#and the trauma? the anger issues? yeah that guy is not in touch with his emotions so if you're going to call anyone repressed

[oceans-swim]

my dbd hot take is like. edwin isn't repressed . like yeah he's not the greatest at romance but like?? he has Stated when he's "had enough emotions for one day" like he may not be all that expressive but he lets himself feel emotion, process it, and move on like he fully recognizes his own jealousy and does not lash out when people help him figure shit out and again, Communicates

charles on the other hand

[2minutesnotice]

Got in a heated debate that ended with agree to disagree about Valentino (and Vox).

And YES, I'm aware about how complicated it is to LIKE these characters and how IMPORTANT it is to be aware that they're fictional but their actions (especially Vals) are something that happens in the real world and has long time consequences for the victims of said people.

More under the cut:

TRIGGER WARNINGS:

talk about sexual abuse/victim shaming/mental issues/dubious consent/rape

While Vox is easy to explain, his actions are something we are confronted with every day and question every day (especially in this decade):

How does Media influences and manipulates us and how we try to find a good middle line to consume but not be consumed.

Vox powers, besides his physical ones being able to teleport through media, we know about and with every new generation we try to fight it more and more.

Media is something that can't hurt us deeply. It can make us uncomfortable, but we can turn off the TV and blend it out. If we're kinda okay-ish mentally. But let's get with the norm.

While Valentino is a WHOLE different book.

Sexual abuse, non consent physical contact, dubious consent, victim blaming, narcissistic behavior, anger issues. The list goes on and on and I guess with a new season it will even get longer.

These are all things we learn from a young age are WRONG. It is wrong to do things without consent, we learn from young age that people with anger issues are scary and should be avoided. You wouldn't greet a person like Valentino with open arms and think "Oh wow he's nice!" if you have been raised kinda traumaless and without mental issues, in a normal environment.

Because this plays a big role how people even connect with him and how they get into his circle. People who are mentally unstable, people who see him as someone who has everything under control and lay their fate in his hands. (And sometimes they see his fame and glitter and we have to agree he is kinda charming).

His powers are pheromones. He can influence people with his breath and spit and he knows how to use it, paired with toxic charme. And that what makes him dangerous, paired with his anger issues and I guess, personal trauma.

Which does not excuse his actions in any way.

Sexual Abuse is something that goes so deep with us, because if you're not a sociopath or psychopath, you know it's wrong. Someone coming at YOU, into your personal space and takes something from you, you can't even GRASP, you can't touch or hold dignity, breaks you. You won't be able to fix that. Our personal space is something that no one should be allowed to touch without consent. I. ANY way.

That's why Valentinos actions hit so hard. He takes things from people they will never get back in full. He brakes people, in body AND mind. That's fucked up.

BUT, and that's the point for me, we see all this and we know he is BAD. He is a VILLAIN.

While Alastor is a witty guy, who catches us with his quirks and old timey puns, he is, a villain. He is a bad guy, a bad person. His actions are villainous. But his powers and actions are so supernatural, he does not seem a threat to us.

Vox is a charismatic guy who knows how to use people and what to say to make things go his way. He IS a villain. He controlls, he is also a narcissist, I also bet he is an misogynistic asshole (Velvet being the exception, but I'm not diving into that, don't want to rant about how much I hate men lol).

He has his fair share of kills, talks about it like afternoon tea. He is a villain. But his actions are so far away from a normal daily life, we kinda excuse it, because we don't walk around neighborhood and shoot people out of fun. Yeah I know there's always the exceptions.

And villains are bad, it's not complex, this is black and white in most cases.

Villains are bad. They hurt people, they kill your father and want the throne, they make the sons of gods human to kill them, they rape the Queen to get what they want, you get where I want to go.

And people always liked villains. They make the story go, they make us questioning ourselves. How many of our actions would make us the villain in someone elses story?

How many of our own issues do we reflect into this (in this case) fictional character?

It's deep psychological shit why people fall in love with Serial Killers and Rapists, even when society says it's WRONG.

If you actually tried to have a conversation with Valentino fans, mostly ALL of them know his actions are wrong. Yes, the Voice Actor KNOWS THAT TOO. They understand that he is a villain, that he does bad things. We only see Angel Dust as his main victim but we know there are more. Angel is just the tip of the iceberg.

But he is also, fictional. And Angels victim story gets explained, they show how his life has been influenced by Valentino and how hard it is for a victim to try to break the chains of their abuser. A story that a lot of people can identify with. And they feel seen (another topic I won't go into deep here).

Maybe they could've taken more time to explain all of it but we all know Hazbin has a pacing problem.

So, why do I share pics of these guys and don't have an issue with Val/Vox fans?

I'm 35 old and know it's fictional media. I know that these people and these characters don't hurt me or others. Yes I question their behavior, that makes me an healthy adult who knows that things sometimes are black and white and sometime, are grey.

Also, most of the art of especially these two, is hilarious. You see that people don't take them too seriously. You see that people want to give these characters some depth without trying to erase their origins.

Yes, Vox is a mastermind, but he's also so self centered and obsessed with things, even over DECADES, that it's easy to not take him seriously.

Valentino is a nearly blind Himbo, he has his multiple hands in many things but as we have seen, most of his actions are controlled by the controll freak in the team. They are peak comedy material.

While being dangerous as fuck.

Very long story short,

It's okay to like a villain, as long as you are aware that not every villain has good roots, but is just an asshole with mental issues, who not wants to be redeemed. Sometimes people are bad, because, surprise, they like to be bad.

And if you don't like content, you have all the power in your hands. Scroll, block, make a blacklist of tags you don't want to see. Learn how to consume media, if it's not healthy for you, skip it, take control of your timeline.

But don't harass people on the Internet over fictional people. Put that energy in stuff you like, that brings way more joy.

[adambja]

Hi Adam

I don't know why I'm telling you this to be honest hehe,but as my fav blogger I want to ask you for advice.

So I discovered the law last two years and for 8 months I tried using subliminals each one month but no matter how hard I stuck to one subliminal it never gave me results.

Then last year I read motivation on loa and all in other bloggers post but I never manifested anything no matter how hard I tried,I tried to be the creator of my reality,I pretended to be living my dream life even though I was broke asf and my family was suffering,ppl called me stupid but I didn't care,even when I never got results I believed it would come soon,I literally kept convincing myself for a year,I worked so hard but nothing happened,I never Manifested anything,and then I heard about the void state,I didn't believed in it but then I saw success stories and I believed it immensely,I thought there's still hope for me,for months I suffered but I pushed through and tried to get into the void state every day and every night,I worked on my self concept,I applied the law in every way but then nothing happened and then my dad fell ill,I was worried and I kept affirming to manifest his health,I affirmed in tears and I was fed up.i wanted to pay you for a custom tape because I thought it might help me but then I had no cent on me,so I could only keep affirming and affirming but nothing happened and then my mum died,she couldn't keep up with all of these,I had no siblings so yeah,then the dad died too.but I still didn't give up I didn't want to but it's useless,right now when I see any blogger giving ppl motivation,it annoys the hell outta me,I know I might be wrong but the law never helped me so now I'm gonna be sent to an orphanage home tomorrow in which girls are constantly molested each time,I literally pass by and see guys trying to touch them and I don't wanna go there please I need your advice,I'm tired of all these you are the creator speeches it's annoying to be honest,I wouldn't say I didn't try enough because I did extremely well,my phone is the only thing supporting me right now pls I need you to tell me what to do,it was my dad's gift to me on Christmas,he worked so hard to buy me one.ive tried every method possible

Most of y'all think you've had it bad??? I've faced worse,I don't even have access to my own house because of my fucking family members y'all give up immediately you try something

I tried for over 2 years but I never got anywhere and I need help,I'm going insane,if there's anything you can do to help me please do if there isn't then it's okay

First of all

My name isn't Adam it's adambja baby it's A GIRL HERE AND THIS IS WHAT I CALL A TRAUMA DUMPING THAT'S it

I didn't read anything because I am about to sleep I am so tired but you are welcome to talk to me privately and we will see

I understand your frustration and all your feelings and all this anger about some bloggers here saying the same repeated things over and over!

It's not my responsibility either cause I am not even like them hopefully I helped a lot of people here!

But when you send me a message make sure you tell me about what you want from the tapes if you are gonna buy them BECAUSE I DON'T MAKE CUSTOM TAPES FOR FREE you gave me your whole life thing how would I even help you if you aren't paying me for your personalized tape or coaching!!!!

I CAN LITERALLY HELP YOU IN ONE MONTH WITHOUT ANY VOID SH IN YOUR NORMAL PHYSICAL REALITY I DID HELP A LOT OF PEOPLE WHO HAD THE WORST SITUATIONS YOU CAN EVEN IMAGINE!

This is the issue here guys

This is MY ISSUE okay? Stop trauma dumping instead tell me WHAT DO YOU WANT TO HAPPEN!!! NOT WHAT HAPPENED CAUSE IDGAF ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED I AM HERE TO MAKE YOUR NEW REALITY HAPPEN

Again the old story MUST BE DEAD!

Also baby you need tapes NOT TALK NOT WORDS YOU NEED TO REWIRE YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS MIND

How SHOULD I MAKE THE OLD STORY DEAD, ADAMBJA?

Just tapes THAT'S WHY I AM MAKING TAPES WITH BENEFITS ITS BETTER IN MANY WAYS

And that's what I am originally a coach for!

[thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos]

I wanted to participate but I can’t draw lol so I’m doing a written version like we used to do on those Facebook notes we shared back in 2009 hahahaha I’m old

Credit to @mikasleaf for the challenge

===============================

TMAYNT CHALLENGE (Written Out)

1. Fav Turtle: Raphael

2. Fav April: gotta be Rise

3. Fav Henchman: I adore Cassie (rise) but my OG favs will always be Bebop and Rocksteady from the comics/ 87 cartoon

4. Fav baby turtles: 1990 all the way

5. Best Leo: ooh that’s so hard. I LOVE 03 Leo so much. But Rise Leo is fucking hilarious. But I gotta go with 03. My sweet traumatized boy.

6. Fav mutant ally: I adore MM’s Mondo Gecko sooo much

7. Best Turtle Gadget: I really liked April’s watch from the Bay OOTS, and the throw back noises it made were too fucking cute

8. Fav Turtle Ally+ Dynamic: the Casey+Raph dynamic is always my fav. They’re chaotic goobers who find comfort in their friendship.

9. Best Raph: DONT MAKE ME PICK ONE THIS IS SO HARD. 03 Raph and 1990s Raph is the light of my life, our snark king, my darling, but heck did I love the MM version. The rage, the carnage, the bloodlust, all while laughing maniacally. Amazing. And don’t get me started on Bayverse Raph, cause that’s a whole different box.

10. Fav Turtle Curse Word: I’m a big fan of the 1990 scene where Raph screams Damn, but I also love Shell yeah. 😅

11. Fav Splinter: 1990, no question. That rat is Uncle Iroh wise.

12. Best Turtle Vehicle: The garbage truck Donnie tricks out in OOTS is pretty damn impressive. There’s literally a punching bag in there lol

13. Best Donnie: I really love Rise Donnie. He’s just the best, hands down. 1990 comes in at a close second though.

14. Fav Turtle movie: 1990. It is a masterpiece.

15. Best Karai: 03 for sure

16. Best Episode: The Shredder Strikes (Pt 2 specifically) 03

17. Best Mikey: oof another hard one. 03, baby. My sweet sunshine pot-head

18. Favorite animation style: Rise! I love the angles.

19. Best Casey Jones: I ADORE the 1990 version. I feel like they really nailed him. But 03 also did a great job.

20. Fav Turtle Merch/Toy that you own: I met Steve Lavigne back in 2019 at a comic con. I was so excited I got really teary and he was so touched that he gave me some original Mikey artwork and he signed it. That man is the most precious Angel and must be protected. (See pic at the end)

21. Fav Shredder: I love the 87 version for his relationship with Krang and Bebop and Rocksteady.

22. Fav Turtle Duo: the 03 Don + Raph combo warms my heart. Don’t you dare hurt his brother dammit

23. Fav Human Ally: Casey Jones is the best. Like he’s just some guy who stumbled upon this family that he’s now a part of and he would die for. Love that guy.

24. Fav Turtle + Villian dynamic: I really liked Superfly from MM

25. What kind of weapon would you use if you were on the team: Bō staff. I always wanted to use nunchaku like Mikey, but I train with nunchucks and it is freakin hard. The staff is way more natural for me.

26. Fav Series: hmmm 2003.

27. Fav Mutant/Alien villain: 87 Krang is the snarkiest bitch and it is hilarious. I also love Draxum from Rise.

28. Fav Turtle Intro/Song: ooh this is so hard!! The 87 intro is a CLASSIC and always gets stuck in my head, but the 2003 intro will always be my favorite.

29. Fav Turtle Outfit/Gear: I love the Rise outfits and how they have such distinct personalities, but the Bay designs *chefs kiss*

30. Fav Human Villain: 03 Baxter Stockman. Bro was beautifully written

31. Which Turtle are you closest to in personality: Raphael and I are one in the same, with ya know the trauma and anger issues heheh

===========================

That was fun haha if you don’t remember how to do these, delete my answers and fill in your own!

The picture from #20!

[just-another-miserable-prick]

Aight, we're doing this. It's headcanon time.

This is engines 1-6. This is all Sodor High School AU canon btw.

Thomas Gail:

Freshman. Tiny gremlin child. Full of energy and straight up refuses to shut the fuck up. No, he physically can't shut the fuck up. Prankster #1. Much like James, he's very over the top, but instead of his looks, I mean his pranks. Like, this little bitch wrote a whOLE ASS FUCKING MUSICAL for an APRIL FOOL'S PRANK. FOR REAL. (I'll make a post about that whole mess, it's the best fucking thing) Protects Percy with his l i f e.

Edward Belwett:

Senior. Braincell #1 of 2 of the entire Steam Team. Extremely farsighted but simply does not realise that it's a problem. Poor guy just thinks everyone sees the world like he does. (I dare you to try and change my fucking mind, also @zellezel, I'm stealing this, thank you very much) The caring dad friend and the team's designated therapist. Guy's got Rapunzel hair (as in floor length) and only James is allowed to touch it. Why? Let's just say the story involves fire. If you manage to piss him off, good fucking luck. Trans king.

Henry Holt:

Junior. Braincell #2 of 2 of the Steam Team. Very kind, gentle and anxious introvert. Absolutely fucked mentally AND physically (thank his mother- or rather birthgiver for that one) While he is a pacifist, he's known for having lost his cool a grand total of 2 times. (One of these involved Edward) Legend has it he threw a chair once. No one knows the truth though, except for the witnesses. I'd advise everyone to just stay on his good side for their own sake.

Gordon Rask:

Junior. HOO BOI, man be f u c k e d beyond belief. 6th of 8 siblings, parents are divorced, dad's an alcoholic, lord knows where mom went ("no hard feelings tho, good for her" says our local mess of a highschool junior), most of his siblings already booked it, life really went: "Welp- What could go wrong? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯" *dumps entire content of the Trauma Truck™ on this one guy*. So damn jealous of Scott and thinks or rather hopes that people don't notice. They notice, don't worry. ("I do the exact same thing he does and he gets all the recognition?! What about me?? What am I doing wrong?!") No wonder he's got such a bad temper.

James Bragg:

(This may or may not be me projecting my own issues onto this bitch) Sophomore. Almost homeless, as in his house, or rather what's left of it, could collapse literally any minute- (which it does at one point-) he tries to cover up his misery in public by acting like he's a vain, self-absorbed little sassy twink, and it seems to do the job. For now at least. When he's in private or alone with someone (aHeM, Gordon-) he's a m e s s in pretty much any way you can think of.

Percy Klein:

Freshman. Thomas' adopted brother and tries to be a voice of reason when Thomas is about to do something stupid (or illegal cuz Thomas w o u l d). Normally fails to stop his brother from committing his silly acts of mischief but hey, at least he's trying. Precious baby. If you somehow manage to anger him, he'll cuss you out in fluent German. Then it's over for you. He might as well be summoning a demon for all I know ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (<- this coming from someone who studies german. I hate that fucking nightmare of a language.)

Ships? OH HELL YEAH!

To preface, these are just my preferences. If you ship something else, go ahead. As long as it's not like- Inc*st, p*dop*ilia, you know- disgusting shit. Or anything that involves Spencer. This is a Spencer hate blog. ANYWAY

Henry X Edward:

yes yeS YES Y E S- Yea this is my OTP, I fucking love these two, they are my life force and I want them to be my dads- in my mind it's the "slightly more social introvert X anxious mess of an introvert" dynamic and it's the cutest fucking thing. Edward confessed first, on Valentine's day! :D

Gordon X James:

Two fucked up guys looked at one another one day and thought "I could… try to fix him?". That's literally it and I love them. Like they're both absolutely fucked up to no end so they're really the only ones who understand the other's struggles and could help without making shit even worse. Love that they both have someone there for them :D.

Thomas and Percy are brothers in this AU ^^ I know I said it before but I'll say it again.

Thanks to @zellezel for inspiring me to finally write this thing :)

[not-close-to-straight]

No you definitely got that Tone right!! Cause I also hate that in movies! Like NO! NO IT CAN’T MOVE ON TO THERAPY THAT WILL HELP!! But that scene was so nice and sweet! Also your Omega Steve stuff looks good but who is this Billy? And why is he here? Haven’t really watched the show, only clips!

Billy is Billy Hargrove who's the baddie in Season 3 (and sort of season 2?)

And like, don't get me started on who he is as a character because I will write for DAYS about all the complexities of a queer coded character who is canonically ab*sed by his dad in terrible ways and is clearly projecting his own issues into his relationship with his step sister and then zeroes in on Steve as the object of his anger (re: desire because its not even a stretch to see the homoeroticism in their scenes) but at the last minute is saved by honestly, a gentle touch from maybe the only person in his life who's ever looked at him and saw the scared little boy he used to be and not the actual monster he turned into--

DON'T GET ME STARTED BECAUSE I WILL WRITE FOR DAYS ABOUT IT!

What you mostly need to know is that when I started watching Stranger Things last year, the first time Billy Hargrove showed up on screen I went "oh MY" and then promptly turned off the TV and avoided the show for another week because I have never been so quickly and embarrassingly flustered by a guy (fictional or otherwise) in my LIFE.

When I finally got over being fucking weird about the character, I tried watching again and got to this part:

And had a complete crisis. Like actually had to go "huh, do I like... men?"

But that crisis wasn't as bad as the one I had in Season Three with this scene:

So. Yeah. Ummmm flustered and that's usually a reaction I save for like, Charlize Theron??

Anyway, beyond him being sort of compromisingly good looking, he's also an intensely fascinating character and has the sort of trauma and potential for redemption that-- as I writer-- I'm practically feral for. Complicated characters are so fun to write about and then when you take Billy's literally practically PRIMAL personality and put him in Omegaverse with an Omega that yes, might be a Mother Hen but who's also ready to Commit A Homicide to save the people he loves?? ITS AMAZING.

Watch like, a tiktok or youtube highlight thing re: Billy Hargrove, then do a little exploring in the Harringrove tag and then read my fic.

PLUS homeboy looks like a biter and we all know how I feel about biting (HOLLA).

BillySteve is now my guilty pleasure ship. They will be horny and feral and the sort of sweet that hurts your heart and the sort of angst that leaves you bleeding and the sort of happily ever afters that they have to fight tooth and nail for which makes that ride off into the sunset so so so amazing.

They remind me of my Spideypool honestly. It's not healthy, it's frustrating, they fight, one of them is violent and the other is a sass master, there's no reason why they work and also EVERY reason why they work and like hey.

Billy and Steve are extremely pretty and that's just NICE okay? I think it's nice for me to have pretty boys to write about.

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

happy 200! i’m so glad to see your blog grow, it’s one of my favorites and i adore all your writing. i’ve never cried so much and i love the kind of unsettling feeling you write in your fics, it’s perfect in the category of yandere and dark content. in particular, i loved your drabble about shigaraki mourning over a dead reader and i’ve reread that one too many times to count haha! as for asks for headcannons and drabbles, it would be amazing to see that with bully!eren especially since he was such an awful person to the reader. i’d love to see him suffer honestly, but if you don’t want to write it, that’s completely fine! once again, i’m so proud of you for hitting 200! that’s such a huge milestone and hopefully, there will be many more in the future! :)

SYNOPSIS: bully!Eren has to navigate the world without you.

Pairing: Bully!Eren x Fem!Reader

A/N: I can't even explain in words how much I CHEESED at this message like my grin was ear to ear. can't explain how many times I read this. It singlehandedly made my day anon, and to repay you for my happiness....here is some angst. this is a slightly different route than the shiggy one but I hope it still suits you <3

TW: mentions of death, past dubcon/noncon, mentions of trauma, bullying, alcohol addiction, drunk driving, abusive behavior, revenge porn, nonconsensual photography/videography, mentions of infidelity, angst, so much of angst, violent behavior

WC: 2.5k

It's not like Eren had been doing a lot of soul-searching. He's not delusional enough to label his half-assed epiphany of "maybe I'm a shitty person" as soul searching.

It's just the conversation with his very sick mother burned holes through the back of his mind. Carla had asked about you and why you don't come by the house anymore. How she missed baking with you in the kitchen, and how you sweetly smiled whenever you would see soft creamy peaks form in the meringue.

Eren felt like he was swallowing needles as he assured his mother with false truths, that nothing was going on and distance between childhood friends is natural, and if it means so much--ok ok he'll bring you over.

He stays until he sees her chest slowly rising and falling into a gentle asleep. He touches the tip of his ears, unsurprised by how hot it was.

Eren, when you tell a lie, the tips of your ears turn red.

You're not at school the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

Guilt is not an emotion he feels often but the events of the past weekend replay in his mind. It was just a dumb party that Floch threw, and he was surprised to find you cornered by a trio of thee dunderheads. Like a distorted fairytale, he swept you away from the bad guys like a knight in shining armor, to only shove you in an empty room and demand compensation for playing hero.

Fuck, with that big mouth, you would think that you'd know how to suck cock.

Use your tongue stupid slut. If you use teeth, I'll shove this dick in your ass without any prep.

No, I don't care, you're taking all of it.

There's a video on his camera roll. How could he not record it? You're sobbing, mascara running down your cheeks, looking so beautiful and ruined with jizz smeared at the corner of your mouth. He was brutally fucking your mouth, making you take all of his length.

Breathe through your nose dumb whore. Or else you're gonna run out of air.

You were pleading with whatever garbled sounds you were constricted into producing.

Breathe through your fucking nose. This is for your sake. Otherwise, I don't mind face fucking your lifeless body. You'd be more useful that way anyways.

Eren is conflicted with muting the video because he can't stand to hear himself like that. But he didn't want to miss out on your pitiful whines.

He remembers the distraught expression on your face when he was finally done with you. He tucked himself inside, and sneered, "I've got a girl coming here. Get lost." You looked so fucking distraught. Why? All he did was make you suck his dick. He didn't even fuck you.

He should have. Eren thinks grimly when he stares at your empty desk on the first day you didn't show up to school. He's gotten off to the video more than enough times than he can count over the weekend, and he was aching to see your pretty face twisted into a terrorized expression when he flipped up your skirt to grope your ass.

Kindly, Eren decides he'd allow you to have a rest day. But the second day, Eren pays a visit to your house finding it dark and locked, like no one was home and hadn't been there for a while.

On the third day, you're declared missing.

Your incompetent workaholic mother who finally came home and decided to give a damn reported you missing to the authorities who had scratched their heads because as far as they knew, the pivotal 72 hours were up.

Paradis was surrounded by forests. No one wanted to say it, but they were all thinking it. If you got lost in there, chances are you wouldn't make it out.

Eren wasn't always this admired and fawned over. He had his fair share of behavioral issues that frightened people (not you though, not then at least, not when you were children, and you still came back every day to play).

But when he channeled that anger into sports, there was somewhat of a star in the making, especially for some small-town boy. He was becoming extremely popular, and that's nice and all, but at the end of the day, he has a mother whose health was taking a sharp decline. He was constantly under stress, stress that he took out on you.

Where did his favorite stress-ball go?

It's all fucking surreal. Having detectives in the school. Not that there were many students to question (because christ, did you even have any friends after Eren turned everyone against you?).

Eren was questioned. He can't help but mirthfully chuckle. Maybe this was your grand plan, maybe you were able to finally sort out a mountain of evidence against him. If you were going to fuck him over, didn't you want to see it happen with your own two eyes?

The dark-haired boy wishes that was true. If you had gotten your revenge, would you be here? No, revenge isn't the right word. If you got any justice for what he made you suffer, would you come back?

Hi, I'm Detective Hange. I would like to ask you some questions today. You're Eren Yeager, right?

Yes, that's me.

How do you know ___?

We were childhood friends. We're uh, we're not as close anymore.

When was the last time you saw her?

Friday night at Floch's party-

-Floch Forster right? There were a number of kids there from your school.

Yeah. It was a big party. She uh, doesn't usually come to parties but she was there that night.

You were the last person to be seen with her. Other kids have said that they saw you and her entering a room together, and then only her leaving the said room.

[Sigh] Yeah we sorta...hooked up.

I thought you said you guys weren't close anymore.

You can be not close to someone and still hook up with them.

But you guys were close once right?

Yeah. Once.

The dark-haired boy asks if he was under any suspicion. The detective waves their hand in a dismissive gesture, “If her diary tells us anything, it’s only that she really liked you.”

Were detectives even allowed to divulge that sort of information? Eren doesn’t know but the stray detail that they offered off-handedly made him feel like he was swallowing needles.

At that point, Eren honestly still doesn't believe you're gone. You had a habit of running away, even when you were little kids, but you always came back.

Still, he participates in the search parties with a renewed vigor, even going alone in the forest with a flashlight on most nights.

And he's just so fucking tired. The darkest crevice of his mind almost wishes you were dead because this ignorance was just agony. Almost. Because he still clings to the feeling that one day, he’ll stroll into class and find you in your seat in the back of the class, looking out the window like some cliche shojo manga protagonist.

There are folders and folders on his phone. Albums. The most recent one is dedicated to your crying face as you were choking on his dick. Earlier albums are composed of creepshots of your panties, of that obscene o-face, of your skirt flipped up and your ass cheeks, pictures of your cleavage, videos of you thrashing as he dunked your head into toilets like a villainous middle school bully.

Pictures of your neck covered in hickeys, your naked breasts, ass cheeks striped with red after getting spanked, your leaking cunt, just endless and endless media dedicated to pieces and pieces of your body like you were never a whole person.

The earliest ones though tell a different tale, from off-guards to your drooling face as you napped in the middle of the day.

He has a favorite picture. Your eyes are watery from the cold, snowflakes stuck between lashes, nose and cheeks flushed red, and you're smiling. Smiling right to the camera. Right at him.

"Eren, are you taking a picture?" You asked, bouncing in place, giddy that it was finally snowing.

"Not of you, shut up. Get out of the way." His voice is gruff but not harsh.

You laughed and jumped into frame anyway, and the bright streetlamp behind you made you seem like you were wearing a halo.

He wishes he had more pictures of you being...yourself. Because now your crying face displayed over countless pixels haunt him. But like a fucking degenerate, he still jerks off to all the nudes he coerced from you. Sometimes he cries when he's jerking off which is probably the most pathetic thing he's ever done. This is what you've reduced him to.

He hates the sound of his own voice.

Breathe through your fucking nose. This is for your sake. Otherwise, I don't mind face fucking your lifeless body. You'd be more useful that way anyways.

Eren goes through the motions of life without really feeling like he's in the moment. Seasons change and time flies. His mother dies, and his withdrawn father dies a year later. He proposes to Mikasa because it's something he was always supposed to do. She loves him unconditionally, so even when he doesn't put any effort into the relationship but proposes, she says yes hoping he'll change and be a good husband.

He doesn't go to his parents' funerals because they're already dead. What's the point. He doesn't visit the candlelight vigils in your honor either. After tearing his ACL again and a somewhat traumatic injury, he kisses his pro-football career goodbye. To be totally honest, he's relieved. Because he had gotten quite bored, and maybe he was looking for excuses to quit the entire time. It's not like you'd be cheering on the bleachers anyways.

Mikasa has an affair, more out of a desire to see her fiancé feel something for her as opposed to any burning lust. But when she asks him if he's ever cared at all, with tears springing out of her eyes, he's just calmly drinking his fifth of whisky.

The dark-haired man doesn't even look up, "Let's break up."

"Is this about her, huh? Fucking get over it already Eren. She's GONE. And you have some big fucking audacity moping about her death like you weren't making her cry in the bathroom stalls every fucking day you piece of shit."

"Get out."

"You know what, I bet she killed herse-"

SMASH

The dark-haired woman doesn't finish her rant because the whiskey bottle smashes on the wall next to her head, sending glass everywhere and staining the carpet amber. She's unharmed, knowing it wasn't Eren's intention to hit her but Jesus Christ, what a monster.

She packs her bags and leaves the town like she should have a long time ago. All her friends had left years before and she stayed behind because that's where Eren was. She thanks her lucky stars that they didn't marry.

It's funny because he had always imagined himself being the first to move out of their small town, but he's the one staying. He can't leave this place. feels too tethered to ever leave. Every diner and liquor store is saturated with memories of you. He remembers buying cigarettes and exhaling the smoke to your face to piss you off in empty parking lots.

Maybe he stays in case you'll come back.

Eren's days consist of alcohol-fueled hazes. He doesn't know how his liver is still functioning. He doesn't know he's still alive after crashing his car into a tree when he was drunk out of his mind. He was on his way to get some more vodka.

He barely recognizes himself in the mirror anymore, not that he looks at himself much. His hair is long, nestled around his shoulder because he couldn't be bothered to cut it, dark circles under viridian eyes, and a perpetual stubble on his jaw.

His parents had left quite a sizable inheritance so there's no need to work but he's good with his hands. Likes crafting up birdhouses and cabinets, and occasionally does odd jobs around the neighborhood, never charging the elderly.

He's under the sink, tinkering with a wrench against the pipes when he hears the old lady coo at him.

"We're so lucky to have you Eren. I'm surprised a handsome young man like yourself doesn't have a special lady. The girls must be lining up at your door!"

The dark-haired man winces, and offers no comment, knowing that that the older lady was susceptible to long tangents.

"You know, we're getting a new neighbor." Eren grunts as a response. "They're young, I've heard. Isn't that exciting? Oh my, Eren! I think they're gonna be living in the house right next to yours..."

He tunes out the rest of the conversation because doesn't really care. He just hopes his new neighbors are quiet.

It's Sunday noon when obnoxious noises of moving trucks and people wake him up from his deep slumber. Eren's annoyed to wake up despite the fact he's probably been sleeping over 15 hours. He oscillates between getting too much sleep and getting none, his sleeping habits completely dependent on his dreams.

His nightmares are too visceral, visions of your corpse asking him if he'd enjoyed hollowing your soul with his teeth.

His dreams are achingly sweet. You in your prom gown, shining so iridescently like diamonds were sewn into the silk. He's dancing with you, holding you close, and then after you guys go to your favorite diner and gorge on burgers and milkshakes.

There's a peal of distinctly feminine laughter that stirs up Eren's senses. He's so pathetic, was the mere sound of a woman laughing getting him excited?

He sighs. He thinks of the whore he's frequently visited because of her resemblance to you. Hair color, skin color, face shape--with enough alcohol, he could really convince the person beneath him, was you. Maybe it's time to give her a call, but she's gotten so fucking needy and he hated how her voice didn't match yours.

The green-eyed man peers from the lace curtains, irritated by the brats playing on his lawn. A full family next door? Great, just what he needs.

The friendly knock on his door breaks him out of his daze. He contemplates whether he should answer but on the second more muted knock, he lets his feet guide him.

He turns the knob.

And Eren Yeager completely shatters.

Because it's you isn't it? You're the person standing in front of him? He can hear what you're saying but he doesn't really register it, soaking in the cadence of a voice he had long forgotten because all he had were pleading whimpers and frenzied moans stored on his cell.

He's shaking. Is he dreaming? He's dreaming, right? He knows it's you. You're older, far more beautiful than he's ever seen you. You have a different hairstyle, wearing clothes he would have mocked you for, and there's this joyfulness within you that makes you glow.

There's a mess of emotions electrifying in the pits of his stomach from euphoria, anger, and dread. He could feel his skin growing clammy like he was about to vomit at any second.

"Hey, are you all right?"

Doe eyes full of concern peer up at him. He voices out the syllables of your name like a desperate prayer.

You tilt your head to the side, "How do you know my name?"

[strawberryspence]

when death knocks on your door

Angst/Fluff [18+] | Spencer Reid x FEM! BAU! Reader

Summary: Some trauma tears people apart, while some brings people together. SSA Doctor Spencer Reid and SSA Doctor Y/N Y/L/N is brought together by the death of SSA Emily Prentiss.

Word Count: 3,13k 

Warnings: based on the Ian Doyle/Emily Prentiss character arc so some spoilers for s6-s7. talks about death (a lot of it), mention of drug use, allusions to depression, attempted suicide (nothing graphic), mention of cancer & car crash, a few curse words, description of smut, its very vague (one part only), mentions of therapy, HAPPY ENDING (i am not a monster)

Writer's Note: Hello! A bit of a heavier topic on today's fic! I picked apart the whole Emily arc and this is written basically in the reader's perspective. I love writing angst but I can never end it with sad endings. So I hope you enjoy this, I am very proud of how it turned out! 💛

GIF is made by yours truly. Its surprisingly hard to find "purple shirt + sweater vest spencer reid" gifs.

Death.

Death.

Death comes in different shapes and forms.

For Spencer, he has seen it up close with Haley and Hotch, but never with someone in his family or close group of friends. He sees death in the form of abandonment, in ways when people leave him and a part of him goes with them.

For you, you were familiar with death. Death looms over you. You’re father dying when you were younger and then you’re mother in your teens. 

Death comes when your father was killed in a car accident involving a drunk driver. It was fast, in a blink, death sweeps him and takes him. All her father’s life and dreams gone in a second, with a crash.

Death comes when your mother was diagnosed with cancer. Cancer, the fucking bitch, takes her time. It was slow, like it was enjoying the pain. It takes and it takes till its taken everything and the last thing it has taken is your mother.

And death comes when it takes Emily Prentiss. This was your best friend, partner in crime and roommate. Her death wasn’t fast, it wasn’t slow, its painstakingly in the middle while you try to get her blood off your hands while sobbing in the SUV as Derek drives way past the legal speed to get to the hospital.

In her death, you find yourself being swallowed by something that you were not. Something bigger, something you can’t describe. The team sees this weeks after she has been buried. You were the same person, and you were a different person, all at once.

One night, when death was about to knock on your door as you hold a knife to your wrist, ready to meet Death, ready to tell him off, it is then when chance knocks on your apartment door.

Spencer is at your door, a sobbing mess with three bottles of dilaudid clenched in his hands. He stumbles in your new apartment avoiding the piles of boxes unopened. You just moved, not being able to sleep in the apartment you and Emily shared.

“I am sorry. I-I am sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know where to go. JJ was... busy and I am so close... so close.” Your heart softens at how desperate he looks, Spencer doesn’t know how strong he is to you, being able to ask for help when you were just about to end it all.

You take the bottles from him, setting it on the counter as you guide him to your couch. He clings to you as you both sit on the couch, crying and sobbing.

“Death is among us. Avoiding him is what makes us stronger." You whisper to him and he cries harder.

Something is so bitterly comforting when someone shares the same pain you are suffering. It hurts, but in a funny way, it hurts less when some shares it with you.

So you cling to Spencer as he does to you and you let it all go. You cry as much as he does as he holds you and as you hold him.

You both wake up the next day, with a full 8 hours of sleep, something you both have not had in weeks.

“Thank you.” Spencer whispers and you smile, stroking his hair, “Thank you.” You say it back at him.

You were sure that Emily is laughing at her grave. I had to die for you to finally make a move on your crush. You shake her voice off your head. Now is not the time for silly crushes.

It becomes a routine, finding comfort and safety in each others presence, Spencer almost lives in your apartment. His toothbrush sits on the cup besides yours in the bathroom counter, his clothes takes up half of your closet, his books scattered on the shelfs and his cups on the kitchen counter.

You tell yourself its platonic. Spencer tells himself its platonic. The team doesn’t say anything, only thankful that you were reverting back to your old self and Spencer is getting better.

You want more. It was hard to admit to yourself. But you wanted more with Spencer. Your little crush now growing into something bigger than yourself. You wanted futures full of him and what you have right now is not right. Shared trauma is not love.

Three months into the set up of him basically living in your apartment, you suggest therapy for both of you. You are a Doctor of Psychology and you know the percussions of what you’re doing.

Spencer is shocked but he understands. This was your territory, Spencer knows that this was the right thing to do so he agrees. You lay out all the options to Spencer, all the therapy and how both of you should change your routines more often.

It works. He stops sleeping on your bed every night (he still comes tho, just on the harder nights where he needs to hold you to remind himself that death has yet to take you).

You have breakfast together every morning, using it to comfort each other rather than sleeping together every night. It works.

The therapy helps you both as you both move on from Emily’s death. That is until seven months later.

-

Declan was missing. You’ve let the Emily case go but Derek has not, you know this and you let him. Every time you want to do something to help Derek catch Doyle, your doctorate that hangs above your couch stares back at you, like it was taunting you. You studied this, moving on was the better choice and you know it. No amount of killing Doyle would bring back Emily, no amount of it would make you feel better.

That is until Hotch gathers the team on the conference room.

“Everybody have a seat.” Hotch instructs. You all look at each other. Spencer looks at you as if asking if you knew what’s up but you only shake your head.

“Why?” Morgan asks, looking around.

“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her—“

“What?” You squeak out. Hotch holds his hands up, asking you to hear him out first.

“She was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need-to-know and she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security.”

Spencer can see how your face pales. He reaches for your hand under the table and gives it a tight squeeze. You return the squeeze, finding comfort in his touch.

“She’s alive?” Penelope asks, tears now forming in her eyes.

“But... we buried her.” Spencer says, like its a fact. Like its the solid truth. Your hand clamps down harder on his.

“As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision. If anyone had any issues, they should be directed to me.” Hotch says and all you can do is look at him, not able to believe anything he is saying.

“Any issues? Yeah, I got issues!” Derek’s loud voice now looming over the room.

“Oh my god.” Penelope squeaks making the whole room turn around. You turn around and you see Emily walking to the room. Your hold unto Spencer tightens, as if checking if he is real, you want any sign that this is not a dream, that this is real.

“I am so sorry. I really am. Not a day went by that I didn’t want to...” Emily explains.

Death comes and it takes, and it takes, and it takes but never has Death give someone back to you.

Emily was standing in front of you. The woman whose blood stained your hands for days, the woman you buried, the woman who’s grave you cried on for god knows how long that Derek had to physically carry you away from her grave and here she was breathing and hugging the team.

She comes in front of you and you still haven’t let go of Spencer’s hand.

“Y/N?” She says, it comes as a whisper. A whisper, coming from the ghost that has been haunting you for months. She opens her arms for a hug and you let go of Spencer to hug her.

She was real, she was solid and she’s hugging you back. So why, in the mountain of emotions you are feeling, why is happiness in the bottom of the pit? Why is anger the one screaming in your heart?

You pull away, and she hugs Spencer but as soon as she lets go, Spencer captures your hands again. Emily sees this and smiles, but doesn’t say anything.

“There’s so much I want to tell you guys, and I will. I promise. But right now I really need to know what’s going on with Declan.” The team continued to discuss Declan and Spencer holds unto your hand like its his life line. You only break apart when the team has to work again.

He gives you one look as he separates away from you, “I got you.” He says, kissing your temple before leaving to go to the interrogation room.

That was enough to calm you down.

-

The team gets Declan back safely and after all the trials, you finally had a moment to breathe.

“Hey, you doing good?” Spencer asks. You nod. He looks good, he looks like home in a purple shirt and sweater vest.

“Do you want to go home?” He asks you. You want to shout but you’re my home! You nod and he takes your scarf from your desk and wraps it around you.

“Let’s go?” You smile at him as he wraps it around you. It felt so domestic, so familiar.

You walk together to the elevator, leaving the BAU and all the piles of emotions that you’ve been through this past few days. As you both stand in the silver tin box, you see your reflection with him standing beside you, his arm around your waist and your head on his shoulder.

You wanted to scream how much you love him. But the voice in your head screams back, he doesn’t love you! It’s shared trauma! You shake your head and Spencer sees this.

“You okay? How are you feeling?” You smile up at him, as he looks at you with all the worries that a person can hold for another one.

“Yes, I am good, Spence. How about you?” He smiles and kisses the top of your head. “I am good. I just need time to process some of the things that has happened.”

Spencer drives you both home. Spencer doesn’t take the word hate lightly but Spencer hates driving. He still drives tho, for you. Holding your hand while he drives with the other, while you were staring out of the window, just watching the places blur by.

Death waits on your door and when the right time comes, it will knock. When it does, you can’t turn it away or send it away. When it knocks, it sweeps you off your feet, leaving no time for goodbyes or regrets. Ironically, Spencer walks you to your door, opening it for you and even taking your scarf off for you.

Your heart almost grows twice its size and you can feel yourself bursting in its seams. You find yourself closing the door, as if trying to block Death away from him. He smiles at you and something bursts inside of you.

“I love you, Spence.”

He drops your keys on the bowl on your hallway and he smiles, teasingly. “I love you, too, Dr. Y/L/N.” You smile but you shake your head.

“No Spence, I love you. With my whole heart... I mean, of what’s left of it. W-we need to stop, if this is only a shared trauma for you. I can’t be that... because... I love you and I want futures with you. Any kind of it, as long as you are there, every morning with a cup of hot coffee for me. If that’s not possible, we need to stop. Because my heart...” You hold unto the edge of the table for strength.

“My heart... is not strong enough to lose you and love you at the same time.” Spencer stares at you, confused with a certain spark in his eyes.

“W-why are you saying this now?”

“Because death is at everyone’s door. Emily is lucky. But what if it takes me tonight, or tomorrow? I don’t want to die without telling you that I love you.” You say, bracing yourself for the impact of the rejection.

Spencer walks to you, holding your waist to steady you.

“I love you, more than anything in this world. I have love you even before Emily died. This isn’t shared trauma, it’s been love way before that. If it's anything, it made my love for you grow deeper. You... helped me heal. You pushed me to go to therapy. You made me stronger, Y/N.” Spencer holds your face and brings you into his arms and you clung unto him as he hugs you.

“I love you... I love you so much.” You whisper to him and he hugs you as close as humanly possible.

Spencer lets go of you but cups your face to lift it closer to his face. Spencer kisses you like it was the last time you can ever kiss him. It felt like a fever dream you once had. The fire of the kiss fills in the cracks in your heart, slowly but surely healing it all at once.

Life, the direct opposite of death, has always been hard to describe. Death was easy to describe for you but Life? it was a struggle. But with Spencer kissing you, as he holds your hand and your face, so tenderly like you were going to break, you finally realize what life is supposed to be. It felt good being alive, it felt good to be breathing.

You and Spencer sleep together for the first time that night. It is in one word, unbelievable. It was as if the universe has planned it all along to teach you what it felt to be alive, as he pushes himself inside you, whispering nothing but sweet praises and promises of futures together in your ear. You wake up, hours after making love, tangled with him and the bed sheets, with you in his arms.

“I love you.” You whisper to him, brushing through his hair as he sighs to your touch, snuggling more to the crook of your neck.

-

The morning comes in a breathe. Easy and fast. You wake up earlier than Spencer, untangling yourself from him to make him his daily morning coffee.

A knock comes and it almost makes you drop his mug. Looking up at the clock, it was only 7 in the morning. The thought disappears as another knock comes. You open the door and today life offers you Emily Prentiss.

“Hey, good morning.” She says with a smile, you give it back, still not used to seeing her, alive.

“Hey.” You smile looking at her as you let her enter.

“Pen said you had my boxes.” She looks around on the apartment. “Its not here. Its on the garage downstairs. Do you want it right now?” She nods. “Oh. Uhm, the team actually helped me move it there, its a little heavy...”

“Okay... I’ll get the team to help me later.” You nod but don’t say anything and the silence is so loud, it’s deafening.

“Can we talk?” Emily asks, in a gentle voice. Almost like she’s talking to a toddler. You shake your head. “We can, but not today... I need to process some things first and I need help with it. We can talk this weekend, after my therapy.”

“Therapy?” She repeats. You nod. “Therapy.” She bites down her lips, you know Emily enough to know that she feels bad about it.

“I know it’s not your fault, Em. I understand, but I just... need time. I... buried you. I cried on your grave and for months, I had to accept the fact that you were... dead.” Emily nods, opens her arms for a hug and you gladly accept it.

“I’ll give you as much time as you need. You are my bestfriend and I love you.” You nod and hug her tightly, reminding yourself that she was alive, and that was what’s important.

The hug was cut short when Spencer comes out of your bedroom half naked.

“Spencer?!” Emily almost screams as she pulls away from the hug.

“O-oh... I-I didn’t know you were here...” He says as he slowly backs up the door and picks up a shirt to wear.

“When did this happened!?” Emily is definitely losing her mind now.

“Uh... Last night?” You said, not exactly sure as to when it started. Emily’s mouth drops in surprise and Spencer can only smile at her offering her a cup. “Coffee?” Spencer says with a smile and a shrug that makes both you and Emily laugh.

Emily doesn’t stay long after that, opting to leave the two of you to spend some time together. Spencer and you end up in the couch, huddled together in a huge blanket you both knitted together with cups of coffee in hands.

“So... Are you officially moving in with me?” Spencer looks down at you. The steam of the coffee colouring your cheeks a bright pink colour.

“Do you want me to?” He asks, smiling at you. Spencer loves you, in ways he didn’t know he possibly can and he’d give you anything you want. You could ask for the stars and Spencer would build a rocket just to get a few to give to you (even if he knows it was impossible because, well, stars are made of gas.)

“I want you everywhere. You... are my home.” You say softly, as your hands caress his cheeks.

“Then, I am moving here, love.” He says as he kisses your forehead and you lean unto him as you wrap the blanket tighter around each other.

“I love you.” He says as you lay your head on his chest and he brings you closer to him. You smile and whisper it back. “I love you more.”

Most people say that time heals pain. It, truthfully, does not. Love does, love in the corniest way possible, mends your soul in ways that are not physically possible.

When Death knocks on your door it will be in different shapes and forms, but so will love and for you, love came in the shape and form of Spencer Reid.

-

[jkknight98]

Fear less, Forget, and Forgive

Here’s a short little story of Tommy and Techno finally addressing the awkardness around one another after the events of my gift for Altobug83. I may have made Techno a bit more emotional than how he’s normally portrayed, but I felt the urge to write this ending. I hope you guys enjoy while I try to rewrite the Skeppy and BBH fic sitting in my drafts~

warning: this does refrence back for my gift that had some hard vore moments, not in the same detail, but they are mentioned.

“Look, Tommy, me and Will are going out to get a few more things from the market, you stay here with Techno and hold down the house alright?”

In any other circumstance, Tommy would have loved to have nearly free reign over the house, but after what happened a few weeks ago, he still didn’t want to be anywhere near his piglin like brother, especially not alone like last time. He gave a soft whine as Phil tried to remove him from his shoulders, but he was quick to try and hide between the soft black feathers that coated his father's wings, not wanting to be removed in the slightest. “But Phil, I don't want to be stuck at home, what if you and Will get to see something cool while I'm stuck here, it’s not fair.”

What he didn’t realize was that his father and the rest of the household had noticed Tommy’s hesitance and near refusal to be anywhere near Techno, they all agreed to try and find out what was happened, especially since Techno didn’t know the reason himself, facing the issue head-on was the decided course of action. Tommy gave another whine as a pair of giant pale fingers gently pulled him from his feathered hideaway and quickly sat him on the wooden table, but swatted at them in annoyance as they ruffled his blond hair. Phil was quick to leave him on the table as he moved for the door, and Tommy could see the tiny mop of brunette hair that was seated among the giant's blond, and the two left Tommy on his own; but not really. Tommy could help but freeze as Techno entered the room, face still holding the impassive look like always, but his eyes couldn’t help but focus on his mouth. The memory made his arm twitch in phantom pain and he was quick to try and leave,” H-hey Techno, I'm going to head off to my room to play some games, good?” He tried to make his way off the table as quick as he could, but couldn't help but yelp when he found himself gripped in familiar pink-tinted hands and nearly jumped out before the fingers softly wrapped around him.

“Yeah no, we need to talk.” Techno had no idea why Tommy had been acting like he was terrified to even be in the same room as him, but he wanted answers as to why he had found that scrap of Tommy’s shirt between his teeth. He didn’t like how he could feel the tiny heartbeat fluttering like mad under his fingers, as much as he wanted to hide it, it was clear that Tommy was terrified to be in Techno’s hold. He slowly brought his little brother close to his chest as he moved to walk towards the living room, hoping that the sound of his own heartbeat would soothe him, just like how it did when he found the boy passed out on his chest late in the night.

Tommy shivered as he was brought upwards, but thankfully not towards the face, he might have really screamed if he was. He was surprised to be held to the chest, he had forgotten how comforting the sound of his brother's heart was, it had been drowned out by the noises of his other organs the last time he was this close to it. He gripped the fingers holding him tightly as the two of them moved to the living room, Techno moving to sit on the couch and still holding him close. “ W-What do you want to talk about?”

Techno couldn’t help but snort slightly,” I think you already know, you've been avoiding me like I’m a monster, I have to say that's not a nice feeling when it comes from your little brother.” He kept his grip on the tiny but moved to make it less caging so as not to freak him out. It was hard to put his feelings into actual words as they raced in his head, giving him a mild migraine and making him slightly regret telling the other two to leave the house. “ I want to know what happened, especially since I found a scrap of one of your shirts stuck between my teeth. Did you do something to me in my sleep because you haven’t been near my mouth any time I've been awake; what happened?”

This made Tommy shiver slightly as he thought back to that day, Techno was fully awake when it happened, just unknowing. He didn’t want to talk about it, he really didn’t, but even he could see the barely visible look of pain in Techno’s eyes at how Tommy had been acting around him lately. “ You were awake when it happened, you just didn’t know I was there, and I don't know how I’m alive.” The tears flowed freely at this point as the memories resurfaced and he turned into the comfort that the fingers still provided,” You didn’t know I was hiding in the bread when you rushed out of the house, you didn’t hear me scream, not even when you made these.” He held out his arm to fully show the marks that rested on his skin, not wanting to look at them himself as he continued to cry.

Techno could help but be confused at Tommy’s wording,” What do you mean I was awake- '' as the boy continued to talk, and couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath as he realized what happened. He remembered clearly how he thought he had cut himself with his own teeth when he tasted blood,” oh gods.” He felt his stomach turn and his face pale, the taste of blood, the weird noise he heard, and the weird way the lump of ‘bread’ stuck in his throat. He had eaten his own brother and had no idea he did until now, his own hands started to shake as he thought how alone Tommy must have felt despite being so close to him, it made him feel so sick with himself. He felt unfamiliar wetness start to slide down his face, he was crying.

Tommy looked up when the hands holding him starting to shake,” hic- why the fuck are you shaking?” He had never seen his brother's face so expressive in his life, the fear, sorrow, the self-anger, each emotion was as clear as a brightly lit sign. The thing that really caught him off guard was Techno crying, the massive red eyes were redder than usual as they looked down at him, and had multiple tracks of tears running down his face as he couldn't stop them,” Techie….Your crying.” He yelped when the hands lifted upwards and he was mildly frightened to see that he was being lifted back towards the giant face, but he was met with the giant nose being softly pressed into him as his brother shifted his hands to be hugging him against his face as he continued to cry.

“Fuck Tommy, I'm so sorry, I can’t believe that I hurt you… Fuck I’m so sorry,” He held Tommy close to his nose as he continued to softly cry, his ego prevented him from crying any harder, but his emotions were also too strong to stop the tears that did escape him as they rolled down his face and caused his throat to clench in pain. “ You have to understand that I would never willingly hurt you, whatever happened on that day, I swear on my life that it will never happen again.”  The piglin hybrid let out a shaky sigh as he felt his brothers arms wrap around his nose and fully lean into his touch, he normally didn’t like to be touched, but by the gods was he happy to feel his brother hug him,” I swear I will make it up to you Tommy, I don’t want you scared of me, I’m not a monster..” He signed in relief as he felt the smaller boy nod against his nose as he also cried, he knew that it still would take a while before Tommy would fully be over what happened, because who would be able to get over that level of trauma quickly. Techno would be with him every step of the way, he couldn’t take back what his body did to his little brother, but so help him if he didn’t try to ease as much of the pain as he could.

*

“Do you think the two of them made up yet, or are they fighting like before, even that would be better than the awkwardness that has hung over everyone lately.” Phil could only sigh as his eldest child kicked his legs lightly against his shoulders, hoping that he would find the house peaceful or in a wreck instead of a field of glass.

“I'm hoping for the first, but you're right about the second one being just as favorable, but I hope we have a house to walk into when I open the door.” Phil was slow to open the door and was happy to see that the house wasn’t in shambles, but was concerned when he didn't see his other two children anywhere. “Boys… Techno… Tommy?”  He started to make his way towards the stairs after seeing that the kitchen was completely empty but was stopped by a sharp tug on his ear,” What the fuck Wil-” but he quickly saw what his son was trying to show.

On one of the couches was a softly slumbering Techno who still had some easily identifiable wet spots on his shirt, and resting over his heart with a protective hand covering him was Tommy. The two apparently had such an exhausting moment together that they must have passed out completely when the emotions calmed, but it seems like things have fully been mended. Phil smiled as he turned away from the peaceful site and went back towards the kitchen,” Let's make some good food for when the two wake up and don't you dare tease your brothers for finally showing emotion.”

“Fiinnee, you're no fun Phil, but I’ll leave them alone. They both needed this.”

[bullyhunter--69]

"She's so sweet, really."

Pairing: Izuku x fem!reader

Summary: When you and Izuku started dating, you were as happy as could be. He was beyond sweet and caring, and helped you forget about the bad in your life. But after he introduces you to his mother, Inko, and you start to be a more frequent visitor at the Midoriya household, you realize it's starting to take a bigger affect on you than you thought it would. Why can't your mother be like that?

Tw: mentions of family issues/absent family/family death, bottling up emotions and eventually breaking, a stressed Izuku, ends with soft fluff

A/N: This turned out so much longer and more angsty than planned but I'm really proud of it, tell me what you guys think! 🖤 (This is also my first ever angst written so--)

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Today was a beautiful fall day. Colorful leaves fell around you, the sky was tinged with a deep orange, and the soft grass beneath you made your time all the more comfy. You were snuggled next to Izuku beneath a huge tree on campus, who was currently going on and on about his latest quirk findings. The goal you guys originally had set was to review for the upcoming test, but the topic quickly shifted to Izukus day once your fingers intertwined with his and you inquired about it.

"-and so then once I asked Mr. Aizawa about it I found that- Hey.. are you okay (Y/N)?" You really were listening, but had found that you zoned out. Izukus concerned, soft voice brought you back to reality, and a small smile crawled it's way onto your features. "Yeah 'zuku, I'm all good.. I just was thinking about some stuff and was focusing on your voice. It always helps." You ended your reply with a squeeze of his hand, which all together resulted in his face blooming into a shade of deep red.

"Well, uh.. T-thank you, I'm happy to help!" He stuttered out as he felt butterflies all throughout his body. "Oh, also!" Izuku started, turning his body to face you more, holding your hands in his lap with a nervous look in his eyes. "(Y/N), I was wondering.. we've been together for a bit now and I.. I want my mom to meet you."

As soon as the word 'mom' reached your ears, you tensed up. It was always a sensitive topic, even if it wasn't your parental relationships in question. You knew Izuku had noticed, as the hold on your hands got tighter. "I understand if you're scared or nervous but I know She's gonna love you! She already says you're really pretty and smart just basing off what I've shown her.. she really is looking forward to it, and we don't have to stay long if you don't want to." The gentle rub of his thumb on the back of your hand and the puppy dog eyes was enough to soothe your nerves. If Izuku talked so highly of you to her, and if she was anything like him at all, you figured it wouldn't be that bad to meet her. She would be your mother-in-law someday, so you might as well get it out of the way now and not later.

When the day finally came, you were beyond nervous. The thought of meeting Izuku's mother and her not liking you made a wave of sickness and dread fill every inch of your body. Whether it was a friend, or a boyfriend, meeting mothers always gave you a bad taste in your mouth. It brought back all the feelings that you tried desperately to hide away and fight daily.

See, you were almost fully open with Izuku, but there was one thing he didn't know. Your family, to put it bluntly, was shit. Your mother always belittled you for every single little action you ever made and everything about you. Nothing was ever good enough. As a small child, it was always under-the-table, backhanded compliments with passive aggressive undertones, but after the passing of your father, it turned into raw, brutal words. She was never proud, and never actually loved you, she just used your desire to be a good daughter against you. It was cold, hard, manipulative behavior which resulted in you finally refusing to talk to her after you got accepted into U.A. The mental gymnastics you had to go through to hide all of this, especially from Izuku, was taking a toll on you. You never talked of family and never left the dorms, and had an.. unusual amount of luggage stored away in your room. It seemed like you packed your entire life up in a suitcase and ran.

Which is essentially what you did.

As bad as it sounds, you never planned on telling your love any of this. You just needed to forget all of the childhood trauma you were put through and focus on showing your mother she was wrong. Everything she said about your quirk being useless, to you being intolerable and a bad daughter, would be proved wrong. But, the biggest thing you planned to show her? Is that your father would be proud. She always used him against you, and you'd be damned if you wouldn't prove that point the most ridiculous of them all.

A soft knocking on your dorm brought you out of your deep thoughts, and your gaze slid to the door. Your hands shot to your face and you quickly dried your tears. "O-one second, I'm still changing!" You knew in the pit of your gut that it was Izuku coming to pick you up, and your thoughts were confirmed when you heard him on the other side of your locked door. "Alrighty baby, take your time!" God, he sounded so sweet.. this was hell keeping from him, but it kept him from worrying.

The night went on so much better than expected, and it genuinely surprised you. You had never met a woman as sweet as Inko was. She cooked your favorite food and had your favorite drinks, and even baked you your favorite dessert. She asked about how you were doing in school and once the topic of your quirk was brought up, she was beyond ecstatic to hear you talk about it. She even added on how she felt it would be useful in battle. The night was amazing. Nothing felt real, it all was like the fantasies you made up while lying in bed at 4am sobbing, so sleep deprived you almost can't move to get ready for your class that starts in just a few hours. It's what you've always wanted in a mom-- a beautiful, sweet woman who cares.

Why can't your mother be like that?

As the weeks went on and Izuku kept inviting you over for weekly dinner and game nights with him and Inko, you found it harder and harder to conceal exactly how much your mental health was struggling. Yes, you absolutely adored both your loving boyfriend and his equally loving mother, but it was just so fucking.. hard. Every smile she gave you, the loving, motherly twinkle in her eyes when she talked to Izuku, the amazing dinners, the endless support for both of you, the pictures she insisted on taking of you and Izuku-- it was all too much. You started to dwell on this every single night, and resent yourself for how much anger and jealousy you felt. This wasn't right, but you couldn't help it. It wasn't your fault that your mother hated you for every fiber of your being and Izuku had the best mother imaginable. He was your boyfriend, you should be happy.. right?

You didn't realize how hard you had been sobbing until there was a hushed yet firm knock on your dorm door. The tears that blurred your vision made it even harder to read the clock on your nightstand through the pitch black room you sat in, huddle up in a pile of blankets, All Might plushies and Izuku's hoodies.

9:54 p.m.

The pain that was radiating through your torso from the wreck you had become from however long you had actually been crying was torture. It felt like needles were being shoved into your lungs and your heart was being squeezed in a vice grip. Breathing felt impossible. Your throat was raw. But the thing that hurt the absolute worst, out of everything?

"(Y/N)? Baby, please let me in.." Little Izuku's voice sounded like the biggest bomb going off, the jiggle of your door knob making emergency alarms go off in your head. There wasn't any possible way to get out of this, and this might just be your biggest fear. Facing those soft emerald eyes and that sweet smile that has been open and honest with you over the entirety of your entire relationship, and even before. Telling the love of your life all the trauma you've endured, and then willingly decided to hide from him. No.. it's the disappointment that you're positive will shine through his features that's truly your biggest fear.

You don't know how long he had been listening, but one second was more than enough for you to know Izuku wasn't going to leave. He loved you endlessly and never left without making sure you had a smile on your face. So, with limbs that felt like cement, eyes that felt as if you were crying spikes, and an aching heart, you got up and made your way to unlock the door. It took a minute-- your hold on the cold knob firm and extremely hesitant.

3... 2.. 1.

Finally, Izuku had enough room to gently push your door open, and his breath was taken away when he saw you as the golden light from the dormitory hallway illuminated your entirely wrecked appearance.

Bloodshot eyes, make up filled tears streaming down both checks, snot dripping down to you mouth. The cuffs of his hoodie that covered your shaking body were soaked in black, wet mascara. Your hair was messy and tangled. You were.. broken.

After taking in every little detail of your appearance, a struggled gasp last your body when his arms were suddenly around you. The touch of his warmth around you was electrifying, and instantly brought you to your knees. As Izuku shut and locked the door behind him, still holding you in his strong arms, he sighed softly. "What's wrong?"

These are some of the only words that you really didn't want to come out of his mouth. They stung and tore through your heart like the sharpest of blades. They made you regret not opening up sooner, his tone overflowing with worry, fear, and dread. You knew not to make eye contact, but you couldn't even if you wanted to. Once those words entered your ears, soft and delicate as if you would shatter into a million pieces if he spoke too hard, another strangled sob was unleashed out of what felt to be your core.

"S-she's just so sweet.." Your voice, although strained and crackling, came out with an emotion Izuku had never heard from you before. A mixture of jealousy, rage, disappointment, and disgust is all he could pick out, but it sounded like something was hidden beneath it all. Something that you didn't know how to express, so emotions just came seeping out of you in the easiest way.

Picking you up was an easy task, as your body had long ago given up the fight to stay standing. The sweet boy made his way to your bed and sat with you cradled to his chest, your nose tucking away in the crook of his neck instantly to breath in his scent. It calmed you-- he calmed you, but you couldn't help but to shamefully pull your head away and look across the room.

"(Y/N), you have to tell me more. Who is 'she'? I want to help you.." His voice still held a delicate tone, his fingers combing through your hair with one hand and the other still holding you tightly. After what seemed like forever of Izuku just holding you and letting you cry every single ounce of emotion you held in your body out, your sobs slowly came to a stop and you took a soft, shaking sigh.

It was time to come clean.

"'Z-zuku, I'm sorry.." You started, slowly and steadily while trying to steady your breath further. The gentle back rubs from his warm hands helped sooth you, and gave you the strength to continue.

"I haven't been exactly.. truthful with you." As you took a second to find your words and sniffle, you could sense Izuku tilt his head to the side curiously. "You always ask if I'm okay-- if I'm happy-- and I always say that I am. I love you so incredibly much and you do make me feel happy and safe and welcomed and-" Your ramble was cut off with a kiss to your temple, which was a silent signal of Izukus trust and time.

"Because of how incredibly happy you make me, I dont want you thinking that this is your fault at all. Its mine.. I shut you out and bottled myself up when I should have just told you in the first place. I just.. don't know how to say it other than to say it outright."

Your shakey tone made Izukus heart race even more. He was staying calm and supportive on the outside but on the inside, he was a wreck. He was currently going over every single one of his actions, words, and notes that made what you and him were-- absolutely scraping the bottom of the barrel for anything and everything he could have done wrong. That stuff, though, was shoved deep so he could help you, because that was what was important right now.

"I don't.. Izuku, I love you and I love your mother so incredibly much. I feel at home with you guys but it's just so hard. Seeing how sweet and caring she is, how She's invested in both of our lives, how she.. s-she said she loved me.." You body was quickly starting to shake again, so Izuku pulled you in closer. "Why can't my mother be like that?"

There it was. It finally clicked in Izuku's mind. Everytime you avoided the topic of family, how you never had pictures with them, how you never had a place to go to during break, how every day after spending time with him and Inko you seemed drained the next morning as if you had stayed up all night.. it clicked as to what might be wrong, and his suspicions were confirmed when you continued.

"M-my mother hates me and she has my entire life. I have never received an ounce of love or respect from that filthy woman and it's always on my mind. Her degradation and her mocking laugh and her hideous presence. She used my dead fucking dad against me to make me feel like I'd never make it in this world and I just-- I-I want to escape the horrible memories but I can't. I just want a mother like yours.. it's what I've always wanted and I don't understand why I had to be the one stuck with a dead dad and a mockery of a mother. Seeing how absolutely amazing your mom is fills me with love and happiness and a sense of home I've never gotten before but at the end of the day, it just reminds me of how shitty my life was up until I got to U.A. I don't have a mom. I don't have a home. And its not fair that I'm upset over the fact that you having those things happens to remind me of that. I'm sorry."

Izuku was speechless. His comforting ministrations had stopped and he just looked at you. Even with the pitch black void that was your room, his emerald eyes shined bright.. and brimmed with tears.

"I.. I had no idea, baby, I'm so sorry.." Izuku was choosing his words incredibly carefully. He held nothing against you, nor was he upset or disappointed at you. He was a person that could put himself in someone else's shoes very easily and see through their eyes, and your emotional monologue was enough to paint your story for him. He just wanted to comfort you and show you everything was okay.

"I don't want you to be sorry, there isn't any need for you to be. You can't help what your mother put you through, and how horribly unfair to you that it was. Nobody can control how others actions affect them-- it's just how humans are.." Strong arms turned your body to face him, your limbs wrapped around his torso and your cheeks gently held in his hands. As tears streamed down his cheeks, he stared deep into your eyes. "You're so strong and beautiful, and I understand as much as I can. I love you so much.. Baby, to hell with her. I know it's hard, but she doesn't have to mean anything to you anymore. Me and you, and mom, can be our own family. We're your home now.."

A sob managed to choke it's way out of your throat, but this one was different. Your head fell into Izukus neck and you held him as tight as you possibly could, soaking his chest with more snot and tears. His arms held you back just as tightly as he peppered soft butterfly kisses along your hairline. This is how you stayed for the rest of the night until you calmed down and passed out on his firm build. Laying back softly, Izuku tucked you both in and kept his tight hold on you.

"Goodnight, love.. You're home."

[flowerflamestars]

Hotter Take: If you think Rhysand and the IC are the good guys, you probably also think Dumbledore is cool and do not and will not acknowledge just how manipulative and shitty they are.

P.S: Azriel, hidden depths or just a slightly more insightful lapdog? Got into an argument when i said he probably doesn't have a personality

Correct and PERFECT TAKE. If you think they're fabulous you are also, 85% more likely to find Severus Snape noble and tragic.

AZRIEL!! Oh god, okay. I have three distinct thoughts on this:

1) He is...laughably without a personality. Like, I'm sorry, but S/JM has not effectively written a group dynamic that feels feasible/realistic/semi-allows everyone to be people since Queen of Shadows. Her books thrive on having a whole band of people together, but there is zero main character/side character balance.

Is part of that because he's The Scary Quiet One? yes, sure. No reason to be chatting up Feyre (who is a child!! god. B A B Y. I reread acomaf and I AM SEETHING but that is neither here nor there)? yeah probably.

which brings me to 2) Everything. Pretty much everything we (myself included, because writing him in Starlight was very fun) like about Az...isn't strictly canon.

It's canon-adjacent. We're filling the gaps because there is almost nothing but a sketched outline. And it works SO WELL- because Azriel, almost more than Rhysie himself, is a big sexy trope trap.

He's the Quiet One with the dry humor! the (we pretend) heart of gold! Longing! Service! Loyalty from the Shadows! He is a LITERAL CINDERELLA STORY. Darkly handsome but BLUSHING. Scarred gentle hands! Daddy issues!

It is right there for the taking.

3) it is right there for the taking and canon takes NONE OF IT.

Like. Azriel is almost better as a menacing background shadow because the second you interrogate...really, any part of his character, nothing makes sense. Nothing.

His story is predicated on pain, right? Horrible suffering until he could talk to darkness. Its almost like he can read minds. his gift is secrets. It is a journey of improbable survival.

But to get secrets out of people. He brutally tortures them??

Which, is made further redundant not just by his gifts...but the fact...that he serves not one, but two mind-readers???

Azriel is transparently traumatized by having been the one to find Morrigan dumped in Autumn, stripped and halfway to death. It fucked him up SO BAD- which makes complete and total sense considering that like...he comes from this brutal suffering, and this culture that not only wanted him dead, but his mother dead, one that we're given to understand (which we are NOT EVEN TOUCHING THE RACISM YET) seeks to harm women, and anyone different.

And then, instead of being someone safe for her, bonded by the fact that Az came for her, Az found her....Azriel spends five hundred years scaring her?

Azriel disobeys orders and sense to save Elain. We, without his POV, scrabble to dots to connect: Az, who will always come. Az, who cannot stand not to try. Who cannot handle the idea of her tortured, harmed-

And then canon give us his POV- and's like. She was mine. I'm going to duel her soul-bonded man and MURDER HIM?? Because i can do it better! I GET TO HURT HER.

What, and I cannot say this enough, the fuck.

Ignore all the potential, all the fanon, all the fun to be had: Azriel is a professional torturer with anger issues whose love interests are exclusively traumatized, vulnerable women.

(He is also. Incidentally. The most Illyrian-looking of the three Illyrian bros, and yes, this is so fucked up)

It's...not anything new. It's not even bad in an interesting way.

The peeks of possible personality get squashed, almost immediately, by the actual narrative! One jokey night drinking with Feyre because he is, you know, a person, does not cancel out that in THOUSANDS of pages he was so vague fans essentially...made up a whole man is shape.

And. I'm sorry, but even internally there's some hmm who is this character??? dissonance.

Mr. Trauma make me Weird About Women, sees emaciated, visibly hella bruised Nesta, and is like immediately: who hit you???

but then. When his 'brother' thinks its like...the funniest thing in the world that Nesta fell a height that left her IMMORTAL FAERY BODY still fucked up the next day...he doesn't care?

He's like hahaha Cas I'm here to make sure you keep it in your pants about the prisoner WINK WINK

but. One of the only clear character beats we HAVE about him is that Az is the renegade who will Free Every Woman in bondage. Morrigan, who probably has the most reason to have an unstinting opinion of Az, tells Feyre he was going to save her from SPRING

yall. I am not going to read the Az book, I'm sorry.

[disgruntledspacedad]

The Rules of Engagement (3/5)

The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader/ofc (Ears)

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do. 

words: 3.4k 

warnings: 18+ for alcohol, language, smut, violence, body horror, general trauma. Please, please heed the warnings on this chapter, guys. It gets pretty intense.

a/n: Unbeta’d. I know I said this was going to be three chapters, but I lied. Sorry, my dudes - this one got away from me. Inspo credit goes to @tiffdawg​, as always.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Well, fuck. You bite back a massive sigh.

You really, really don’t want to walk through that door.

It’s been a month, and you life has changed profoundly.

For one, you’re not at the office as much anymore - Stechner had made good on his promise to consider you for more flyovers, and boy, has Centra Spike been busy. Some new vigilante group is terrorizing Medellín, and while it’s not Search Bloc’s priority to go after them, they’ve undeniably kept Pablo and his sicarios busy. The radio frequencies are hot right now, and you’ve been doing eight, sometimes ten flights a week. 

You absolutely love it. The hours are less predictable and definitely more shitty, but listening to a radio from the cockpit of a plane is much more fun that listening to a radio in a stuffy basement office, so you consider it a fair trade.

It keeps your brain busy, too.

Your social life has taken a massive kick to the nuts. Ana is back at university, and you miss her more than you thought you would. You’ve reverted to communicating with Emilio with gestures and smiles more than words. It’s nice because he’s nice, but you miss actual conversation, stilted as it was. Ana wasn’t all that bad, either.

And then there’s Javi.

You haven’t spoken to him since That Morning, not even a polite 'how are you?' in the hallway. Granted, you’re not seeing him as often anymore, given your new position and hours, but then again, you haven’t exactly sought him out, either.

The memory claws at you every time you relive it - and you relive it often. That anger, that wounded expression. The slammed door, his retreating footsteps. Each time you’re in that building, the walls seem to close in on you, and you have to stop yourself from looking for him, actively keep your gaze from roaming straight to his desk.

God, as if you could make it more awkward.

You’d had one nasty conversation with Murphy about a week after the incident - you’d told him in no uncertain terms that he could either mind his own business or fuck right off, you didn’t care which. He’d left you be, throwing his hands in the air and muttering something about how “you two deserve each other.”

Asshole.

Still, that aborted conversation haunts you - so many aborted conversations haunt you - and you wonder what would have happened if you’d just taken the bull by the horns and addressed the issue with Javi head on.

I’m sorry you caught me rubbing one off on the morning after you almost died, Peña. I can assure you, it won’t happen again. Your friendship means the world to me.

Yeah, right.

God, though, but you miss him.

You miss him so much it aches, a gaping hole that reaches right down to the core of you, but there’s nothing to be done about it. You’d fucked this one completely and thoroughly - any chance of restoring your friendship had drained away with the shower-water, and the more time you spend fretting over it, the more awkward - and pathetic - it would be to say anything.

So, you’d cut your losses, held your head high, and tried not to waste too much time wishing you’d have just kept your fucking fantasies to yourself.

Now, though, you’ve got no choice.

You’d been on Centra Spike’s early morning flight, just another routine scan over Medellín. The shift wasn’t intended to be more than a training run for you, but as luck would have it, the Medellín cartel’d had a busy night, and you’d been caught in the crossfire.

Your plane had just touched down half an hour ago, and now you’re standing on the front steps of the embassy building, fingering a shoebox cassette player loaded with a freshly taped recording full of juicy intel destined for the desk of DEA Agent Javier Peña - an entire, private conversation featuring none other than Verdugo himself.

You’d know that voice anywhere. You’ve studied it for hours, what few snatches you’d been able to glean from the embassy archives. It’s almost as if Verdugo is smart enough to steer clear of the city, or to just avoid phone conversations all together, the absolute fuckwad.

Until early this morning.

On the plane, you’d intercepted a new signal and tapped in on a whim, intending to practice your Spanish more than anything, but what you’d overheard was a fucking gold mine of information.

Verdugo is in Medellín. The sicarios are getting ready to move Escobar. He didn’t say where - fucking bastard knows not to spill all of the beans in one conversation - but apparently the plan requires a rendezvous in El Centro first. Verdugo is en route, and will be there until the next morning.

You’d worked frantically all night, tracing and retracing the signal, triangulating potential addresses, then back-tracking to account for environmental distortion. Each calculation had led you to the same place - an unassuming little house right smack in the middle of Medellín.

Bingo.

“You take it in, Aarons.” Torres had declined your offer to do the honors. “It’s your intel.”

So here you are, bleary-eyed and running on less than two hours of sleep, cassette player clenched tightly to your chest, summoning up all of your courage just to go speak with your ex... well, ex whatever-the-fuck Peña is.

‘This is your job,’ you remind yourself fiercely. ‘You can do this.’

As pep-talks go, it isn’t very effective.

Fuck it. You toss your head back, wishing you’d had time to at least grab a cup of coffee on the way in, and breeze around the corner.

“Agent Peña.”

He glances up lazily, thoroughly uninterested in whatever you have to say. When he realizes it’s you, he blinks once, dropping his cigarette in the ashtray and sitting up to eyeball you with a wary expression.

"What can I do for you?” he asks cooly.

You remember him saying that once before, but the context was totally different.

You shake it off. “Centra Spike has new intel that you’ll want to see right away.”

He purses his lips, tilting his head to indicate the growing pile of bullshit on his desk. “You can leave it here.”

Oh, so that’s how it is, then?

“I can’t.” You pin him with a stare, and he meets your gaze evenly, raising his eyebrows in silent challenge. You clear your throat and clarify. “I won’t.”

He scoffs as you carefully rest cassette tape on his desk, along with a map of El Centro. “We intercepted a four minute conversation with Verdugo this morning. He’s here.” You point to the safe house on the map, which you’ve already circled in red ink. “Feo and Limón are with him. They’re leaving early tomorrow.”

Peña frowns down at the spot where your finger rests. “And can you corroborate that information?”

Oh, the motherfucker. “I verified his voice personally, Peña,” you say carefully, doing your damndest to keep the annoyance from your tone. It’s well within his right to ask questions, after all. “It’s a direct match for the audio samples we have.” You tap the tape for emphasis. “You’re welcome to listen for yourself.”

He doesn’t make a move for a long time. Something hot and painful burns in your gut as you wait.

God, he knows you, knows you better than anybody else in on this goddamned continent.  He knows that you know your shit, that you want to catch Escobar as desperately as he does. And this evidence that you have spread across his desk, recorded on tape and marked plainly in red ink, is irrefutable, undeniable - it’s a huge break. He knows that, too.

His apathy is palpable, and it’s driving you up the fucking wall.

When he finally glances up at you, it’s with a doubtful little smirk on his face. “Hmm.”

And oh, wow, you’re shocked by just how much that hurts.

All your life, from the moment you were born into a family of brothers, you’ve had to fight tooth and nail to be taken seriously. It was a fact of life as early as you can remember - ‘look after your sister,’ or, ’she’s just a girl,’ or ‘wow, you’re really great at math, for a woman!’ You’d settled on your career as an analyst because you’d wanted it, not because you’d had something to prove, but still, the military is a male-dominated field, and from the start, the odds had been stacked against you.  Landing this CIA gig had been the achievement of a fucking lifetime. Still, the bar is set high in the Colombia, and it’s set that much higher for a woman. You’re well aware of this; you’re reminded every single day.

Point being, you’re used to defending yourself and your abilities; it comes as natural as breathing.  

But until now, you’ve never had to fight this battle with Peña. He’d taken you at face value from the moment he'd laid eyes on you, treating you like just another operative. Sure, he might take a crack at you every now and again, but that's all in good fun, and you’ve never been one to shy away from a laugh.

Christ, you never realized just how much that respect meant to you until suddenly, it’s gone.

“If you have something to say about my skills and qualifications, Agent Peña, then I suggest you say it.” You lean over his desk, speaking quietly, enunciating each syllable with deadly precision. “Otherwise, I think we both know that it’s in the best interest of Search Bloc and the Colombian people that we collaborate quickly, so we can put boots on the ground and land this motherfucker behind bars where he belongs.”

Peña’s eyes narrow, and he cocks his head, studying you. You meet his gaze, biting back a snarl. You won’t back down. You won’t allow him to intimidate you.

When he nods sharply and reaches for his phone, you know you’ve won.

♠

Ten minutes later, you’re situated in a conference room with Peña, Steve Murphy, Martinez, and a couple of the other higher ups of Search Bloc whose names you haven’t memorized. Your maps are spread over the table, your tape displayed for all to see, and every eye is on you.

“Verdugo is here,” you say, leaning over the map to indicate the marked house. “He and his entourage arrived late last night, and they’re planning to leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Plenty of time to get a team together.” Murphy interjects, glancing between you and Peña with open curiosity.

You narrow your gaze at him. Drama-mongering bastard.

Peña’s not moving. He’s standing with his hip cocked toward the desk, frowning down at the map with his fingers curled to his chin like he’s totally oblivious to everything happening around him.

You know he’s not, though. That’s Javi’s thinking face, the one he makes when he wants people to shut the fuck up and forget about him until he can work something out. You’re pretty familiar with that one.

The others are babbling in Spanish, discussing logistics and the likelihood of this being another trap.

It’s not. You know this deep in your bones. You’d heard that conversation in real time, had translated, triangulated it.

This is legit.

You’ve just decided to leave them to it when Javi snaps his eyes open.

“I agree with Aarons,” he announces out of nowhere. You’re startled by the confidence in his tone. Curious, you glance up, but it’s difficult to get a read on him. He’s pinning every person in the room except you with a hard stare. “We need to move out now.”

Several of the others make noises of protest, but Peña shuts them all down, one by one. Finally, his eyes flicker up to meet yours, just for a brief second, but there’s something different in his gaze, something new and heavily guarded.

You think it might be an apology.

“Let’s end this.”

♠

He’s on a plane to Medellín within an hour, wearing that stupid bullet proof vest. For just a split second, you wish that you were going, too. You don’t have enough experience, though - you’re not an agent; you haven’t handled a gun since basic. You’d be useless in a real fight, a liability, even.

Still, you feel some ownership in this operation, today more than ever. You don’t even try to kid yourself about Javi anymore, either. Those fucking feelings haven’t faded in a month, not a bit, not even after the awkward conversation you’d had in his office.

‘But he stood up for you, too, afterward,’ something whispers in the back of your mind. You replay that little glance in the conference room over and over as you watch Search Bloc board the plane.

He’s looking for you this time, standing on the ramp with his eyes shaded like he knows you’ll be waiting. He doesn’t nod and you don’t wave, but you make eye contact for a lingering moment, and again, there’s something in his expression that you don’t recognize.

Then the plane takes off down the runway, and you feel as if your heart is swooping away with it.

♠

You volunteer for the late shift at work, monitoring the radio lines in case something comes up. It’s an unusually quiet night, as if all of Bogotá collectively holds its breath, and you mostly spend it watching the clock, calculating the hours in your head.

One to land in Medellín. Two more to mobilize the men. Another half to get in location.

From there, your speculation gets fuzzy. There’s no way to predict the outcome once Verdugo is engaged. Javi’s told you a million stories, each more unbelievable than the last - car chases and rooftop shootouts, standoffs in the street, a fistfight in a church sanctuary, bodies of children littering dark alleyways… you cut off the recollections. They aren’t doing you any favors.

Verdugo is a dangerous man. Anything could happen.

By seven am, your brain is mush and your eyes are hyper-focused in that bleary way that happens when you’ve gone too long without sleep. Your third cup of coffee has gone cold, and people are starting to trickle in. You wave half-heartedly to Torres as you slip out of your headset, rubbing your fingers over your scalp to ease the tension that comes from wearing heavy earphones all night. A shower sounds nice, you decide, and maybe a quick nap afterward.

Somebody will page you with news.

Getting out of the building does a lot to wake you up. There’s something oppressive about the CNP headquarters that seems to abate when you step into the streets of Bogotá. The city buzzes with life even in the early morning, and air is warm in a way that seems to energize rather than sedate. Optimism is easier to invoke as you walk down the street in broad daylight.

Javi had looked at you, at least. He’d listened. He’ll call in to the office as soon as he can. Your intel was good, and they’ve flushed out the rat, he’d promised you that.

Everything will be okay.

You round the corner of CRA 70 and Circular, waving to Emilio, who is working the register of the pharmacy today.

“Orejas!” He shouts, reaching below the counter to hold aloft another bottle of aguardiente. “¡Mira! Solo para ti!”

You grin back at him, raising your voice to shout a greeting, and then, with absolutely no warning, the store explodes.

A loud boom.

A whoosh of impossible heat.

A massive orange fireball billowing from the windows.

Your body flying, flying through the air.

Bright blue sky, and then darkness.

♠

You find yourself lying flat on your back in the middle of the street. Your ears are ringing. There’s a pat-pattering in the air, soft like falling rain.

You blink hard.

It’s not rain, you realize dizzily.

It’s fucking ash.

The air is dark with it, hot and heavy. It coats your tongue and stings your eyes. It’s hard to catch a breath. Your throat hurts, your chest aches. You cough weakly. The smell is terrible, acrid and bitter like burned metal. You can taste it on your tongue.

Slowly, you tense your muscles. Your chest is still burning, but there’s nothing sharp to suggest a serious injury. Your back is sore, your head fuzzy.

You sit up, wincing a little, relieved to realize that you’ve just had the wind knocked from you. You’ll have some bruises tomorrow, but that’s all.

Sound slowly filters in. The hiss and crackle of flame. A shout in the distance. Further away, a wailing siren.

Reality slams into you all at once.

Emilio!

You stand, wobbling more than you think you should, but you push past it. Reality seems to pitch and roil, as if the ground is hitching its breath beneath you. Rubble coats the street, dust clouds the air.

Oh god.

A gaping, smoking crater is all that’s left of Emilio’s pharmacy. The windows are blown out of the businesses on either side, their outer walls bowing under the pressure. Your apartment on the top floor is demolished, the roof caving in, flames licking at the the collapsed floors.

You gasp one long, shuddering breath, taking it all in, and then you’re running, sort of, picking your way through hunks of concrete and twisted metal.

“Emilio! Emilio!”

Your voice is hoarse, the world hushed. Nothing sounds quite right. Your legs are shaking and you can’t catch your breath. Some of the rubble is hot to the touch, and you feel like you’re moving underwater, slow and awkward and stupid.

You approach what’s left of the store, and the smell hits you first. Like cooked meat - charred, greasy, heavy.

You press your hand to your mouth to stifle a scream.

You found Emilio. He’s pinned beneath part of the collapsed roof. You look away quickly, but not before you catch a glimpse of blackened flesh, of bone, blood, and pink frothy tissue.

Acid rises in your throat, and you stumble to your knees, stomach clenching painfully into your ribs as you vomit onto the street. It goes on and on, over and over for an eternity, tears and snot and bile and ash leaking mingled down your face until there is nothing left in you to expel.

The encroaching wail of a siren draws you to your senses. You glance up, suddenly painfully aware of your situation. The ceiling is arching above you, just to your right, and it’s creaking ominously. The fires are still burning, and your shirt is clinging painfully hot against your back. You stagger to your feet once again, dizzy, almost drunkenly. A small crowd has gathered, pointing and gawking, calling out to you in Spanish that you are far, far too overwhelmed to translate.

Gasping, you raise your hands and side-step away, careful of the debris that litters the street around you.

A firetruck arrives on the scene, squalling to a stop between you and the onlookers, and you leap at the opportunity, ducking down the nearest alleyway before anybody can follow.

♠

You aren’t sure how much time you waste in the alleyways of Bogotá.

Seconds?

Minutes?

The time after the explosion is all a blur, and you run until you literally can’t anymore, until you’re doubled over and wheezing, coughing, hacking, panting.

Some primal survival instinct clicks in your brain then, and suddenly, your mind is clear. You glance around, swiping at your cheeks and brushing the ash from your shirt.

Now what?

You take a shaking breath and think.

Okay, first order of business, you’re absolutely disgusting. You need a shower before you can even think about doing anything productive.

Your bathroom just went up in flames, along with all of your clothes. Your heart clenches as you think of Ana - she’s at university, so that’s out. The embassy has a nice bathroom, but no showers that you’re aware of.

There’s only one place you know to go, and that’s Javi’s apartment.

You glance up at the sky. The sun is still pretty low - it can’t have been more than an hour since you’d left work, and that was around seven am. Javi obviously isn’t home, and you don’t have a key, but if you hurry, there’s still a chance that you could catch Murphy before he leaves his flat.

It’s a long shot, but you decide there’s nothing to lose for trying.

[binniesthighs]

hello stranger | reader x changbin |

Part 3 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x seo changbin, female reader x han jisung 

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, angst 

Tags: (of this part) college au, rapper!changbin, rapper!jisung, artist!reader, establishedfwb!jisung, skz side characters, explicit language, conflicting feelings angst, reader has past trauma/trust issues (implied), fingering (f receiving), multiple orgasms (implied), fluffy n’ intimate body touching (this is a thing I think lol), lil bit of nipple play, seo changbin being the soft soft dom of my SOUL 

Word count: 4.6k 

Chapters 

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

ding-ding-diNG! 

Your teeth chattered, battling the early morning frigid air. White wisps of your shaking breath vaporized in front of you. Your arms were tightly wrapped around your chest and your knees bounced with a little dance to keep your blood flowing. 

[02:29] CB

me: where the hell are you? are you coming down? 

Your dry and cold fingers typed out the words hurriedly on your phone screen. One more time, you smashed your finger on the buzzer button. You figured that if he had fallen asleep after inviting you over, you would kill him. 

“Come on, come on,” you hissed into the open air. 

Thick footsteps came clomping down the stairs from the other side of the frosted glass door, and your attention quickly whipped over. 

As expected, he had adorned himself in nearly all black clothing. Nevertheless, he had thought to pull out his silver chain over the padded coat with white stripes down the arms. 

“Took you long enough. Let me in, I feel like my toes are frozen.” 

Changbin’s eyes cast down to your thin canvas sneakers you had put on in your haste, which were now covered in snow. 

“You should have worn better shoes then. Lets get going.” 

“--Get going??” 

He swung the door behind him closed and it locked with a little click. 

“We’re going somewhere?” 

“I’m hungry.” Changbin simply announced, then took off walking down the block. 

“I thought that--” 

“--Keep up. It’s not that far.” 

He led the two of you onward, and you snuck one more look up at him and the way that the snowflakes got tangled in his hair. 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Here, be careful, it’s hot.” 

After brushing off the ice crusted bench, Changbin presented to you a giant bowl of steaming noodles so large you guessed you could keep live fish in it. The smell of the broth was dreadfully nostalgic and was full of all of your favorite ingredients, almost as if he had known exactly what you would’ve ordered. You couldn’t help but feel giddy while the steam wafted up your nose. 

You wondered with full eyes, “Oh my god, what is this?” 

“-The best thing that you’ll ever have in your life. You might as well thank me now.” 

You pulled the little heater closer towards the two of you with radiating orange coils. Changbin didn’t skip a beat sitting right down next to you, letting the fabric of both of your coats intermingle. 

“This is my favorite place in the city. Their recipes really remind me of my mom and grandma’s.” 

“Well I’m really excited to try.” You blew off a handful of noodles steaming into your nose while Changbin expectantly watched you hork it down. 

“So?” 

You covered your chomping mouth with your hand. “So, so good.” 

“Hmm.” He scoffed, then there was that smug little smirk of his. 

You thought to yourself that it was kind of cute. 

The two of you sat quietly together, watching the silent sounds of the snowfall on the road in front of you, following the cars that passed. Over time, your body seemed to gravitate: bit by bit and piece by piece, closer to the boy next to you. 

Changbin set down his metal chopsticks with a tiny clink on the table. “So, are you going to tell me about yourself now?” 

“Me?” 

“Didn’t I say last time I wanted to know?” 

You remembered, but this time you couldn’t as easily kiss away the questions on his lips. 

“How do you mean? There isn’t too much to know.” 

“I don’t think that’s true. What is it that you study?” 

“You want to know what I study?” 

You nearly laughed in your surprise at the mundane question considering that the person sitting across from you had seen you turned inside out, a moaning and muttering mess upon first meeting, and he wanted to know what you studied? 

“Why does that matter?” 

“Matters ‘cause I want to know.” He simply returned, and gave you that look. 

Normally his eyes were stormy grey, like the way that the sky would sizzle with energy before lighting would crack. They clouded with severity that seemed dangerous when he was angry, or when there was something that he wanted. But, looking at you like this, there was no danger that they held. 

“Are you going to tell me or just keep glaring at me like that?” Changbin nodded to your nearly empty bowl. “Finish that. Don’t let it go cold.” 

You did as you were told--at least it wasn’t answering the question. 

“Fine. You don’t have to tell me. But tell me something else at least. Why were you at that show?” 

“My friends took me? My friend Chan is really into underground rap and stuff like that so he usually drags me and Felix with him. I don’t mind.” 

“See? Was answering that that hard?” 

You had forgotten, then laughed a little to yourself. “Chan actually was there to see you. He had heard about you from whatever those circles are. He was really excited.” 

“I’m actually glad you were there for that reason. For a second there I thought you might’ve said that you were there to see Han Jisung.” 

You nearly spat out your bite of noodles, and choked a little on the broth. 

“Guy’s a fuckin’ showboat and a cocky asshole. The girls at the shows are usually there for him.” 

“What the fuck? You didn’t just say that.” 

Anger bit like acid in your throat. 

“What? He is!!” 

It should have hurt more that he had assumed that you were one of the masses that would fall over their feet for Han Jisung, but it didn’t. Your chest twisted in knots knowing that the assumption was right--that hurt the most. You felt sick knowing now how he would look at you if he knew where you would stoop. 

“I’m complimenting you!! I’m glad that you don’t waste your time on assholes like him.” 

“Since when do you get to pass judgement on who I do and don’t spend my time with? -And aren’t you one of those same assholes? Up there on that stage, what makes you think that you’re any different from the rest of them?” 

“I mean...I like to think that I’m not--” 

Your eyes rolled back so far it might’ve hurt a little. 

“You’re all the fucking same. I’m so fucking stupid.” 

The words quietly fell off your lips like venom. 

“We’re all?” What are you talking about?” 

“And what the hell is this with trying to get up all in my business? We fucked once Changbin, what more do you want from me? You think I owe you something now? I’m not falling for that again.” 

The crunch of your footsteps padded the snow when you turned out of your seat to speed away from him as fast as you could, and as far as you could. 

He was the unbelievable one. 

“Stop! I don’t get what you’re talking about. Falling for what again? You’re not making any sense! And no, I don’t think that you owe me something. I’m sorry if you thought that. I’m just--” He grabbed at your arm. 

“--WHAT?” you tore his hand away. 

“Is it a fucking crime to fuck someone and then give a damn about them? Ever heard about that happening?” 

In your life? 

Something terrible and suffocating rose in your chest that felt like a sob that you had held in for much too long. 

“Listen.” Changbin approached you closer, carefully, that look softening. “It’s freezing out here, it’s late. We...don’t have to talk about it any more. I’ll take you back to my place, I’ll call you a cab, you can go home? Okay?” 

Changbin poked out his arm looped in his pocket for you to link up to. 

You didn’t need his help when you knew the way. 

╚ ——————————————— ╝ 

Rosemary and cedarwood again. It was like it was everywhere. It was in the hoodie that he insisted that you put on and all entangled in the fabric of that blanket that he draped around your shoulders. Had you remembered what it was like under the covers of his bed, it was likely there too. 

“Warming up?” 

The bed bounced a little where he sat next to you with the tips of his ears pink. As cold as you were, you were certain that he must have been colder. 

“I’m fine. Thank you.” You crossed up your cold feet under your legs. 

“20 minutes? Then I’ll call them?” 

You nodded, pulling up the blanket hem to your nose and covering half your face. 

Changbin breathed out a little laugh. “You look like a marshmallow.” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

“Not a bad thing.” 

His smile fell, and he focused on the silver rings twisting around his fingers. He fiddled with them, and you watched, neither of you knowing really what to do with the silence. After some resolve, he crawled over next to you, to lay facing your bundled up face.

At last, he sighed, “I could tell you about me. If you care.” 

Rather than respond, you merely kept on looking at the way the silver would glimmer in the dim yellow of the light. 

“Everything that I do, I do to rap and to perform. My parents never supported me doing this kind of thing and said that if I wanted to do it, I would loose their support. After a while, I realized their support wasn’t that valuable anyway if it was going to be over something that didn’t matter to me. I moved out after high school, I’ve been doing this ever since.” 

“You like it that much?” 

He cracked his fingers, “Sometimes you just know what it is that you’re gonna spend your life doing. For me, it’s this.” 

Your eyes fell to your own hands which still were speckled with little flecks of acrylic. 

“I know what you mean.” 

“You do?” 

“I...paint. And stuff like that. It’s not my major, it could never be, but I feel like that when I’m mixing the colors together and it’s just right. Helps me get the thoughts outta my head.” 

“Yeah...it’s exactly like that.” 

In the warmth of the blankets, you felt a yawn escape your lips and your eyes grow heavy. Your vision had grown blurry, and your dry eyes begged for sleep, but you could still see the way that creeping little smile tugged at his lips. 

You thought to yourself that it was kind of cute. 

“Thank you for telling me something about you.” 

His voice was some kind of dreamy watercoloring of pale pinks and blues. You thought you had likely imagined it. The weight of his hand on your arm felt weightless too, why was it lingering here? His fingers tickled your ear while he swept your hair behind the skin. 

The way that he whispered, “You’re making me want to kiss you.” must have been some kind of dream too. 

Laying like this, right by your side reminded you for before, and the way that your brain had gone cloudy--you could’ve kissed him like that for hours. 

“You...didn’t stop yourself before.” 

Your challenge was all that he needed to take both sides of your face into his hands connecting himself to you incessantly, but gently. He spilled into your mouth kisses of sky blue and lavender, every single one more dedicated than the last. He kissed like he was dizzy and that you would make it all right for him, and like you were the one that he could find over and over. His mouth was blazing hot with warmth and he missed no part of you, moving on to kiss you in places you didn’t know needed the attention: over your bottom and top lip, in the corners of your mouth and the tip of your nose, carefully on the peach fuzz on your cheeks and the bone of your jawline. Each one was purposeful and sweet and melted into your skin snowflakes. 

His wandering hands were cold under the blankets, but you didn’t mind the sensation against your bare skin where he crept his way in, smoothing over the curves of your body. 

Changbin cascaded is way down, pulling you in by the hips closer to his own body. Your core tightened feeling his hands trickle over your waistband. 

“Can I?” He whispered into his kisses. 

You nodded: your exhaustion mixed with some state of unconscious desperation that you had entwined together, and you were completely at his mercy once more. 

“Yes. I’ve...wanted you to.” 

He popped the button and unzipped your pants with little effort, slipping those same cold fingers into the heat of your folds. You shivered with the two temperatures mingling and the pressure of his fingers on your slicked bud in little circles. 

All you could manage were a couple of attempts at forming some kind of words that would eventually get caught in your throat. With one hand, you clawed at the fabric of his tee, hoping just a little that he liked the way that your nails would dig into his skin. His digits mingled all in your arousal, and brought it back up to your clit to make it twitch. After a while he would let you throw your head back into the pillows to feel every little bit of it and focus only on the way that he would press his fingers in harder and faster, then tease you over with barely touching you at all. He would remove his fingers too, to admire the way that it would string between them, leaving you a writhing mess without him. 

“Bin, please, just wanna--” 

You didn’t need to finish your sentence before he granted your wish. He sped up for you, rubbing in perfect circles for your clit to throb under his touch, closer and closer... 

“Can I--?” 

He didn’t answer you, but instead, leaned down to fill your mouth with more kisses and maintained his pace with forearm muscles flexing slightly. 

Your orgasm was faster and much harder than you had expected: it rocked your whole body, from top to bottom where your legs thrashed and your toes curled. The muscles of your stomach tensed, and you felt your whole core spring upward as you came. Luckily, you remembered to be quiet and kept your breath short and sharp, letting only the tiniest of moans meet the air. 

Changbin helped you ride your orgasm out until you could take no more sensation, then stopped, snapping your underwear hem a little on the way up. He held you close as you caught your breath, snickering a little when your body would shake. Your euphoria calmed you down into an even more exhausted state, but the way that the endorphins coursed though you felt like a high. Greedily, the closeness and the way that your head spun made the word slip out of your mouth. 

“More?” 

Changbin said nothing while he indulged you and peppered your skin with kisses in all those places that you didn’t know needed the attention. He would smile into your lips each time that you would come undone; slipping deeper and deeper into him. 

“M-more. I just want...one...more.” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Just skipping one class isn’t the end of the world. You know that you look like a mess right?” 

Minho, your assigned seat partner turned friend-in-suffering poked his pencil at the baggy black hoodie that you had forgotten to return. On the bus ride to campus, you had realized that you hadn’t taken it off. 

“I know, alright? You don’t have to remind me.” 

“You gonna tell me about it?” Minho poked at you once more with his teasing grin. You retaliated by raising your phone up as if to chuck it at his head. 

Behind the two of you, a group of two ambitious girls hushed as they organized their plethora of colored pens and highlighters. Minho bowed a little sorry in apology. 

His voice dropped to a whisper, “I’m assuming that this isn’t yours.” 

“I-it’s new. I just haven’t worn it before.” 

He scanned over the fabric and the little white brand on the left sleeve. “Huh. Must be a popular one I guess. I’m pretty sure that my one of my friends has the same one.” 

“--Will you lend me something to write on...and with? I...didn’t bring my stuff with me.”

“Really.” Your classmate tore out a piece of his notebook paper--a little extra loudly as well--just for those eavesdropping girls behind you. “You should’ve just not come.” 

To your left, your phone vibrated with the screen illuminated: 

Low Battery: 20% 

[10:39] 

felix: I can’t believe you. You went over there again? Didn’t you say that he looked at you weird or something like that?? What happened?? 

Your heart dropped a little remembering how you had pardoned Felix’s worried nagging and turned on the Find My Friends feature in your phone. 

“shit.” 

Your phone screen lit up the underside of your table as you frantically tapped through your settings to turn off the slide bar. In the corner of your eye, you had seen Minho take his phone under the table as well. 

[10:41]  

CB: good job leaving your keys at my place 

i can’t get them back to you until much later. i’ve got work. 

“shit.” 

me: i have work until later too 

and sorry 

CB: my roommate said that he could get them to you at 5. you’ll be at the library then? 

me: your roommate?? 

CB: relax. he doesn’t give a shit. 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

You read over the messages over and over, refreshing the little chat nearly every two seconds. Over the time waiting, your hand had grown embarrassingly damp, and your foot nervously tapped at the floor to the same tune that your chest thumped with your anxiety. 

This was fucking humiliating. 

Granted, you were no stranger to unsavory behavior, but somehow, this felt even worse. Furthermore, it all could have been avoided: 

What the hell had happened last night? 

It was becoming all too a common theme for you: you didn’t remember falling asleep, only waking up to the blaring of your alarm to those obnoxious Tardis sounds that were just a little too out of date...considering that you had long past all that Dr. Who stuff. 

Changbin had actually left the bed all to you, waking up some time a little before you from sleeping on the couch and offering you some horribly cheap tasting coffee. You still drank it. 

CB: just stand somewhere by the front door. i told him that’s where you’ll be. 

The library overlooked the main quad of your university. In the wintertime, the trees that encircled the usually grassy circle were reduced to craggy and bare fingers powdered in the white snow. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” You scolded yourself though clenched teeth. 

“--Y/n?” 

He had snuck up on you, coming from the right, rather than the front of the entrance. 

You squeaked out, “Oh fuck.” 

Minho twisted your jingling keys around his fingers. 

“This is...” Minho laughed out incredulously, “...a coincidence.” 

You clawed your keys from his hand with a hasty “Thanks.” 

His eyes scanned you up and down as if he was meeting you for the first time, which he certainly wasn’t. 

“The hoodie. Dammit. I should’ve known.” 

“I-I really need to get back inside, they might need me in th--” 

“--So you’ve been screwing him?” 

Your heart thumped even more painfully. 

“Wait, and you’ve been inside my apartment before and I didn’t even know?” 

“Well I didn’t know that you were his roommate!! I didn’t even plan on meeting any of you if I could help it!!” 

“So what is he, like, your type?” 

“HEY. I don’t mean to stay over, it kind of just happens...I didn’t even want to see him after the first time--” 

Minho scoffed then shoved his pink hands into the pockets of his navy and white striped bomber jacket. 

“Will I be seeing you around there now?” 

“--No.” You cut in. “You won’t.” 

Your classmate huffed out a visible breath, “You say that now, but I know that you don’t mean it.” 

“What the hell do you mean?” 

Minho rolled his eyes, then gave the top of your head a chastising pat. 

“If you’re gonna be over, you might as well bring snacks or something. No one in that damn apartment knows how to grocery shop for themselves besides me.” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Too many fucking coincidences. 

You had sat yourself at the exact same table that you had sat at the night before, but this time, you watched as it was Changbin who was standing behind the counter of the noodle shop, taking orders, and smiling much too widely for it to have been normal. He was even wearing one of those cutesy little aprons that the rest of the employees had: there was a little chicken embroidered in the corner next to his nametag. 

To anyone else, it made no logical sense why you had decided to show up there: but your frazzled brain still working off your embarrassment from earlier thought this was the best thing to do. You felt like yelling just to get something out of your body. It wasn’t even his fault that his roommate happened to be one of your friends. Your head however, made it his fault. 

He had clocked you from where you had sat fuming, not even looking phased at all. In fact, he had dished out for you one of those smirks. One of those stupid, cute smirks. 

“See you tomorrow.” He clapped his coworker on the back while he took off his apron. 

The shop door creaked out when he opened it. 

“Didn’t expect to see you here. You really wanted to see me that soon already?” 

You shoved the bundle of his hoodie from your hands to his. 

“Here.” 

“You came all this way just to give me my hoodie back? That and I’m assuming Minho told you that I work here.” 

“How come you didn’t tell me that before?” 

“Didn’t seem that important--” 

At last, you let yourself snap. “--You made a fucking fool of me today!! Do you know how awful it was??” 

“Ahhh Minho did say something about knowing you.” 

You had expected sympathy, but rather he teased you with that little cocky grin. Had you known any better, it was almost like he was admiring how flustered you had become. 

One, two, then three fat raindrops fell from from the sky and onto his parka, then the rest followed all at once. The bits of slushy and freezing rain barreled in suddenly and fell sideways. It slapped against the sidewalks and pattered on the shutters and gutters of the buildings lining the road.

“Great! This is just great!!” You pulled your coat over your head. 

Changbin grabbed at your hand without hesitation. “Come with me.” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Open the door!! Open the door!!” 

Frozen bits of snow and rain matted your hair and dripped off into your collar; meeting your bare skin. Your entire body felt as if it had been plunged into a freezing cold ocean, and you shook with ferocity. By now, your jeans had completely soaked through with with water and the denim stuck to your legs. 

Changbin fumbled with his wallet and wet fingers, finally unlocking the door with that same, 

ding-ding-diNG! 

The heater in the little vestibule blasted you with heat upon your entrance: a welcome feeling to your drenched body. He had reached out for your hand to guide you to the elevator even though you knew the way. 

Water dropped off your bodies into the linoleum floor of the elevator and it got all muddled too by prints from your shoes. After, you followed him further into the apartment building, to the very place you had sworn up and down that you would never see again. You didn’t know how many more times you would have to say it out loud before you would actually obey your own words. 

“Fuck--it’s so cold.” 

Changbin clinked his keys into the brass keyhole in the long and dank hallway that had matted red velvet carpeting. There was an odd and old-looking stain in front of his door that you had noticed last time. 

“It’ll be warmer inside.” 

“Are you sure about that?” 

He didn’t need to, but he reached out to you once more to pull you through the doorframe. A sense of determination seemed to sweep over him, and you could just barely see that stormy expression cloud over his eyes. 

“Ah! Y/n! How nice to see you here officially at last!” 

Minho perked up from his book where he was cuddled up on one of those pleather couches in the living room. 

Changbin didn’t give you a chance to to respond, but rather tugged you away down the hallway to the bathroom at the very end nearest his room. 

“Changbin, what are you--” 

He slammed the door behind the two of you, then flicked on the lights at the exact same time as he crashed his whole body into you, flattening your back against the door and scooping up both sides of your face to run his cold lips over yours. His hands were just as cold, and the tips of his bangs dripped tiny droplets of water onto your forehead. 

In your shock, your hands were suspended in the air, but he just as quickly took them to wrap them around his sides. 

The wooden door rattled a little behind your back, but the sounds faded when he deepened his kiss: floating his tongue over your bottom lip and letting out a breathy little gasp along with it. 

“Fuck. You’re really good at making me want you.” 

His voice had turned grave with his want, and he never broke your gaze while he peeled off every single piece of your soaked clothing. His eyes ravished your bare skin riddled with goosebumps, and he immediately took to kissing into your shoulders and collarbones once he had access. You tried your best to help him take his clothes off too, but instead he pushed your hands away to do the task himself. Once he had finished, he connected his lips with yours. 

“Touch me.” He commanded of you. 

You found the request odd, but you still obliged him, starting by running your hands down this pecs then to his abs and around his waist where you scratched at the skin of his lower back. He did the same to you: tracing gentle fingers down your breasts, then going to kneed at them, tweaking the buds just slightly. It wasn’t for long until he encapsulated you completely into his arms, then drew a line into your spine with his ring finger. 

Your body warmed by the second: skin now set ablaze by his teeth grazing the skin of your neck. 

He drew you along with him, then turned on the water to the shower with a metallic sounding groan. Within a couple minutes the whole room filled with a dense steam. He lead you in to the small compartment, stopping too for a moment to watch the way that the water flowed down your body in little transparent veins.

“You’re perfect.” He whispered into the nape of your neck. 

The showering of water was too loud for you to hear, and it wasn’t like you were paying attention anyway. Your phone vibrated where it at fallen in your mess of clothes on the tiled floor. 

[23:27] 

jisung: what the hell’s been up with you the past few days? 

phone break or something?? 

you didn’t see the other texts I sent you? 

are you doing anything right now? 

...

are you 

ok? 

[remmushound]

Hello! I have another request. Could you do a story where 2012 Donnie decides to use the Rise!Turtles' weapons for a test drive without their permission? I imagine 2012 Donnie trying to figure what kind of materials it has in order to create the mystic weapons and testing it out. But then things goes wrong and he attempted to fix it but can't. Bet the Rise!Turtles won't be so happy at Rise!Donnie's counterpart for taking their weapons without their permission.

@assanmaharielsreblogs

He had to get a better look at them. I mean, when else was he gonna get a chance like this one? In his world there was no magic— there was tech far behind his understanding, sure, but that was still tech. Tech that someone engineered, using their own knowledge, for a specific purpose. But here? It was all over the place! Just one patrol using Donatello’s goggles had keyed him into hundreds of mystical hotspots all around the city! He had seen their weapons in action, but he needed to see them closely— in controlled settings under a microscope! To see the inner workings and try to replicate them! If he could get his hands on that kinda tech, then he and his brothers would be unstoppable! And these guys were just using them like toys! Well, not on Donnie’s watch!

Michelangelo’s kusari-fundo had been a difficult thing to snatch. The box turtle was sleeping with the thing on his bed, hugging the weapon like it were a toy. If Donnie hadn’t known better, he’d have said the blades looked almost soft. Michelangelo snored just like Donnie’s Mikey did, tucked under a soft, fluffy comforter and dressed in an orange unicorn onesie. Mikey shared the bed with him (as did Leonardo with Leo and Raphael with Raph), but the older box turtle was sleeping like a rock.

Donnie carefully pried the tool from Michelangelo’s grip with the skill and delicate touch of a true ninja, quickly replacing it with a stuffed animal. Michelangelo gave a soft groan at the disturbance, but quickly hugged the toy as he settled once more. Donnie grinned and looked at the weapon in his hand. Staring into the slick, painted surface, Donnie almost thought he saw an eye staring back at him. He quickly shook his head, looked back, and the eye was gone. Just his mind playing a trick. Leonardo was next.

******

“What are you doing?”

Donnie almost screamed. “Wha— what are you doing awake?!”

Leonardo crossed his arms and glared, his face remarkably bare without his mask and only slightly stifled by a blue nightcap.

“I’m a ninja with crippling insomniac tendencies— sue me.” Leonardo said calmly. “What are you doing with my sword?”

“Uh.” Donnie glanced between Leonardo and the katana he was holding, “nothing?”

“Nothing?” Leonardo scrutinized with a piercing gaze that seemed to call Donnie out in his lie

Donnie hesitated, then sighed. He gave a light laugh and ran his hand across his head. “S-sorry! Just panicked. Other Donnie wants to uh. See if he can use some of the mystic energy from your katana to reverse-engineer a rift for us to get home— me and my brothers, I mean.”

“Ooookay.” Leonardo’s eyes betrayed his distrust, but he didn’t say a word against it, “just ask next time, okay?”

“Yeah. Will do.”

********

Getting the Tonfa from Raphael was nerve wracking. Access to Donatello’s staff was easy— Donnie already had permission to examine and admire its inner workings, so his touch was programmed into the systems anti-theft database as a non-threat. Michelangelo’s kusari-fundo required stealth, sure, and Leonardo’s sword required cunning, but this? This required him escaping with the Tonfa and from the crushing bite of a genetic predator. No matter how calm and content he acted while awake, after that first night’s run-in with savage Raph, Donnie was more than cautious to avoid another similar outburst. Lucky for him, the Tonfa were hung up at a safe distance from the snapper on the wall, and Raphael’s snoring drowned out any noise he might have made.

And just like that, Donnie had everything he needed for a test run. Of course, he was far more skilled with the familiar bō staff than with any of the other weapons (past experience had taught him just how difficult learning a new weapon could be, nevertheless mystic ones), so naturally Donatello’s bō was the first one to try out. Though it itself wasn’t of mystic origin, Donatello had stated many times of the mystic enhancements that made the weapon flourish from a simple multi-tool to what could classify as a weapon of mass destruction.

“Okay...” the staff, despite its greater size to the one he was used to, was surprisingly light in comparison. A quick weigh-in brought it to only fifteen pounds which, given the amount of tech it carried, was an incredible feat. Just how his younger counterpart could manage such a thing seemed almost impossible to the older Donnie’s mind, but that only served to scratch his curiosity even more! There were so many buttons on the shaft he didn’t even know where to start...

He went for the biggest button first out of pure, childish curiosity. This curiosity led to the worse possible outcome as the end of the bō furrowed out and turned into a compact rocket, which turned sideways on itself and shot out sparks of power. Donnie tried to catch himself, but it was too late. Already the power of the launcher dragged him off his feet and forced his unprepared body into a spin. It took his mind a few seconds to catch up with his body and press the same button to withdraw the blaster.

“Note to self... big button bad. Shoulda known that.”

From them on, he was much more careful with his examine. Every press of a button was met with a brace-for-impact in case a similar issue occurred, but he thankfully avoided such an outcome. One button shot a burst of electricity out the opposite side of the bō from where the blaster was, while another button shot two reinforced wings out either side to form a glider. Another button produced a blade on either side of the staff, and another revealed a compartment filled with gauze and alcohol thread and a needle safely tucked into a surgical pouch— an emergency kit, he supposed. He remembered Donatello also having a much bigger one in his battle shell, so this turtle obviously came prepared. Another compartment had a pair of glasses and a bottle of ibuprofen.

“Wow. No such thing as traveling light, I guess.”

He put the bō staff safely to the side before grabbing the Tonfa next. He placed both Tonfa on the table and the first thing he did was examine one of them under the microscope. It was nothing special— just redwood, as far as he could see— albeit old enough to date back to ancient Japan and perhaps even further. Then he put on Donatello’s goggles and looked at the Tonfa through the lenses, which opened up a whole new world of beauty to the normal-looking weapons.

The Tonfa lit up an impossible red, and on the screen appeared the word Muladhara. The red chakra— the root chakra as Donnie knew it best, represented by a red lotus with four petals. Vitality and strength. Instinctual tendencies and the densest of all seven chakras. The more his mind worked it over, the more it made sense. Muladhara was Raphael down to the finest detail. It commands attention and can be forceful at times. The color of passion and love and determination— the color of anger and daring. A color and chakra associated with abandonment and inherited trauma...

Donnie didn’t want to think about it anymore. And he didn’t dare try to activate the weapons knowing their power. He sat them aside and moved onto Leonardo’s katana.

Like the Tonfa, they were nothing special at first glance. Blades made from tamahagane steel common in ancient Japan, and the Tsuka was as unique as every tsuka, covered in ray skin and silken rope, with writing from the first ever wielder of the blade.

Anatawa Hitorijanai... you are not alone.

Under the goggles, another new vision of the mystic weapon opened up for him. The blue chakra of course— Vishuddha. The throat chakra. It took a lot more critical thought than with Raphael’s weapons, but Donnie supposed that the chakra could fit Leonardo. The balance of Vishuddha would speak truthfully, encouraging conversation and relying on self expression. Speaking with confidence and feeling compassion for those around you— communicating your worries even when you were scared to... but an unbalanced Vishuddha with no way to express it could easily lead to the anxiety Leonardo often felt in social settings. Perhaps his chakra was underactive, or blocked completely, by the feeling of something... unfulfilled in his life.

Donnie had more confidence experimenting with the teleporting sword than he did with the Tonfa. He wouldn’t have to go through it himself, he figured— he could just toss something through and study how it worked. He picked up the blade and looked it over before holding it out to the air in front of him. Leonardo had told him that he had to have a very clear image in his mind— no other thoughts clouding it. Any mistake or misthought could lead to an unstable portal, and unstable portals were extremely dangerous. You could get trapped between rifts, or get portal jacked, or end up hundreds of miles away from where you intended! Donnie closed his eyes to better imagine the room in front of him. Every fine detail... every flaw and crack and puddle and crawl space... every bug skittering around and every sound and every smell surrounding him like a cloud of mist.

He traced the blades point through the air and he was sure he could feel some minor resistance, but he kept focusing on the room. Droplets falling on the stone floor... forming puddles...echoing down the tunnels...

He completed the circle and opened his eyes. Immediately he pulled back as the brightest shade of turquoise almost blinded him, and after a moment of shielding his eyes he finally forced himself to look toward the brightness. The circle wasn’t perfect. In fact, the rift itself seemed almost squiggly, as if distorted by water. Distorted, but hopefully functional. Donnie took a pen out of his tool belt and reluctantly approached the portal, resisting against the temptation of its mystic pull and holding out the pen ready to throw it in. Then another thought occurred to him. What if he just…

He dropped the pen. At first the pen made as if it was going to fall but stopped midair by some otherworldly force. Then it was drawn to the portal and through it with a bubbling noise as it disappeared. Then another rift came to existence above Donnie and, before he could do anything more than look up to it, the pen fell out and hit him on the head.

“Ow.” It didn't hurt, but he said it anyway as he picked up the pen and put it back where it belonged. Curious. Very curious…

He took the sword and slashed through the original portal, destroying both it and its awkward counterpart with nothing more than a soft blip as the magic returned to the blade. There, no harm done! Now all that was left was Michelangelo’s.

A long chain, surprisingly rust-free for how far back it dated. The previous owners must have taken extreme care to keep it in the shape it was in. A chain that, despite how flexible and controlled it looked in Michelangelo’s skilled hands, was short and almost stiff in Donnie’s. The weighty was only on one end, as opposed to both as would be used with most kusari-fundo. A round weight with a ring of spikes across it. Donnie gave one point an experimental poke and yelped as it broke the skin and he started to bleed.

“Another note to self— pointy bit sharp.” He examined the serrated edges a bit longer before moving onto the goggle-inspection.

The sacral chakra, as Donnie had expected. Swadisthana, the orange chakra located in the lower belly. Connected to empathy and intimacy, pleasure both sensual and sexual. Creativity, fantasies, feelings. Everything that made up Michelangelo. An imbalance could lead to someone with boundary issues… yes, definitely Michelangelo, Donnie added to himself with a slight snort as he remembered just how clingy and touchy this world’s Michangelo’s was. At least his world’s always directed that touch-hunger to Raph or Leo and not to him.

A carving on the side of the weight caught Donnie’s attention and he spun it around to get a better view. The design was very faint, but it was there. It looked almost like a smiley face with closed eyes, something Donnie figured to have been added quite recently by Michelangelo. But further examination of it showed that the carving was old, as old as the weight itself, and installed by a previous owner. He even doubled and triple checked just to be sure he wasn’t seeing things.

Now all that was left to do was test it out. He had minor experience with chain weapons (the likes of which still haunted him to his day and made him give an uncomfortable shiver) and it wasn’t like he was actually going to fight with it! He was just going to test out the weight distribution and how effective it would be during fights since he had yet to see any of the other-world counterparts in battle.

He grabbed the handle securely, nodding at the nice distribution he was already feeling. He was just about to take a swing when he remembered the goggles still on his face and decided to take them off first, in case they somehow screwed with any of his data. He did so and turned to swing the kusari-fundo once more until something else this time stopped him in his tracks. 

The glow didn't stop. He had taken off the mystic sensors and he tapped his head just to be sure! But the glow didn't stop. The smiling face was a much more prominent yellow against the orange, and Donnie was sure its eyes had been closed before… 

The pupils in the eyes moved to stare at him and Donnie screamed and dropped the weapon in horror as he crawled back against the wall. The weapon pursued. On it’s own with no master or anything physical to command it. It drifted up and it’s living, flaming eyes followed Donnie’s every move. He made an experimental motion toward the door and the weapon made the same motion as it readied to pursue until Donnie returned to his original position.

The thud of approaching feet sealed Donnie’s fate in stone. Seconds later, seven mutant turtles poked their heads into the room, three of them armed and the other four looking confused and concerned by their lack of weapons. 

“Donnie?” Leo tried to make a motion to approach his brother, but quickly withdrew out of the room when the kusari-fundo gave a warning spark. “The hell’s that thing?”

“Sparky!” Michelangelo ran into the room confidently with his arms extended, his brothers spilling in after him.

“Wait, no!” 

Donnie awaited a terrifying assault that didn't happen. Instead, the fiery weapon subsided it’s flame and fell swiftly through the air to land in Michelangelo's arms. Michelangelo cuddled it closely and churred as he covered the tiny face in kisses.

Finally able to breath, Donnie went to part from the wall, but was stopped by a rough hand the size of his plastron.

The anger in Raphael’s eyes was uncanny. “You have a lot of explaining to do…”

[slashy-ashy]

I love dickkory, dickkory is my favorite ship because those two were literally my first ship. I grew up with watching the Teen Titans and I instantly fell in love with them. It sucks that comic writers did what they did too Dick and Kory, I mean it pisses me off so badly, I hate how they made Dick sleep with Bab’s right before getting married with Kory to perpetuate this idea of theirs that Dick is a ladies man that can’t be chained down to one woman even though he loves the idea of having a family and the fact that Dick loves Kory so unconditionally it isn’t even fucking funny, and Kory loves Dick so unconditionally back too and the fact that she was the one who helped Dick be more open about his feelings and to be more loving towards himself and she’s basically the reason on why the fandom writes him as this mother hen, happy go lucky guy. Kory was the one to bring him out of his shell, along with the Titans because they helped out A LOT with bringing Dick out of his shell because depending on which retcon you want to go with Bruce is definitely not an entirely open guy especially when dealing with his emotions, I hate that when Dick was raped by Mirage (because they did have dubious sex, one party of the duo didn’t know that the other was a shapeshifter who turned into the love of his life and slept with him then turned back into their original form and laughed in his face when she revealed her so called master plan) they had the team, the team of SUPERHEROES WHO DEAL WITH THIS SITUATION IN ONE WAY OR ANOTHER POSSIBLY ON THE DAILY VICTIM AND SLUT SHAME DICK, and it says a lot when the fans actually agree with the teammates who slut shame and disrespect their leader and not bat an eye at the fact that the literal SHAPESHIFTER is practically jumping with joy after emotionally manipulating and raping their leader, and people are so quick to say that after seeing Kory yelling and blaming Dick say how in character that is but don’t talk about how in a different issue Kory fucking attacks (as 👏🏾she 👏🏾 should👏🏾) Mirage because “how dare you sleep with Dick” and they don’t site how truly THAT is in character because it is in the character of her. She loves that man so fucking much she really does, and Dick is so fucking gone on her too it isn’t even funny, and I have nothing against DickBabs I love their dynamic too but I didn’t grow up with them and I wasn’t as introduced with them as I am with Dickkory in a sense and I truly just enjoy Dickkory more than Dickbab in my opinion but it’s mostly due to the writers and how they just fucking wrote Barbra like I just feel like if they took the time to rebuild their friendship, and to stop and look at her characterization over the years and learn to write her properly then yeah I would love DickBab’s but as it stands I’m hesitant to follow canon DickBabs and I honestly will accept fanon DickBabs more than likely.

Dickkory is such a wonderful ship because they have so much history with each other and honestly at this point most of my ships for Dick are just him with the fab five, I love DickRoy, I love DickWally, I love DickGarth and I love them even if they’re romantic or platonic, outside of the fab five I will say that I like DickJoey but only for the reason that I don’t really know Joey.

One gripe I have will be the fact that due to how writers have written and mistreated canon, people believe all of what I said up above to be canon behavior for Dick, I hate how hyper sexualized he is and I hate how it comes to a point that it becomes this running gag of “I wonder what I can get away with” and by that I mean the in canon instances of people touching Dick without his consent but it ends up being laughed off because the predator is just so good looking that it makes it okay, or how people will just say how good his ass looks, or even wonder out loud how good in bed he probably is and some old flame will just come out of the wood works with a smirk on their face being all “well ladies I can say that he is fantastic in bed” while Dick just stands there while listening to this all go down and being so used to this but he still will get flack if he says anything to show how uncomfortable he is with the situation because he “asked for it” or something else as disgusting and ridiculous, and after a while it just gets so old like honestly just find a new gag okay, it’s not that hard.

And finally J**Kory , J**Roy and J**KoryRoy are not my favorite ships whatsoever ever. They’re not even my favorite friendships to be honest, because I legit cannot see a world where like my older sibs friends would ever just decide to hang out with me and spend so much time with me and I would just be okay with that. No, no, no,no,no,NO! It just boggles my mind on why DC decided that Jason can’t possibly make friends with people himself and it irks the hell out of me that they nerfed Kory and Roy that hard it isn’t even funny.

Like it kind of is funny when you think about it because if they weren’t then I doubt I really doubt that those two would have just been like “ yep, I’m just going to hang out with the love of my life’s little brother” like I can see, just them from time to time just going to check in sometimes with Dick and him just being like “hey you guys want to come with me while I check in with Jason” and they could be like “yeah sure, I haven’t heard from him in a while” but for the most part no I just don’t see them realistically just deciding to just hang out with Jason because Kory has a planet to run and Roy has a daughter that he needs to parent and Jason has a lot of trauma and anger to get through in a responsible and reasonable way that doesn’t include running a drug empire, killing people, trying to kill his family, and just constantly blaming his actions on his trauma because I don’t want to sound too critical of him but at the same time it’s like when are you going to let go of all of this anger and just try to start healing because you keep taking the easy route of things and you decide to walk away from the problems eating you up inside and you just default to distancing himself away from his problems and family but when are you going to do the most important and difficult step, of beginning the process of healing and coming to terms with your actions and on how they don’t just affect you but also the people around you? If I saw an issue like that than I would most definitely pick up an red hood book but as it stands no. It’s a no from me y’all.

And DickKoryRoy is honestly where it’s at. They have DECADES of content and storylines that you can just be like “hmm, I want to write/draw about the Brother blood arc or I want to write/draw about how Dick went to save Lian and how this affected Roy” the content is there it really is.

I love how this post just devolved into me talking about my love for Dickkory, my hesitance towards DickBabs, me talking about the ships I love and like, how I hate how they (the writers) mishandled Dick and how they mishandled real problems that people go through in real life, how Jason with Kory and/or Roy is my first and ultimate NOTP, and how Dickkory and/or Roy is elite in my opinion.

[fiore-rosewood9]

♫FrUk :D

Thank you for the ask, I will send a few songs that remind me of fruk, a whole playlist if you may, not only one song. I also touch a few of triggering topics as I explain the nations's personalities and relationships with one another so I apologize in advance if I upset/trigger someone and will put my trigger here - Warning - mentions of abuse, alcoholism, s*exual trauma. Under the explanation there is a playlist of songs that make me think of Ukfr/Fruk, so if anyone gets upset you can feel free to skip my general headcanons about fruk/ukfr relationship dynamics. There are too many songs that make me think of different characters or ships but I collected the ones that make me think the most of them.

I know the original song is by Lady gaga but this version is too sweet and cheesy for me so I chose the rock cover by the group Halestorm since I prefer it, it sounds more genuine and rough and kinda makes me think of the dynamic that ukfr/fruk has, that some people present is as just the enemies to lovers trope or them just fighting which is.....simply unhealthy????? Fruk is much more than that and I wish people would stop seeing it as a two dimensional thing, yeah they do argue on a lot of things and it is not the healthiest dynamic however it does work in my mind because they stick through thin and thick and that requires effort and true love since a lot of people nowdays do not take time to know the other person, they just jump into marriage and have a few divorces and just argue over everything and then separate, fruk is an off and on thing where they break and make. This kind of dedication is hard to find in today's couples. I know they're fictional characters and no one really cares but I practice my psychology skills and my knowledge of people around me, and I sometimes see people with similar or almost the same characters as fictional characters, they may not have all of their hobbies but they do act the same way. And certain pairs, no offence, just make me want to gag my self due to history with bad and toxic fans but if I look at it subjectivly and never encountered mean fans from a certain ship, I would say that they ship simply doesn't work. No ship bashing but as far as I know, people with this kind of personality from this ship that I dislike, and get upset when seeing fan art of, simply just do not get along and had a hard time divorcing, it is not only unhealthy and unbalanced, it is downright abusive because both partners seek control and to have the upper hand and this is not...what romance is about???? It is about two people taking care of each other, understanding personal space and boundaries, lifting each other up and yeah, they will argue a lot, sometimes for small things, sometimes for bigger things, but generally the point of romantic relationships is not someone using you, or abusing you financially and generally being better or bigger than you. This breeds insecurity and jealousy in the other partner and makes them feel inadequate. Usually such problems are not talked over and one of the partners acts passive agressive which is what ultimaltly leads to said divorce. So yeah, people can go away with their (BUT IT IS CUTE, IT IS SO FUCKING CUTE) pairing because real life pairings and how humans communicate and develop friendships and relationships isn't based on what your mind conciders and doesn't concider cute and there are lots of factors on whether relationship will ever happen like common interests, type personality, etc and just block me so I will never hear from them and their childish mindset ever again, which is why I blocked certain tumbrl fan art hetalia accounts who produce art of a pairing I (dislike) lowkey hate, for historical reasons, for manga reasons, for toxic fans who bullied me and made me go on 3 hiatuses reason and ultimatly in real life experience and psychology and how humans and the human mind works and what is healthy and unhealthy reason. Why should I support something where certain people have been hateful towards me and these same people that act like these characters and I know in my life are on bad terms in real life? Why shouldn't I just move on to something more realistic and more healthy, that I have seen that works with humans I know first hand? I am not a clinical psychologist and I have no power or saying in this but I had to write thesis and read books by psycholgists and analyze them in high school and my first year of Uni, in order to pass the year and I have also read reccomended books by a psychologist I went to because I wanted an advice on how to deal with my anxiety and talking to people, because my condition is extremely severe but I honestly feel stuck and try to improve but also feel confused, I sometimes feel like I am not doing enough to

self improve as a human. I sometimes come off as too cold or overly bitter and angry without intending to, and it sucks.

Francis is a really manipulative person and Matthew picked up that from him while part of Alfred's agression doesn't only come from confidence in his own abilities but the fact that England him self is an overly agressive person and is very dominant or at least used to be for a very long time, now he is more mild to keep his gentleman persona but he does suffer from severe anger issues which he hides while Alfred is prone to breaking things and screaming, Arthur is more prone to being rude, sarcastic and generally mean before he loses it. Matthew and Francis do not engage in fight if they can avoid it which is why sometimes people call them cowardly I think? And Matthew is a bit prone to being a codependent people pleaser as far as I see and he seems to have severe anxiety issues. Francis albeit charismatic and beautiful, is deep down in his core lonely.

I think that part of his pervertedness, shocking people with his s*xual humour and all of this sex obsession comes from trauma in his childhood and dressing like a girl. I wouldn't explain what the trauma in question was since it is not canon but I do headcanon that he had s*xual trauma and it is partly why Hungary dressed like a guy. I don't know if this is legit, it is bias from reading too much japanese fan comics relating to hetalia or just general history of humans and how they treated consent and what is moral today, wasn't amoral or against the law a few centuries ago, but I have seen artists touch on it. I think both Arthur and Francis suffer from neglect and they weren't particularly good fathers, in fact no country is, the whole FACE family is dysfunctional and while I love all of them, I kinda pity them. I think Rome was a bit discriminatory mostly towards France and never towards his other children while Arthur had to constantly prove him self and was bullied by his brothers. While other nations have suffered from trauma too (I headcanon that Prussia was burnt on stake and people threw rocks at him due to his albinism and being left handed) something similar happened to Arthur, who I headcanon that he was burnt for being a witch and Francis went a few times through the guillotine, or Arthur still having a bullet scar on his arm from the American revolution or Francis having nightmares from that day where Jeanne was burnt and waking up in his own sweat. Arthur also must suffer from workholism and alcoholism, judging by how much he works and goes to pubs to drink. Everyone chooses their own poison and how to cope with life and many use unhealthy coping mechanisms, hell, even I used unhealthy coping mechanisms a lot in the past and I am not proud of them, in fact, I try to improve.

I can talk about their history and how it relates to their mental health and what scars they have for hours but I would bore you. You came for a song and I am probably boring you so I apologize for writting a lot of words, in advance. I basically think that fruk/ukfr is the ultimate ship for many reasons because they click, I do ship spuk/engita/asakiku and many other things but fruk/ukfr is kinda like butter and bread, it is a great combination. I never said it is 100 percent healthy, however their relationship makes psychological sense and their personalities click. I know people like to present arthur as this dumb tsundere man that blushes and says baka, or he is this garbage rat dad that no one likes or francis is presented or at least used to be this perverted sex machine that touched other countries inappropriatly or at least the 2012-2015 fans saw him this way and while he still has the reputation of a pervert, what many young people in the fandom see as disgusting, I just see as an overly lonely man that just happens to have high libido and copes with it by having casual sex and just has a sex humour, the same way some people have fart jokes humour or darker, more cursed humour, I am really glad that fans mostly left off this whole - Francis is a r**ist and will grope you, in the past, because honestly r**e is not joke and as a character he clearly understands consent and boundaries and I don't think someone like him would do such a thing. Also Greece and Turkey have even higher libido than him and sleep around more, yet he is the ''pervert'', I don't get it??????????? but fruk is just so much more than opposites attract, they have a lot in common so I can't say they're full opposites, no one is truly. I have heard people ask why does anyone ship fruk when it is just opposites attract/enemies to lovers trope and I am honestly confused, because that is extremely rough generalization to say the least, it is like saying - All men/women are the same, it is simply wrong/uncorrect. I think they ''married'' five times - The Treaty of Paris (1657) formed an alliance against Spain. The Anglo-French Alliance (1716–31) formed another alliance against Spain. The Anglo-French blockade of the Río de la Plata (1845-1850). The Anglo-French joint invasion of Qing Dynasty (1856–1860). And the last one which is their official marriage The Entente Cordiale (1904) fought together in both World Wars. As far as I remember Francis tried to marry Arthur but he refused and why he refused is up for subjective opinion but I must write a whole thesis on why Fruk/ukfr works so well and people are not here for that, they're here for the music and I will provide. I also always saw Francis as the more gentle and more submissive partner, I just love to see him drawn in frilly beautiful dresses with bows and stuff and Arthur as the more dominant, I mean as a country he was a powerhouse during the 1600s-1800s and used to be a punkrocker, usually rockers are mentally tough and that man is extremely cunning and witty so...people drawing him as this useless baka uwu overly feminine anorexic boy that looks more like a tween rather than a 23 year old guy just assasinated his character in my opinion and it disturbs me but I am just some awkward human on the internet and no one values my opinion anyway because this is the internet and many people nowdays love to have hot takes and try to gain followers through clickbait stuff which sometimes goes out of control and everything just seems more fake and shallow to me, the more old I get.Okay that was my silly rant no one asked about but I feel really passionate about hetalia and Fruk/Ukfr. Anyway, I apologize again for my long rant and going all over the place, please enjoy this playlist

PLAYLIST WITH SONGS THAT REMIND ME OF FRUK/UKFR

1 - Halestorm - Bad romance - rock cover https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ll4NJs3NBIU

2 - Queen - Somebody to love - lyrics https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zj69iA_goIk

3 - ABBA - Voulez vous - (I know everyone chooses Waterloo and while waterloo is a fruk theme, I think Voulez vous works too) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwcgMVXuBJc

4 - London beat - I've been thinking about you - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ixBryyQSrD8

5 - Santana - Smooth - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Whgn_iE5uc

6 - George Michael - Careless whisper - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=izGwDsrQ1eQ

7 - Robbie Williams - Feel - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iy4mXZN1Zzk

8 - Michael Buble - Feeling good - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Edwsf-8F3sI

9 - Edith Piaf - La vie en rose - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFzViYkZAz4

10 - Chopin - Marriage d'amour (Spring waltz) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EFJ7kDva7JE

11 - Vanessa Carlton - A thousand miles - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ERw2LuU6Jj8