he's really a huge softie <3

Xiao is a person who rarely gets sick. Him being an adeptus contributes to that greatly.

…key word being rarely.

There are times, where despite eons of fighting and surviving the worst wounds, his immune system fails him, and he falls sick. He detests it. It makes him feel weak. His body feels miserable and his senses are dulled for a couple of weeks afterwards. Worst of all, it brings out that sympathetic, woeful look from others, which he despises. The last thing Xiao wants is for mortals to take pity on him.

So, when he wakes up with a sore throat and a persistent cough that refuses to go away, he continues with his day as normal, refusing to let some minor bug affect his job. He eats a quick breakfast, grunts a good morning to Ver Goldet at the front, and heads to the balcony to get to work.

The rain that pours from the sky stops him dead in his tracks. Of all the days to rain, when he’s feeling bad enough as is. He glares at the sky, dark clouds showing no sign of stopping. The last thing he wants to do today is to spend the day fighting monsters in the torrent, but duty calls.

Sighing deeply, he tightens his grip on his jade polearm, grits his teeth, and steps out onto the marsh.

---

Eight hours later, when he returns, dripping water, shivering, and exhausted, he knows he’s overdone it.

He barely makes it past the threshold of the inn and into his room, collapsing onto his bed wet clothes and all. He feels awful and his cough is so bad that it steals all the breath from his lungs.

He knows he should get up, at least to strip himself of his clothes, but he just can’t find the strength to do so. It’s like his limbs are made of stone, weighed down and heavy.

Rain continues pattering against the roof, and below, Xiao can almost make out the sounds of guests talking. It’s comforting. Background noise that puts him at ease. He’s never been fond of complete silence, nor an excessive amount of noise. Xiao closes his eyes, curling himself up in a ball on his bed. Sleep pulls at his mind, making his ragged breathing steady.

He’s so out of it, he doesn’t notice another presence in his room until he feels a pressure on his head.

Terror shoots through his veins and Xiao leaps up, clumsily drawing his polearm into his hands. Too slow. He hisses to himself. He’s right. A hand wraps around his wrists, easily twisting the weapon out of harm's way. He’s considering kicking the intruder in the chest when a familiar voice grounds him to a halt.

“Woah! It’s just me, Xiao,” your eyes are wide with shock, maybe even a hint of fear.

He blinks up at you. There are no enemies. His weapon disappears in a flash of light. “What the hell. You shouldn’t sneak into other people’s rooms.”

“The door was open,” you defend, letting go of his wrists after a moment. “And the carpet was soaked all the way from outside. What happened? You sound awful.”

“I got wet.” He coughs, squeezing his eyes shut. “Agh – do you need anything? Or can I be alone?”

You frown, starting at him so intently that he averts his gaze. “You’re sick.”

“And what if I am? That’s not your concern-”

You’re already turning away before he’s finished his sentence. He wonders if you’re just going to go out the front door and leave, until you turn into the bathroom, your voice calling from inside, “I’ll run you a bath.”

What.

“What?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because you’re sick. Just stay right there, it’ll be ready in a second.”

“I don’t need you to run me a bath like I’m some…” his skin heats with anger. (Or maybe that’s just his fever.) “Child.”

“You’re not. I don’t think you are. I’m just helping you out,” you say simply.

Xiao releases a breath, clinging to his stubbornness. “I don’t need your help,” With his nose plugged, it doesn’t sound half as intimidating as he wants to be.

Your response is light and tender, almost understanding. It makes Xiao’s throat tighten. “I know, Xiao.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he sits on the edge of his bed, listening to your shuffling. The water runs and after a few minutes, you exit, sleeves rolled up to your elbows.

“It’s all set, go in whenever you feel ready.”

Xiao gets up, clearing his throat. “Alright.”

He probably should say something else, but he doesn’t know what else to say. So, he awkwardly shuffles into the bathroom, feeling his cheeks burn as he closes the door behind him. The bath is fancier than anything he’s ever taken. A few bubbles foam in the water, and if his nose weren’t plugged, he’d be able to smell the fresh scent of Fontaine bath salts.

He strips quickly and carefully lowers himself into the water, sighing as the knots in his muscles unravel. He lets himself soak for a bit longer than necessary, slowly scrubbing his skin, only getting out once the bath starts to lose its heat. The steam does wonders for his breathing. By the time he dries himself with a towel and changes into a fresh set of clothes, he can breathe through one nostril again.

When he exits, you’ve gotten the blankets changed and are sitting in a chair by the side of the bed. A magazine is open on your lap, one of the ones that came with the room that he’s never read. You close it when you see him.

“Why are you still here?”

“Because you’re sick and need someone to care for you,” you turn, digging around in your bag by your feet. “I also want to take your temperature.”

He folds his arms and does his best to seem imposing. “I’ve survived for eons without the need for anyone else, what makes you think I’ll let you take care of me now?”

“I’m not asking,” you sit up, and with all the patience (or stubbornness) Xiao’s ever seen, pat the bed. “Come here, Xiao.”

He hesitates a minute more before ultimately giving in, planting himself in front of you. A thermometer is placed in his mouth, which he begrudgingly accepts. The chills start to return, so he picks up one of the blankets carefully folded at the edge of the bed and wraps himself in it.

His nose isn’t working, so it comes to a shock when he sees the steaming bowl of miso soup on his bedside dresser, boiled bits of soft tofu floating in the broth.

“Is that…mine…?” It sounds silly the moment he says it out loud, and curses himself for it.

“Mhm. I had the staff bring it up when you were in the bathroom. It’s plain, so it won’t upset your stomach, but I want to get some medicine in you before you have any.”

A bath…food…medicine…he almost feels sick with how much care you’re treating him with.

“This is stupid…” he murmurs as you pour a vile of red liquid into a small medicine cup. He has half the mind to tell you mortal medicine won’t work but knowing your stubbornness, he wouldn’t doubt that you’d gone ahead and purchased special medicine from the pharmacy in Liyue Harbor.

“Stupid is going out into the rain and catching a cold,” you quip back. There’s no aggression to your words, he almost feels bad when he responds with a snarky comment.

“I was already sick before I went out.”

You stop to stare at him, narrowing your eyes in a way that makes Xiao’s insides turn, before sighing. “Stupid is going out into the rain when you were already sick. Give me the thermometer, please.”

His temperature is high, by both mortal and adeptal standards. You force him to swallow two tablespoons of medicine that tastes like ashes and he manages a few spoonfuls of the soup before his stomach protests. He wraps the blankets around him, frowning when you get up and tuck the sheets around his body.

“I didn’t need your help.”

You brush the bangs from his forehead. Xiao’s eyes flutter for a brief moment. He doesn’t push you away. “Whatever you say, Xiao.”

“Let me finish,” he snaps, before collecting himself. He really needs to stop doing that. “I didn’t need your help, but…I appreciate it.”

Your eyes widen a smidge before a small smile spreads across your face, making Xiao’s temperature rise even more.

“You’re welcome, Xiao. Sweet dreams.”

You sit by his bedside until he falls asleep, feeling the safest and more comfortable than he’s ever been in a while. Xiao doesn’t dream anymore, but if he did, he knows it would have been a peaceful one.

[gay-otlc]

Flashback Recap

In case you've forgotten everything other than Sophitz, fear not, I am a reliable source of information

Sophie's trich is getting better! It took her four whole pages to pull out an eyelash, which might be a record.

Biana tackle hugs Sophie and they aggressively compliment one another's appearance. No homo

Speaking of homo, Fallon Vacker definitely dated Bronte at some point.

People always bring up Alina/Alden drama at the least convenient time and it embarrasses them both so much. This is fantastic.

Della can beat people up with ease and she is so hot (-livvy sonden, probably)

To avoid living with Alvar, Fitz considered moving in with Keefe. We were robbed, I tell you.

I SWEAR I'LL WRITE A FIC FOR THIS SOMEDAY

Fitz also considers moving in with Tiergan. The Keefitz option is undoubtedly better but I'd never say no to the "Tiergan adopts everyone" agenda

Sophie roasting the Neverseen is fantastic and something we all need more of.

A murderer wearing spandex called me out on my daddy issues. This is probably a low point in my life.

Umber probably has a personal connection to the Vacker family. No one else contributed a theory, so mine is that she was/is in love with Della.

Wylie attacked the Neverseen with rainbows. He is straightn't and probably cisn't.

SOPHIE CONSIDERS ELWIN FAMILY BRB HAVE TO GO CRY

"Tiergan and Prentice happily raised a child together. As bros do. No homo." -Shannon, 2018

Sandor made me feel emotions? Him blaming himself for Sophie getting hurt got to me okay-

Bronte has been in regular contact with Fintan and working with him for weeks... what are they "working" on... making out?

Grady needs a hug.

Keefe needs a hug, and also therapy, and KOTLC needs to not be for eight year olds.

POCKETS. That is all. Shannon definitely wrote the pockets monologue after getting pissed at the "pockets" in women's clothing.

Biana Vacker saying "I’m sick of being treated like I’m some broken doll because of what Vespera did- and you know that’s what you’ve been doing" supremacy.

Biana's stuffed yeti named Lady Sassyfur supremacy, also.

The Keefe and Elwin dynamic! Let's be real, they've been acting like father and son this whole series.

It's canonically a definite possibility that Keefe lets Fitz win at splotching. Their earlier book friendship is so sweet and I'm still not over losing that.

When Sophie expects Elwin to be the responsible adult and he just shrugs and grabs popcorn... they are a family... they deserve to be happy okay

The Ballad of Bo and Ro.

More Dadwin!

It may not be canon that Elwin and Livvy are besties but it's canon to me.

Livvy keeps a list of the top ten grossest things she’s done. Marrying Quinlin is on that list. Alden thinks Livvy has terrible taste and will marry Quinlin if ce doesn't want to. Quinlin is thrilled.

Keefe pretending he wasn't that worried about Fitz while nearly crying with relief... beloved...

After Cassius tore up Keefe's sketchbook, there was some Keefitz hurt/comfort, and I need to see this for science.

Forkle stop using gendered titles for the collective and kotlcrew, all of whom are clearly nonbinary, challenge. However he got nailed in the face with a pillow (Keefe saw) and that is punishment enough.

Elwin absolutely despises Cassius. We all need protective Dadwin in our lives.

Tiergan not giving a shit about the heterosexual drama part ???

Keefe is such a bi idiot, panicking when Fitz touches his head.

Gisela gave him the PERFECT opportunity to propose to Fitz, bi the way, and he didn't take it!!

All elves are nonbinary, confirmed once again

Tiergan is the epitome of the "how many kids do you have" "biologically, legally, or emotionally" meme. He has so many children emotionally it's hilarious.

Within like 2 seconds of meeting a traumatized queer child he's adopted them.

Forkle knows how to braid hair

FORKLE BRAIDED FINTAN'S HAIR

Tinker is Not Cis.

Sophie saying "They didn’t break me. They’ll never break me" supremacy. Same vibes as the Biana line.

Biana kicked Fitz in the shins.

Good for her!

(Not Fitz hate, we'd just all like to kick our siblings sometimes)

Considering how jealous Keefe is of Fitz being closer with Sophie than with him, I'm not sure Fitz is the one he's jealous of.

Villain Sophie foreshadowing? Villain Sophie foreshadowing.

✨fitz getting caught in the chandelier✨

The normalization of relying on one romantic partner for all of your emotional needs features a bit too prominently in this book for my liking. Kill amatonormativity please.

Protective older brother Wylie!

Biana telling Sophie "You look… really good," with those ellipsis. That is so loaded with suppressed lesbianism wtf-

Alvar doesn't remember Ruy :((((

Someone get Sophie some self esteem. Like. Now.

The day with the alicorns being born must have been so wild for Stina.

Also, the alicorn birth scene is pretty batshit.

It's Sophie’s right as a bisexual to insult the council whenever possible, particularly Alina

Keefe middle name angst!

Don’t think about the conversation where Fitz told Keefe he was dating Sophie :) :) :)

By which I mean think about it! Think about the Keefitz angst!

Vespera and Luzia are exes.

Fintan and Forkle are also exes.

I want more Fintan backstory tbh. Which definitely involves dating Forkle. Also dating literally everyone else the man gets around-

According to him, Fintan has no flaws other than being a fucking drama queen.

He also knows Caprise? Apparently? And I would like details.

Someone who is not Fintan was the one to start the Neverseen.

Fintan is very funny someone calls him out for murder and he just shrugs.

Vespera was, and I quote, “fixated on Luzia Vacker.”

FINTAN AND MARELLA RELATIONSHIP it lives rent free in my head

I will shut up about Fintan now.

In my defense his scene is pretty interesting.

Somehow, Sophie is unaware of Luzia and Vespera's past relationship. Luzia is not at all subtle, so I don't know how she hasn't connected the dots.

Marelliana 🧡

Marella struggling with her power is the best concept ever 10/10 I need more content for this despite having already written two fics about it.

I need Wylie as an older brother. We all need Wylie as an older brother. That is all.

Fitz is jealous of Keefe's relationship to Sophie... and Keefe isn't the one he's jealous of...

Fitz yeeting the alvar-tracker-device is both hilarious and a terrible decision, really.

OH SHIT (keefitz argument)

Queen shit from Biana Vacker (going off at Vespera. as she should)

Fuck Alvar (-ruy ignis, probably)

"Yes, Luzia says many things, does she not? It gets very hard to determine when she is fooling you and when she is fooling herself" okay Vespera we know you're in love and she broke your heart you can stop villain monologuing

Tam being stunned by succeeding at shadow shit but immediately pretending he knew what he was doing all along is so funny.

Fitz and Alvar is a realistic sibling depiction. Who among us hasn't attempted to murder their sibling honestly?

Hehe this is the last time Tam and Linh see each other for a while- they hug and she tells him to be careful- and then there he goes!

We were robbed of getting to see the rest of Tam's family react to this. It's on the list of fics you might see sometime in the vague future.

Sophiana angst

Thinking about dating Fitz makes Sophie pull at her eyelashes... that's... not great honestly.

[ifmywishescametrue]

omg now im jealous about all of the breaking up and making up stories!!! they're all so wonderful but is it okay to ask for a steve/tony one? i know you've made one inspired by ts (amazing) and this time, maybe they meet/bump in a coffee shop? idk angst potential but also hopeful/happy ending aahhh. your stories are amazing esp ivy!!! thank you! <3

thank you so much!! it ended up being more cute than angsty, but I hope you like it!

Steve's pencil drifts idly across the page of his sketchbook with no end vision in mind. He's killing time until Nat shows up, which could be anywhere between the next five minutes and the next two hours with her vague text that simply said running late. When he looks up to reach for his near empty coffee cup, he freezes with his hand in the middle of the air.

At first he thinks it might not even actually be him. Tony's hair was never quite this well styled before, always a tangled mop on his head that sometimes fell into his eyes. Steve used to spend hours sometimes running his fingers through those wild curls while Tony slept on his chest. It's been tamed since then, cut shorter and held into place by some type of product. The facial hair is new, too. He remembers a time when it would always come in patchy and uneven, and Tony would pout as he shaved away the latest attempt at looking older than he was. The eighteen year old boy in oversized hoodies and stained jeans he met years ago has been replaced by a man in a well-pressed, expensive looking suit with a leather briefcase, like he just stepped out of a boardroom a minute ago. From what Steve has read about his life since they broke up, he probably did.

Steve stares without fully meaning to and for much longer than he would have if it was intentional. He watches him order his drink and smiles when the barista’s eyes widen at what he knows is an overly complicated order, wondering if Tony ever did finish his quest to find that perfect combination of syrup flavors, sugar, and cream that only he would ever like.

He catches the double take when Tony notices him there, right as he’s taking his first sip of the iced drink, and the cough when he chokes on it is anything but subtle. Steve looks away with red cheeks and tries to pretend he wasn’t staring, but it’s a futile effort. He can’t say he minds, though. Not when it means Tony walks over to him and unceremoniously drops himself into the chair across from him.

His mouth forms a familiar smirk, and he says, “You seem to have a staring problem, Rogers.”

Suddenly, Steve is nineteen again, falling hopelessly in love with the boy in his introductory chemistry class. It felt sort of like fate at first when they were paired together for the final project, and Steve remembers thinking that his chances were shot to hell when Tony sat down next to him and said those exact words. He never was any good at being discreet.

Back then, for that first time, all he could manage was a stuttered apology in response. But eventually it became their thing. Something just for them that no one else could ever understand. When Steve would watch him from across the room at parties, because he knew how much Tony loved having his eyes on him, and Tony would saunter over with that same smirk and those same words, there was only ever one reply.

“Guess I just really like what I see,��� Steve says, and Tony’s face splits into a grin that matches Steve’s own. He’s still beautiful, even if it’s different now. Less softness to his appearance and more defined edges and sharp lines, but heart stoppingly beautiful nonetheless. He doesn’t quite say as much, but he does comment, “You do look good, by the way. Different, but good.”

Tony’s smile softens into another familiar one. It’s his smile for compliments, when he’s thinking self-deprecating thoughts that he won’t voice. Instead he’ll turn the attention back around, shifting the spotlight.

“So do you. The good part, but not really the different part.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair, contemplating if not looking different contributes to the good or not. He should look different somehow, shouldn’t he? After two and a half years not seeing each other in person and what feels like a lifetime’s worth of heartbreak in between then and now, he should look as changed as he feels. As changed as Tony looks now, like he’s someone new entirely. He’s pretty sure the t-shirt he’s wearing now is one he owned back then.

“Thanks,” Steve says anyway, for lack of anything better.

Just before it has the chance to fall into awkward silence, Tony says, “I didn’t know you were in New York these days. I would’ve called or something if I’d known.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Would you have?”

“I don’t know, maybe. I would’ve thought about it, at least. You know, stalked you online, found your number, dialed and hung up a few times.”

Steve laughs, fiddling with the straw wrapper from earlier to give himself something to look at other than Tony. “I moved back last year. Thought about calling, but I figured you were busy. Didn’t want to waste your time.”

It’s only a partial truth. He did think about calling when he came to Brooklyn after his year-long internship in London ended, but he didn’t want to know what Tony would say if he did. If he would have some sort of transparent excuse to avoid seeing him or if it would be an outright rejection.

“I would’ve made time for you,” Tony says, so painfully sincere that Steve has to look up again to meet his eyes.

He wonders if Tony is thinking of that last fight, if it’s a purposeful or coincidental reference to some of what Steve said. It was by far the worst fight they’d ever had, all over the phone with an ocean between them and so many things that Steve still wishes he could take back. Accusations flew on both sides until the entire thing was blown so completely out of proportion, yet impossible to reel back in. He should have just hung up the phone before it went that far. Before he could tell Tony that he always felt unimportant compared to everything else in his life, which was sometimes true but entirely unfair. Before Tony could say that Steve talked about Peggy in the same way he used to talk about him, and he didn’t have to finish the thought for Steve to understand the implication.

“Are we talking about it?” Steve asks.

Tony shrugs, feigning casual, but just the corner of his lip is between his teeth in that way that means he’s nervous and trying to hide it. “I guess that depends on what this is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we said back then that maybe it was just bad timing. You were in London, and I was in Boston until graduation, and it was always going to be a bit of a mess, but there was always that someday chance, right? So maybe this is someday, and we talk about it, and try to get it right this time,” Tony says. “Or maybe that was just something we said and didn’t mean, and I ask you about your life, and you ask about mine, and we talk and laugh and pretend that we’re friends again for the next half hour or so before we go our separate ways.”

It’s an easy choice, really. If there’s one thing that Steve’s sure of, it’s that it’s always been him and always will be.

“I don’t want to go separate ways,” Steve says. “The first time was hard enough, and I never really moved on. I got better, but I don’t think I’ve been more than just fine in a long time.”

Tony nods slowly, “I kept thinking you would call, you know. Back then. I thought you would call and tell me that it was a mistake and it would be okay again, but you never did. Although, I guess I could’ve called, too.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“For the same reason as you, probably. I couldn’t risk it if you didn’t want me again. Couldn’t risk getting back together just to break up again, either. We weren’t exactly the poster children for making long distance work.”

“We were terrible at it, weren’t we?”

Tony’s smile is tinged with the pain of the past. “It’s kind of funny because I remember thinking that it might be a good thing for us when you told me about London. Can’t get sick of somebody if they’re not always around.”

“You thought I would get sick of you? You never told me that.”

“Why would I?” Tony laughs. “Just put all my insecurities on display like that? Come on, Steve, that doesn’t sound like me, does it?”

Steve laughs with him briefly, “No, but I could’ve told you back then that it wasn’t possible. Told you that I wanted you around all the time and I missed you every second you were gone. I might’ve even stayed if you had told me. I was thinking about it, you know? I almost turned the internship down. Probably would’ve if you’d asked even once for me not to go.”

“It was your career. I never would’ve asked you to give that up for me.”

“There would have been something else. Another job somewhere closer to you.”

“I still wouldn’t have asked,” Tony says. “And I would have told you to go if you’d said you were staying.”

Steve knows that, which is why they never talked about it much before he left. Tony pretended to be happy for him, and Steve pretended to be happy for himself, when really it already felt like the beginning of the end. A year apart is longer than it seems, and it didn’t take more than a few months to realize it.

“I never…” Steve starts, trailing off when he doesn’t quite know how to finish the sentence. “There was never anyone else. Not while we were together, and never with Peggy.”

“I know. I knew back then, too, that you were never that kind of person. Jealousy’s just a real bitch sometimes.”

“There’s really not been anyone since, either,” Steve adds, and Tony’s mouth quirks into a half smile. “I mean, a couple of people here and there, but nothing like what we were.”

“There’s not a whole lot out there like what we were, is there?”

Steve smiles, leaning back in his chair, “No, there’s really not. But I do remember reading a rumor that you got engaged.”

Tony groans, and it’s so much like he used to sound when he was nine pages deep into a ten page essay at three in the morning that Steve has to laugh.

“Don’t you dare laugh. That rumor haunts me, Steven,” Tony says, belied by a grin that he seemingly can’t control. “Do you know how I found out about my supposed engagement? When my mother called and asked why I hadn’t told her I was planning on proposing.”

“So I’m still the only person you’ve ever proposed to,” Steve teases, just for the way he knows Tony will get indignant about it.

“How many times do I have to tell you that one didn’t count?”

“You were on one knee, you asked a question, and you had a ring. All the boxes are checked, sweetheart.”

“It was a blue raspberry ring pop, and you ate it,” Tony argues. “Not to mention that I actually asked you to marry me someday in the distant future. That’s not a proposal.”

Steve laughs again, thinking about that day in the middle of their living room, just a few weeks before Steve got the call that would take him to London and change everything. It was almost like a joke, and for anyone else it would have been. Not for them, though, because Steve remembers the look in Tony’s eyes when he dropped down in front of him, spur of the moment and impulsive like almost everything was back then. He remembers how it still felt like a promise, even if it wasn’t the real thing.

“But I said yes, which I think technically means we’re still engaged.”

“Absolutely not,” Tony scoffs. “It’s going to be a production when we get engaged. Elaborate and planned and romantic as hell.”

“When, huh?” Steve grins.

Tony’s cheeks pinken a touch, but he doesn’t take it back. He reaches for Steve’s hand on the table. “Yeah, when. Is that alright with you?”

Steve threads their fingers together, holding on tight. “That’s alright with me.”

[inmyownlaine]

Hi,love your writing and was wondering if I could request a John Murphy fluff/angst based on season 2or3 where the reader and him get in an argument about him ‘being with Emori’ but he likes the reader?

John Murphy x Reader: Promises

*Absolutely! Thank you for the suggestion. Also, let's just act like I haven't been MIA for literal months :)

GIF//

Warnings: None to my knowledge!

Word Count: 2078

────────────────────────────────────────────

“Don’t go,” you begged, grabbing Murphy’s hand as it swung carelessly behind him. When your fingers touched his skin, Murphy stopped immediately. He inhaled heavily through his nose, trying to control the sadness and desire that you sent rippling through his body.

“Murphy, please,” you whimpered.

Murphy’s shoulder dropped as he let the single strap of his backpack slide down his arm. Your eyes lit up, hoping that was a positive sign. Hoping that you were enough to make him stay.

“I can’t.”

“You can,” you said assertively. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he replied, apologetic eyes looking at you between half-closed eyelids. He was right. You didn’t understand. He had nothing to apologize for. He didn’t have to prove himself to you. Or ask for your forgiveness. None of the things that his blue eyes seemed to convey.

“You don’t need redemption.”

“But if I go now, maybe when I come back-”

“What?” you interrupted. “Everything will suddenly be different?”

“Is it so wrong to want that?” he questioned softly, a shaky sigh leaving his body. You tightened your grip, white knuckles against red calloused ones. Just another casualty of his bad temper.

“Of course not. But you’re not going to fix anything by leaving. You need to stay. Stay and show them who you can be. Don’t leave and prove them right.”

Murphy dropped his head, fixated on your two hands intertwined. There was a lot more going on than the surface discussion. You danced around being in love by using double meanings and knowing glances. This wasn’t about him leaving to find himself. It was about him leaving you.

Glassy eyes meet together in a flurry of uncertainty and passion. The pit of your stomach churned as Murphy leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. They barely touched before he pulled away, eyes closed. It was a kiss that you never wanted to experience, especially being your first.

You knew he was leaving.

“Don’t cry,” he told you, hearing a sniffle escape. His eyes still rested, he quietly spoke, “I will be back. I promise. I have something to come back to.”

“Murphy, I-”

“I promise.” He now faced the reality of the situation, confronting his fears head on as he stared into your bloodshot eyes. There was no way he would ever be the cause of this again. He just needed one chance to make you proud. To clear his name.

“I promise.”

────────────────────────────────────────────

The taste of dirt and sweat caused you to gag as you were manhandled into the unknown. You had no idea why you were the target of a kidnapping. If anything, you laid low and kept to yourself. Regardless, you followed the directions given to you, fearing what would become of your life if you didn’t.

“I’ve brought you some company!” the voice behind you bellowed. You jumped at the sudden noise, interested in the way he practically sang the announcement.

“Who?” another voice asked, seeming alert and slightly panicked. You knew this voice anywhere and it quickly became clear why you were here. Even still, you obeyed the commands given. If you spoke a word, made any noise, it would be the end of your life.

“Worried, are we?” The man started to laugh heartily as you continued to walk. Every thundering step matched the beating of your heart. What would happen when you finally stopped?

There was no response, so the man began to speak. “Someone who wouldn’t shut up about you. Scared for you. Desperate to see you.”

As if being captured weren’t enough, this was just plain humiliating. He didn’t have to recount all the times you pined after Murphy while he was gone. You lost track of the months it had been since you last saw him. This was not how you wanted to reunite.

“Who. Is. It?” Murphy asked yet again. It was dark and menacing. A resemblance of a person that he used to be. You knew that would always be a part of him. Especially when it involved people that he cared about.

“A girlfriend?” the man guessed. You cringed hearing that word, tormenting and taunting you of what never was. But how Murphy replied was even more heartbreaking.

“Emori?” The man began to cackle once more as Murphy cursed and threatened his life. It was terrible to hear the intensity of his love. How much he cared for someone else while you turned others down, waiting for him.

The man gave you one last shove, causing you to fall to your knees. Through minute gaps in the woven sack over your head, you finally caught an amber hue of light. You groaned in pain, trying your best to stay upright with your hands tied behind your back.

There was a brief moment of silence before another outburst broke out. This time, you heard the scuffling of feet against the floor. Fabric harshly rubbed against a scratchy surface. It sounded like an attempt to escape.

“Let her go!” Murphy yelled.

“Why would I do that? I have everything I need, now. Except for the information.”

“Just let her go and I’ll tell you, okay? I’ll tell you everything,” Murphy frantically said.

“But I’m having so much fun. Maybe just one...little…” A cold blade touched your neck, causing a shriek to escape your throat. He put an ounce of pressure against your rapidly thumping artery.

“I swear to God if you hurt her I will kill you!” Murphy’s voice was full of anguish as it broke here and there. It was a frequency in which you had never heard from him. It was harrowing to witness.

The knife was removed from your neck. In a series of exchanges, Murphy gave him the answer to every single question he asked. When the interrogation was over, you were picked up and moved to a new area. Here, you were tied once more around my stomach.

Then, without warning, the bag was removed from your head. You could barely take in my surroundings before Murphy called your name. Tears fell from your eyes as you saw, for the first time in months, John Murphy. Though you had to admit, he looked worse for wear.

“Murphy,” you cried back, wanting more than anything to be able to touch him. To hug him. To take in his scent. You had been without this man for way too long.

“That’s sweet,” the man, who you could now identify as Titus, interrupted. “But I’ve got what I wanted. For now.” And with that, he turned on his heel and exited the room, leaving you and Murphy alone.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Murphy asked immediately.

“I’m fine,” you replied. “But you don’t look good at all.”

“Yeah, well, being tortured does that to a person.”

“He tortured you?” you questioned, breath leaving your body. Picturing someone hurting Murphy made you sick.

“A few times,” he shrugged.

You wanted to be happy. You wanted to ask him about his trip. You wanted to know if he discovered himself. If he found who he truly was. But you couldn’t get past the fact that he said another girl’s name.

You never claimed to be anything more than friends, but you thought it went without saying. A person doesn’t just kiss someone before they leave. Or promise that they would come back to you.

“I hate that I have to see you like this,” Murphy finally said, breaking the silence. “I always imagined coming back to camp with Jaha’s group. We just saved the human race, or something like that. But it didn’t matter, because I was looking for you.”

“Not Emori?” you mumbled, mustering up the courage to be so bold. Murphy’s eyes grew wide as he avoided your haunting gaze.

“Look, it wasn’t supposed to- she just- we were,” he tried to explain, slumping over in the process.

“I waited for you. Every day,” you admitted. “The last thing I did before I went to bed was look out the gate for you. Every morning I woke up with the hope that it would be the day you came back to me.”

You started to sob, recounting the loneliness that you felt. And the fear of not knowing Murphy’s fate. Were you holding out for someone who was dead? Was it hopeless to wish that he would keep his promise?

“I turned people down. I kept faith in you. I told everyone how proud I was. And then to know that you weren’t keeping me with you at all. I wasn’t even a passing thought.”

“It’s not like that,” Murphy said.

“But it is. She’s your girlfriend.”

“I don’t- love her,” he said softly, swallowing hard enough to make his entire throat bob up and down.

“Then what?” You were at the tipping point with Murphy. Exasperated with his short answers and frustrated with the secrets he was holding. If he wouldn’t be honest with you now, there was no way you would ever be with him in the future.

“I’ve been through a lot. More than I expected.” He stared into the distance, seemingly void of emotion. It was like he was lost, trying hard to remember something that he pushed away. “I was trapped. By myself. 86 days. You know how I spent that time?”

You shook your head in response. He was still burning holes in the wall, but somehow knew that you replied. He smirked slightly before saying, “I thought about you. And how good it would feel to see you once I was out. Granted, I went absolutely crazy in there, but you kept me as sane as I could be.”

You couldn’t help but to chuckle at this. “I can’t imagine you any more psychotic than you are now.”

“Is that so?” he bantered, catching you out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re a freak,” you teased.

“Why? Because I’ve killed a few people?”

“Yeah, that probably contributes.” The two of you shared a smile, falling back into old patterns. You missed having a person that you could shamelessly be yourself around. The quick wit and sly comments were always absorbed and thrown back by Murphy. No one else stood a chance against you.

“When he said he had someone,” Murphy carried on, “you’re the first person I thought of. But it seemed impossible until I saw you. I don’t know what came over me. I- I was blind with rage. I tried to fight my way out. Because if he hurt you-”

Murphy couldn’t bear to finish the sentence. You didn’t need him to. You knew what was left to say. You heard the distinct difference, the silence that fell, when he realized you were the captured person and not Emori.

“I know that doesn’t make any of this right, but I just wanted that feeling of safety that you gave me. And Emori was there. I misplaced it. And I’m sorry,” Murphy apologized.

“What about Emori, then?” you pressed.

“She’s a good person, and she will understand. I just couldn’t live with myself if I left you again.”

“You mean that?” Murphy simply nodded, outstretching his fingers in your direction. Even though you couldn’t hold hands, the sentiment remained as you reflected his actions. You were two people trying to make your own light in the darkest of situations.

“I love you,” you managed to choke out, taking in the dried blood on his hairline and the bruises on his skin. His pant leg was ripped at the cuff and his hands were caked in dirt. You needed him to know that no matter what happened, now and forever, that he could carry this with him. Even after death, if fate so decided.

“I love you, too,” he said, without hesitation or a second thought. It was something he wished he had told you the night he decided to leave. The only thing he regretted once he left the compound.

But he had the chance to fix all of that. And in that moment, he swore that once you escaped, he would always be there to protect you. He would always console you and your wondering thoughts. He would love you the way that he should have a long time ago.

He promised he would always find a way to come back to you.

He promised he would never leave.

He promised.

**Hey, it's Lainey. Slightly embarrassing but I am back from the grave! I hope you all enjoy this and still love Murphy as much as I do <3

[tamakiamajikistentacles]

Bite to Break Skin {Katsuki Bakugo}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! Welcome to my first time writing for A/B/O dynamics, one of my absolute favorite things in fanfic. There’s so much potential and I’m definitely interested in exploring it with other characters! Just a small heads up, this one is pretty dialogue heavy throughout.

“C’mon,” he said as his breathing finally slowed, “we gotta get up.”

The fingers combing through his damp hair paused. “Can I wear your shirt?”

“You’ve been wearin’ ‘em for years, ain’t gonna stop you now, idiot,” he huffed as he peeled himself away from her, their skin tacky with sweat. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t be shitty to me, Katsuki, I have your virginity!”

“And I have yours. Even exchange. No reason to stop teasing you,” he grunted. Pulling her to her feet he guided her towards his bathroom with a hand on her lower back.

They cleaned up in easy silence, each of them still feeling the content fuzziness in their minds that now seemed amplified and even better than usual. At different points they briefly wondered if that was normal after losing their virginities.

Probably, they decided. For them it was a natural progression in their over two-year relationship. Having gotten together just after the provisional license exam in their first year their hero course schedules only got busier and they got less time to spend together between classes and training and work studies and internships. But those moments were coveted and left plenty of time for them to take their relationship at the perfect pace for them.

Two years of wandering hands and mouths had culminated that afternoon while the majority of the class had gone to the shopping district and neither of them could regret a single thing about it.

“Katsuki?”

She felt warmth bloom in her chest as he looked over his shoulder, his eyes half-lidded and expression relaxed. “Yeah?”

“I love you,” she smiled, fingers absently twisting the hem of his shirt that she wore.

“’Course you do,” he smirked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and returned them to his bed, the grey sheets rumpled. He bunched them down to the end of the mattress and laid down, pulling her to lie next to him curled into his side.

He was always so warm and she loved it, now especially as the chill of January lingered in the dorm hallways and throughout their rooms. Being close to him as they laid together was one of her favorite things about their relationship. As much as he seemed like a loner in their first weeks at UA she never believed it was true and once they were together behind closed doors he was happy as long as they had some sort of contact with each other. She’d never been prouder of being right than that day.

His attentiveness was something she knew would likely contribute heavily to his secondary gender when he presented in the future. There was no doubt in her mind that he would be an alpha, and an amazing one at that. His protective streak and pride in his own abilities couldn’t be attributed to any other presentation. While she herself was unsure of what she would present as, he had always promised that it didn’t matter.

“Alphas want omegas but I want you, and that means I get you no matter what we are,” he’d grumbled one evening not that long ago when she revealed her fears of presenting as a beta and not being what his alpha would need. “Secondary gender can go fuck itself if it thinks I’d leave you over some random omega. Shit, you don’t even know if I’d be an alpha anyway, dumbass.”

If she hadn’t been sure about him before, that conversation had cemented it in her mind and in her heart. Katsuki Bakugo was the one for her and it sent her heart into a tailspin to know that he felt the same way.

She pressed herself closer to him, basking in the warmth of his body and of her thoughts.

“You’re warm,” he mumbled against her forehead.

“So’re you.”

“Nah, your skin’s pink like you took one of your showers from hell.”

She huffed out a laugh. “’M fine, Katsuki. It’s ‘cause you’re warm and I’m still kinda hot from before.”

“You’re always hot,” he said with a pinch to the seat of her underwear.

“Just cuddle me, you ass.”

His arms tightened around her and they laid together in comfortable silence. At one point she started to doze against the warmth of Katsuki’s chest, one hand on his hip at the waistband of his sweats. She’d never felt safer.

In the middle of her dreamless nap she awoke to a persistent poking to her nose. When she opened her eyes, her boyfriend’s furrowed brow came into focus as she blinked. He pressed the back of his hand against her forehead.

“You’ve got a fever.”

She wanted to protest but the trails of sweat she could feel having trickled down her back was unmistakable. She definitely felt warm but she wasn’t disoriented or feeling sick.

“It’s like a full body fever,” Katsuki muttered, dropping his hand from her forehead.

“I feel really hot, but I don’t feel sick,” she told him, sleep leaving her as confusion took over.

He fisted the collar of the shirt she wore at the base of her neck, squeezing for just a moment before pulling back a glistening hand.

“Shirt’s soaked with sweat, take it off and I’ll get you one of my tanks,” he said, rolling out of bed and walking over to his drawers.

She peeled the sticky fabric from her skin, the feeling more uncomfortable than the fact that she was sitting topless once it was off. Nothing Katsuki hadn’t seen plenty of times after all.

A black tank top hit her chest before falling to her lap and she picked it up immediately, pressing her nose into the bundle. It’d barely been a minute since he left her side but she needed the comfort. Which is why when all she smelled was the scent of detergent her nose wrinkled.

“It doesn’t smell like you,” she complained, and he laughed from where he was straightening the other tank tops in his drawer.

“It’s clean, dumbass, I haven’t worn it yet. I’ll be next to you again in like two seconds anyway.”

“Hurry up,” she whined, slipping the tank top over her head and surprising him with her needy tone. “I haven’t smelled roasting chestnuts in almost two minutes, this is cruel. I even miss the little bit of sugar.”

He turned to her with furrowed brows. “I smell like that right now?”

“You smell like that all the time, ever since I’ve known you. What, you don’t know what your own cologne smells like anymore? You gone nose blind?”

He shook his head slowly. “My cologne is sandalwood. Always has been. The sugar I’ll give you because of my quirk but your perfume has nothing on that with your sweet cherries’n shit.”

Now it was her turn to be confused. “That’s not my perfume, Katsuki. My perfume is the same floral one I’ve worn since middle school, it’s not fruity or sweet at all. Come here, do I smell like that now?”

He crossed back over to the bed and sat in front of her, gently tugging her forward to press his nose into her hair. Her face tucked under his chin and she breathed in the same familiar scent.

“Sugared cherries just like always,” he muttered. “Do I…?”

“Mhm, roasted chestnuts with a pinch of sugar,” she replied almost dreamily. It was stronger than usual, but maybe that’s because she was concentrating on it. It felt like it was surrounding her and through her and it made her skin burn hotter. It was good. So so good, and she wanted and she needed more.

She pressed herself closer to him, his confused grunt falling on deaf ears until he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her from himself to look at her. He’d felt her skin grow warmer against his bare chest, the heat startling. But when he looked at her panic shot through him as she doubled over with a whimper.

He called her name but she didn’t answer, just clutched her stomach harder while curling further into herself and whining low in her throat.

“Alright, hey, hey, listen, okay? I’m calling Aizawa, he’ll help us figure out what’s wrong,” he tried to soothe, pulling her back into his chest. Her skin burned against his but he needed her to know he was here, he wasn’t going anywhere when she wasn’t alright.

It was awkward trying to reach his phone on the bedside table with her curled against him but he was hellbent on making her feel better and if that meant practically popping his shoulder out of its socket with the stretch so fucking be it.

“What’s wrong, Bakugo?” was the greeting he got and he immediately started listing off what was happening as she continued to tremble in his lap.

“She’s burning up to the point I feel like I’m touching an oven and she—”

“Todoroki’s still in the dorms, call him up and have—”

“NO!” he snarled into the phone. “He doesn’t need to be near her, just tell me how I can help her! She’s in fucking pain and nearly incoherent right now! You’re not fucking helping me!”

Aizawa was silent for a long moment. “Bakugo, where are you two?”

“We’re in my dorm and I’d appreciate if you could save the damn lecture for when she’s actually conscious enough to fuckin’ hear it too.”

“How long has she been like this? What was she doing when she started feeling the fever? Is there anything that’s—”

“For fuck’s sake, I don’t know! An hour or so and we were just here, she was asleep while I scrolled through my phone.”

Aizawa’s tone went knowing as he prompted, “And before that?”

He weighed his options for answering. They were already in shit for her being on the boys’ side of the dorms, how much worse could it be? They were consenting adults and they were responsible about it and if it did help figure out why she was—

“That’s what I thought,” Aizawa sighed before he could decide how to answer. “I can’t be there to help but I’m sending Recovery Girl. Try and keep her comfortable until she arrives.”

When the line went dead, he could only mumble out curses as he dropped his phone and kept her pressed against him. Her little noises of pain had lessened and she didn’t feel as tightly coiled in his arms as she had, but he was still worried. At least the old lady might actually be able to do something.

“Well I must hand it to Aizawa,” Recovery Girl chuckled as she pulled the thermometer from her lips, “the man does know his students.”

“The hell are you laughing for?” Bakugo hissed. He had been pacing back and forth while she examined her, hovering close and getting more frustrated by the moment. Sure, his girlfriend didn’t seem to be in pain at the moment but he wanted whatever caused it to be taken care of now.

“Don’t take that tone with me, boy, you may be an alpha but I won’t be disrespected.”

He did a double take, sputtering, “An alpha? I’m eighteen, I haven’t presented!”

She smiled in amusement. “Not fully, no, but you’re both presenting as we speak. Fated mates can present at an earlier age when establish an intimate connection prior to turning twenty. It likely hit her first being an omega and that pulled you over too. I must say I’m a bit surprised as fated mates are quite rare at your age, though maybe even more so that this took so long. It’s admirable of you children to take things slow but when I was your age—”

“We’re fated mates?” she murmured, breaking the older woman’s rambling. “So we…?”

“Quite a spin on the high school sweetheart’s trope wouldn’t you say? Certainly a story for the pups.”

“Wait, so she’s burning up because…” he trailed off as his cheeks flushed pink. “This is…”

“Yes, yes, this is her heat beginning and your rut will follow, keep up boy. I’m sure I don’t need to go into detail on that—”

“NO!” they shouted together, mortified.

She laughed, high pitched and maniacal. “Oh alright, I’ve had my fun. You children are so easy to poke at these days. But I do suppose we need to get you prepared for the next week or so. Dear, make a list of things you’ll need from your room and Bakugo will go fetch them for you.”

“I can’t just go myself?”

“Look at that boy’s face and tell me he’s alright with you leaving his den.”

Of course when she looked to him Katsuki’s face was contorted into an angry grimace, his lips twitching back to bare his teeth.

“Just tell me what you need,” he ground out, and she quickly rattled off everything she could think of that she may possibly need. Without a word he disappeared through the door, a lingering touch to her hand a silent promise to return quickly so as to soothe any worries of abandonment or actions that could be interpreted as rejection by her inner omega.

Recovery Girl turned the chair towards her and grabbed her bag from the floor. “We have a few things to discuss now, dear.”

She went over the arrangements made by Aizawa for their classes and schoolwork as well as daily drop offs of prepared bento boxes for them since they wouldn’t be leaving Bakugo’s room. Their parents had been contacted which sent a fresh wave of nausea through her for reasons other than the heat, but she was assured that it wasn’t as a punishment since they were both eighteen. Still, she could only image the conversation she would hear at the end of her heat when she heard from home.

Expectations of what would happen during the shared heat and rut were next and she while she was sure her face couldn’t get any hotter, she was proven wrong. As awkward as it was though, at least she was talking it over with another woman; having the same conversation with Aizawa would have killed her.

Finally, it seemed that the verbal torture was finished as Recovery Girl reached into her medical bag with one hand and beckoned her closer with the other.

“Let me see your arm, I need to give you a preventative injection.”

“Ah, I uhm,” she stuttered, cheeks still reddened but not from the heat, “I’m already taking…”

Recovery Girl shook her head with a chuckle. “Presenting alters your existing biology by releasing additional hormones which awaken parts of your mind and body that contribute to the primal instincts of your secondary gender. Generic contraceptive methods would be fine for a newly presented beta but as an omega the hormones released at presentation boost your fertility to a point where the pill may as well be candy for all the prevention it does.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh.’ Now unless you and that boy of yours have decided that you want pups within the year I need to give you this.” The syringe was brandished in front of her.

She held out her arm and she cleaned the area with a swab before feeling the familiar prick to her skin and the cold chill spread into her heated blood.

“Any last questions for me before he gets back?”

She went to shake her head but paused. “Just… what about our quirks?”

“Nothing to worry about, dear. Quirks take a backseat during these times unless a threat arises. Once bonded you will kill and die for the other and your pups, but for right now you two shouldn’t have an issue. I’d say ‘won’t’ but I think we both know your class has a habit of finding trouble, hm?”

“More like trouble finds us,” came a grunt from the doorway.

Katsuki reentered the room with her laundry basket on his hip and a tote bag over his shoulder. He visibly relaxed as he crossed the threshold and set her things on the floor at the foot of his bed.

She sat down on the plush area rug to go through what he’d brought, her legs tucked beneath her as Recovery Girl began speaking to him about the upcoming week like she’d done for her.

Rifling through the laundry basket she pulled out her pillows and blankets as well as her favorite hoodies, then she pulled everything out of the tote and put those sweaters and shirts onto Katsuki’s bed. Once everything was piled atop his sheets she began to sort through everything, enjoying the familiar smell of her own things mixing with the scent of Katsuki’s den. She hoped he would scent a few of his shirts and let her use his pillows and blankets for her nest.

“…and once you know the heat and rut have passed I’d like you to give me a call so I can come and assess you two.”

“Whatever,” Katsuki mumbled, his cheeks burning from the conversation as he took the offered slip of paper with her number. He’d never been more relieved to have a conversation end, and as soon as the door closed behind the terrible old bat he turned back to his girlfriend and his heart nearly stopped.

She was absently arranging his sheets with some of what he’d brought from her dorm to make the beginnings of her nest. Their combined scents filled his room to an almost dizzying potency but he had never felt more alive, more proud, and his inner alpha growled happily in his chest. Here was his mate, his omega, building a sweet-smelling nest in his den for the two of them and their pups.

The thought of pups broke through the haze of his instincts to allow nerves to set it. They were only eighteen and just about to finish their last few months at UA before becoming fully licensed heroes. Having pups wasn’t something they could do, at least… at least not now.

Recovery Girl had mentioned the preventative and rationally he knew that she wouldn’t give them something designed to fail and he was grateful for that but at the same time, he’d love to have pups with his mate. She was everything he could ever imagine wanting in a partner and he knew his mate would be the best mother to his pups. He’d thought so long before they presented and he was sure he’d think it until he took his last breath.

Her soft voice brought him out of his musings as she looked up at him through her lashes and shyly asked, “Could you… scent a few of your shirts and sweaters? For the nest?”

“’Course,” he replied, and seeing her eyes flicker towards his discarded pillows added, “You can use anything of mine. We’re mates.”

The heat-induced flush on her cheeks darkened slightly with embarrassment, but she nudged his pillow towards him anyway. He grabbed it and held it in his hands feeling both uncharacteristically anxious about scenting something for the first time and filled with pride at his mate seeking out his scent for her nest.

As he scented different things for her and she took them to construct their home for the next week or so he could see the flush fading little by little and he saw less sweat droplets running down her hairline. It was almost as if the larger and more structured the nest grew the tamer her inner omega became. That soothed him too, making him thankful for the calm before the storm of her first heat really began and pulled his rut to the forefront with it.

He leaned against the far wall as she worked in silence arranging their things into the what he assumed was a perfect nest—he didn’t know much about omega nesting instincts but it looked inviting enough to him that he had no qualms about spending the next week tangled with her in the textile haven. It was as if the movement she caused sent more of that sweet smell of hers wafting through the room and he could’ve sworn the sugary scent was getting stronger by the moment.

With a few last cursory pats to the sweatshirt walls she looked up at him.

"Do you think we'll lose ourselves in the heat and rut?" she asked quietly, shifting from foot to foot.

Katsuki sighed. "That's what happens with most people."

"You know, I… I knew you were it for me a long time ago, Katsuki. This morning is an amazing memory and I guess, even if this is how we get to spend the rest of our lives I'd like to remember this first too."

"Then maybe we can bond before it fully hits. I can… smell that it's going to hit hard again and that you're already feeling it creep up.”

The slick feeling between her thighs meant he was probably right. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I guess I'm just nervous."

"Hey, I know this whole thing became way bigger than either of us thought but I’m still me—the alpha part doesn’t change that. Shit I couldn’t even think of hurting you without wanting to die before, can you imagine what type of insufferably sweet asshole I’m gonna be now?” he asked with only mild disgust as he crossed his room to lay one hand on her hip and the other on her cheek.

The smile he received was worth the uncomfortable admission of his feelings; reassurance wasn’t his forte and sharing his feelings even less so but he’d always try for her.

“I know, and I’m happy you’re the one I get to be with.”

“C’mon, your nest looks good,” he said, easing her forward towards his bed. “We able to get in it yet?”

She kissed his cheek. “Yeah, let’s get in our nest, alpha.”

The shudder was hard for him to suppress, but he allowed her to pull him into the plush space where they laid together once more. They laid on their sides facing one another and Katsuki reached out to stroke his thumb over the back of her hand where it lay between them.

It was an unspoken agreement to take all the time they could before allowing themselves to indulge in the instincts of their new secondary genders, and they spoke quietly about what it all meant for them.

Mates were more permanent than marriage and fated mates even more so. The idea of claiming bites at only eighteen was daunting but at the same time it was always the plan anyway. Of course they knew they’d present but that seemed far off and more inconsequential the longer they were together prior to a few hours ago. They had their after-graduation plans and a claim had been a mutual desire, and even pups sometime in the far future. Secondary gender, as Katsuki had loved to point out, wouldn’t change that.

But with the presentations occurring and revealing them as an alpha/omega pair there were still some things that hadn’t been discussed or planned for, and they needed to be addressed.

“I’m getting warmer,” she murmured.

“We’ve got a long week ahead of us but it’s nothing we can’t handle,” he smirked.

She gave him a weak smile and pushed past her nerves to bring up what had been on her mind since her talk with Recovery Girl.

"Will… will you…?"

"If you want to, we can bond now while we're still mostly clear-headed. Some shit I’d like to remember too, you know?"

Her cheeks went pink. "No—well, yes that's probably a good idea but I… I'm… will you actually knot me?"

He choked on his tongue. "Fuck, shit, do you want me to? Do I need to? For your heat?"

"I don’t— Don't you need it to get through your rut?"

"It's… I don't want to make the decision for you, alright? If you want me to I will and if you don’t I won’t. ‘S always your choice.”

She rolled onto her side to face him, one hand rising up to trace his cheekbone and the slope of his nose, even the dip of his cupid’s bow until she came to a stop at his chin. She pressed lightly and he turned his head to look at her.

“I’m not afraid of you or anything like that. It’s all just very sudden and a lot to wrap my head around, you know? Six hours ago we were virgins and now we’re literally together for life. That’s not bad, just a lot.”

“I know,” he mumbled. “But it’s why I want you to make the call. I ain’t gonna force you to do something you don’t want. We got forever to figure our shit out.”

She laughed. “Yeah we do. For now though, I want you to. We’re gonna bond today and then heatshare, rutshare, and get tied together for the next week. This morning was amazing and now that we know we’re fated mates I think that’s gonna make it even better.”

“Once is all it took to get you addicted, huh?”

“Shut up!” she whined as she pushed against his shoulder and turned away with a blush. His loud laughter echoed throughout his room and she crossed her arms with a pout.

“Oi. Look at me.”

She rolled onto her side to face him again, lips still pouted cutely. His eyes were soft as he looked over her face and she felt proud of the small smile upturning his mouth as he did.

He reached out to smooth a hand over her hair and then gently nudged her shoulder. “Lie back.”

She moved onto her back and he settled himself over her, lying between her parted legs. It was familiar and made her smile; they’d laid together like this a hundred times over the course of their relationship and maybe it was the perfect way to cross into something more permanent.

“Katsuki,” she murmured, feeling his hands go below the tank top. He pushed it up and over her head, tossing it to the side and fixing her with an unwavering gaze.

His hands slid beneath her, pressed between her body and the sheets below, and he kissed her softly. Her hands slid up his back before settling over the solid muscle of his shoulders.

“’M gonna be the best alpha on the fuckin’ planet,” he said as they pulled apart. His lips ghosted over her cheek and down her jaw to settle at her neck. “Know I already got the best omega.”

“Will you say it?” she asked quietly, closing her eyes.

The huff of a laugh and curl of his lips on her skin made her shiver. He moved in closer to her and raised up to whisper exactly what she wanted.

“I love you.”

Her arms tightened around him and tried pulling him closer but she knew it would never feel like enough until they bonded.

Katsuki seemed to understand that too because he moved back to her neck and grazed his lips teasingly for just a second before sinking his teeth into the perfect spot as a claim.

She gasped as her head tipped back at the rush of sensations that seemed to flow from the bite. Her brain filled with static but her body felt a rush of coldness like ice water had been poured over her to combat the heat she’d been feeling for so long. Her heart sped up in her chest and she knew it was synched perfectly with Katsuki’s. The entirety of her being was aligned with his and the bond cemented as she let herself move forward and bite into her mate’s neck to stake her own claim.

Time seemed to speed up before slowing down again when she was tasting blood off of both her and Katsuki’s lips as his hands cradled her face and kissed her deeply. The coolness she had experienced during the claim had been almost completely swallowed by the heat she felt pulsing through her and becoming tangible as a needy whine against his mouth. He was so close and smelled so perfect and she wondered if she could feel him closer, her hands digging into the defined muscles of his shoulders as she held him against her.

“Look at my pretty mate,” he said lowly, his voice hushed. He nosed against the underside of her jaw just above the fresh bite as his hands roamed over her torso. “My omega, smellin’ so sweet just for me.”

The purr that bubbled from her lips surprised her but his warm hands on her and the quiet praise pushed it aside quickly when he kneaded her chest.

Her hands traced over his arms, fingers trailing down over dips of muscle. “The strongest alpha I know is all mine. I’m so lucky to have such a handsome mate.”

A please growl rumbled through his chest as her fingers hooked in his waistband and began sliding down the sweatpants until he was able to kick them off. He quickly returned the favor with her underwear to leave them both completely bare. With their scents completely unhindered for the first time with the bond formed, they could both smell the heavy, warm sweetness of roasted chestnuts and cherries that filled his dorm room. It was spicy but soft and made their heads spin knowing that this was them.

Katsuki’s hands roamed the familiar curves of her body as he leaned forward to kiss around the bite mark, feeling her lips against his neck as she did the same to him. Shivers ran up his spine at the contact and a groan escaped him as his fingers reached the apex of her thighs.

“Tell me what you need.”

She whined, hands splayed on his toned stomach.

“C’mon, tell your alpha what you need,” he coaxed.

“You,” she whispered. “Your knot. Your pups. Our pups.”

When we’re ready, was the silent understanding about the request.

Their hips met as Katsuki rolled his forward, breathy moans coming from both of them as they relished the still-new feeling of intimacy and clutched onto one another tighter.

Instincts took over, cutting the moment short, and filled with room with groans and whines and pleas between the two of them. There was no slow fumbling like there had been earlier but instead the primal need to be closer and chase the pleasure that came with the heat and rut.

She kissed him hard as the heat throughout her body pooled low in her stomach and she could tell the difference in the feeling of closeness but her hazy mind couldn’t dwell on it past knowing that this was what she needed, what would finally cool her down at least a bit.

“You’re mine,” she murmured as her back arched up from the bed and her nails dug into his shoulders.

“’M yours. You’re mine,” he grunted, mouthing at the bite once more.

Their scents were overwhelming the closer they came to their end.

“C’mon alpha, need your knot,” she whined, crying out as he still within her.

His teeth sank into the bond mark fully again, and she bit into his as she felt exactly what her inner omega needed, what she herself wanted, and allowed herself to succumb to the feeling of contentment and pleasure she would live in with her mate going forward. Warm and sated and full and safe with her alpha was where she wanted to stay.

“Bakugo. A word.”

He stalked over to his teacher, watching his mate step into the hallway from the corner of his eye. The new bond was sensitive and he was anxious when he couldn’t be with her. “What?”

“May I ask which of you proposed the idea of a non-traditional bite?”

“The hell are you talking about? We both have bites and they’re scarring the right way.”

Aizawa regarded him silently for a moment before waving him off. “It’s not important. Go.”

The blonde rolled his eyes and left the room, and he gathered his sleeping bag in his arms to set up in the corner for his midday nap.

It was annoying and awkward to have to deal with the paperwork and phone calls to guardians because two of his problem children couldn’t keep it in their pants while on campus—what he wouldn’t give to have seen Mitsuki Bakugo deal with this shit—and he certainly didn’t like the fact that he had to relay to the class what had happened either. He had prepared what would’ve been one of his best punishments to date for when the overwhelming scent of newly presented and bonded mates had lessened at least a bit, but it had all been abandoned the moment the two stepped up to speak with him.

Her embarrassment was obvious, the fact that her twice her age male teacher knew exactly what had been happening in that room for the past week probably enough to make her want to vomit, but furious blush aside she held herself well. Bakugo had (likely somewhat unintentionally) over scented the room alarmingly with equal parts calm for his mate and warning to his alpha teacher, his own blush prominent.

What stood out though, was the bond mark on her neck. It was already scarring which was to be expected and its placement was correct but it was backwards. Traditionally a bond mark was given to an omega by an alpha in the midst of a shared heat and rut, primal positioning meaning that the bite was given from behind. It was biology, instinct, the overwhelming need to lay claim—he understood that, had experienced it many times over even long after a bond mark was given. Fated mates were more susceptible to this too, especially when presenting early.

But this type of bonding mark made him think that it wasn’t fueled by that need or desire built deep into the rumbling chest of an alpha. At least, not completely. Looking into someone’s eyes was intimate, vulnerabilities laid bare before the person they’re going to spend their life with. That wasn’t easy, and a week prior he would’ve said that Bakugo would probably never be able to do it. To see that it was quite the opposite and seemingly unconscious on his part was fascinating.

He considered that instinct wasn’t the reason but the more he thought about it as he sat cocooned within the warmth of his sleeping bag, the more he realized it may actually be the opposite. Maybe it was instinct. Love was funny like that sometimes.

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! I have a few ideas about a possible sequel for this story that would take place in the future when they’re ready, though nothing concrete just yet!

[flowerflamestars]

I'm in a very angry-with-the-IC-and-Rhys-in-particular mood, and since I'm just rereading Daylight I was wondering, what is going through Rhysand's mind throughout the events of Daylight? Because it's basically his entire life CRUMBLING around him and I'd love to see the mental gymnastics he does to fit it all into his "I'm the good guy, actually" narrative. Or just his general reaction.

this is a FABULOUS question, thank you!

Daylight! Rhys is, in my opinion, the closest to a canonical (pre-acosf) character representation that I go for. He's so SO fucked up, and sublimating and burying all that trauma has, of course, failed, and it's all manifesting, in all these different directions.

To understand the level on which Rhys is losing his shit, it's important to go back to the very beginning: Rhysand, to Rhysand, is always, always the hero of the story. The down on his luck knight with truth in his heart. The struggling, just man.

He CANNOT seeing beyond himself for even a second. He casts himself in the most important role, as the only person whose personal consequences exist.

His mother, at probable great risk, takes him to Illyria to be trained- the precious, first-born, godly son of Night. To learn to fight- to learn, presumably, her culture- to see what that culture is reduced to, a harshness he will on day have the power to change. Rhys had to be, at some point, a great hope for Not High Fae denizens of the Court.

What does Rhysie learn? Illyria is harsh. Illyria is bad. Backwards and cruel.

He hates his father for...presumably, the crime of being a pretty traditional High Lord? Rhys hates the cruelties! the Court of Nightmares! the broken system!

So what does Rhys do when he has power? he fires everyone. He doesn't like them, he doesn't like whatever they did under his father...so instead of hiring new people, he removes himself entirely from a potential role in changing/mitigating those policies. See also: the Court of Nightmares, cowed occasionally, but not in any way governed by Rhys.

But he's the hero! He's destroyed the oppression! His Court of Just his Bros is made of women and Illyrians!

(Rhys removed the terribleness from his direct experience...because only his experiences matter)

So, Rhys in his head: the struggle, the hero, the man just trying to do it right.

Which brings us to Daylight....and Feyre. I know we can attribute the way the characters stop even remotely being sympathetic between acomaf and...everything else...to poor writing, but I also think there's some (maybe accidental but PERFECT) character work there: in acomaf, pre-acknowledged bond, Feyre is an important possession/ally- she's on the same level as the other members of the Court of Dreams, if the jewel of the collection, a high point in the story Rhys tells himself: HE saved the HERO OF PRYTHIAN

(which...let's not even touch on the fact that the deal he makes in acotar is CREEPY and he can only justify it later. she wasn't someone he wanted to work with in acotar- she was a vulnerable, hot young woman he fully took advantage of)

And then they're mates.

And then, slowly but surely, Feyre's personhood disappears. For two reasons: 1) Feyre is on a pedestal so sky-high it blots out everything. Good, pure, true hero Feyre whose adoration Rhysand needs like air. the happy end of his story, the prize and the salvation, the one who sees him.

and 2) ultimately, to Rhys, Feyre is an extension of him. A symbol: his happiness, his peace, his endless power, what he fought to keep.

She's his whole anchor staying sane, which isn't great, considering...ya know, everything. But the Story is Over. They are Happy.

Except- except- nothing is over. Post fifty straight years of torture, a freefall into war and fuckery, teen marriage and literal death, the consequences for all those things AND THE SHIT RHYS WAS PULLING LONG BEFORE AMARANTHA TURNED HIM INTO A CHEW TOY, are still present.

But now, he has something to protect. His golden future. His puppy Mate.

Because Feyre's safety is the safety of his power and vice versa. Anything he does is justifiable because the loss of Feyre is Not an Option. She is Happy. They Are Happy.

It bleeds into everything- and then it intensifies, because this is the breaking point.

The Az/Lucien thing and Feyre incredibly hurtful blindness? No Rhys isn't going to interfere- Az is so private anyway- if Feyre believes its a romantic bond, Feyre is right, she knows her sister, not that it matters because Elain is totally out of her mind.

Sending Cassian to Illyria? Illyria is a backwards shithole right? They're fierce fighters and that's what Rhys values them for- as the hammer of his power- and nothing else? why would there be anything else? Look at them fighting and hurting each other.

Nesta runs and Cassian is left throwing himself in battles actively trying to die and Rhys? Rhys is totally smug. A problem that hurt Feyre and his brother is GONE.

But it's not gone. Az isn't talking to anyone- and Rhys thinks this probably means Lucien is probably, finally fucking him- but even Feyre understands that Azriel knows where Nesta is. When this is proved (when Elain surfaces and they have the very fun kitchen fight) Rhys isn't happy- but he understands. Azriel has always felt responsible for broken things.

But thats not his job, it's Rhysands job, and Rhys has already made that tough choice for the safety of his own: Nesta has no place here. When she resurfaces inevitably, broke and wanting something, Rhys will stop her before she gets close enough to upset (hurt) Feyre. It's his job.

Cassian goes missing, and Rhysand sets upon what will become his eventual move: Illyria's value is strength. (a martial strength that belongs to RHYS). But they think they can take from him? They can destroy their own best chance? (Rhys recognizes Cassian's value to Illyria even while, you know, ordering him to slaughter Illyrians) They would threaten his power? hurt his family?

Rhys will not allow a world to exist where Feyre can be hurt.

If Illyria can't be controlled, Illyria will be put down, like the rabid creatures they are. (They were always backwards, Rhys thinks. Freeing my mother was the one good thing my father ever did)

But Cassian lives.

Rhys asks Azriel if he's been cursed. Az laughs in his face.

And Cassian is a terrible enemy to have. The strategies the loyalists are using? His, filtered through Rhys. The magical contingencies? Cassian and Az, trying to prevent bloodshed.

Feyre thinks, for a long time, that maybe the rebels have Nesta. What else could compel Cassian to even care? these people keep trying to kill him. they want to kill Rhys. the brothers suffered in the frozen mud at the hands of these monsters, what is Cassian doing?

And then the massacre happens.

And Feyre sick to her stomach, cries when she hears. Rhysand thinks about a little hazel eyed boy who'd never had a bed, a present, who'd been nothing until Rhysand plucked him up- a little boy who'd grown into a dangerous man, who'd just killed every person who ever contributed to his pain. Rhys thinks, knowing he'll have to punish Cassian for this, that it's over.

The camp lords are dead, it has to be over.

(Azriel hears and understands- because he knows damn well Cassian was something before Rhysand, and after despite him. That beneath those repeatedly broken ribs is a heart that was once so big so save him, grown strong enough now to save everyone who was like them: forgotten, abandoned, used.)

It's not over. The mountains are burning. Banners fly on northern wind in a language long dead. They're singing, the spies say, they call him dawn. Loyal-heart-as-dawn.

It's Cassians name. Not that Rhys, who never knew more than a few vile insults in the language of his mother's ancient, proud people, understood it then.

Rhysand, the long-suffering hero of his own story, has been betrayed.

He can risk no more- it's time to end this madness. It's Feyre's idea to use Elain- it's Feyre who is left crying, a betrayal Rhysand will never forget- when Elain, who they've given everything, Elain, perhaps just as broken and wretched as her eldest sister, refuses to help keep Feyre safe.

(Elain refuses to participate in what she sees as genocide, but as we've established, what consequences exist? the ones Rhys feels right in front of his face)

Azriel, Elain, and Lucien run.

Of course, if both Feyre's sisters are capable of betraying her, of course, both of Rhysand's brothers would as well. They are one in the same, aren't they? Marked by destiny, by fate for this hard and terrible work- of course it hurts. Of course- but Rhysand will stop it from hurting Feyre any more.

There's one force in the world that can stand in truth against Illyria. The Darkbringers- their ancestral, ancient conquers.

(Yes, I do think Rhys knows the shitty, shitty history of his court! He just doesn't care! He didn't do it. He's different. He's in Velaris with the common people. He has wings. He's not his father.)

(He is, in fact, far worse)

When he thinks of it, it seems perfect. Illyria will be destroyed- a loss, but a safe one. Keir, will, almost certainly, also be destroyed or at least critically weakened.

Rhysand will stand alone, the man who was willing to do anything for peace. He will rule over an emptied playing field, secure in a world where Feyre is safe.

The Hewn City empties, the armies march- Rhysand holds tight Feyre's hand, says nothing about the fact that nothing, nothing, will stop Keir from killing anyone in front of him when battle starts, and reaches once more for Cassian's mind.

His brother, his friend, his loyal right hand- he begs him to come back. To come home. That they can put down this rebellion and in his love for Cassian everything can go back to how it is meant to be, all of them together.

It does not occur to him to address the hundreds dead. The system he was complicit in and responsible for that ground a culture to dust and ash- what matters is brother against brother should never have turned, and Rhys, in his kindness, will offer Cassian this last chance for honor.

Rhys doesn't want Cassian to die- he wants Cassian by his side- but he will drown the world in blood before he'll lose his crown and hope and Feyre.

And when Cassian dies, falling to the earth in Rhysand's arms, Rhys thinks of penance.

A circle closed.

But of course- Cassian wakes. Death is not done with her right hand anymore than the contract between Lordship and land in immutable. Cassian brought the magic back, brought Illyria back.

Rhys is fighting for something personal- Cassian is fighting for a whole world and future, with everything in himself.

When the new border is drawn, Rhys doesn't despair- sure he's shaking, he's covered in Cassian's blood, his twelve thousand year old walls are smoking and the whole world smells like fucking Nesta Archeron- he's been the victim of curses before.

He won't let it keep him down. He'll be fine. He has Feyre, they're safe. Illyria is going to implode- and maybe, maybe, he'll save some of those that remain when the violence is too much, when they need a real High Lord.

They'll come home. Just like Feyre's sisters will. Rhysand's brothers. They fought for peace and Velaris has it- it is their home.

It's what they fought for, the happy ending, and it's all worth it.

It has to be worth it.