#and trigger and she knows that and then she fucking encourages me to buy something then i ask for help and she’s mad at me she hasn’t even

[ultraviolencced]

you know how parents get divorced and hate each other when they lose a child well it’s like that but my mom to me

[katyspersonal]

i hate to be that guy but i wish there were more bb fics that were less smut and more lore bc for such a rich story there is mostly just nsfw stuff in the ao3 tag lol. but no offense if ppl like that..

Your feelings are valid, anon!

Like, yeah, it is one of those 'kinda petty gripe' moments I was talking about! People are completely valid to spend their time and effort on what makes them (and often their mutuals and fans) happy! Yet at the same time, I am myself a huge fucking NERD about timeline, concepts, worldbuilding, messages, philosophy, specifics of factions and covenants, systems of 'magic' and science within the lore and all that, and if presented with a choice between the hottest fanfic for my OTP or an oddly detailed fictional research paper on something complex that went within the lore, I'd not even hesitate to pick the latter xd

There ARE many things to think about in BB, yes! My personal favorite to dissect were how Kin works and headanons about Great Ones (ALL of them). I have not found a cool way to put my BB worldbuilding dissections into a fic, tho... :') Me and @val-of-the-north also dream of writing a large prequel of Pthumerians history with what predated dungeons and some known characters. But we are more visual artists than writers. Sigh!

I could offer an advice for the situation when you have a gripe with something that is most popular in a fandom, and wish people did more interesting stuff:

1) Have a tiny group of people who are bitter about the same thing (can also be conveniently put in a Discord chat)! It is extremely therapeutic to have a few friends with whom you can be haters together, so you vent it all out and go to the 'public' fandom all happy and cheerful, not carrying this negativity to the open internet where people that love [a thing] can see it. I mean- I do have a group like this! Our most frequient petty haters sessions are pouting at the fact that this or that character only gets remembered as part of a ship and not as their own person xd Feeling heard in a small group where your words can't hurt anyone, nor anyone will guilt you for being "entitled" is just. good.

2) Create the stuff you would like to see more of (drawings, fanfics, essays, theories, headcanons, memes prompting an idea in a subtle way even), or encourage people to think more about this stuff (prompting discussions, buying art/fic commissions, doing trades (art for fic, for example), catching a person that accepts requests and spending yours on what you'd like to see more of, sending people asks that could trigger to develop something about lore etc). Really mind the latter, though! Like... trust me dude, even if you can't draw or write, nor have enough money for commissions, you can still cause pretty tangible influence on creativity! If you just say right things at the right time to the right people. Heck- I more or less got some skill at inspiring people creatively <:3 Like... I prompt a person to think of this or that theme or character, and before I know it they already developed something because of that discussion? (not tryna boast xd) Or another good example is @heraldofcrow who mastered the skill of prompting discussions about Bloody Crow sooooo well that people keep becoming his fans because of her, and some are even drawing him thanks to her! I constantly see people creating more content of the boy thanks to her, and all she did was simply talking to them! xD A gripe at a character, theme, concept etc not being popular enough can cause GREAT things to happen and you can become people's MUSE! 😎

_______________

Hmmmm I think that's it! Basically? You probably have more charisma to inspire writers (including to fiddle with lore) than you are aware of. They need readers, AND they need ideas. You will figure this out! ...or even write a killer fanfic yourself.

[skzhocomments]

I can read your smile - Choi Minho SHINee Fanfic - Chapter 20 - Confessions (Final Chapter)

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 19

---

Chapter 20 - Confessions (Final Chapter)

word count: 3k words

Minho's team ended up winning the game 3-2 after Minho's newfound excitement and encouragement towards the team, which proved crucial for the morale of his teammates.

Crystal knew he was going to go celebrate with the team, and he's also invited their group of friends, but she really didn't have it in her to go. She was weary, her heart felt small in her chest, and she just wanted to lay in bed.

Before leaving the stadium, she grabbed Lydia and Jude's hands.

"What is it, babe?" Lydia asked.

"Do you girls have any plans tonight?" She whispered, making sure the other boys didn't hear her.

"Besides the celebration for Minho's victory?" Jude asked.

"No. What's wrong?" Lydia shook her head.

"I just... I can't go to the celebration tonight. Can we have a sleepover at one of yours?"

"What's up?" Key asked them loudly, seeing that the three girls stopped walking behind them.

"Crystal is not feeling well, so we're gonna go back to mine. Tell Minho we're sorry we can't join tonight." Lydia shouted and urged their friends to go away.

"Thanks." She gave the girls a small smile.

They headed to Lydia's place, and Crystal told them everything, from the date Minho had with Julia, to how they've almost kissed again at his birthday and during Christmas, and she told them about their intense make-out session in the locker room and how confused it made her feel.

Her two friends listened in closely and hugged the girl tightly when she was done talking between her sobs.

"I think he does like you, honestly." Jude said after Crystal calmed down a bit.

"Then why doesn't he tell me anything?"

"Why don't you tell him anything? Relationships are a two-way street." Lydia asked matter-of-factly.

"I mean, I don't know, Lydia, I kinda did more than enough, I think. I literally asked him to fuck me. What more should I do?"

"And then you ran away from his celebration party." Lydia said.

"And you're avoiding him. He's called and messaged you, what, six times since we came here?" Jude spoke as well, pointing at Crystal's phone, that was still ringing, Minho's name displayed in bold letters on the screen.

"Give him a chance to talk to you, and you will find out if he does like you." Jude pressed her hand on top of hers and comforted her.

"But I'm scared. What if... he'll just reject me again?"

"Then you'll get over it, as you've done last time."

"Yea, I soooo got over it. Look at me." Crystal chuckled ironically. "I know you're right. Should I just go home?"

"If you're ready to talk to him, you should."

"I'll... I'll call him back." She hesitantly grabbed her phone and pressed on her call history, dialling Minho's number, who responded immediately.

"Crystal! How are you feeling? Taemin said you were sick. Where are you? At Lydia's?"

"Yes... I'm feeling better, so I'll come home..." She said and watched her friends nod in encouragement.

"I'll come get you. 15 minutes and I'll be there, okay?"

"Aren't you still at the party?" Crystal chuckled.

"Fuck the party. They're all drunk already." He laughed.

"And what about you?" She laughed as well.

"Look at her flirting through the phone." Jude shook her head, and Lydia slapped her back playfully. Crystal threw them a nasty glance.

"Not enough. Unless you celebrate with me, I won't even drink!"

"Okay, then you better buy something." She smiled, and he told her he'll call when he gets there.

~

Minho came in a taxi and Crystal was amused to notice that he listened to her and bought a few bottles of alcohol. Some vodka, some tequila, beer... it was like he was throwing another party at home, not like it was just going to be the two of them.

He was no longer in his uniform, he was now wearing a casual pair of jeans and a buttoned-up white shirt, and he was so handsome, fucking hell. She tried not to look too much, for her heart fluttered and her cheeks grew red.

Once they got home, they started drinking and talked about random things, laughing and looking at each other. Crystal's chest felt lighter, even if she was still confused. Seeing him was enough to calm her down, apparently.

She doesn't know how many shots she downed, but she was starting to get really sleepy.

"I'm a bit tipsy." She slurred her words with a chuckle.

"Yea? We should go to bed." He chuckled as well, noticing the slight red tint in her cheeks. She was cute, sprawled on the floor like that in her little sundress – the same one he fucked her in earlier.

"Yea." She replied. "Pick me up!" With her arms outstretched, she started giggling like a little kid, making Minho laugh once again.

Still, he complied and got up from the floor, going to her and leaning over, so she could grab onto him as he picked her up. Her hands moved at the back of his neck, as her legs hugged his torso.

Perhaps he should've taken her to her own room, if he were not so intoxicated. Tuck her into bed and kiss her forehead good night, like a good friend was supposed to do. But sleeping next to her felt way too appealing at the moment, when they were both fairly drunk, so he marched right to his room and placed her softly on his bed, plopping down next to her, just as he did every night they've been studying together.

She turned to face him and smiled slowly, and both closed their eyes to sleep.

Some time later, though, with the alcohol almost gone from her system, Crystal opened her eyes and glanced around her in the dark. Minho was breathing regularly next to her, which told her he's asleep, and he was close to her. So close, she just had to raise her hand a bit to touch him.

His shirt rode up, exposing his abdomen, and she couldn't help herself. Her fingers slowly and hesitantly grazed the exposed skin of his abdominal muscles and she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

She wanted to touch him more.

Fuck.

She hesitated, her fingers hovering just above him, when he grabbed her hand and placed it flat down on his stomach.

"Curious?" He said in a low, groggy voice. "Touch me properly."

Her cheeks heated up at his proposal, and they only grew hotter as her palm was now touching his muscles. She moved it around to explore him as carefully as possible, wanting to remember this moment. Even if they fucked earlier, this was different. It felt more intimate. She got to touch him in ways she couldn't before.

They were both intoxicated. Yes. That's it. That's why he's letting her do this. She tried rationalising, as he moved his hand away from hers and started opening up the buttons on his shirt, one by one.

Fuck.

Moving her hand up his body, to his chest, she felt him more.

She was breathing heavily, and she wanted him again so badly. She kept replying in her head how hard he fucked her earlier, and she wanted him again, and again, and again. She could handle confusion, as long as she could have him, and it would be so easy to have him inside of her again, with what she was wearing...

"What are you thinking of?" He asked, almost in a whisper. It was funny, he's been asking her this question so often, especially while studying together, but it had such a different impact on her, in this context.

"I'm not sure I should be telling you..." She replied.

"Why not? I want to hear it. I want to know all your thoughts."

"Because... are you still drunk?"

"No." He shook his head.

"Then even more so."

"But I want you to tell me. Do you like touching me?"

"I do."

"I also like it." He whispered. "Tell me." His face came closer to her, and her breath hitched in her throat.

"Okay. I was thinking of how easy it would be to pull my underwear to the side and feel you slip inside of me... just like we did earlier in that locker room." She answered in a breath, feeling him stiff under her touch.

Did she say the wrong thing?

He insisted on knowing, though.

Minho breathed in deeply.

"Don't say it twice, or I might end up taking you up on the offer..." He replied slowly, as if in deep thought. This was her chance to make it clear that she wanted this, that she wanted him, and that earlier has not been just a mistake, or a spur of the moment thing.

"... please, Min." She whispered.

He moved his hand and touched her neck, then moved it down her side, dragging it painfully slowly down her body. His thumb grazed her nipple, but he didn't halt. Instead, he kept going down, his hand now steadily on her waist. He moved it down again, reaching the hem of her dress and squeezing her thigh.

His breathing was also ragged as he took her left leg and placed it on his hip, so she was straddling him from the side.

He removed his pants and underwear swiftly, and she moved her panties to the side, just as she proposed.

When his tip lined up with her entrance, instead of pushing in, he started moving his member around, collecting her wetness. She whined. She just wanted to feel him back inside of her, but he wanted to tease her like this.

"You're so wet." He whispered, and his tone made it sound more like a praise.

"I want you so bad." She replied, and he closed his eyes and breathed in again. It was getting hard to control himself, to not let his primal urges overcome his rationale.

He lined himself up with her again and moved his head closer to hers on the pillow. His hand was on her hip, fingers digging in her skin to keep her in place as he slipped into her, forming a steady rhythm. She briefly thought about how he'll mark his way onto her skin, how his fingertips will become faint purple marks on her tomorrow morning.

He made her moan loudly. So loudly, she started feeling a bit ashamed by the obscene sounds coming out of her mouth. She's never been this loud with anyone else before, not even with him, earlier in the locker room. Maybe the room was too quiet, so it was easier to hear herself.

He thrust himself into her deeply, and he moved his head to kiss her passionately. He wanted to kiss her more, to bite her lips swollen. He was intoxicated with her. He wanted to taste every bit he could, and he did.

His movements were haste, and he grazed her sweet spot with each thrust, making her come undone so quickly, she was almost embarrassed.

The embarrassment washed down when he came just as quickly, his movements sloppy. She felt his warm release dripping out of her on her legs, on the sheets; she was sure they made a mess, their liquids combined in small stains under them.

Even after they both came down from their highs, they continued kissing hungrily, as if they knew that tomorrow it would be just a bit harder to kiss than it was tonight.

He moved his body on top of hers and felt himself get hard again at the sight of her under him, so beautiful, with red lips and small hickeys he made on her neck with his bites just hours prior.

He slid into her again, and kept fucking her, moving his mouth from her jaw to her neck, to her collarbones, to her breasts – thank God this sundress she wore today offered such an easy access to her breasts! He took the fabric down and caressed them with his hands, taking her left nipple in his mouth and sucking on it, grazing it with his teeth ever so gently.

"Fucking hell." Crystal moaned.

"Come for me again baby." He said, but he didn't have to say it twice – she came undone harder than the first time, clenching her legs around his torso, her toes curling. She held onto him with her legs and arms, and he came inside her again.

He stayed on top of her for a while, both panting rapidly, their chests going up and down with each hurried breath.

"Crystal, I need to tell you something." He placed both his hands on her face, urging him to look in his eyes.

"Me too." She glanced deep into his brown eyes, and she realised she couldn't deny it anymore. She opened her mouth to say it, but before she got the chance, he told her first.

"I love you." Minho kissed her. "I love you, I love you, I love you." He kissed her again, and again, and again.

"I love you too." She chuckled and felt a few tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"I wish I told you sooner."

"Yea..." Crystal averted her eyes for a bit, before looking back into his. "You told me now, though."

"It sounds so cheesy, but..." He chuckled. "Can I be your boyfriend?"

She burst out laughing. "It does sound cheesy," She raised her head from the pillow and pecked his lips, then let her body fall back down, "but yes."

"We should go wash up."

"Yea." She nodded, and he got up from her and helped her sit up.

Grabbing her hand, he guided her towards the bathroom on the hallway and urged her to get into the shower. He pushed her in with his body and got in with her, and Crystal almost forgot how to breathe, since the space was so narrow. They barely fit in. Still, he seemed adamant about showering with her, and he turned on the hot water, letting it fall down their now naked bodies.

Crystal's back was against the wall and Minho trapped her body with his arms and kissed her slowly. Their mouths were wet from the water spraying down on them, but neither of them minded it too much, as long as they could keep kissing each other.

Minho moved his mouth from her lips to her cheek, to her jaw, and he started going down, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouth kisses all over her body as he kneeled down in front of her. He wanted to worship her so badly, to make up for all the time he's lost being a coward, and no matter how much he tasted her, his thirst just couldn't be quenched.

He took her right leg and placed it over his shoulder to help her keep her balance as he connected his mouth to her pussy, kissing it vigorously. She started to moan again, and placed her right hand on his head, caressing his soft hair while he was brushing his tongue over her sweet spot over and over again.

She wasn't sure if she could handle another orgasm, but the way Minho's mouth worked against her core combined with the steam from the hot water that was falling on her mercilessly made her head dizzy.

Fuck, he was too good at this. It's like he already knew her body perfectly, as he licked between her folds just right. Nothing and no one could even begin to compare to how good he was making her feel yet again, and she allowed herself to get lost in the pleasure he was bringing her. Soon enough, her legs started trembling powerfully as she felt that knot in her lower stomach come undone for the third time that night, and she couldn't stand anymore.

Minho quickly caught on and placed her leg back on the floor as he stood up and supported her weight, embracing her.

"Fucking hell." She mumbled, making him chuckle. "I don't think my body can handle one more."

"You did well." He praised her, caressing her back slowly, letting the water wash her. "Now let's wash up for real."

She held onto him as he covered her body in wash gel, as he rinsed it off, and as they both stepped out of the shower, wiping down with a large towel.

Going back to his room, they laid on the bed, and Crystal placed her head on Minho's chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"I'm sorry for hurting you." He said quietly, caressing the back of her head gently. "I promise I'll never do it again."

The girl was already fast asleep and didn't hear him, but he didn't mind. Her naked body was warm against his, she smelled of vanilla, and she was finally his.

~

The next morning, Crystal found the bed empty, but on Minho's desk, there was a box of Belgian Chocolate - her favourites - and a note saying "I'm at the gym. I love you."

Perhaps everything will finally be okay, and she's found that place she so desperately wanted to call home.

And that would be Minho.

~

~5 months later~

The summer holiday came with a big change in Minho's and Crystal's lives, as both of them glanced up to the big building they were going to be working in.

Choi Enterprises.

Minho, for a permanent role, as he was finally done with Uni, and Crystal as an intern, in the role of assistant manager, the position offered to her by Mr. Choi so many months ago during Christmas.

Despite it being nerve wrecking, both were excited to start a new chapter, and most importantly, they were both happy.

They were looking forward to the rest of their lives together.

~The END~ 

---

(A/N) Thank you so much for reading ''I can read your smile"! 

I hope you enjoyed it, and that you'll read my other works as well.

Love,

Storm

[neon-pink-witch]

🥃 🎤 🦾 for Seven’s core memories!

Look at me! Answering my ask like I said I would a week ago

ENDGAME SPOILERS

Also let's keep in mind that Seven is OP as fuck but it's okay because she's my OC and if I want her super charged then that's okay. I encourage everyone to make OP OCs

🥃 Rogue

I'm still fully fleshing out Seven and Rogue's relationship but what comes to mind is right before Rogue leaves with Johnny to help him get to Miskoshi after the meeting at Embers.

Seven beats Johnny to her and gives Rogue a shard to plug into an access. The shard contains a virus called "Delirium" which knocks out the entire power grid of Night City and directly attacks Smashers system (my way of explaining why Smasher is kind of a push over in the game compared to the ttrpg and Edgerunners).

It's during this exchange that both Seven and Rogue silently know that Rogue is running towards her death. Seven calls her "Mom" and hugs her. Rogue doesn't correct her and hugs her back. It's the last time Seven ever sees her.

🎤Kerry

Most of Seven and Kerry's interactions happen post game. Molly Pyro breaks up due to Molly getting hurt thanks to thier manager literally selling Molly out(Seven kills the manager under the cover the Delirium virus I mentioned above. This is still something in fleshing out so I haven't mentioned it much) Seven goes solo. With Rogue dead, V assumed dead and Molly in a treatment center, Seven has little choice.

Seven first real core memory with Kerry isn't a good one. He finds her in an elevator with a broken, bloody nose after she goes on a very public bender. Not knowing what to do, he drags her into his hotel room and doctors her back up. Seven wakes up the next morning and tries to thank Kerry but he freaks out and accuses her of planning the entire thing just so he could nurse her back to health. Kerry still has trauma from his relationship with Johnny and Seven unknowingly triggered that. Instead of getting pissed off and screaming back, like Kerry expected (again abusive relationship trauma from being "with" Johnny) she tears up and tells Kerry that no she was just using the elevator and while she happy he helped her to not bother next time if he's "just gonna be a fucking asshole about it". She leaves and it takes a lot longer for her to open to him because of this.

🦾Johnny

First off I have a metal arm emoji!! Neat!!

Seven gets wind of a "Netrunners box" that the VooDoo Boys can't open. It's hers. She buys and ask V to help her. Johnny is the one who shows up. The handoff is a trap and despite Seven almost begging that "nothing in this box is worth anyone dying over" it turns into a shoot out. Said shoot out ends with the remaining VooDoo bot grabbing Seven and putting a gun to her head to get Johnny to surrender. Seven encourages Johnny to take the shot and while him and gang members go back and forth, Seven reactives the SmartLink system in Johnny's gun and he easily blast the guys head to piece (not that Johnny needed the SmartLink but I think it's a nice nod to the ttrpg)

Turns out the box is a mix of Seven's old Samurai collection and some things that belonged to her late high school boyfriend. It's pretty emotional for her since she's the one who found her boyfriend's body and his death set off a chain reaction that led her to where she is.

Before the pills wear off Johnny personally invites Seven to the concert at Red Dirt then kisses her. Not so much out of like romantic love or anything like that but Seven's a Samurai groupie who can hold her own in a shoot out and shows as much skin as she can get away with.

I'm open to follow up questions and things like that! Doing better mentally so I'm hoping to answer my ask faster

[sincelastsession]

Me and Justin just broke off the trying to date for now and are just back to good friends. I am processing it still. I see him tomorrow because we are doing laundry still then he's going back to work and then I have a birthday party to go to with Trav that we got invited to.

He has a higher libido than I do currently.

I asked him if he had his dream girl and could have everything with her but sex would he still want to be with her. He said no.

He views sex as something couples are more obligated to do but then backpedaled about that a bit.

He told me I have a sexual dysfunction disorder. He continued to encourage me to work on my libido. I decided to just tell him it was obvious we weren't compatible. I am pissed off because I did like cuddling him and my apartment has fleas because he's doing a fucking old fashioned method of killing them. So now I don't get physical contact with someone I'm comfortable with because CUDDLING APPARENTLY IS TOO MUCH AND BRO FEELS THAT IT'S HARD TO COTROL HIS WEEWEE.

The amount I want to scream.

I was going to attempt to make out with him.

My last attempt at almost asking him for more intimacy was full on slammed with repulsion.

I think that I haveva trauma trigger related to the pedophile woman that would buy her daughter and me and our friends alcohol and encourage sexual behavior. That's how I met him at one of those parties me and Annie would have at her place. That's how we ended up being foreplay partners and had a fling that didn't result in sex after high-school. I'm realizing that these parties were fucked up and it was at more than one of these parties I was sexually assaulted. This woman was gross and she'd jokingly lock us in the car and lift up her shirt and flash us then press her tits to the window.

There's much more to this.

But to circle back I think it's a factor on my repulsion. I feel like one part of me is having a huge fucking flipout but I've pushed her away smoked a bowl and I have to get sleep soon.

Hannah wants to call me tomorrow. I am going to give her a chance. I don't have to worry about sex with her because she understood biromantic and nothing more. I do have to worry about other things with her.

I don't like that Justin seemed sex focused. He tried to shift blame when he never clarified what I meant by certain things I was clear about. Like the time I thought we were having a "What's your kink or fantasy" conversation but he felt I was trying to sexually frustrate him or something?

What the fuck is it with straight white dudes that they think of women more as objects and property and holes to fill.

I don't know how the fuck one month was too slow.

He didn't tell me that he felt he couldn't be his true self around me because I had asked him to not make crude sex jokes around me. They were very gross cringe. He said he was scared to ask me questions about anything sexual. I'd set a boundary that I wanted to spend time with him NOT discussing sexual stuff. He basically had a polite tantrum and then just decided that I needed to work on my sex repulsion issue with a sex therapist that would expose me to the stimuli that was triggering me to fix the problem and I just got so mad during this entire talk trying so hard to understand that this man ain't for me he seems still into me like he's gonna wait till I'm cured and I'm so fucking repulsed. I am going to just tell him we aren't compatible again sober tomorrow. I am fucking sad I won't get cuddles or a hand hold because that's too TEMPTING jfc. And I'm sad it didn't work out but glad it didn't because that would have not worked out.

I wish I was attracted to Travis more. When I was talking to him earlier I gave him the "if you had your dream partner but you couldn't gave sex" question and he was like "I almost was with a woman that was wheelchair bound and couldn't have sex" and then he said he would just live without sex.

I know Justin is a bit better behaved than some men would be and a catch for someone but I currently don't think it's me.

I'm happy we can still be friends because he's not a bad friend.

Feeling really down though.

I guess my biggest red flag was he picked the man over the bear 🐻 and didn't understand the point.

I still want to be sexually active but it's really hard to find the right person. The only person here I'd let touch me is my ex currently. That's not currently an option and I'm sad.

I just can't believe dude couldn't wait for sex or communicate with me properly and waited for 2 weeks to just do the "didn't wanna hurt you" bullshit.

I was clear with him and I did apologize for all this shit that I didn't need to apologize for.

I know that the anxious compulsive adhd talking was bothering him too. He was trying to fix everything he didn't like about me. First it was diet. Then it was that. Then it was the sex thing.

He read through a list of methods even when I asked him not to. He got mad when I explained that these methods were not successful.

He was incapable of understanding that what im going through with that is hell. I don't know what caused it. I don't think it was just not being seen or heard because I was not like this bad till my 30's and it just got WORSE. I still don't know for sure to what extent is neurological. Idk if it's just one of my diagnosis on fire. I dunno if it's multiple things.

I wish I could afford a nerve block to ease my ptsd.

The ketemine treatments have interested me but I'll have to as my current psychiatrist again. My last one and this one and his PA didn't think it was a good idea.

Sometimes I was to say fuck it and do shrooms because fucking everyone is like "SHROOMS WILL FIX YOU" So many people have offered them to me for free. I've been offered microdoses too.

Well they might help or they might make me psychotic as fuck and stuck acting like a paranoid schizophrenic like what happened to a friend that did too many.

My Geneticist Meredith Allen definitely thinks I have gene mutations that are causing me many physical health issues. They are all very frustrating and traumatizing to live with. I'm in pain all the time. All the time. I am masking automatically about the pain because no one really gives a fuck unless it looks serious. Having invisible illness is psychologically damaging and not enough people understand this. They don't get that at a young age I went through every test you can imagine TWICE. A Kennedy funded the study. I always thought it was odd.

My whole life has been odd.

I don't think I should have to fit in with the neurotypical people. The world is already built for them. They don't think like me at all. It's hard for them to not make assumptions and other cognitive distortions are projected towards me.

I feel like I've been burnt out for too long and I don't know how to recover. I feel like there's never enough time. There's always this urgency feeling I dread. I hate being late. I hate being behind my friends that have an easier time than me. I hate when people don't realize that their behavior towards me is coming off as treating me less than like I'm stupid when I have already clocked them and am doing my bast to mirror and mask

Sometimes I can't talk well. I stutter. I scramble my words. I call it "glitching out" It's fairly new.

Ok I'm going to bed.

Here's a pretty picture I took not too long ago.

[sublimeloverstrawberry]

Everything She does is for attention...

At 1040pm you liked a photo when I asked "would you buy what I sell?" From a professional page after I asked for a rejection.

I started getting more spiritual and made an Instagram about it, never tagging you in a post and you found it, and shared it. "A pink dress will be your sign" and then Mathilde came in and confronted me. I could tell when you were anxious and learned you watched my stories anonymously. I wanted to help your anxiety and depression in real time.

"butterflies will be your next sign" and I played a new game where your dash turns you into butterflies... You asked to talk to me after work.

Then all hell broke loose. You astral projected into a hospital room I wasn't supposed to be in. I fell through multiple realities and dimensions and looked crazy. The Mafia Members started reading more, smiling more, relaxing more, and I heard their influences when I meditated. Then I started to hear Her. For 1 month I accepted her as a spiritual friend. Then I got literally blocked on social media but you could still send me a message... Fucking toxic bullshit.

I took my distance and started to open up my creativity, blocked on all accounts which I understood but then I found her. Toxic bullshit.

I still check to see if you finally blocked me or if I am still your source of hope. I deserve better, but you are my twinflames and I refuse to leave you behind. I'm waiting for you to see your worth, and decide I'm worth getting to know as a friend.

I don't even fantasize at night about you. I objectified you for a full year, and I felt sick to my stomach when I realized. You might have heard me banging on the cafe counter explaining how your body felt against mine... I realized I was wrong to see you only as an object of lust.

Even though I imagine the sexual things I'd like to share with you, I don't use those fantasies for self pleasure. I never have used real people for that kind of thing because reality is always better than any fantasy.

But there were 3 times where I felt a pull, similar to knowing your anxiety but more lust than anxiety. And those 3 times I did arrive by myself thinking of you, but it was far more spiritual than general lust. One even charged a rose quartz.

But you're in a relationship. Model walked away from me. Mimics me. Puts active effort to avoid me.

If you and I were dating, and She was the one you worked your ass off to avoid, that would be a cause for a long intimate conversation.

What about her makes you feel so mentally aroused that you have to actively plan a way to avoid her?

Why do you put in so much energy towards her?

What am I doing that is encouraging this sort of focus on her?

Why don't you feel secure in talking to me about these emotions you feel?

How can I help support your wishes towards this person?

Is there an aspect of me I'm not dealing with that her existence is triggering in me I need to work on?

Do I make you feel safe?

Do I give you enough space for you to understand your emotions towards her?

Is it space you want or a conversation where you feel heard?

Is this a healthy hurdle or is this something we need to acknowledge?

If someone has so much of your attention why would I fight to keep yours?

What does her existence make me feel towards myself and my present situation?

What have I done in the past that brought us to this conflict?

How well do I hold myself accountable for my emotions towards this stranger?

How safe, secure, heard, wanted, and validated do I make you feel?

I'm only a threat because both of you have perceptions and projections you've placed on me. I'm a no one, except for the past I share with Him. Which is literally just an inability to express my emotions appropriately, and having microexpessions that scream "I love you".

So why is she following this blog, why do you avoid me, why do you check my social media? Why do your friends check my stories? Why does Mafia have opinions about me?

Why do I have such a large impact for a community I just started to integrate myself into?

[emmyrosee]

Alright but... a kinky Gordon Merkel interrogating reader? As a snippet or something? Have you thought about that already? Like she’s bound to a chair and he needs to know some infos she doesn’t want to give up?

Hi there! Future Emmy here! This ask is VERY old, buuuuut who am I, if not a Merkel whore.

I do just want a lil disclaimer and trigger warning that I was writing this as a DUBCON-ROLEPLAY PIECE. It didn’t start that way, but it’s the only way I could do it within my own comfort. So please, read it as if it’s a man doing this to his consenting partner- or don’t. I won’t shame 👀

Smooches! 💋

“So, are you going to tell me the association who sent you?”

The snakelike hiss of the agent who had captured you grates against your ear like nails on a chalkboard, rousing goosebumps from your skin and your left eye to twitch in protest. Your ankles, tied to a leg of the chair you were currently bound to kept you pried open, to the point your hips felt ready to pop from their sockets; your arms tied above you in an intricate knot, seemingly foreign to you as your fingers try to work it. 

Nothing you can’t handle. Child’s play, mystery man.

You hated his closeness, the heat from his breath spanning over your cheek, the smell of his hair gel leaving an mentholic burn in your nose. Stale bourbon, cigarette smoke and expensive, masking cologne make you feel sick, and you reel away the closer he gets.

“You’ll have to buy me a drink in Hell before I tell you who sent me,” you growl, moving to spit in front of his feet. He chuckles lowly, grabbing your cheeks firmly in between his fingers and forcing your neck to turn farther than it should, almost as if trying to twist the head off of a Barbie doll.

“Keep the attitude and that can be arranged,” he chuckles as if you were a child being scolded. “You do not want to make this worse for yourself, little one,” he says, his voice low and disgustingly alluring as he traces his nose over your cheek. “I am a man who has nothing to lose and all to gain... you will lose.”

You hiss and wrench your head from his grip, your skull colliding with his nose, and you smirk as he curses in German and pulls back, massive paws covering his mouth and nose.

He offers you a low chuckle before spitting out a wad of blood; passing you a look, the blood dripping from his nose to stain his teeth and gums, he quickly winds his hand back up before backhanding you with enough force to turn your head in the other direction. The thick rings adorning his fingers crack one of your molars, the metallic taste of your own crimson blood making you queasy. You tip your head to spit out the blood, only to flash a smirk back at him.

“That all you got, Mister?” You encourage, watching his jaw tick. “You hold no powers; I can take any pain you dole.”

The corners of his mouth tip towards a smirk, “they had mentioned you might be… accustomed to pain. A little girl like you, I didn’t want to believe it.”

You scowl with a soft “fuck you,” but instead of cracking you once again with his ring hand, he stalks to the back of the dark room, hands rustling in a drawer of sorts, and you cock your brow in confusion, trying to listen for any audio clues for his searching. 

It was a jostle of a knife, at first. It made a shiver run down your spine, and you swallow as his shoulders shift and bend under the thick, black sweater he was wearing. Your eyes scan over the darkness for something, anything familiar, and you snarl softly to yourself at the inability to make out something, anything to remember the location.

A light above you. This chair. These rope. And the man who now holds your life in his calloused fingers.

Snapped from your own thoughts as the clicking of expensive shoes draw closer, the man smirks slyly, slender fingers drawing up and down the sharp curve of the knife.

“It does not have to be like this,” he sighs dramatically, tongue tracing his swollen upper lip. “I am more than willing to offer us both a solution that consensually benefits us.” His eyes lull over you bored, and you sit back against your uncomfortable seat.

“No.”

“Shame.” Without allowing you to think twice, the blade of the knife slices a jagged slip through your shirt before being tossed to the side and being replaced with two large paws; despite your shrieks of disapproval, his hands shred your shirt from your body, hot skin being nipped at the thick, bitterly chilled air.

“DO NOT TOUCH ME!” You scream, your legs trying to fight harder against your tied ankles, and all he does is chuckle before slipping his hand under your brazier. Rough fingertips pinch your nipple roughly, and as your thighs try to tighten on themselves, you only scream louder.

Another filthy, disgusting hand slithers down between your spread legs and cups your hot mound in his fingers. Tears brim at your eyes, fearful and angry for the nerve of such a creature to do the unspeakable to you.

No. Not by him.

“Stop!” You plead, and he merely gives you a snort. “I’ll talk! Please! I’ll fucking talk, get away from me!”

Green eyes flick up to meet your offended gaze, and skilled fingers pop the button of your pants open. “You had your chance, didn’t you, little one?” He croons, thick fingers slipping down your underwear, and you tremble in horror at the wetness that had shamefully pooled against the fabric.

“Besides,” he says softly, cocking his head. “You don’t really want me to stop, do you? Hmm?”

You wail as two meaty fingers slip inside of your velvet cavern, the sting of being stretched and resistance against the act only making your head drop back to let a euphoric, girlish moan out.

“That’s right,” he purrs. “I could smell you from up here… yes, you’re going to talk. But first?” He leans his face down to be nose to nose, your hot breath getting trapped between you as your cloudy eyes look up at him.

“You’re going to beg.”

[legionofpotatoes]

my thonks on the new game I played this weekend, under the cut for length and spoilers

I softly clicked the Sable icon when first booting it up yesterday, expecting a visually pleasing indie game about nothing with Mechanics LiteTM loosely screwed on; and I am sitting here now on a platinum trophy, with messed up hair and wide open eyes, wondering what the fuck has just happened.

It completely blindsided me with the Entire Rest Of The Experience after I was done oohing and aahing at the cel shaded packaging. I was expecting a Journey-esque barebones rumination on esoteric concepts at the very best, but here I was seeing a charming story that was one hundred percent steeped in metaphors but decidedly about something. or maybe two things in my mind, identity and purpose, and it goes about articulating them through character writing which is. So good?? Sable is an actual character. with interiority and desires, and her world is peppered with NPCs that are eager to chat back and reveal that they very much possess their own, too. The story is fury-road-simple, yet her growth is palpable and almost entirely gameplay-driven through player lens and agency. You get to literally decide what your purpose is and what purpose even means by the end. And the more you engage with and give to the world, the more it gives back to inform and enrich the context around that decision. It is such a deliciously simple parable that it is impossible not to click with it on some level.

And yeah, the game design is fucking rock-solid, another surprise. Not that I short-change indies because of their scope necessarily, but they do generally tend to be on the single-idea-test-drive side of the industry equation, rarely excelling at all internal pillars at once. Not the case here. There are smart choices made in borrowing mechanics from other titles and throwing them in an elegant mix that works in the internal math of this specific world; and it is all from-the-top efficiency. Sable looks for purpose through exploration and wears her currently preferred identity on her sleeve, so the entire macro loop is dialed in on those two elements. exploration and expression, with all extra fat trimmed off. your stamina meter feeds the first, various cosmetics feed the second. deft RPG-like quest structure and varied mission chains award you with boosts to both.

It is difficult to articulate, but the symbiosis between story and gameplay is really-really tight here, the very opposite of ludonarrative dissonance, to an almost indistinguishable degree. And it is never best exemplified than during the ending of the game, wherein the ending is a choice you make, you choose to end the game when you decide that Sable has found her purpose (it is all a neat dance of mask metaphors and communal occupations); and if you decide that she hasn't, or that her purpose is the search, the text automatically supports and encourages it. You can end it with 75% of the content untouched, or glide endlessly on, wearing any mask you start liking at any point. It is the ultimate celebration of autonomy in destiny and identity, and its fluidity, and its ownership. The game makes that distinction with a gentle firmness; the gliding rituals are solitary, personal. You make that final choice for yourself, you acknowledge the consequences but it is yours to make or not make.

The game is the search, and it ends if you decide that Sable has found herself.

The word "gentle" is so evergreen when thinking about this game, too. It is incredibly chill and introspective, yet manages to achieve triple-A level forward momentum without using a lick of combat gameplay, competitive beatdowns, fail states even, just entirely disregarding violence as a form of interaction between the player and the world, both lanes. And I know I'm biased to home in on and love this sort of thing because empathy-building gameplay is something I preach about like an annoying doomsday prophet but really, it really works here, despite me and despite itself. There is genuine good game design underneath the naivete of the idea, driving engagement and keeping your attention glued to the process without using combat mechanics. In an open-world RPG-like arena. It can be done.

And it looks and sounds fucking great and there's pretty decent customization of Sable and even of your weird kinda-alive bike that has terrible pathfinding when summoned. The selective absence of depth tones can be disorienting at first, but the aesthetic sorta makes its case with time, and the charming animations (is Sable animated on twos when she runs?) lock in the spell. The game is definitely finicky in some technical areas; I encountered one fairly major bug that randomly sorted itself out after minutes of me doing nothing (the button activating the watch sundial wouldn't trigger), and fairly common pains of open-world streaming would sometimes fire off like random audio cues and NPCs spawning on top of one another and real bad frame drops in geometry-heavy areas. But I definitely heard much worse than I experienced with my run. I managed to 100% the whole thing without a hitch and even wore my princess chum dress to the final gliding ceremony.

Anyway. I want to talk about a thousand different things Sable does well but this post was mainly about how good it is with telling a story about purpose that you get to both literally and metaphorically search for before deciding to end or not end it. It is just very very good at being story-first. Please buy it! Instead of fighting giant beetles you kinda try and make them poop for science, it's amazing.

[uwuwriting]

Todoroki, Shinsou and Iida protecting you

Request: Hello can I request todo, shinsou and iida protecting their girlfriend from cat callers or something like that? Basically her being in a really uncomfortable situation and even though she is a fearless hero in the field because of past trauma she freezes up in these situations? Thank you - anonymous

This post might trigger some people since they might have experienced something similar both in the cat calling and past trauma department. I’ve never really written anything so serious and triggering before so this might suck. I’m sorry in advance. So TW beware. Love yaa.💖💖💖

rules

warnings: trauma, PTSD, semi non-con but not explicit, cat-calling, harassment, ends in fluff

Todoroki Shouto

-Shouto is really protective of you. 

-Not an overbearing type of protective, he just wants you to be safe and sound. 

-Also he knew about your abusive past.

-When he shared his family background you shared your own trauma and history with physical abuse. 

-It hurt him to hear you saying that someone you trusted, someone who used to be in his place, betrayed you like that. 

-If he could find your ex and beat him to a plump because of how he scarred you, he would. 

-But you reassured him that you were alright now, that he showed you what being loved felt like even though he himself didn’t really know how to love and that your past is what pushed you to be a hero. 

-Your relationship lasted even after high school and now, one year into the adult world, you two lived together. 

-It had been a tough day for your boyfriend at work, having to fight three major villain attacks and a mountain of paper work to tackle. 

-Fighting along side you was the highlight of his day. 

-He was the first to arrive at your apartment and had gotten to preparing dinner for you when his phone rang. 

-You smiled back at him from the screen as he accepted the call. 

- “Hey, love. I making so-”

- “Sho someone is following me.”

-He heard the panic in your voice and immediately turned off the stove walking to the door to put on his shoes. 

- “Y/N where are you?”

-You gave him your location and he was out the door in no time. 

-He kept you on the phone, talking to you, trying to restrain your panic. 

- “H-he was outside of the pharmacy near the a-agency.” 

-You never stuttered, oh god he was going to kill the man. 

- “I walked past him and he grabbed my arm a-and pushed me on the w-wall. Shouto he tried to t-touch me.”

-He was running now, his rage making his quirk go crazy as flames rose from his left shoulder. 

- “Baby I’m almost there, go into the convenience store on the corner and wait in there.”

-Your weak okay from the other line pushed him further. 

-He knew how certain acts reminded you of your ex, even after all these years. 

-They would send you into a small panic and even though you were one of the top upcoming heroes , you were still human at the end of the day your own past haunting you. 

-He was always there to chase those fears and memories away, never letting them get to close to you. 

-And now that’s exactly what he has set out to do; chase away the man who tried to hurt you. 

-Rounding the corner he was met with a sight he wished to never ever witness again. 

-It seems that you hadn’t made it into the store when he hang up and he slapped himself for not keeping you on the call for longer. 

-He heard your sobs as the man had you pinned to the wall his hand trying to unzip your jeans. 

-Shouto was fuming. 

-Without a second thought he grabbed the man by his jacket and shoved him to the ground, grabbing your elbows to steady you before pushing you gently behind him as the man stood up. 

- “Want a taste of her too boy?”

- “Get the fuck away from her!”

-Shouto kept one of his arms behind him pressing you onto his back as the other activated his quirk frost forming from his elbow to his palm. 

-He could feel your trembling as you clutched onto his shirt, on of your hands grasping his own squeezing it. 

-The man backed away at the sight of Shouto’s ice raising his hands in the air admitting defeat. 

-Shouto however had other plans. 

-Freezing the man on the spot he growled as he fished his phone out of his pocket and called the police reporting what the man had done and his location.

- “If I ever see you again anywhere near her I’m not going to be this kind got it?”

-And with that you two left as the police sirens sounded in the distance. 

-Back in your apartment, Shouto helped you get undressed and then ran you a bath, wiping away the man’s touch and leaving small kisses were his hands used to be. 

-He helped you get dressed in one of his hoodies and a loose pair of sweatpants before setting you down on the couch and ordering your favorite food.

-He heard your small sniffles and sat down beside you, bringing you on his lap and letting you cry it out, rocking you back and forth as he kisses your hair.

-You calm down after some time but Shouto won’t let you leave his embrace.

- “I won’t let anyone else hurt you ever again. I don’t care where I am you will always call me when something happens. I love you.”

-For the next month or so Shouto was at your beck and call, never leaving your side and even going as far to take some days off to spend as much time with you as possible.

-He kept his promise as he kept you safe for the rest of your lives. 

Shinsou Hitoshi

-Hitoshi was there for you when he found out about how one of you family members had hurt you. 

-He was there when you would wake up with nightmares while sleeping in his dorm. 

-Or when you had panic attacks after someone came at you in a way that seemed all too familiar. 

-He was there every step of the way. 

-Hitoshi was really amazed at how you zoned in on your work and those thoughts never held you back. 

-PTSD was hard to battle and even harder to deal with in a work place such as yours. 

-After high school your panic attacks fell in numbers, leaving you to rest peacefully at night.

-Shinsou was sure he had chased your demons away, that you felt completely safe with him and that he would never see your trembles of fear ever again.

-But he was wrong. 

-You two were out on a date, walking along the beach on a sunny day enjoying each others company. 

-Shinsou went to buy you two ice cream leaving you to wait for him on a bench.

-You were minding your business, checking up with your agency to make sure everything is alright; after all it’s not everyday that your main two heroes are out of commission for the day. 

- “Damn girl where’d ya get all that ass!”

-It came from a group of man behind you who were staring at you like a piece of meat.

-You tried to ignore them switching to your messages ready to text Hitoshi.

- “Those shorts look so tight on you sweetheart.”

- “I bet it’s not the only thing that’s tight about her.”

-You had frozen up at the nickname.

-It brought back everything you and Shinsou had managed to scare off, pushing them down your throat making your insides twist in disgust. 

 -He isn’t here it’s just some awful cat callers, Y/N calm down. 

-You tried to calm yourself down using your common sense, separating the two situations and pointing out the differences, a  technique Shinsou had taught you while you were still in high school.

-You were so lost in thought you hadn’t noticed the three men hovering over you, one of them reaching down to grasp your thigh. 

-That’s when you started to tremble.

- “Aw look at her, she’s so excited..”

- “Let’s go have some fun pretty girl.”

- “We’ll make you feel so good you won’t be able to walk home.”

-You shoved the man’s hand away and went to get up only for an arm to snake around your waist  pulling you back down on the bench. 

- “Now now sweetheart don’t be naughty.”

-You wanted Hitoshi. 

-You wanted your Hitoshi so bad right now.

-And as if you had summoned him, purple hair could be seen above the men’s heads. 

-Shoving them off of you one more time you pushed through hitting Shinsou’s chest as he wrapped an arm around you. 

-He pushed you behind his back before scanning the three men, leveling them with a glare so sharp it could slice right through them. 

- “You better leave my girl alone before I get really angry.”

-The men scrambled to their feet before running off, terrified from Hitoshi’s structure. 

- “Kitten! Kitten are you alright? Did they hurt you? Please kitty talk to me.”

-Tears ran down your cheeks and Shisnou just pulled you gently into his chest before telling you that he was taking you home.

-This man will do everything in the house after that. 

-He undresses you and helps into the shower to clear their touch from your skin, then he dresses you in one of his large hoodies and lays you on the couch. 

-He can see you are still trembling so he comes back and takes you into his arms before going back to doing whatever he had in mind. 

-Now this is a scene to behold. 

-Two of Japan’s strongest heroes are walking around their house cosplaying a panda and its bamboo stick. 

 -He orders take out and then lays on the couch, still having you on his lap drowning your sobs in his chest as he says over and over again how sorry he is for leaving you alone and how much he loves you. 

-He knows you haven’t had an episode in what felt like ages. 

-It really shook him seeing you so helpless and terrified again. 

-He swore he would never see that petrified glint in your eyes. 

-That was his new mission. 

-And he was willing to do anything to accomplish it. 

Iida Tenya 

-Iida is well aware about how your ex had forced you to do certain things with him. 

-He also knew how you believed that what had happened had been your fault. 

-He had reassured you that nothing was your fault,that your ex was to blame and to never see yourself other than the victim in this situation. 

-It hurt him to see you suffer so much. 

-He had provided you with a shoulder to cry on and soon enough you two were together.

-When during your last year of high school, his comfort and words didn’t really cut it he encouraged you to see a therapist. 

-And that helped you a lot. 

-It untangled the parts Iida couldn’t reach on his own and coupled with his support you managed to pull yourself fully out of the whole that your ex had dug. 

-Now Iida knew that somethings still triggered you. 

-He knew what he should and shouldn’t do while you two are being intimate and what he should watch out for. 

-So when you two are taking the train to visit Deku in his agency for his birthday and he feels you squeezed his hand a little too hard he knew something was up. 

-You had buried you face in his shoulder, something he wouldn’t allow if you had asked, squeezing his hand as your breathing became uneven. 

-Iida looked around expecting to see your ex somewhere thinking that he was the reason for your small attack. 

-But he found no one he knew in the crowd. 

-Then his eyes fell back down to you and from the corner of his eye he caught movement under your dress. 

-Following the source of the movement with his eyes he was met with the lustful eyes of a grown ass man, his hand under your skirt groping and squeezing you. 

-He saw his hand trying to separate your thighs and that’s when he fully snapped. 

-Grabbing the man’s hand he shoved it in his chest before placing himself between you and him. 

- “How dare you touch her like that? You should be ashamed of yourself!!”

-The whole train was looking at the man at this point and Iida could see how the vein on his forehead popped. 

- “Being an adult, you should know better.”

-Others chimed in insulting and shaming the man while others asked you if you were alright. 

-At the next stop the person got off a chain of angry comments following him out. 

- “Y/N honey are you alright?”

-You buried your face in his chest and he let you stay there for the rest of the ride. 

-He placed on hand on your back rubbing soft circles over your sweater and talking to you not allowing your thoughts/memories to creep further into your mind. 

-He kept your hand in his for as long as you were away from your apartment. 

-You would squeeze his hand every now and then, grounding yourself. 

-Once at home late that evening he pampered you. 

-He ran you a bubble bath and cooked your favorite food. 

-He made a small pillow fort on your couch while you were in the bath and he waited for you to finish. 

-The rest of your day and night was spent in your boyfriend’s arms never letting you go once. 

-He provided his warmth and comfort. 

-Just like when you were in high  school.

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​

[love-peterparker]

In Extremis || Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: After the reveal of Spider-Man’s secret identity and the release of Quentin Beck’s murder video, there isn’t a lot going right for Peter Parker. But he has you. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, protests and rallies, mentions of murder, a gun that is never shot, and some hair description for Y/N for plot purposes (but it should still be generic enough).  

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: I’m first a Captain America and Agent Carter fan, and I wanted to recreate what makes their relationship so special, but with Peter and Y/N… ‘cuz I also love Peter Parker. I really loved writing this, and I hope you enjoy it.

Also, thanks to @marvelouspeterparker, @sinisterspidey (she actually has a blurb called I’ll Follow You and it builds off of Spider-Man’s identity reveal) and @stuckonspidey for answering my anon asks for general writing tips and Peter’s character. And @spideyspeaches with her kind words after reading one of the final drafts of this fic. Lastly, a special thanks to @peterbenjiparker encouraging me with this fic and for making me so emotional with her series Invisible String (Read this!... but only if your heart can take it) that I needed to write something. This story has nothing to do with it, but it does make some small generic references to her fic, and I would like to think that Y/N and Peter are soulmates in this story.

***

This takes place in a universe where a FFH-esque identity reveal happens when Y/N and Peter are young adults.

***

This fucking city didn’t deserve him.

Peter rarely admits it, but you say it all the time. When you hit a dead end in the Avenger’s database. When checking for your gun before leaving another safehouse. When reaching for him in the dark of night.

This fucking city didn’t deserve him.

It had been over a year since Peter’s identity as Spider-Man was revealed and the dubious video of Quentin Beck’s murder was released. But it felt like a lifetime.

These two Peter problems were like ivy. They rooted, twisted, and spread. Winding into chokeholds around their victims.

But heroes knew how to play with fire.

Peter’s identity was dealt with in a straightforward fashion. Plenty villains who would do anything to exact revenge on Spider-Man, but they would have to find Peter Parker and identify his loved ones first. And for someone like Peter? Well, it was going to take some time.

To you, Peter was lifegiving. A shining ray of golden hope. You fell to sleep and rose to press kisses into his face. To cherish and hold. To share tears. But to the world, or even New York City? He was a nobody, one who couldn’t even hold a steady job.

You all worked fast while the wicked played catch-up. The Avengers searched and wiped all, but ultimately little personal information Peter had on the internet, as well anything that might connect him to your shared inner circle. Everyone was given an Avenger’s signal watch. And both you and May opted to move as a precaution. May to Brooklyn. You to Avenger’s Tower.

The case of Quentin Beck’s murder was a much more grinding process. Through polished superhero reputations, the lawyers secured an Avenger’s Tower house arrest during court proceedings. An overwhelming amount of evidence in Peter’s favor was gathered. Press conferences were held. Speeches were given. And when it all seemed like it was too much for too long, you and Peter would lie in bed, arms and legs entangled, whispering that everything would turn out all right. Good will win. You just had to keep going.

It was taxing, but not impossible. And just when you all thought you were pulling at the end of the thread with the jury in your favor, the ground beneath you crumbles into nothingness. You spiral and crash into a labyrinth, lush and high-walled. Maybe this was the way out- oh wait, you’ve been here- or have you? You all turn and turn only to face a new dead end. A new set of incriminating videos were released. Spider-Man’s videos took the spotlight, but videos of Wanda and Bucky were also revealed. The streets of New York bustled in whispers.

Can we really trust these heroes? What if these videos are the truth?

And what happens when these powerful people think they are right when they are wrong?

When public protests against Earth’s heroes sprouted and jury members started to disappear, it was clear that the whoever or whatever was behind this had greater motives and powerful allies. It was time to buy time.

Everyone had tried to convince Peter to go into hiding somewhere else. Anywhere else. He had enough super-friends where anywhere was possible. Lay low while everyone else above ground scrambled to unweave this massive web of lies. But Peter was infuriatingly adamant that New York, regardless of her wavering loyalties, was his to protect.

So two months ago, he started bouncing around New York City, investigating when he could, and making polarizing headlines with every swing he took.

You tried to continue as if Peter was still by your side. After being terminated from your junior journalist job for “suspect ties to Spider-Man,” Spider-Man became your mission. You originally attended press conferences and rallies as moral support, but after Peter’s first awkward mumbles of a speech, it was painfully clear that he needed a new voice. The public herself needed a normal person who interacted with superheroes. Who better than Spider-Man’s girlfriend? But after the last kidnapping attempt and the Avengers’ numbers shrinking, it was clear that this wouldn’t last. The world now knew who you were too.

The thick ivy had caught up, and you were on fire.

But to hell with it because there was no universe where you would be leaving this nightmare without him. So the next time you looked in the mirror, you donned short red hair and heavy eyeliner.  

Days were spent questioning possible witnesses. Nights were spent in the light of a computer. And when you could barely drag yourself to continue, moments were spent staring at your beautiful boy’s picture. He needed you.  

You had only heard from him twice since he went into hiding, though there were a few times answered unknown number calls would lead to abstract rustling and distinct web shooter noises. To those, you always whispered “I love you,” before hanging up.

That was until last night, when you noticed small slip of paper in the crack of the window of the safehouse you had been staying at. Only a time and an address were written, in messy, but undeniably Parker script.

You spent the next day visiting arbitrary places in the Bronx, trying to determine if anyone was following you and collecting items in an unsuspecting backpack.

It was a balancing act between comfort and practicalities. An extra stealth suit. A waterproof jacket you both shared. Protein bars. Extra web fluid and a first-aid kit. A hefty wad of cash, just in case. And in the smallest pocket, things to help him in the darkest days to come. Letters from you, May, Ned, and your other friends. A few packs of gummy bears. And a picture of you and him, laughing in Central Park on one of your many dates. Sunlight casting halos on your heads. Bright. Carefree. Brimming with love.

Your heart cried and cried and cried, begging for those days.

But they were gone. And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, so were the people in that picture.

You travelled to the building location and made your way to the rooftop. Rows and rows of white sheets were hung, all whipping in the wind to dry.

A small smile graced your lips. You had to hand it to him. He was smart.

You folded yourself into one of the corners of the rooftop, gun in hand and waited. Eerie silence slowly lulling you to…

You woke up to the soft footsteps, sleepy eyes registering a shadowy figure behind one of the bedsheets.

“Hans?” you whispered, pointing your gun with a finger on the trigger.

“Leia,” the figured replied, equally hushed. The shadow lifted the curtain. It took a second to register, but it was really him. You raced towards each other, quick hold each other, beaming. Today, you existed in the same place at the same time.

“That was so stupid. I can’t believe you got me to do that,” you laughed, pressing your face into him, holding him tightly as if he could disappear at any moment.

“Oh, come on, you loved it!” he quipped. You hummed in appreciation.

“True, but I love you more.” His eyes brightened at your confession, pink dusting his cheeks.

“I know.” You shook your head, smiling at his response before turning your head and taking in who he had become. Gone were the luxurious curls, replaced with a buzzcut. A pair of fake glasses perched on his nose in further attempts to conceal his identity. Hallowed eyes. His skin tinted gray from the stress. You ran your fingers through the fuzz on his head, massaging his scalp. A sigh escaped his lips, eyes fluttering shut, with hands reaching to caress yours.

“You cut your hair.”

“You did too.” His fingers danced in the ends of your own tresses. A sad smile furnished your face.

“It had to be done,” you replied, before pressing your lips to his cheek and gently removing yourself from his embrace to get your laptop. “We need to get started. We’ve found a lot since you left.”

With his head on your shoulder, fingers laced with yours, and your laptop on your lap, you recounted the on-going investigation to him. The deep web that just kept going and going. Your theories and suspects. And when that was done, you kept talking. How Aunt May and his friends were fine but missing him. How the remaining Avengers were fairing. Peter was oddly quiet, sharing only a few thoughts here and there, but you attributed it to his weariness.

As the sun continued to dip, the silences between sentences stretched, but you mustered more words. As if your sentences were the delicate string that grounded him to you.

“Y/N,” he interrupted. You looked at him and hummed in reply. He began playing with your fingers, eyes never meeting your own. “I love you more than I ever I thought I could, and I’m really thankful for everything you’ve done. And you’ve done so much. Like, I don’t know if I would have even made it this far without you, but here you are, and well, you can’t keep doing this.” You cocked your head, before shaking your head, hair rustling.

“What? Peter, we are getting somewhere! I just need to visit the-“ He lets go of your hand, fingers clenching into trembling fists.

“No, no more visits. No more investigating. This can’t be your life. When this started, we thought there was a way out. But it’s been over a year. Clearly whoever or whatever is doing this won’t stop until we’re all gone. This may never stop. I can’t have you throwing away your life for me. Hell, I don’t even know when I’ll see you aga-“

“Peter,” you cut him off, your voice pitched lower in concern, “Where is this coming from? We’re gonna make it. It is just a matter of-”

“I can’t give you what you deserve! I’m Spider-Man, so we don’t get to have a house and two kids! We get this-, this fucking disaster! I live like this because I have to. I don’t get a choice. And you shouldn’t be stupid enough where you are doing the same thing!”  

Your mouth fell open, ready to spit back poison when he looked at you. It was in his eyes. Behind the falling tears and redness was the glint of insecurity that Peter had always carried. This was the child whose parents died. The teenager who didn’t stop his Uncle Ben from getting killed. Who held Tony Stark in his last moments. The man who was on the run.  

The hero who would never stop giving to a world who would never stop taking.

Your thoughts frenzied. If you held on to him too tightly, he would resist. The more he would thrash, determined to save you while slowly sacrificing himself until there was nothing left. Your brain was frozen, so your heart gave you the words-

“Marry me.”  

Peter’s eyes widen before retracting into a tight furrow, scrunching his nose.

“What?! No! Did you not hear anything I just said-“

“I’m not leaving you. I will never leave you. The one thing you never get to doubt in the world is us. So, I’m gonna ask you again; will you,” you took his hand, went to one knee, and let your voice soften as you held his gaze, “Peter Parker, marry me?”  

You both bathed in silence. His chocolate doe eyes boring straight into yours, searching for truth. The thought that maybe you had gone about this the wrong way started to crawl into your mind, but then a smile slowly creeped onto his face, bright red with blush. More salt-water pooled in his eyes. He pulled you into a near lung-constricting embrace, smothering wet kisses into every inch of your face. Mine. Mine. Mine. You could practically hear his thoughts as you basked in each kiss. I missed you. I love you. And oh my god, you’re here to stay.

“What did I ever-, I have no idea know what I ever did to ever deserve you.” A smirked formed on your lips.

“Is that a yes?” The gold stars in his eyes shined at your playfulness. There was the man you always loved.

“Yes, yes, oh god yes. I do, Mrs. Parker,” he said pulling you in for a passionate kiss. And you both stayed there, melting into the ground beneath you. Breathing each other in as moments passed. Tender “I love you’s” flowing generously from both of your lips. As if the world had vanished and all that existed was you and him, and him and you, and this understanding that this, this was a love until death do you part.

Peter was the one to break the string of kisses, leaving you to chase his lips before touching his forehead with your own. His breath hot on your face. “I- , if you go to my lab there is a secret compartment. In my desk. The code is your birthday. I was going to ask you myself, but then, well… this.” You chuckled as he stumbled on his words.

“I’ll get it as soon as I can.” You both leaned in to close the gap again when a cacophony of sirens and lights echoed in the streets below.

Frustration filled Peter’s eyes as he sat up. “Shit. I-, I gotta go. Are you gonna be okay?” You let out a shallow breath, but quickly forced a smile.

“Go get’em.” And with the whip of his webs, he was gone.

You sat there for a moment, taking in the new quiet. Your fingers graced your lips, still warm with the memory of his. A lightness had settled in your chest, and with every breathe you could feel it pulse stronger.

Because no matter what it took, no matter how long the wait, there was two things for certain.

He was going to protect the city. And you were going to save your husband.

[hercleverboy]

time

spencer reid x reader 

summary ↠ spencer learns the truth about why the reader left the team so suddenly during his post-prison showdown with cat adams.

category ↠ angst

warnings/includes ↠ cancer, main character death, crying, pleading someone not to die, please do not read if these are triggering for you.

word count ↠ 3.6k

“Death is peaceful, easy. Life is harder.”

Breast cancer had a history in Y/N’s family. Her grandmother had died from it, and it seemingly skipped her mothers generation. Y/N was not so lucky.

When the doctor told her, she stared blankly she’d at the wall. He was talking at her but she only seemed to pick up on parts of what he was saying.

“Breast cancer”, “stage 4”, “has unfortunately spread to other parts of your body,” “eight months if you’re lucky”

Lucky?

If she’s lucky?

The doctor sent her on her way after discussing some treatments with her. He told her what the side effects of those treatments were going to be, and she’d shaken her head. The doctor looked shocked, but Y/N had just given him a small smile. If she was going to die, she was going to spend her time doing everything she wanted to, not being poked and prodded and given treatments that were unlikely to work anyway.

Initially, she didn’t tell anyone at the BAU. She certainly didn’t tell Spencer, who she’d been crushing on for years at that point. They were best friends, they had been since she started all those years ago, and they were always there for one another. She was always too nervous to tell him how she felt, but it’s funny how finding out your days are numbered will encourage you to do things you never thought you’d have the courage to. So one night at the end of the work day, when the bullpen was empty apart from her and the resident genius, she threw caution to the wind and walked right up to his desk.

He grinned at her as she approached. “Hey, Y/N. Did you want to grab something to eat before you head home? There’s that new Chinese place a few streets over-“ He was interrupted by her saying three words he never thought she’d say to him.

“I love you.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

“You what?” He manages to get out, his mind was spinning.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’m sorry, you just have to know.”

“Y/N I don’t know what to say I-“ He stumbled over his words, trying to find the right ones. Truthfully, he was in love with her too. Though his own insecurities and stupid thoughts always got in the way. Y/N took his lack of response to mean that he didn’t feel the same, and so she took a deep breath and smiled at him reassuringly. Before he could tell her that he was very sure he loved her too, she was gone, the bullpen’s doors closing gently behind her.

Y/N felt the weight lifted off her shoulders. Despite her thinking Spencer didn’t return her affection, she still felt the sweetest relief imaginable. Because fuck it, if she was going to die she’d be damned If she did so without telling Spencer Reid how much she loved him.

And now he knew.

It brought her a sense of peace.

She told Hotch, but that’s only because she had to give him a real reason as to why she was leaving, after he heard the lie she’d fed the team.

“I’ve been offered a job in the orginised crime unit, I just can’t turn it down.”

“Y/N, can I speak with you?” He’d asked after she’d announced to the team that she was leaving. He led her to his office, closing the door behind her. “I’ll get straight to the point. There is no new job with the orginised crime unit, I would’ve been notified if you’d been offered a new position. What’s going on?”

She couldn’t lie to him, she knew that much. So she took a deep breath and spoke. “I’m terminally ill, sir. I haven’t got long left. I would like to live what is left of my life.” Hotch was understating. He didn’t show it, always very good at masking his emotions, but his heart was broken. He’d even hugged her, telling her what a pleasure it was to work alongside her, how the world would suffer greatly from the loss of her kind heart and unmatched intelligence.

On her last shift, which was a paperwork day thankfully, the team got together and threw her a little in-office going away party. Y/N felt guilty about not telling her friends, her family, the real reason she was leaving but they shouldn’t have to bear that burden, they shouldn’t have to carry around the guilt. And she didn’t want their pity or worry either. Hotch had been surprised at how soon she’d wanted to leave the BAU after telling him of her condition, but she told him it was because she wanted the team to remember her how she was. Strong and confident. She didn’t want to them to see her so weak and vulnerable, how she knew this disease would reduce her to.

JJ found out that day, unintentionally. After laughing and eating some cake with the team, Y/N felt incredibly nauseous (she found she was struggling to keep food down these days), so she excused herself to the bathroom, and was violently sick in the toilet of one of the stalls. JJ had followed her in, noticing how she’d barely touched her cake earlier and that she looked awfully pale as well.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” She asked, opening up the stall door behind Y/N, who was panting over the toilet bowl.

“I’m fine, JJ. I promise.” She smiled weakly but JJ wasn’t buying it. The two women had become best friends over their time in the bureau, almost like sisters.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” JJ joked as Y/N stood up on shaky legs.

“No, I’m not pregnant Jayje.” Y/N couldn’t look her best friend in the eye, tears filling her eyes.

“Hey, don’t cry. It’ll be okay, what’s wrong?” JJ’s motherly tone made Y/N wanted to laugh but she couldn’t force one out if she tried. Y/N’s lack of response frightened JJ.

“Y/N, you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s wrong, please.” She begged.

“I’m sick, JJ.”

It didn’t take the blonde long to figure out that she didn’t mean a common cold. Tears filled JJ’s eyes.

“I haven’t got a lot of time Jayje.” Y/N cried, and JJ began to sob, pulling Y/N into a tight hug.

“Well there are treatments right? Chemotherapy or something? Something has to work.” JJ was begging, praying that there was something. Her heart shattered all over again when Y/N shook her head.

“I won’t spend the rest of my time hooked up to countless machines receiving treatments that may or may not work. I don’t want to fight this. I’m already so tired, I just want to go peacefully when the time comes. Please?”

JJ just cried harder. She understood Y/N had already made peace with her fate.

After calming down slightly, Y/N pulled back, holding JJ by her shoulders. “You can’t tell anyone. Only you and Hotch know. I won’t burden anyone else with this, okay?”

“Y/N, this isn’t a burden. You’re sick. The team deserve to know, they deserve their turn to say goodbye.” JJ tried to convince her.

“Please. You can’t say a thing. I know they deserve that but god I can’t have them all pitying me. Garcia will buy me gift baskets to compensate, Derek won’t know what to do with himself so he’ll make jokes, and Spencer, god Spence will go into overdrive trying to fix me. I just want to live out my days peacefully, please let me have that Jayje.” She begged, and the blonde nodded.

“I understand, Y/N. But Spence.. he’s one of your best friends. He has been for years now. I know you told him you love him and he didn’t say it back but.. this- this will kill him.” She whispered the last part and Y/N looked away as she fought to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks.

“I know. And I’m sorry if it’s selfish but I’m dying, I think I’m allowed to be a little selfish.” Her attempt at a joke was met with a stern look from JJ.

5 months after Y/N left the BAU, Spencer ended up in trouble in Mexico, and before anyone could do anything he was awaiting trial in a prison cell. He had lot of time to think over the three months spent behind bars, staring at blank walls, fighting to survive long enough for the team to prove his innocence. Every night he slept in his bed he thought of Y/N.

How much he missed his best friend.

How much he loved her still.

He realised how stupid he’d been to let her get away. He regretted not going after her that day in the bullpen and promising her he felt the same way she did. He promised himself the moment he got out he would tell her how he felt, and they could make up for the time they’d lost. He yearned to see her, and If prison taught him anything, it was that time was precious. And he wanted to spend all of his time with her.

When JJ turned up to the prison one day, he’d never felt a relief quite like it.

“We’re taking you home.”

He was relieved that now he could focus on finding his mother, and once that was done he could prioritise Y/N. He would tell her how he felt, how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, no time to waste. He could tell her the words he’d thought a thousands times of the last three months.

I love you. So much.

He just had to win one final time, play Cat Adams stupid game and then everything he’d ever wanted would be his. He could live the life he’d dreamed of when he was in prison, Y/N by his side.

“Even if you are pregnant the baby’s not mine.” Spencer was mortified that she was really trying to persuade him that her baby was his, let alone that she was even pregnant in the first place.

Cat clicked her tongue. “Except for the part where it is.”

“That’s preposterous, you’ve been in prison. And besides we’ve never-“

“So have you, and I know we never...” She trailed off, that smirk on her lips. “Ask me how I did it.”

Spencer was really losing his patience. He didn’t care for, nor did he want to play Cat’s little game anymore.

“Come on, ask me.”

“How did you do it?”

“I had Lindsey dose you in Mexico. You lost time.” Cat smiled at the look of confusion on Spencer’s face. “I told her to pretend to be Maeve.”

That hurt Spencer more than it should’ve. 4 years since the tragic death of his girlfriend, and the wounds were still fresh as anything. Of course Cat knew about Maeve.

“But perhaps it would’ve worked better if I’d told her to pretend to be Y/N, the best friend that you’ve always loved but never told her. It’s a shame that you might never get the chance now.” Cat snarled.

“What do you mean I’ll never get the chance?”

“Oh my god. You don’t know, do you?” Cat teased, and Spencer gripped the edge of the table so harshly his knuckles turned white.

“Know what, Cat?”

“Dear little Y/N has terminal cancer. She was given around eight months to live, from what I know. That would mean-“ She theatrically looked at Spencer’s watch that sat on her wrist. “Any day now, if my timings right.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” Cat’s head cocked to the side. This wasn’t part of her original plan, but any opportunity to mess with Spencer even more was not to be missed.

“Yes you are, that what you do.” Spencer seethed, the words like venom on his tongue.

“I’m not. Just ask blondie in there.” Cat pointed to the double sided mirror. “She’ll tell you. It is her that Y/N chose to confide in, after all.” She teased.

Spencer shot up from table with loud bang and stalked out the room, slamming open the door to where a gobsmacked JJ stood.

“Is it true?” Spencer asked, his tone cold and unforgiving.

“Spence..”

“JJ! I asked if it was true?” He shouted, slamming his hand on the wall next to them. JJ flinched, and for the first time in their friendship JJ was afraid of the man in front of her.

“Yes.” Her voice was small.

He whipped out his phone, calling Garcia. “Garcia I need you to look up Y/N Y/L/N’s medical records.”

“Our Y/N Y/L/N? Why?” The chipper woman replied, confused.

“Just please, Garcia!” Spencer shouted desperately.

“Okay okay, I’m looking and everything seems fine- oh wait- what’s this?” Garcia murmured to herself as she clicked through the files, her eyes widening and tears forming in them as she gasped. “She’s sick? W-why didn’t she tell us? Oh my god.”

“She’s alive, right? Oh god please tell me she’s alive?” Spencer begged.

“She’s alive, but she was admitted to the hospital 2 weeks ago after she collapsed. They’re keeping her in the hospital, just trying to make her comfortable- oh god I can’t read anymore.” Garcia was sobbing down the line and JJ had a hand clasped over her mouth to keep her own sobs at bay.

Spencer sobbed too, for the first time since he went to prison. Everything seemed to hit him at once.

After a moment, JJ’s trembling voice reached his ears. “Spence, I know this is a lot to take in but if you want to find out where your mother is you’ve got to carry on.”

He’s knew she was right, but he just glared at her coldly. “How long have you known?”

“Since she left.” JJ cried. “I’m so sorry, but she begged me not to tell you, or anyone else for that matter. How could I deny her that?”

Spencer understood it wasn’t JJ’s fault but he was still so angry. The anger burned within him like a wildfire and he didn’t posses the restraint to put it out. “There was no new job in the organised crime unit, was there?”

“No.”

“Fuck!” Spencer shouted, pushing some files that sat on the table onto the floor with a loud crash as he cried.

“Spence-“ JJ attempted to comfort him but he was downright inconsolable.

“You know she told me she loved me. Before she left.” Spencer spoke quickly and fiercely, though the tears trembling down his cheeks told a different story. He finally looked JJ in the eye, and she nodded. “I didn’t get to tell her I love her but I do JJ, god I do and now I’m gonna lose her.” He let out a heartbroken cry and JJ felt so guilty.

“Spence you have to go back in there and win her little game. Save your mother, and then you can worry about Y/N. Okay?” JJ tried, and this time it seemed the words sunk into him.

Spencer hated that she was right. So with a sniffle, he wiped the tears from his eyes with the sleeves of his blazer, before taking a deep breath and returning to the room with Cat, one even more determined to win.

After winning the battle against Cat, Spencer escorted his mother back to the sanitarium. As soon as she was safe and settled, Spencer was immediately on the phone with Garcia.

“Garcia, which hospital is Y/N at?”

Once he got the address he was there in minutes.

He sped up to the front desk, panting as he spoke. “Hi, I’m here to see Y/N Y/L/N.”

The receptionist nodded, typing away on her computer. Spencer stood as he waited to hear what room she was in, tapping his foot impatiently on the white floorboards. A doctor who had been standing near the desk stepped towards him, and he looked him as she approached. “Sorry sir, Did you say you’re here to see Y/N Y/L/N?”

Spencer turned to her, his voice desperate. He prayed he wasn’t too late. “Yes, yes.”

The doctor looked at him with a small smile. She looked him up and down, coming to a conclusion. “Are you Dr Spencer Reid?”

Spencer gulped, unsure what to say. “Yes. How did you know?”

“Y/N- She talks about you, when she’s in between consciousness. She showed me pictures a few weeks ago, told me all about the man she loved who she was so sure didn’t love her back. She’ll be so glad to see you.”

He wanted to smile at the information but he felt so sick that he couldn’t force his lips up into even a grimace. “How is she?” He dared to ask.

“I’m sorry, Dr Reid. Y/N is incredibly ill. We’re just trying to make her as comfortable as we can, I’m afraid it won’t be long now. Follow me, she could use your company.”

His heart broke but he followed her, attempting not to breakdown in a fit of cries.

When he saw her his heart broke even more. Her cheeks were sullen and she was thinner than he remembered. But she was still so beautiful to him. He thanked the doctor and pulled up a chair next to her, taking one of her frail hands in his. She turned to look at him, flashing a weak smile.

“Spencer? Are you really here?”

“Yes sweetheart. And I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” He choked out, attempting to smile for her sake.

She nodded, and he brought his lips to her hand to place a gentle kiss on it.

“I’ve missed you.” She whimpered out. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ve missed you too.” He felt like breaking down but he had to be strong for her. “Y/N, I have to tell you, if this is the last chance I get I- I love you. I always have done. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all those months ago. I’m here now, but I’m too late.” He sobbed.

“Hey, hey. . It’s okay. It was a privilege to love you, Spencer Reid.” She smiled, moving her frail hands up to cup his face. It made him sob harder.

“I wish we had more time.” He cried, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I know, me too.”

They talked for the whole evening, and then, when she got too exhausted to continue conversation, he pulled out her favourite book from his satchel. He read to her, listening to the sound of her shallow breathing.

The team visited, all too shocked to say much, but they came to say goodbye. Y/N was barely conscious enough to realise what was going on, but she still managed to give the team a weak smile and a whispered, “Love you guys.”

JJ and Garcia had to leave the room so they wouldn’t collapse in tears front of her.

When the heart monitor went flat in the early hours of the next morning, that loud blaring sound filling Spencer’s ears, his sobs started again as he rested his forehead on her still chest.

“Please. Please don’t go. Come back, I love you.” Spencer begged, his shoulders moving with the sobs that wracked through him. He’d never felt so utterly heartbroken. Not when he watched his father leave, not when he saw his mother’s condition worsen, not even when Maeve was killed right in front of him. None of that compared to how his chest burned and his throat was sore from the sobs that ripped from him, and the tears that relentlessly cascaded down his cheeks.

“Please, baby. Look at me. Let me see them gorgeous eyes, yeah?” He begged, he prayed to every god there ever was that she’d look at him again with those beautiful orbs that he’d fallen so In love with. Those stunning eyes that would never open again.

The doctor, with tears in her own eyes at the scene before her, moved to turn the heart monitor off, the obnoxious withstanding beep cutting off. It made Spencer’s head ache.

Spencer clutched Y/N’s hand desperately to his chest, his head resting on her chest as he cried. He squeezed her hand, and some foolish part of him almost believed that if he squeezed hard enough he’d wake up from whatever nightmare this was. He twisted his eyelids shut and dreamed. He dreamed of waking up next to Y/N, in a bed that they shared, wedding bands on their fingers and their children’s footsteps and laughter filling their home. He dreamed of a life with her, of raising a family with her. He dreamed of the life she deserved.

He wanted to scream. How was this fair? How were murderers and serial rapists walking around with no consequence but people like Y/N had their lives ripped from them?

It was unjust.

But the world was cruel, Spencer knew. It was cruel and it was cold and it was unforgiving.

He raised his head from her chest, using the hand that wasn’t holding hers to place his hand on her cheek. He pushed forward, placing a gentle kiss on her cold and lifeless lips.

it was a goodbye. one that needn’t be spoken.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ll honour you for the rest of my life, I promise.”

Spencer Reid never recovered from losing Y/N Y/L/N.

[bokunosimpfiction]

Familiar!Heisenberg x Witch!Reader Pt.1 of 2

Summary: Your wolf familiar Heisenberg is a nuisance, as always.

No triggers! :)

             Mia looks down into her cup of tea. The cup was shallow and wide, with several golden rings, getting progressively closer as they reached the edge of the cup. Steam rose from the water, bringing the chamomile aroma up into her nose. She looks over at her husband and smiles, softly. “Ethan, we need to gift her another tea set, they only have the tasseography set we gifted them when they moved out.”

             You give a hearty chuckle. “I only use these when you come around, the set misses you very much.”

Ethan smiles at you, rubbing the back of his sleeping baby with his hand. “Witches-ware tends to do that, miss the ones who owned it before, hence why I’m not very for giving a new witch used goods.” He gives a jokingly stern look to his wife before he continues. “But Mia insisted.”

“Well, they haven’t smashed them yet, so I think I made the right call!”

You bring a cup from another set up to your lips and take a sip, pinky out just to poke slight fun at her. “I think you’re familiar is rubbing off on you, Mia,” you say, “you come into my house, complain about my tea-set and not even mention that I used fresh Blood of Hestia and Elf Leaf to make the tea you’re currently drinking.” Ethan tries so hard not to laugh at her, knowing a smack on his forehead would follow shortly after. “You know, I’m sure if my familiar was here right now, I’m sure you’d kick him with your new heels on the way out the door.”

Her eye twitches slightly, “Alcina isn’t that bad, is she Ethan?”

He sighs. “I think the only reason she tolerates either of us is because she likes Rose. She’s more Rose’s familiar than she is either of ours.”

“Well at least our-“

“Rose’s-“ You correct.

“Well at least Rose’s familiar doesn’t track in di-“

Her statement is interrupted by your familiar, in human form, bursting through the door and ducking under the frame. He’s covered head to toe in dirt, more mud caked on his boots frosting on a cake, holding various plants in his thick-gloved hands. As soon as the door opened, you could see that feral grin spread across his face, his fangs visible. “I’ve brought the plants you asked for.”

“Excuse me Mia, Ethan.” You rise from your seat to greet your familiar and remove his hat and glasses from his head. His salt and pepper hair and wolf ears are visible. “Hello, Karl.” You place a hand on either cheek and go on your tippy-toes, and he leans down so you can place a curt kiss on his forehead. “Someone went rolling in the mud on their way back.” You too have a cheeky grin on your face.

“Can’t help myself, it’s in my blood.” It’s not “blood” so much as nature, rescues do that,

“I know.” You made it a point to keep your hands on his cheeks. The well-needed attention made him burn like a fever. “You got the eyebright and Dog Berries?”

“Ran into some lion’s teeth and-“ He stops and sniffs the air for a second before turning to Mia and Ethan. “Well, well, if it isn’t the Winter’s and their little dew of the sea…” He goes to step further into the house, but you place a firm hand on his chest. It only stops him because he lets it.

“Take your shoes off and put the herbs in the sink before you greet the guests.”

His expression of smug joy deflates for a moment. He, just like his blood sister Alcina, had taken an extreme liking to Rose. Although his was in a more, “uncle who encourages bad decision making” rather than a genuine care-taker kind of way.

You turn back and seat yourself on the stool again. “I’d apologize about that, but I love him far too much to feel bad about getting up mid-conversation to welcome him home.”

Mia smiles into her teacup but startles and almost spills it on herself when she hears you turn around and yell, “when you’re done bring a stool from the island and come sit with us.”

“Really?” Ethan deadpans.

“Yes, really. He’s very fond of you, did you know he-“ you’re interrupted by him plopping the metal stool he levitated over at the round table and him hastily sitting his ass down in it.

“So, how are the Winter’s doing?” He immediately turns to Rose. “And how’s little Rose doing too?”

Upon hearing his voice, Rose eye’s open, and she looks up at him, and reaches out her little hands. He reaches his freshly washed hand out and lets her grab his index finger. “I’d die for you, kiddo.” He has an uncharacteristically soft smile across his face. Rose giggles and the rest of his features visibly melt.

“Don’t tell her that too often,” Mia jokes, “she just might take that seriously and use you to do something devious.”

“Nothing she does will ever be devious, she’s far too sweet,” he says, “you have an angel in your arms, and not even the cruelest of hearts will change that.” And then he turns and continues to coo at the baby while you and the couple talk about various things.

Eventually, it’s time for them to go, and before they do, Karl practically runs to his workshop. “I have a new toy for your little dew-drop!”

“Dew-drop?” Ethan repeats softer.

“It’s his little nickname for the baby,” you clarify, “because her full name is Rosemary, and you can also call rosemary dew of the sea, and since she’s so small, dew-drop.”

Mia looks down at the baby. “That’s so cute-“

“And we are never calling her that.”

Karl is back, holding a small toy car, painted bright colors, not a sharp or small piece in sight. “I made her a toy car.” He approaches the couple and hands the toy car to Mia, who is holding the scones she came to pick up, while Ethan is holding the baby.

“We never have to buy her toys because you make them all.”

“That’s why I make them, so she knows each one is made with love.” He grins like a puppy that didn’t get caught for chewing the table leg. It’s almost disarming.

Ethan looks like he’s going to barf. You’d smack him if he wasn’t holding the baby. “Well, we’d best be heading out,” he says, and turns and opens the door without being prompted, “we have to walk Alcina.”

After the leave, Karl turns to you. “Alcina is a 9’6’’ tall woman, the only parts of the walk she’ll have issues with is going in and out the door. Fucking super-sized bitch,” he grumbles to himself, heading back to the kitchen to open the refrigerator door.

“Are you hungry?”

“No, just bored.” He closes the door again and wanders into your now open arms.

“You were out in the heat for a few hours, maybe you should take a nap.”

“And you were slaving away in that kitchen making that batch of soap for god-knows how long.”

“I’ve been working on that since five in the morning, so about six hours now.”

“We should both take a nap.” He’s already dragging you to the shared bedroom before you can complain.

“You’re sleeping at the foot of the bed, wolf-boy.”

He blatantly refuses, and instead makes himself comfortable, holding you to his chest like a stuffed animal. “I prefer holding you much more.” It’d be sweet if it weren’t so taboo to let him push you around like this.

“I own you, we both know this.”

“Sure you do,” he yawns, “you let me sleep in your bed, eat at the table with you, go grocery shopping with you-“

“I treat you like a person instead of property, I get it,” you grumble, “I love you, and clearly you’ve let that get to your head.”

He goes uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. “You love me.”

“Of course, I do, not quit talking before I kick you to your own bed.” He does, in fact, have his own bed, that he fits in just fine, that he’s used exactly once. It was his first night here, and he slept for three hours before crawling into yours after three hours because he had a nightmare. He’s never slept in it again. Bastard. But you never really blamed him, you rescued him and his siblings, and their owner was an absolute shithead.

“You’d never.” He places a kiss on the crown of your head. “You love me too much.”

“Weren’t you the one who suggested we nap together?”

“It was you.”

“Goddamn it.”

He squeezes around you tighter, and by the time you fall asleep, you feel his breathing in your ear. You spoil him far too much, to the point where people think you are lovers. Perhaps it’s because you wished you could be, sometimes. It’d be funny, to see how that’d play out. It’s not as taboo as it used to be, but still very much frowned upon. For good reason too. While he isn’t bound in servitude like familiars were long ago, like he was with his previous master, the power imbalance is much too large for you to feel comfortable with it.

He depended on your magic to stay alive, and while he could rely on the magic of the earth, it just wasn’t the same as a witch that cared about him as much as you did. His telekinesis was so much stronger since he moved in with you and got a sudden intense boost just recently.

It’s because you loved him.

Fuck.

[local-triggerhead]

[Theory/Analysis] The Motives of Each Eugenicist

Wow, look at me rising from the graves and dusting off this account after 800 years like it's nothing. Your Trigger hype beast is back baby, if any of you still remember me.

This post contains spoilers for both Gridman and Dynazenon.

Ahem. I want to make this post to gather my thoughts and better understand the antagonists of the show, as they aren't heavily featured and explored like Akane. It's just my own analysis based on what I can observe in the show, so some parts would be more vague and generate different interpretations. This analysis may seem obvious to some and not so much to others, but I hope it'll offer some clarity regardless. Tl;dr at the bottom.

The General Motive

It's pretty much given in the show. The Kaiju Eugenicists wanted to destroy humanity and create a world where themselves and kaiju can live and be accepted. They believe that the world is a better place as you're no longer being tied down by human bonds, granting you unrestricted freedom beyond even the laws of physics. This is their shared goal. However, each of them have separated purposes and things they want to achieve along with this.

Onija

Let's start with the 2 more obvious cases. Onija clearly stated what he wanted to do - kill all humans. How many times did he yell this out? It's kind of shoved-in-your-face. No other Eugenicists expressed this desire as strongly as he did. At the base level, he simply wanted to live. He was brutally killed once and was determined to not let it happen again no matter what. This is why "I thought I was dead" was a constant running joke. It's also why Onija had a deep personal grudge towards Gauma and humans, who were the cause of his death 5000 years ago.

Juuga

Juuga had a deep admiration for Gauma and looked up to him. Unlike Onija, he didn't wish to oppose Gauma, but to make an alliance instead. When the Eugenicists first appeared, Juuga said:

It's clear from this line that he wanted things to be the way it was 5000 years ago, where they were a group of friends working towards the same goal. He missed and yearned for that carefree time. The original Eugenicist group was the most important thing to him. You can see that he never fought with any other Eugenicists, but remained calm and passive towards them at all times. This attitude only extended towards the Eugenicists, as he had no qualms about killing anyone else for his goal, including the Dynazenon crew.

Even when Mujina stole Dyna Striker, the first thing that came to his mind was using it to negotiate with Gauma and get him back.

Mujina

These last 2 Eugenicists are slightly more complicated to pick apart, as they process things more internally.

At first, Mujina was very indecisive and didn't buy much into this kaiju thing. All she wanted was to finish it quickly so she could leave. She was lost in life and just followed the other Eugenicists around because she had no directions of her own. Then Mujina found Koyomi, someone who also didn't have anything going for himself and just plainly a loser in his life. He was someone she could feel related to. Mujina's attitude supposedly changed after she was tackled by Koyomi, but I believe this just pissed her off and only played a part in her personality shift. The other cause, I think, was Sizumu's encouragement, where she "realized that kaiju is all [she has] got" and that she had to take responsibility for her actions.

Koyomi came to play a major role in episode 11, when Mujina witnessed him starting to look for a job. The only person who she could feel related to was unaffected by the aftermath of the kaiju and moving forward with ease. Meanwhile, Mujina, who had just found her purpose in life, lost it once again and was now completely stuck, as the future where the Eugenicists could live and be accepted was destroyed. When facing such a crisis, one would seek to put the blame on something for all of their problems, and Koyomi just happened to be the perfect target.

Sizumu

Toughest one to crack here, but I'll shoot my best shot. In the beginning, he opposed the Dynazenon crew the least among the Eugenicists. He suggested against killing them, had the most interaction with Yomogi and Yume, and suggested Mujina to return Dyna Striker for seemingly no reasons at all. His main reason for not killing Team Dynazenon was to see more kaiju, and getting close to Yomogi and Yume was for his kaiju to absorb their emotions. However, I believe there was another underlying reason that tied his actions together. He was looking for an alliance.

Contrary to Juuga, the alliance he was looking for didn't only include Gauma, but Team Dynazenon as a whole. To understand why he searched for this, we must first look at what he was. He had an ability that allowed him to hear kaiju voices, which gave him a much deeper understanding of kaiju compared to the other Eugenicists. Due to this, while the others more or less thought of kaiju as a mean to create a world where they can live and be accepted, Sizumu would consider kaiju as his own kind, so much so that he had a severe disconnection with humans. He distanced himself away from even the Eugenicists, almost as if he only tagged along because they shared the same basic goal.

He didn't seek to understand humans, but instead for humans to understand kaiju. His goal was to create a world where not only the Eugenicists were accepted, but kaiju themselves were accepted. He believed that the world was better off like this, because, from his perspective, kaiju could liberate people from human bonds and offer them unlimited freedom. To me, this is rather hypocritical as he never understood why people tied themselves to these bonds in the first place, so he wasn't in a position to say what was better and what wasn't.

Sizumu was the only Eugenicist to mention this kaiju power and express his distaste towards human bonds. He explained this very early on to Yomogi and Yume, and why did he do this, you may ask? Why, to help them understand his views and create an opening for a potential alliance, of course. If his only purpose was to absorb their emotions, then that's quite a lot of unnecessary effort to make himself look friendly and approachable to an uncanny degree, especially when being "friendly and approachable" wasn't his forte. No, he was testing the water to see if he could get them on his side.

Then came an unexpected opportunity for him to determine once and for all if Team Dynazenon can understand and accept kaiju. He let a failed kaiju run free and distracted the Eugenicists away from it (with a tactic he learned from Chise) to see what the Dynazenon crew would do. Some people said that it's to test if any of them were kaiju user, and while that's possible, I think it's a little unlikely. Sizumu only observed them at 2 instances, first was when they started the search for the kaiju, the second was when their beam destroyed the kaiju. Unless the kaiju voices could tell him, there would be no way for Sizumu to know if any of them used Instance Domination, until the very end when Yomogi used it on him. The likelier hypothesis would be: he saw them searching for the kaiju > he saw the kaiju being killed > he surmised that kaiju couldn't exist peacefully with Team Dynazenon, and didn't seem to be particularly happy about it.

From then on, Sizumu decided that they couldn't be his allies thus no longer approached Yomogi or Yume. It seems that he arrived to this final conclusion:

And this is where the series itself left off. Kaiju simply can't co-exist with humans. They are irregulars to the human society. Furthermore, the freedom that they offer can't be allowed to exist as running away from society and real human connections is wrong, even if reality is ugly and difficult to face. This is what make the series similar to Gridman. However, unlike Akane, the antagonists of Dynazenon failed to realized this and didn't get their happy ending.

(A detail that I'd like to mention is that Sizumu was silent during the entire final battle in contrast to the other Eugenicists who were pumping themselves up. It was like he was saying, "Didn't want to do this but I guess you left me with no choice". Though silence can mean anything so it's not a concrete evidence.)

TL;DR and Final Words

This is so much longer than I thought and I really apologize for it. I just don't want to make anyone do logical leaps when reading this post.

Tl;dr:

- Onija wanted to live and had a grudge towards Gauma and humans for causing his death.

- Juuga wanted Gauma to join them again and for things to be back the way it was 5000 years ago. He cared for nothing outside of the Eugenicists group.

- Munija wanted a purpose, found one, then lost it again. She envied Koyomi for regaining his sense of purpose and moving forward with his life.

- Sizumu wanted humans to understand kaiju and a world where kaiju can set humans free from their bonds. Initially considered an alliance with Team Dynazenon, but concluded that them (and people in general) couldn't understand kaiju after all.

- Final message of the show: Go touch some grass and talk to humans you fucking weebs.

Misc

When using Instance Domination, the palms of the Eugenicists always face towards the kaiju. The only exception is the last battle where Sizumu's palm faced towards himself, indicating that the kaiju was inside him. I believe that it was located at the center of his chest, where he shot out that weird magical light beam. Just a small thing I find interesting.

If we want to take it a step further, I believe the seed inside him had already grown into a kaiju, but it was still relatively small until he used Instance Domination on it. Eerie, huh?

And this is more of the theory territory and leaving the analysis, but this could possibly be why he was able to hear kaiju voices. Chise was able to understand Goldburn and translated for him at the end, so maybe having a kaiju inside of you would allow you to understand other kaiju somehow? If this is the case, he would probably have had the kaiju inside of him since 5000 years ago.

There's also this big brain moment from a 4chan user. The resemblance between Yume and Juuga is kinda uncanny considering they're both obsessed with the past.

That's it boys. I'm gonna crawl back into my hole until next century, or until Trigger drops Edgerunners. 8/10 show, VERY underrated gem. Trigger won't stop saving anime.

This post but on Reddit:

[thekrazykeke]

See You Again [2]

Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul

Relationship(s): Uta & reader.

Summary: in the sound of silence, we found sanctuary. in every word unspoken, love.

Warning(s): Angst, unspoken feelings. Pre-canon events but also very ambiguous timeline-wise. Disturbing mental imagery. Canon typical gore.

This little series was never meant to have a happy ending, so no screaming at me. I’ll accept your appreciation for my love of angst in reblogs, likes, comments or tears. 

Seriously though, in all honesty, I hurt myself as I wrote this. 

I dunno, I might indulge that impulsive urge of mine and write a one shot where they actually get together. Most likely not though, so no one hold their breath ahahaha.

[i.]

~

A smart person would never have returned to the little out of the way mask shop in the 4th Ward. You’d have chalked up the experience as weird and as common sense dictated, forgotten all about it. 

That is the safer route, the sane option.

So of course, you decided to be stupid. You kept coming back to the shop, although you were careful with how you planned your visits, spacing them out in between sight seeing and being a general tourist. 

The added bonus of your frequent visits being that although Uta’s face didn’t really change much expression-wise, you got the feeling that he was always a little surprised to see you.

“Do you really like it here that much?” 

Pulling the oni mask away from your face, you glanced at Uta who stood a good distance away from you, hand in pocket, hip cocked against the edge of the counter. “What’s that now?”

“I said, ‘do you really like it here that much?’” Uta repeated himself, red on black eyes intently trained on your face. “This is the second time this week you’ve come by without buying anything.”

“Oof.” You exaggeratedly clutched at your chest. “That hurt, Uta-san. With how frequently I come by here, one would think you’d treat me as more than a customer. We’re friends now.”

“We’re not.”

The words are stated so bluntly and again, you clutch at your chest, miming being struck by an arrow. Uta didn’t respond to your joking around and playing, just stared at you. So, you cut the crap, reaching into your back pocket with a mock pout. “How much for this mask? I think it suits me.”

“10504.50 yen.” At the sight of your suddenly wide eyes and dropped jaw, Uta’s blank expression cracked, he smiled slightly and just for a split second. “Also, the mask doesn’t suit you.”

You turned your back to him, carefully returning the oni mask to the display it’d been set up on. The next second you turned around, you nearly jumped out of your skin at how close Uta is now. “Hey now! Shit, you need a bell or something.”

“It’s not my fault you don’t pay attention.” 

You can’t even pull off your comedic routine and drop your head in an ‘ashamed’ manner because you’d probably most likely hit your head against his chest, he’s standing that close. Before you could ask him to either back up and inquire what was his reason for being in your personal space, a tattooed finger reached out, lightly touching your chin, encouraging you to look up, so that’s what you did.

“...I can create a mask for you. Something that suits you.” He’s now adjusting your face, the faintest touch causing you to move this way and that. 

“Aww! That’s nice of you, Uta-sa-”

“The base color would be silver, perhaps. And the eyes would sewn shut, the better to hide your grief and... the anger.” He’s musing aloud, words quiet and almost a whisper, but you heard him. Part of you think it’s deliberate, that he’s making fun of you, mocking you.

And it worked. 

You reached a hand up, setting it upon his wrist. Uta blinked, staring down at your hand, then his unique gaze switched to you, and he.... for a lack of better words, it’s like he snapped out of that artist’s mode. He dropped his hand and took one step out of your personal bubble then another and another before whirling around and started walking away. 

He lifted a hand in farewell, waving it about in a sort of shooing manner.

“Come back again in two to three weeks.”

That should have been the end of you and his interactions. 

Regardless of how intriguing he is, he’d pressed on one of your triggers, maybe even on purpose, and you already had too short of a life to put up with the bullshit. Then again, maybe it was for that reason entirely that you decided that you were gonna keep seeing him, even after he finished the mask, to annoy him to death of course.

Until he told you upfront to go away, you wouldn’t. That’s what you decided.

And with that resolution settled in your head, you could go about your business. You enjoyed the sights, the food, and although your judgement said it’d be a bad idea, you had a couple of one night stands. The first is a lawyer that you’re like pretty sure has kids and a wife, and the other is a stressed college kid. 

The experience left you unsatisfied and irritated. 

Since your last encounter with Uta had been...awkward and strained, you decided to bring a peace offering. Cream puffs for yourself with green tea and a cup of black coffee for him. You’d picked up on the fact that he liked the beverage without sugar and cream like the total heathen he is. You idly wondered if he even enjoyed sweet things or maybe he was one of those weird folks who liked sour and spicy stuff all the time.

The fact that you’re even thinking about this and it didn’t sink in as odd or out of place until the moment you crossed the threshold of HYSY Studios, taking note of the fact that the place is as gloomy and empty of customers as always. 

“’Ey! Uta, where you at!?” 

There’s a vibration against your leg. You juggle the items in your hold carefully before tugging out your cellphone and entering the passcode to unlock the phone. The most recent text message you’d received from Uta about four minutes ago informed you of the fact that he’s in the back of the studio, like the very, very back, where all the unused and returned masks were. Now the only reason you knew all this information is because of how often you pestered Uta about it. 

You’re at an impasse. 

You could do as he asked and bring your treat to him while you were at it or you could wait and avoid the potential jump scare that Uta was totally capable of inflicting upon you. 

‘To go or not to go, that is the question.’ 

Everything pointed to the clear conclusion that no, you absolutely should not go back there. Every horror movie cliché ended with the female protagonist being killed or gravely injured because she was so stupid as to go in the dark, alone, by herself. 

‘Uta isn’t a killer though.’ That’s what you tried to tell yourself, the argument weak and pitiful in your brain. 

You did not know this man well enough to be in the back where it wouldn’t be easy access to the front door, where you couldn’t bolt if he did something strange. However, you did own a mini taser and always carried mace, just as a precaution, so... 

So....

Slowly, reluctantly, you did as he instructed, every warning and life training you’d received up to this point in your life sending out red neon signs telling you to wait, not be an idiot, to please please stay where you are. And you ignored all those survival instincts, heading deeper into the studio, your footfalls loud and eerie the further in you went. 

Until you find him. 

He’s apparently unfazed by your belated presence, focus wholly consumed with his work. Red on black eyes glanced at you for but a moment and what you carried and then at the coffee. “There’s a mini fridge, leave everything there, except the coffee. I’m almost done.” 

Having some mild experience with artists and creative sorts, you avoid looking at the mask he’s working on, instead setting down the coffee in an empty space he vaguely gestured to. 

Then you walk the short distance to where the only mini fridge in the room is, reaching out, you pull it open. And it’s the scent that alerts you; the fresh tang of blood. It’s too late to stop yourself and you see it, everything. The jar of eyeballs, the carefully wrapped packages of ‘meat’. 

‘I’m in a back room with the potential copycat Jeffery Dahmer or...or....’ 

You’re not an idiot, all these little things you’d casually dismissed because you hadn’t cared enough to pay attention, to see... And now here you are. Here you are. 

Fuck.

Swallowing, you calm and dampen the inner voice sCREAMING, then casually as possible, grip wobbling only slightly, do you put your treat inside the mini fridge right alongside the human body parts and flesh, then close the door, turning around. 

Uta is still hard at work on the mask but his movements are slowing down.

As if nothing is amiss, you stride over just as he finally pauses to take a sip of coffee. “This is one of the ways that you make masks. Really. That’s interesting…” And you meant it too. Legs crossed, you leaned against the table, watching the mask maker in his element.

He smiles at you in that enigmatic way. “Thank you.” 

The visit continues without much else in the way of incidents and subtly unsubtle revelations. 

You don’t really talk and Uta doesn’t make you. 

Less than twenty minutes later, once he deems the mask complete, he stands up and stretches, arms raising overhead, revealing an expanse of creamy, pale, lean and muscled torso. 

Glancing away a beat too late, you catch Uta as he smiles, again, the smile lengthens into a smirk. He reaches out and plucks up the half mask delicately, taking a step towards you and your heart traitorously lurches in your chest. 

Self-preservation makes you want to run as he comes closer, closer, closer...

Logic keeps you rooted in place as he carefully puts the mask on you. Tattooed fingers brush the strands of hair away from the nape of your neck, lingering as he feels the flutter of your pulse beneath his fingertips. 

“Your heart is racing like a hummingbird.” he muses. You stare out at him from beneath the safety of the mask, the bone surprisingly not pinching or cutting your skin. “And here I thought nothing could scare you.”

“Unfortunately fear makes up the majority of the human psyche.” You can’t help the quip, tone dry. “But you’re my friend, so it’s fine.” 

That last comment causes Uta to blink and stare at you in blatant surprise for a minute or two. Then he pulls himself together and shakes his head, a chuckle rumbling through his chest. “...I suppose we are friends.”

“Cool. So how much for the mask?” You reach up, about to remove it but Uta swatted at your hands, the action hard enough to sting but not leave damage. You still squawk indignantly anyway.

“It’s free. Creating it got me out of my block, so thank you.” Bringing out a cellphone, he takes a couple pictures with you, making you turn, pose, and pretty much just show off. 

Once he’s done, he snags your tea and cream puffs out the fridge, then walks you to the front of the studio, giving a small wave goodbye. Brain swimming with what you just learned, amazed that he hadn’t just killed you straight off, you glance at the chilled green tea in your hand then after mentally shrugging to yourself, you take a sip and shove a cream puff in your mouth. 

Hell, after the day you’ve had, you deserve to be rewarded.

Time passes, as it inevitably does. 

You receive more calls from Kiani, from other friends and family members, but you are resolute in staying in Japan. 

Much to your surprise, you’d actually gotten comfortable being there. Though that might have had something to do with Uta, who you continue to visit, and if he’s surprised or put out, none of that shows on his face. It’s fun to drag him places, to be around him, and you can laugh at his jokes, even the deadpan, making-fun-of-humanity ones. 

He even lets you meet his other ghoul friends, Itori and Renji. 

Through it all, these changes and fun things, your health slowly, steadily, gets worse even as you and Uta get closer, muddling about in a rather confusing grey area of friends...and more...

As always, the two of you are hanging out, this time you’d dragged him to an amusement park, and he held onto some of the prizes you won, gamely snapped a couple photos of you in ridiculous poses and making silly faces, etc. 

It felt like a date.

Like, you’re returning from a date.

When that thought ran through your brain, you automatically looked at Uta, catching sight of his profile in the light of the setting sun and your heart clenched as you realized that he’s beautiful. 

It’s with difficulty that you manage to look away but not before he catches you staring from the corner of his eye. “You’re always looking at me… Yet, you never try and get closer…” Uta’s hands are in his pockets and he is barely a foot away. “Does fear keep you at a distance…” He took a step forward. 

Coming almost uncomfortably close. 

“Or is there another….” 

Without conscious thought, you tilt your head up and your lips meet his. 

The contact is light, barely a graze, and there’s the cool sensation of his lip ring...it’s odd but hardly distracting. Your heart is beating like a jack rabbit in your chest and you know this isn’t good for you.

 As you go to pull away, to disconnect, that’s when Uta finally, finally, responds.

He places a hand on the back of your neck, keeping you close before tilting his head, leaned in and kissed you again. 

There’s nothing teasing or patient about it. He nipped your bottom lip, barely waiting for you to part your lips before his tongue twined and stroked, expertly playing with your own, and you felt a zing of excitement travel down you spine as your tongue lightly grazed his tongue ring. 

Your right hand goes to his shoulder, squeezing, holding on desperately as your legs threaten to give out. 

Effortlessly, Uta holds you up, his other hand going to the dip of your back, and when you break the kiss to get some air into your burning lungs, Uta peppers feather light kisses down the column of your throat, sucking a spot just behind your ear. Only when you gasp his name, a mere whisper of a breath really, only then, does he finally stop.

Uta tops that....bombardment off with a light kiss to your forehead, lingering. Then he murmurs into your ear, “That’s how you kiss me from now on.” 

With his piece said, as if he hadn’t pretty much swept you off your feet and left you stuck in LaLa Land, Uta brushed a hand down his shirt, straightening out imaginary wrinkles, before he walked away. It took a few seconds for your brain to reboot and then you hurried after him, chastising him for being mean.

There are a hundred different words that lingered on the edge and never escape your mouth. A thousand questions you never got the answer to. 

There are no more kisses between you and Uta. 

You pass away in your sleep that night December 31, 2XXX at 11:59 P.M. alone in your rented hotel room, dreaming of an impossible reality; of happiness between yourself and the ghoul who for a brief moment, made you feel important, seen, and desired. 

Almost as if he could love you.

[bakujho]

Time to talk about Predators.

And not the cool 80s movie ones.

So a lot of people have messaged me about this, so figured it was time to make a post to address it, since I think there’s a lot of really valid concerns here. Sorry it’s taken me so long to get to, had to unfuck my thoughts and figure out how to say what I needed to say. So first off, here’s the bunch of messages I’ve gotten, and a bunch of posts that make them all very valid. (you’ll have to click on the images to zoom in, i combined everything to not hit the pic limit)

I’m going to put the rest of this rant under a cut with a trigger warning for predatory behavior etc, so anyone can bow out if they’re uncomfortable.

Right off the bat, lets chat about Fictophilia. Attraction to fictional characters. Now, inherently there’s nothing wrong with this, but as we know fiction does not exist in a vacuum. So underage fictional characters exist in an odd space here, since they are not real and no one is being hurt, but the question asked was “why minor characters?”. I think honestly in this case, it’s just that the character types that are preferred happened to be underage. Since the characters (with the exception of Ortho) don’t act like children, they’re all marketed as “boyfriend types” and that’s the nature of this specific media format, which exists to sell. (Which is why it drives me so insane when people write Floyd as acting like a child just to turn around and sexualize him. GUH)

Where this becomes an issue of course, is when it’s no longer simply relating to fictional characters, and where one draws the line as an older person in fandom. I personally think ageism has no place in any fandom, there’s no reason to take up the “godmother” or parental role. We’re all here to be fucking nerds about something, so encouraging minors to approach and interact is something I find SUPER weird. There were a LOT of messages I received from people that had run-ins with Caly/Misa as minors, and THAT is where it becomes problematic. Adding in the support of Vic stuff, despite the hundreds of allegations of sexual misconduct against him (from minors and adults alike), makes me incredibly weary about how she acts around minors.

edit: have been informed this is an old screenshot and no longer applies, though I’m leaving it here anyway cause Vic has been a creep since day 1.

Obviously minors exist in every fandom, but as adults, we need to be mindful of how we interact with them. Straight up, some conversations or thoughts shouldn’t be made public in a space shared by minors. I do not give a single fuck if you wanna sit on Azul’s lap, but PLEASE be aware of your place in the fandom and your IRL age when saying so.

 It’s inappropriate to drop your lewd thoughts into a space accessible to all, save it for an adults only discord server or something.

On that sort of tangent, if you want to daydream about a fictional life with fictional characters as an adult, don’t do it with a self insert...or an OC that is very clearly a self insert as evidenced by these

Constantly complaining that people avoid you because you’re older is bullshit and everyone knows it. 

People are uncomfortable with the way you conduct yourself in the public space, and how you present your not-self-insert-that-is-very-clearly-a-self-insert is what makes people weary. There are plenty of adults in the fandom, and from my experience, none of them have set off alarm bells in the same way. On that note, I will say once again to everyone, PLEASE curate your content. Unfollow people that make you uncomfortable, and if there’s questionable things posted that really make your skin crawl, block that person. If you have been following them in the past, you don’t need to feel bad about unfollowing. You don’t owe anyone anything, especially not a follow. And if you’re afraid of unfollowing/blocking for any reason, don’t be. If anyone comes after you for drawing personal boundaries, all the more reason to have cut that person from your life. 

I did want to chat about a few extra things about that initial post, and just mention how shit it is to try and discredit other coping mechanisms in the same breadth as why YOURS is fine. Now, obviously liquor, drugs, etc are very serious addictions, BUT any coping mechanism when taking to the extreme can be unhealthy. Self harm comes in many forms, and they can all be destructive if they completely control your life (this includes collecting merch. If you can’t pay your bills but are buying merch there’s a problem). Also, there were some EXCELLENT points made off of the initial post that inspired this post in the first place, so instead of trying to paraphrase I’ll just post em.

I’m also working on a post about predatory behavior and how it’s not always sexual in nature, with signs to look out for to keep yourself safe. That’ll have to wait til tomorrow though, since it’s 4am, and I’m not awake enough to really dive into rn, but stay tuned.

[lovelucybradford]

I Pretend You’re Mine~Three

A/N: Thank you again, so much, for your kind and encouraging comments. It makes me so happy that you’re enjoying this.

Trigger warning: Rosalie has plane accident anxiety, gets high off of Dramamine, and wants to fight some hoes

Masterlist

And without further ado, I present to you...

Chapter Three: I Get Drunk On Jealousy

Rosalie had never been a good sleeper on the night before a vacation. Normally, she would spend the hours tossing and turning in bed, her mind whirring with anticipation at the upcoming events or thinking of the impending doom of a plane flight. Last night followed the same predictable pattern: lie awake counting the ruffles in the popcorn ceiling, think about planes falling out of the sky, roll over, curl into ball, think about something else to ease the anxiety...

Save for one difference--an earlier conversation with Laura played in Rose’s head over and over like a drive-in showing of the newest heart-pounding flick.

 “You haven’t seen my idiot brother, have you?” Laura muttered as soon as Rosalie opened the door, suspicious eyes scanning the apartment in search of a hiding Derek. She didn’t wait for Rose’s reply and walked into the living room, plopping down on the sofa.

“Well, hello to you, too. Not that you’re not always welcome, but what are you doing here? You could have called. And why are you looking for Derek?” Rosalie questioned, resting her hip on the doorframe.

Laura rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “He hasn’t been home in days, he missed family dinner Sunday night, he won’t answer texts or calls. I think he’s hiding from my mother. I—”

“Why would he be hiding from your mother? I mean, for God’s sake, he’s a thirty-year-old man—”

“Can you blame him from hiding? You know what my mom’s like when she’s pissed.”

“Why’s she pissed at Derek? As far as I know, he hasn’t done anything deserving of the wrath of Mama Hale.”

Laura crossed her arms, a signature Hale glare aimed right at Rosalie.

Rose questioned Laura’s unwarranted expression with a glare of her own. “What?”

The scowl etched on Laura’s face just grew further. “You’re honestly going to lie to my face?”

At Rosalie’s clueless expression, Laura sighed, throwing her hands up into the air, “What kind of game are you and Derek playing?”

Rose’s heart began to beat a little faster. Could Laura know about their little white lie? No, she couldn’t have. All joking aside, Rosalie’s friend group had sworn not to tell anyone else. But it wasn’t like they kept in contact with the other Hale siblings to begin with…

Laura stood, grabbing the other woman by the wrist and pulling her to sit, in the teal armchair, across from her.

“Tell me. Whose idiotic idea was it to tell your whackass family that you and Derek are engaged? Yours or his?”

Rosalie’s jaw dropped, but Laura looked unaffected.

“How…how did you find out?” Rose breathed, knowing she was caught red-handed.

“Your father called my mother to congratulate her on having ‘an esteemed Martin daughter’ joining the family—”

“Of course, he did,” Rosalie muttered into her palm.

“—Then asked when you and Derek were planning on officially announcing the engagement.”

Rosalie purposefully stared at the gold buttons that outlined the armchair. One of them was loose. That would have to be fixed. Now that she knew about it, it would drive her nuts. “And… what did Talia say?”

“She said that she’s overjoyed that you’ll be an ‘official’ Hale, and that she’d be sure to pass along his concerns to you. Then, she called my brother to ask why the fuck she just had to lie to Jason Martin and what in the world you two were scheming up.”

That surprised Rosalie. Talia Hale was a woman of great poise; it was rare that she lost her temper. “Wait, she actually dropped the ‘f’ bomb? Why was she so angry? So what, we may have fibbed a little.”

The accent pillow from Rose’s sofa hit her in the face, forcing her to look at Laura. Laura’s lips were pursed, face growing redder with frustration.

“SO WHAT? Good God, you two are the stupidest smart people that I know!”

The condescending tone of her voice caused Rosalie to raise her haunches. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means that this is, by far, the dumbest con you two have come up with. And this beats the night that you and Derek got drunk on his 21st birthday and you dared him to go streaking down Main Street.”

“Why? You don’t think that Derek and I can play a convincing couple? Because I’ll have you know that we both won the Best Thespian award during our respective senior years, even though D—”

Laura stood, exploding. “That’s just it, Rosalie! You’ll both play madly in love very well, too well actually, and I…”

She ran a hand through her brown hair, walking to the window and facing the expanse of city below. Softly, Laura added, “I don’t want to see you two get hurt.”

She sounded so vulnerable, it made Rosalie wonder the reasoning behind those fears. Derek and her, they would never hurt each other. The two friends both cared too much. “And why would you think that?”

Laura whipped around to face Rosalie so quickly that she wondered how her pseudo-sister hadn’t gotten whiplash. “Must I spell it out for you? Obviously, I must. You two have been in love with each other since you were kids.”

No. No. Rosalie had feelings for him (albeit repressed), sure, but they certainly weren’t love. She swore she would never get herself into that mess again. And Derek… no way. Like he could ever love her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I… Derek… we’re not in love.”

“You keep telling yourself that, sweetie. Tell me how denial goes for you. Just don’t come back to me crying when this whole ploy of yours blows up in your face spectacularly.”

Was Laura right? Would this all end in burning flames? That question had ruminated in Rosalie’s head all night long.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty!” A slap on the leg jolted Rose wide awake. She looked to her left, finding the culprit grinning in satisfaction as his eyes scanned the road ahead.

Rosalie rolled her eyes, slumping against the passenger door to glare out the window at the streaks of artificial light that came from the surrounding buildings as we passed. “Go to hell, Peter.”

“I’ve been there, sweetie. Feels right at home. And besides, you’re getting to spend a week in paradise. I think you can sacrifice a little sleep.”

“So you woke me up because you’ve got FOMO?”

“You could have gotten a ticket, too. You have enough money,” Lydia chimed in from the back seat. Her voice was low with latent sleep, Lydia not much more alert than Rosalie.

Peter sighed dramatically, always one for fanfare. “No, I could not have. Rosalie’s father’s restraining order still stands… and I’m permanently banned from the state of Hawaii.”

Stiles perked up immediately, elbows leaning on his knees so he could listen in closer. “This is a story I have to hear.”

At the same time, looking to Peter in her peripheral, Rose commented, “You’re lucky you got off that easy. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Stiles reached across Lydia to poke Derek spastically in the bicep.

“What did he do? What did he do?” Stiles questioned Derek like an excited little boy.

Derek groaned. “This fucker commandeered Jason Martin’s yacht and took it for a drunken joyride like he was Jack fucking Sparrow. He went around picking up a bunch of women and partied until the Coast Guard pulled up.”

To himself, Peter muttered, “Boats and hoes.”

Rosalie scowled. “You had to go and call the female cop a dirty wench.”

Peter looked irritated. “Um, excuse me. I may not remember much from that night, but I’m pretty sure my exact words were, ‘Ahoy there, you sexy wench! Give me some of that booty.’”

Stiles laughed hysterically. Rosalie reached around in her seat to smack him on the forehead. “Don’t encourage him!”

Peter shifted the car into park and turned towards the group in the back. “We’re finally here. Now, get the fuck out of my car so I can go back to sleep.”

________________________

  Her pillow was hard—unusually so. She specifically remembered buying the fluffiest one in the store. So why did it feel like she was sleeping against a wall? Rosalie inhaled deeply, the woodsy scent flooding her nostrils. The brick wall smelled amazing. She greedily burrowed further into the pillow. The pillow that was becoming less hard and more… prickly.

The pillow shook slightly, Rosalie’s torso moving along with it. The hazy ring of a laugh resounded amidst the mechanical buzzing of the airplane.

“Are you smelling me?” came a familiar voice. The woman turned her head slightly, only to find that her pillow was not a pillow, and instead was the shoulder of her best friend.

Rosalie smiled happily up at him. “Hey Derek!”

He grinned back, green eyes dancing with amusement. “Hey princess. Sleep well, I assume?”

“Mmm, yeah. So good. The best.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re about two hours outside of Orlando. Just a reminder, the fasten seatbelt sign is on. We may run into some turbulence here.”

Rosalie lifted her heavy head from Derek’s shoulder, leaning back fully on the cushion of her seat. Her eyes hazily scanned the encapsulated ceiling. A blast of cold air hit her straight in the face.

“God, is that you?” Rosalie questioned curiously, “Why are you telling me to fasten my seatbelt. I always wear my seatbelt, you know that. I am a responsible driver.”

Derek laughed again. “Holy shit, you’re so high.”

Rosalie smacked her lips, mouth suddenly feeling cotton dry. “I require a beverage.”

Stiles peeked his head over the seat.

Rose stared up at him in awe. “Stiles, you really are a Jedi! You’ve mastered levitation!”

Stiles gave her a weird look. “First you’re saying that you require a ‘beverage’, now you’re thinking that I’m levitating.” His focus turned to scrutinize Derek. “I told you we shouldn’t have given her Dramamine!”

Rose’s body suddenly felt heavy again, so she slumped over and used Derek to support her weight. Derek’s head was stretched all the way up; he was yelling back at Stiles. For what, Rosalie didn’t understand. “Would you rather she spends the whole flight puking her guts out? You know she has motion sickness!”

Rosalie blindly reached a finger up and to her left until she poked Derek in the nose. “Derek. Derek. Der. I need a beverage.”

Derek wrapped his hand around hers and brought their hands down to rest between them. His free hand ran through his hair.

“The drink cart’s coming. It should be here soon.”

Rosalie narrowed her eyes, focusing on Derek’s hair and not his words. The black locks were disheveled, the right side sticking up in a very unattractive manner. She stretched up to pat his hair down.

“Yes, thank you. Ok. The stewardess is coming,” Derek said, clearly not appreciating her fixing.

Rosalie shrugged and went back to lying her head on his shoulder, trying not to inhale when she caught another whiff of cedarwood. Damn, that scent was addicting.

The perky stewardess appeared almost instantly, almost like she was at Derek’s beck and call. She might as well have been, with the way she was looking at him.

The woman was young, likely around Rosalie’s age. She wore a navy blazer over a white button-up shirt, with one too many buttons undone. Even her scarf couldn’t hide that cleavage—eye-drawing cleavage. And it’s like the stewardess knew it, too, with the way that she pulled down her shirt as soon as she stepped in front of the two in the aisle. Her brown eyes scanned Derek hungrily, not an unusual occurrence when it came to Derek Hale.

Intuitively, Rosalie’s blue eyes scanned the hand still in Derek’s for the ring that she was sure she put on this morning, the sapphire that got them into this mess in the first place. Just as Rosalie thought, it was still secured around her left ring finger.

The pretty blonde flight attendant flipped her long hair and smiled brilliantly at Derek.

“How can I help you, sweetheart?” she fawned, voice thick with a southern drawl.

Rose watched her like a hawk. She didn’t like that look, nor the subtle flirting. Not when it was obvious that he was engaged.

Rosalie put on the sweetest smile she could muster in her slowly angering state. “I’d love a ginger ale. Thank you.”

The stewardess didn’t even look at Rosalie as she spoke; she was still smiling brightly at Derek.

“Would you like a champagne? It’s on the house, for a pretty face like yours.”

Rosalie’s blood boiled at the woman’s blatant flirting with her fiancé. It sobered Rosalie immensely. She raised her head from Derek’s shoulder, moving their joined hands to her lap where the sapphire ring would be obvious.

The flight attendant’s gaze grazed briefly to Rosalie’s hand. It was as if she was unfazed.

Rosalie’s brows stretched tightly upward as she channeled Big Hale Energy to the best of her ability. The words came flying out of her mouth before she could really even think them through. She was beyond pissed.

 “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say that you’re just too stupid to see the ring on my finger. Because I highly doubt that American Airlines would appreciate one of their employees whoring it up for someone else’s fiancé.”

The look on the woman’s face was priceless. Finally, Rosalie got a reaction on that steely, perfect face of hers, one that reminded Rose eerily of her stepsister, Ashleigh. The other woman’s jaw dropped, noisily gasping for breath.

The gasps echoed across the cabin. Derek’s hand stiffened in Rose’s.

“I am so sorry. We gave her some Dramamine to get on the plane, and she gets a little… feisty. If we could have the ginger ale, that would be great. Thanks,” Derek croaked, swiftly pulling his hand away to pull out his wallet from his back pocket. He handed the woman a five-dollar bill with an apologetic smile.

Rosalie looked at him, flabbergasted.

Derek stared right back at her, one brow raised in challenge.

“Do you want to get kicked off this plane?!” He hissed.

Stiles poked his head up again, whistling loudly. “Not even there yet, and you’re already playing the jealous fiancée. Damn, Rose. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Lydia yanked him back down into his seat as the flight attendant stiffly appeared with Rosalie’s ginger ale and a bottle of water for Lydia. Rose didn’t look at her as she accepted the plastic cup. Instead, she stared at her tanned legs. The stewardess’ high heels clicked as she stomped back up towards the front of the cabin.

In the clear, Rosalie brought the cup to her dry lips to take a much-needed drink. Lydia reached one hand through the gap between Derek and Rosalie’s seats, grabbing Rose’s elbow before she could let the liquid into her mouth.

“Don’t drink that!” Lydia exclaimed hastily.

Rose put the drink down on Derek’s open tray table and turned to peek through the gap. She could see a fraction of Lydia’s face. From what she could see, Lydia looked irritated.

“She probably spit in it, Rosalie.”

Rose scoffed at the suggestion. “What? She was the one who was hitting on a taken man! What am I supposed to do?”

Derek shoved a half-drank bottle of Aquafina from his carry-on into her lap. “Just shut up and drink this.”

She removed her face from the gap to look at Derek apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t react, just kept on glaring at the tray table.

Rosalie changed defense tactics, smiling at him with all teeth bared like a guilty child. “I’m sorry. I love you, Der Bear.”

Just as predicted, his green eyes shot to her blue ones. He sighed and rolled his eyes. “You better. I forgive you.”

Success. Rosalie’s lips curled upwards in satisfaction.

Derek held up a finger in front of her face. “On one condition. You never call me Der Bear again.”

His comment had Rosalie cackling loudly, drawing more unwanted attention to herself for the second time on the flight.

______________________________________________________________

Tags:

@empath-bunny

@ityagirljay​

@wolfarrowepz​