#i tried giving them different hair and skin and disabilities and such

[tangramkey]

I made gijinkas of Ruby and all her sisters !!! Who is your favorite?

(Version without names under the cut!!!)

[turtletaubwrites]

Bend Until You Break ~ Part 1

Thank you for this request from the lovely @anemptypuddingcup for a Yandere!Law that the Reader goes to for help with a serious health condition, only for Law to take a liking to her... I swear I will write sweet Law one of these days, but for now please enjoy Yandere!Law. This contains !!DARK CONTENT!! so please check the warnings, and skip this one if it may be triggering or uncomfortable for you. This one's for us hypermobile baddies out there. 🥄

Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist

Word Count: 2679

Ao3 Link

Summary: You have struggled with mystery pains and injuries for most of your life, and had resigned yourself to suffer after every doctor told you there was nothing wrong. But when a world renowned doctor/pirate comes to town to offer aid in exchange for supplies, you decide to give hope one more chance. Maybe you'll finally find a doctor you can trust.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush)

A/N: This chapter is SFW, but I'm adding in many tags to start out with since this mini series will contain heavy/dark content. PLEASE heed the tags, and do not read this fic if you aren't comfortable with these topics. Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience 🙃

Extra A/N: I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional. Hopefully you'll have better luck than Reader 🙄

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

I should just leave. He’ll just tell me the same things. It’s a waste of time. 

You were close to convincing yourself to walk away, especially as the discomfort and pain of standing in one place for so long started radiating up your body. 

The line got shorter, and you stretched and bounced, trying to hang onto a sliver of hope.

“Hello, how’s your day going?”

A talking polar bear in an orange jumpsuit waved at you from behind a small table, handing you a clipboard. 

“I-I’m well thanks. How…”

“Good! It’s always nice when the captain can help people. He’s the best! Just fill that out, and he’ll be with you soon.”

Looking at the form brought you out of the shock of speaking to a bear. Instead, it filled you with intense frustration, until you were practically boiling in your skin.

‘Rate your pain from 1-10.’

How the fuck am I supposed to rate all the different types of pain I’m in on any given day?

‘Circle the parts of the body where you are experiencing pain.’

I could put circles over so many things. Might as well circle the whole fucking chart, and have them call me a liar.

‘List your diagnoses, and family medical history.’

I don’t have one, doctors never find anything. Mom has some similar symptoms, but they're so mild that she's never tried to get a diagnosis. You’re the one who’s supposed to figure this out!

You resisted the urge to vent your anger onto the page, bullshitting your way through instead. You tried to write in the most convincing way to get this new doctor to take you seriously. 

This new doctor. “The Surgeon of Death.” A fucking pirate. 

But he was supposed to be the best, and he was here on your shitty little island for a couple of weeks, trading medical treatment for the town's supplies. You had already heard reports of “miracles,” that he could perform surgeries in an instant, that he could fix anyone. 

Please fix me.

This was it. You couldn’t take anymore trying after this. Just trying to get a doctor to listen to or believe you was almost worse than the daily pain. Almost.

“Miss Y/N? The captain is ready for you now. My name is Bepo, by the way,” the bear grinned as he took the clipboard from your clammy hands. At least you hoped it was a grin.

He handed the form back to you as he led you through the dimly lit hallways of this strange submarine. It felt like you’d entered some other realm, an underworld, on your way to strike a deal with a demon. 

As long as he can fix me…

“Here you are,” Bepo motioned as he opened a large metal door. “You’re in great hands.”

Hands. 

Hands were the first things you noticed as you entered the examination room. 

Those hands were tensed over the back of a rolling chair, gripping the thin padding as if waiting for you so he could sit down. 

Long fingers mesmerized you, tattoos etched along the back of each hand. And as you stepped into the well lit room, you saw the word “death,” spelled out across both sets of those fingers. 

The sound of his throat clearing snapped your eyes to his, your skin flushing as you realized he’d been speaking to you. 

As you realized how fucking gorgeous he was. His black hair looked a bit mussed, but it only added to the effect, along with his goatee, and his dark, pretty eyes.

Already more useful than my other doctors. Easy on the eyes. 

“May I look at your form, miss?”

‘Oh, of course,'' you stuttered, thrusting the paper toward him. “I’m Y/N.”

“Dr. Trafalgar. You can take a seat.”

Well, his bedside manner seems pretty standard, you thought with a small sigh, sitting down on the familiar crinkly paper covering the exam table. 

He circled behind you to close the door, and what sounded like a lock clicking into place had your heart rate spiking. 

“Stand up, please,” he said firmly, your form still unseen in his hand. 

“Oh, sorry. I thought you said–”

“Walk to the corner, and sit back down, please.”

His voice was unreal. You would have jumped through hoops for him anyway, praying that any doctor would listen. 

But his command seemed to curl into your brain, and you followed it immediately. 

“Why are you favoring that hip?”

“Oh, it…” 

Here’s where your credibility would fall apart. Your nails dug into your palms as you willed him to believe you.

“Sometimes if I stand too quickly, it feels loose. Sometimes it pops, and is so painful that I can’t put any weight on it.”

He stared at you for a moment, and you fought not to recite a list of excuses, to try to explain why it hurts when you’d never been injured before. 

“And your right knee?”

“Oh, it’s not bad right now. It used to swell sometimes, and was really painful. But it’s not as bad as it used to be.”

“Did you sustain any injuries?”

“N-No. None that I can recall.”

His lips quirked a bit before he reviewed your chart.

Believe me. Believe me. Believe me.

“You’ve reported your shoulders as being your most pressing concern. Why is that?”

His eyes were almost painfully sharp as he scanned you, focusing on your face as you answered him. He’d sat backwards on the rolling chair, his arms folded across the back with his legs spread wide to either side.

“They’ve been acting up recently. They often feel… loose. That’s how it feels to me. Sometimes if I move a certain way it almost feels like they pop out of place. But I can still move them after, it’s just incredibly painful. And then it’s weak, and I can barely hold anything.”

“What are some of the activities that have caused this to happen?”

He was impossible to read. But you couldn’t lie. He wouldn’t be able to help you if you lied.

“Um, brushing my hair. Taking off a jacket. P-Putting a sports bra on.”

“Did you used to have longer hair?”

“What?”

“Do you keep your hair above your shoulders to prevent shoulder pain? Or does brushing it still cause issues at this length?”

“Oh. Yes, actually. I used to have much longer hair.”

“I imagine you’ve adjusted many aspects of your life to cope with this pain.” 

Warmth flowed into that deep voice, and you shivered as you watched him steeple his fingers against his lips for a moment. 

“If you are comfortable, I would like to run through a few simple movements to check your flexibility. Many of which you can do on your own, but I will check in again if you are comfortable with me touching you for the others. You can always let me know if you would like to stop.”

“Okay.”

The doctor dug through a drawer to pull out a clear measuring device, almost like two rulers connected at one end. He adjusted it, creating an angle before setting it aside. 

He never picked up the device again, and you fought not to shake. He looked at your elbows, your knees, your thumbs, your pinkies, frowning slightly as you followed his instructions.

“Now, please bend over, and try to touch your toes. Just go as far as you– hm.”

Your palms were flat on the ground, just as they’d always been able to go. You could even put the back of your hands down, and stretch them along the ground behind you if you wanted to. 

“Doctor?”

“You can take a seat.”

Wincing as you sat, you shook out your legs, feeling his eyes as he watched your every movement. 

He stood, towering over you as he came close.

“For this next part of the examination, I will be touching you with my hands, and in some cases leaning or holding parts of your body against mine so that I can check the range of motion in your joints. I may also massage certain tight muscles to help you relax as we move through the problem areas. You have quite the list for us to get through, but if at any time you wish for us to stop, just let me know. Do you understand?”

“I do,” you breathed, your face angled up to meet his.

“Do you consent to me touching you?”

His voice came out softer once again, and you couldn’t hold in a shiver as you consented.

Those fingers…

His long fingers were so gentle as they crept across your body, testing, pushing, pulling. You fought to listen to his commands, pushing against or holding your body how he told you. 

“I imagine that seeking treatment has been challenging for you,” he rasped as he leaned over your face, his fingers gently massaging your shoulders. 

The pain and pleasure of his hands testing you had brought up a strangely emotional pressure, almost like tears in your throat.

“It has.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It must be incredibly difficult to suffer so much pain, and not be believed.”

You started to nod to keep your voice from cracking, but he pressed his fingers into your skin just a bit.

“Can you keep still for me,” he whispered, and it sounded so close that you opened your eyes.

“Just relax,” the doctor soothed as he stepped away, pulling a few tissues out to press against your cheeks and temples, catching the tears that had spilled when you’d opened your burning eyes.

“I’m sorry, doc–”

“No need to be sorry, Y/N. You have been suffering, been living with pain for years. It’s all those doctors that left you like this that should feel ashamed.”

His fingers had returned to your body, still relaxing, and testing.

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Please, call me Law.”

He was pressing gently along your collarbones as his name rolled over you, a small sound escaping your throat as you melted beneath him. 

“Do you have a good support system? People in your life that can help you with this?”

“I mean, my mom and my boyfriend help me. They’re supportive.”

He took those fingers away, and you mourned them, wishing you could feel that soothing touch forever.

“I’m going to test your hips now, Y/N. Please tell me if you experience any pain.”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling self conscious of your breathy voice. His words just kept pouring over you, his voice so relaxing, so good. 

“How does that feel, Y/N?”

“Fine.”

He had your leg stretched along his torso, your foot dangling over his shoulder. You clamped your eyes shut. The sight of him between your spread legs, pushing your leg toward you, had you biting your lip, trying not to make any more embarrassing noises. 

“How’s this?”

“Fine.”

He hadn’t gotten close to your limit, but he went agonizingly slow. You could feel his firm abs warming your thigh through your clothes, his thin shirt not doing much to keep the press of him at bay. 

“You said that your mom and your boyfriend support you. How do they do that?”

“Oh, uh,” you shook your head, trying to focus on the question, and not the gentle rocking motion he’d started as he pushed you even further.

“They help me when… They help me when I’m having bad days. They listen. They both do little different things when things are bad.”

“How’s this?”

“Still fine.”

“You can go further?”

“Yeah, I can–,” you had reached for your thigh, planning to pull it toward your chest to show him, but his eyes above you stopped you before his voice did. 

“I’ll get you there, Y/N. You can hurt yourself if you rush. Can you take it slow for me?”

“Perfect,” he praised when you nodded, still gently rocking your body forward and back as he pushed, finally reaching the limit. 

“That is quite the range of motion,” he noted, carefully laying that leg down to move to the other side. “May I?”

He set himself up again, moving slow as he used his body to stretch you.

“You said that they help you on bad days, is that right?”

Meeting his sharp eyes, you took a minute to understand.

“Yes, they do.”

His face tilted a bit as he pressed closer. He started that gentle rocking motion, almost thrusting against you to help your body relax. 

“But Y/N, from what I’ve seen today, it seems like all of your days are bad. Aren’t they?”

“I…”

“All these years with no one to believe you. It must be hard to believe yourself sometimes. Do you think they really believe you, Y/N? Do they believe how much pain you’re in as you struggle through each day? As you stand up too fast, or brush your hair? Do you think they understand?”

He’d pushed closer, looming over you as he held your thigh against him. 

“Why are you–”

“I need to make sure that my patients have the support systems they need.”

His voice had smoothed back now, from almost heated to cool and detached.

He’s the only person that’s ever seemed like they understand. He must believe me. Of course he would be passionate about it, he’s a doctor. A doctor that believes me.

Closer and closer, his eyes watching yours.

“Do they believe you?”

“I think,” you started, eyes wide as you fought more tears, “I think they try to believe me. They just… They don’t know what it’s like. They don’t understand.”

“How’s this?”

“It’s fine.”

“Alright, last push.”

Your thigh was pressed between your bodies, and he stayed there.

“Does this hurt, Y/N,” he rasped, his breath warming your face. 

“No.”

He helped you stretch your leg out on the table, sitting backwards in the rolling chair before he told you to sit up.

“I believe I understand the cause of your pain, and why you’ve had a difficult time obtaining a diagnosis.”

“Can you fix it?”

Your thrill of excitement got caught in your throat at the look in his eyes, his palm up to halt your questions. 

“I believe it may be a connective tissue disorder, which would explain your hypermobility, as well as the complications you’ve had with many parts of your body. You've already met the criteria for one type based on our examination today. I would like you to come back tomorrow so that we can review more of your symptoms to be sure, and to discuss treatments.”

“You can do surgery, right? Can you fix it?”

You had gestured to him, your body panicking with failing hope. A gasp left your throat as those tattooed fingers caught your hand, his thumb rubbing over your skin as his voice went low.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. This is not a condition that can be cured,” he confessed, squeezing your hand as your body slumped. “Connective tissues run throughout our entire body, and if I am correct, yours may be weaker than most. 'Loose,' as you said. Unfortunately, there is no known way to repair or replace those tissues.”

A weight fell over you, and you found yourself not quite in your body. Your body that you’d fought so hard to fix.

That can never be fixed.

The doctor pressed your hand between his, smoothing over and warming your fingers until you were present enough to meet his eyes.

“It may not be curable, Y/N, but it can be managed. You don’t need to suffer alone in such pain like you have been. I’ll do everything I can to ensure that things are better for you. Do you trust me?”

There was something so intense about his face. The way he looked at you felt heavy, like he really did see the weight you’d carried all these years. You sank into those gray eyes, and realized you did.

“I trust you, Doctor.”

“Please. Y/N,” he hummed, releasing your hand, “call me, Law.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Welcome to my frustration with the health care system 😅

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel

Part 2

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Hydra Sanatorium"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Word count: 5112

Tags: a/b/o, medical institutionalization, cognitive disability, made up kinky medical things, diapers, catheters, enemas, non-con medical procedures, restraints, forced wetting, hurt/comfort, humiliation, kind!Careworker Steve, bratty!Patient Bucky, alpha Steve, omega bucky, dry humping, forced orgasm, masturbation, implied self harm, orgasm therapy, age difference (19/30s), omorashi

Series Masterlist if you've missed a chapter or need to re-read!

Summary: Bucky is a troubled teen coping with the traumatic transformation of late-onset omega puberty. Steve's the care worker who's been developing too much of an attachment.

Epilogue I.

Omegas don’t do well with change like this.

Moves tend to stress them out. To have all the things they cling to for safety and reassurance suddenly disappeared? replaced? Their den switched up, their nest taken away, nothing smelling or looking or feeling the same as what they’re used to? It’s distressing to them. It can throw them into bad moods at best, and mental health crises at worst. It isn’t logical and the poor things can’t control it, so their reactions can be confusing to people who aren’t familiar with omega behavioral patterns and physiology. 

Luckily, Steve knows all about such things, so he isn’t too shocked when Bucky has trouble with his moods after moving into the apartment and begins—among other things—compulsively stress-masturbating with whatever he can get his hands on.

“Honey, wait. Wait, wait, wait.” Steve hurries to shut the door and set down his armload of shopping bags, going over to wrestle away whatever it is Bucky’s trying to stuff up his posterior. He almost laughs when he sees that it’s a hairbrush. (In the kid’s defense, it does have a vaguely cylindrical, rubberized handle.)  “Bucky, give it to me,” he Voices, and takes it from the angrily whining omega. Yesterday, he’d had to break one of his mother’s cardinal rules and throw out food when he’d caught Bucky being violent with a vegetable.

“Nnn!”

Steve hushes him, pulling him into his arms and holding tightly. “Hey, stop. I’m here. I’m right here, ‘mega.”

Bucky stops fighting him and goes limp in his hold, changing from angry whines to a confused sob as he tucks his face into Steve’s neck and mouths over the skin. “Steve,” he moans, overwhelmed.

“Shhh. M’right here. You’re okay.” 

Against his neck, Bucky sniffles, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I tried, I tried to wait but I’m just so …” He makes a frustrated noise and grinds his face against Steve’s shoulder. “Mmrrr.”

Steve’s eyes track to the couch. There’s Bucky’s discarded sweatpants and his diaper. The nearest pillow, which Steve deduces he was recently humping, has a dark patch of slick on it. “Still feeling stressed?” he says, stroking Bucky’s back soothingly when the question elicits another whine. “Shhh. It’s okay. You’re allowed to touch yourself. But remember what we talked about? Safe ways?” He lets his hand trail down to Bucky’s butt, fingers delving gently between his cheeks to feel the slick there. “You need to be safe and not hurt yourself.”

Bucky nips him reactively. “I forgot,” he growls, then gasps in surprise when Steve pinches his asscheek. “Hey!”

“Don’t be mean. Your body’s just stressed. That’s why you’re feelin’ so emotional.”

He sniffles and hides against him. “But m’happy to be here.”

“I know you are, bub. Don’t worry. I know. And you know I’m so excited to have you here with me.” He kisses his hair. “We talked about this. Sometimes your body gets ahead of you. We’ve just gotta make you feel at home and real safe, then I promise you’ll feel better.” 

That’s why he just popped out to the store to grab a few things. He’d left Bucky snacks and blankets to snuggle with on the couch, but clearly that wasn’t what he felt like doing.

Against him, Bucky whines and starts humping his leg. “ ‘lpha,” he grumbles, embarrassed. He’s been acting upset and erratic since they came home yesterday. He’d cried when the confusing behavior started up, afraid that Steve would think he didn’t really want to be there, or that he didn’t want Steve as his alpha. Steve doesn’t think he’s heard someone call him ‘Alpha’ so many times in a twenty-four hour period in his life.

“That’s right, bub,” he reassures him with another tight squeeze. “I’m your Alpha. And you’re my good omega. Gonna make it official real soon.” 

The only reason he hasn’t, is because of the birth control injection that needs twenty-four hours to be fully effective. But Bucky doesn’t know that. He thinks the shot he received yesterday morning was just a mega-dose of vitamins. He has no idea that it’s something Steve quietly told Raynor to administer before they left the ward, something he wanted done for Bucky’s welfare. It’ll prevent pregnancy, just until they get situated, until they’re bonded and Steve can be sure that Bucky is properly settled in his new home.

Bucky hasn’t been told the truth because he won’t understand. He’ll instinctively take it as rejection, just like any omega would; a sign that Steve doesn’t think he's good enough, doesn’t want to breed him up. 

Which couldn’t be further from the truth! Steve can’t wait for the day when he’ll get to fill Bucky full to bursting, plug him up with his cum and watch his seed take root, watch the boy’s gorgeous body grow ripe and heavy with their pups. That’ll be a wonderful day, when it happens, but it isn’t happening now. Steve wants to give Bucky everything he’s missed out on in life so far, and that includes a happy, relaxed, and romantic period of child-free bliss with his new Alpha. Time where Bucky is the center of Steve’s attention with nothing to take away from it. There will be plenty of time for pups down the road—maybe even later that same year, who knows? But not right now. 

Yesterday had been tough. Steve had been hard pressed to find an excuse to give Bucky as to why they weren’t fucking each other’s brains out. He’d settled on half-truths, saying that he wanted Bucky to work on scenting the apartment and building up a spot for himself in the hallway nesting closet. He’d told Bucky that it would be healthier for him to settle in and calm down a little bit before they made love.

Luckily, Bucky hadn’t known enough to call bullshit on him, but Steve has still been grinding his teeth ever since they got home to the apartment twenty-seven hours ago, not able to fuck a claim into his omega for fear of getting him pregnant.

Now that he’s given it that little bit of extra time and can be sure that Bucky’s fertility is suppressed, Steve tells him that they can go back to the bedroom together, if he wants. Bucky mewls happily and nods, humping against him harder. “Steeve.”

Steve comforts him with a quick hug, and takes his hand. “Come on.” He leads his half naked omega back towards the bedroom. “I told you I’d be gone for less than an hour. You couldn’t wait?”

“No.” 

It’s such a firm and stubborn little ‘no’, that it makes Steve chuckle as he guides him to the bed. This is day number two in the apartment together, yesterday was a whirlwind of paperwork and transitions, of new and unfamiliar and figuring out. But today is real, and raw, and Steve hasn’t been completely soft since he woke up that morning and realized that today is the day he’s finally going to get to have Bucky. He’s finally going to get to fuck his omega—no, not fuck: make love to him. 

He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls Bucky in close, hands on his waist. “I know it’s a lot of change all at once. It’s okay to be sad, or scared, or even just confused about how you feel.” Bucky grunts and shakes his head, trying to pull away but relaxing when Steve’s hands hold fast. “Use your words, bub.”

“M’not sad,” he grunts, face pinched as he bashfully admits, “I just get nervous.”

“Nervous about what?” 

“Dunno. Just that maybe ..." He shrugs and won’t meet Steve’s eyes as he mumbles, "Maybe it’s too good to be true.”

Steve’s heart twinges painfully. “Oh, Honey. Don’t say that. It’s not. It’s not too good to be true. It’s real. You’re here with me, aren’t you?” His fingers slip under the fabric of Bucky’s tee shirt and caress the soft give of his waist. “You deserve good things, Buck. I’m so happy you’re mine now and I can show you that. None of this is any more than what you deserve, Sweet boy.”

“But how can you be sure you won’t, ya know, ... change your mind?”

Steve huffs and tugs him in closer, ignoring the little ‘oof’ of surprise that Bucky makes when his shins hit the mattress. “I’m sure,” he growls, needing to never hear that pitiful uncertainty in his omega’s voice ever again. “Bucky, Jesus. I’ve never been more sure of anything. I’m not gonna change my fucking mind.” He scoffs at the mere notion. “Baby, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to—” He cuts himself off from admitting something that he shouldn’t: the inappropriate truth. 

Which is that he’d been excited that year when Bucky finally aged up to C Hall, to sexual touch therapies that Steve hadn’t previously been allowed to provide him. Steve isn’t supposed to view his omega charges that way—like he’s attracted to them or interested in them as more than patients—but he’s realizing now that he had felt that way about Bucky, since before the boy came up to C hall, even. He’d just buried those feelings deep and convinced himself that they weren’t there. It’d been necessary, otherwise he would’ve been sick every time he had to watch Bucky’s shitty family show up and yank him back out of the sanatorium too soon. Hell, it was hard enough to watch it even with the shield of his own denial. Truth is, Steve’s felt an inexplicable draw to this kid ever since he’d very first been wheeled into Hydra, strapped down, crying, and lost.

Swallowing thickly, he changes what he was going to say to a quiet, “You don’t know how happy I was, when you said you wanted me to be the daddy,” instead, warming inside when Bucky’s eyes flit up to him in surprise. He smiles softly. “Yeah, I remember you said that.”

Bucky flushes beautifully and does an endearing little squirm. “Hmm.”

Steve chuckles. “See? You’re stuck with me.” It’s a promise more than anything else, and he feels the pleasured shiver that runs through Bucky’s body in reaction to it. “Gonna bond you, Sweetheart,” he murmurs. “You want that?”

Bucky chirps, the instinctive sound making his cheeks color prettily. He glances down at himself, and Steve looks too. His little prick is fattened up, as hard as it’s ever really capable of getting. And his inner thighs are smeared with shiny slick that makes Steve’s cock throb and his balls feel heavy and full. He licks his lips, lightheaded at the possibilities of what he can do to Bucky now that the Sanatorium's rules and restrictions don’t apply to them anymore.

“Jesus,” he rasps, fighting not to give in to the urge to simply grab the boy and toss him up on the bed. Steve knows that, outside of whatever treatments he’s received on-ward, Bucky is very sexually inexperienced; a virgin. That’s why Steve has to do this right. You never forget your first time. “Bucky, Honey,” he says gently. “Do you think you’re ready to be with me?”

Steve’s a lot older than him, and leagues more experienced—in both sex, and life in general. That’s why, even though he’s got no doubt that the boy wants this, it’s still important to ask in the beginning, before things get too hot and heavy. Given that Bucky’s been humping the pillows and sexually abusing common household objects, Steve knows he can’t afford to wait any longer. Bucky needs this, needs to feel loved and safe and claimed, and the best that Steve can do for him is to give him the chance to say yes, to feel like he’s deciding on his own that this is the right choice. 

So he reaches up and palms the kid’s cheek, rumbling in approval when Bucky pushes into the contact with a plaintive sound. “Words, bubba,” he coaxes gently. “Tell me what you're thinking.”

Bucky mewls and presses closer, pushing against Steve and climbing up into his lap on the bed. Steve falls backwards and Bucky chirps happily and follows after him, already back to humping his stomach and eagerly yet gracelessly kissing his mouth. “Mm, hmmph, mmm —”

Steve laughs at his enthusiasm and groans at the feeling of the kid rubbing off on him, pushing Steve’s shirt up and smearing slick on his abs. Steve threads a hand into Bucky’s hair and pulls him back so that he can get up properly onto the bed. “Hang on, Honey. Just hang on a sec.” Bucky whines and chirps and generally makes himself into a very squirmy obstacle, but Steve is much stronger and leagues more coordinated than he is in his present condition, poor thing. He’s able to wrangle Bucky onto his back in the middle of the bed and get his shirt off of him—the only article of clothing he was left wearing, anyway.

“Ooh.” Bucky moans and writhes against the chenille blankets when he feels that softness against his naked skin. “Oh, Steeve.”

“Hang on one sec, Buck. M’right here. Not goin’ anywhere.” Steve gets back up on his knees and yanks his shirt overhead. He gets his belt loosened, his pants off, and tucks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, ready to shuck them as well. But he pauses and looks at Bucky when he hears the omega’s breath catch. 

Bucky is lying there with parted lips, a lax jaw, and prettily pinched eyebrows. His eyes are heated and heavy-lidded as he takes in Steve’s body. Steve smiles tenderly at him and starts to peel his underwear down, watching Bucky watch him, rapt. “What’s the most you’ve done with an alpha, Sweetheart?” he asks, putting a little bit of his Voice into the words to help make Bucky feel reassured. “Mm?”

Bucky licks his lips and stares as Steve’s cock is revealed to him. “An alpha …” he repeats dumbly. “I …” He exhales shakily as Steve tucks his underwear behind his balls and wraps a hand around the base of his shaft. “Oh, God.”

Steve waits, then asks the question again as he gives himself a squeeze and wrings his hand down to the head in one slow, indulgent stroke.

The scent of fresh slick hits the air, sharp and sweet, betraying Bucky’s growing arousal. “Just … um … just …” he breathes, rapt at the sight of Steve’s hand on his dick. “S’just you. At the hospital.”

Steve groans softly. He’d figured as much, but to hear Bucky say it out loud, that he’s a complete virgin except for the times that Steve has touched him, makes his belly flare with new heat and his cock pulse in his hand. “Yeah?” he encourages, letting go of himself so he can lower back down on top of Bucky. He uses a thigh to nudge the boy’s legs apart, making a space for himself in the cradle of his hips. Bucky whimpers and parts beautifully for it, pulling his knees up and tilting his pelvis to try and keep humping on him. Steve presses down obligingly, letting him rub his little prick against his lower abs. “No experimenting with friends?” he checks, because that’s not unheard of.

He won’t be bothered in the slightest if Bucky’s tried to scratch his itch by playing sexually with his omega peers on the ward. That sort of behavior is fairly common in group settings, especially in omegas who’re very stressed. The nesting pods in the sensory room back at Hydra, for instance, are a popular place where the omega patients will often pile up and rub on each other for comfort.

“Just me, huh?” Steve says fondly, when he can see that the answer is still a no. He smiles and cradles Bucky’s face in his hand, thumb stroking back and forth over his cheek. “You nervous?”

Bucky hesitates, but then he nods. “Just … just ‘cause it’s so private,” he says, blushing. “Because m’not used to it. But I’m not scared, I promise.” He bites his lip, eyes flitting over Steve’s face like he’s working up the nerve to admit something else. “I’m glad it’s you,” he says, smiling a little, nervous and honest. “I’m glad it’s all been with you.” 

Jesus. Steve’s whole chest feels full and warm, like bathwater about to overflow, and he doesn’t think twice before saying, “I love you, Bucky.” He nods along as Bucky chirps and his eyes water happily. “Yeah. I do.”

“Steve.” 

Bucky starts to cry, and it hurts Steve to see it, to think of how long it’s been since any person has told him that he’s loved. So he repeats it a few times more, dipping in to kiss lightly at the boy’s lax, plush mouth. “I love you, ‘mega. Love you. Love you.”

“Steve, oh.”

“Want to make love to you,” he murmurs against his cheek, lips dragging over skin, down to kiss his jaw, his neck. He mouths over the visibly swollen spot of his glands, and Bucky jerks and cries out. He starts humping frantically against him, and Steve nods and pushes down into it, giving him pressure to rut against. He slips a hand into Bucky’s hair and cradles his skull as the boy gets close. “That’s it,” he says, “That’s it, Honey. Make yourself cum.” He lets his teeth scrape lightly over Bucky’s glands. “Want to make you feel safe, ‘mega. You’re so safe with me.”

Bucky stiffens and comes, shuddering through it and clinging tightly to Steve the whole time. Steve hums encouragingly and lets him ride it out. “Good boy,” he praises. “Such a good boy for me.” He pulls back and looks down at him, smiling tenderly and admiring Bucky’s blissed out features.

Slowly, Bucky’s face relaxes from the orgasm, and his eyes flutter back open to look up at Steve. He's panting slightly, all bitten-red lips and wobbling chin and long lashes. The perfect picture of an aroused omega.

“I want to bond you, Sweetheart,” Steve whispers, knowing that this needs to be Bucky’s decision. Even if his biology ultimately took the choice away from him three years ago, Steve can at least give him the illusion of choice now. “Right here." He swipes his thumb over Bucky’s glands. “When I’m inside you. When we’re tied. I’ll bite you, and we’ll be connected forever.” He waits a moment, letting the silence emphasize the gravity of what he’s asking. “Do you want that, Bucky? To be my bondmate?”

Bucky’s breath hitches and his face absolutely crumples. He cries and nods rapidly, whining and clinging to Steve as though he can possibly get any closer. “Please, Steve, please.” He grapples for Steve’s head and kisses him sloppily, desperate and greedy. “Mmm, mmph.”

Steve indulges him for a moment or two, letting the inexperienced omega explore and make himself feel good. But then he takes control, using his fingers in Bucky’s hair to guide him. He slots their mouths together and kisses him with agonizingly slow pressure. He waits for Bucky’s muffled sob before he dares to slip inside, delving into his mouth—hot, and wet and slow—touching their tongues in a dirty roll and showing him how good it can be. “Tell me,” he insists, pulling back and thumbing at the corner of Bucky's eye. “Tell me what you want.”

Bucky whimpers and tries to kiss him again, his hands sliding restlessly over Steve's back and shoulders. “Yes,” he pants. “Yes, yes. Alpha. Mate me. B-bond.”

Steve rumbles deep in his chest as his hindbrain flares with white-hot satisfaction. 'Yes, Alpha'—that’s all he needed to hear. “Okay,” he says, making sure to give Bucky one last, tender peck on the mouth to show him that he’s not angry, that his voice has gone to gravel and his body tensed to stone because of how happy he is, how excited. Every primal, possessive part of his brain is stimulated at the thought of finally claiming Bucky as his own. Claiming this sweet, soft, vulnerable, needy boy is the only thing he’s yearned for in recent memory, and now he’s finally going to get to do it. 

He tries to hold it together for Bucky’s sake. He doesn’t want to be an animal, even though that’s exactly how he feels, his mind rapidly devolving into pinhole focus on keywords like ‘mate’ and ‘breed’ and ‘mine’. But he takes deep breaths and keeps control of his instincts because he wants this to be good for Bucky. He wants this to be lovemaking, not fucking. He wants it to be tender.

“Okay, Sweetheart,” he rasps, resting their foreheads together and nudging their noses. “Turn over on your belly when I let you up,” he says. “Can you do that for me, Omega? I want you to turn over and present for Alpha.”

Bucky mewls in excitement and his hips tilt up to rub his cocklet on Steve’s belly again. “Alpha!” he chirps happily, ostensibly from being called ‘Omega’ like that for the very first time—Affectionately, possessively.

“That’s right, Buck,” Steve praises. “I’m your Alpha. And you’re my Omega.” He kisses him once more, but pulls back before he can get carried away. He yanks himself away from Bucky, getting onto his knees and sitting back on his heels. “Come on.” He taps Bucky’s hip impatiently, grinning when he notices that it’s his own cock, resting thick and heavy between his thighs, that has Bucky wide-eyed and slack jawed in fascination.

“It got bigger,” he breathes in amazement. In the blankets, his hands twitch like he’s imagining taking hold of it.

Steve has no doubt that he would, but he tuts to discourage it because he knows he won’t have the willpower to redirect the boy if Bucky decides to start grabbing for his dick. “Don’t get distracted, now,” he rumbles, letting his Voice edge the words with authority. “Present for me, Omega. I know you know how.”

Bucky nods, still staring as a whine starts up in his throat, reedy and plaintive. He begins to bite and suck on his lower lip again as he looks his fill at what may just be the first alpha cock he’s ever seen in his life. Certainly it’s the first one he’s ever seen in person. Steve feels himself getting harder as he watches Bucky’s fascinated eyes flit between his cock and thighs and balls. He seems to like the slight bulge of Steve’s flaccid knot the best, staring hard at it as he makes unconscious little humping movements against the bed. 

Steve catches a glimpse of his slick-smeared thighs and loses patience. Bucky squeaks in surprise when Steve’s hands land on his hips and urge him to turn over. “Yes!” he yelps. 

Steve lets go, knowing that the omega wants to do it himself, wants to show his Alpha that he’s eager to present. “Good boy,” he purrs, when Bucky has gone face down and ass up in the bedcovers, his knees drawing up under himself and then spreading to achieve that picture-perfect arch in his back.

Steve shuffles closer on his knees, until his thighs are pressed all along the backs of Bucky’s. He splays one hand out on his sacrum and uses the other to part his cheeks, groaning at the sight of his pink and pulsing rim.

It's so wet. Steve sets his cock against it and holds it there, pulses his hips and watches the head peek out from the foreskin, shiny and pink, right over that wet and clenching muscle. “God,” he breathes, amazed at the contrast between them. His dick looks dark and angry against that sweet and vulnerable hole, rigid and mean where Bucky is soft and puffy. “So perfect,” he whispers.

He lets his fingers trail further down, over Bucky’s plump taint, admiring it and rubbing in gentle circles. He nudges Bucky's tight little sac, imagines how wide and bare the stretch of skin will be once Bucky’s had his operation. There’ll be so much to play with, so much smoothness and sensitivity. Steve imagines spending half an hour there, just using his mouth on him, sucking and rubbing and making him come.

“Alpha,” Bucky whines plaintively, pushing his ass back in a needy little wiggle. “Please?”

"Yeah, Baby." Steve lets go of his cock and curls over Bucky’s back, covering him, wrapping an arm under his belly and hugging him back against his chest. "I’m gonna go slow,” he promises. “Fingers, then my cock. I want another orgasm outta you before I put it in.” He kisses the nape of his neck, slides his hand back and down to slip between his cheeks and touch his fluttering rim. It’s so hot, the searing heat of his body when Steve presses the tip of a finger inside making his breath catch and his cock throb. Fuck. He’s going to be in there.

That first finger goes in with hardly any effort, Bucky's body sucking it in. Steve eases in a second when the omega begins to whine impatiently. “Shh, it’s okay,” he soothes, dragging his nose along his hairline and inhaling his scent as he gives him gentle thrusts. It so wet, so tight but so easy to move inside him. Two fingers become three as he pumps his hand, curling on every slow drag out, feeling Bucky shudder underneath him and tension pull through his body as he gets close. “You gonna cum for me, bub?” he whispers, kissing his nape. “Come on, Honey, come on …” 

Bucky moans gutturally as he tips over into orgasm, ass clenching rhythmically and flooding Steve’s hand with slick. “Oh, oh, oh …”

Steve kisses the shell of his ear. “There you go,” he praises. “Did that feel good?” Bucky nods, still panting, and whimpers a shaky little ‘yeah’ that goes straight to Steve's knot. Steve hums and pulls his fingers out. He spreads all that wetness onto his dick, squeezing himself hard at the base for a few seconds to try to stave off his own pleasure. He worries this isn’t going to last very long. “Good job, Baby. So good for me. So beautiful, so good.” He keeps murmuring praise as he pulls back on his knees and looks down at where he’s lining himself up. His cock throbs in his hand at the sight of Bucky’s puffy, twitching rim. “Fuck, Honey. You’re so beautiful.” 

Bucky moans and rocks in place, scrubbing his face into the blankets as he begs to be filled. “Please, pleease. Alpha. Steve.”

“M’right here,” Steve soothes, steadying him with a hand on his lower back. “Shhh. I’ve got you.” He rubs his cockhead back and forth, slippery and red and wet, pressing hard on Bucky's rim but not quite penetrating him. “You ready?” he whispers, waiting for Bucky’s whimper of assent before he starts to push in, slow and steady, gently increasing the pressure until Bucky's rim gives way and he pops inside. He keeps going until he’s buried to the hilt, his balls pressed up tight to Bucky’s ass. “Oh, God.” He’s so tight, his virgin cunt gripping Steve’s cock so perfectly. 

Below him, Bucky moans and looses a warbling, devastated, sob. “Oghn, Steeve!” 

“You okay, bub?” Steve tries with all his might to hold still while Bucky adjusts to his size. He pulses his hips gently, not pulling out much at all, but letting the omega feel him inside his body. “Feel good?”

“Nnngh,” Bucky whines, nodding against the blankets. “Ss-steve, please …” He starts to move his hips, trying to push back on Steve’s cock.

“Fuck, Honey. Wait, wait, wait.” Steve swallows dryly and grabs his waist as he tries not to lose control. “H-hang on, hang on,” he pants, eyes squeezing shut. “Ohfuck.” He hasn’t gotten laid in a long time, and it’s been years since he’s fucked an omega, let alone one he cares about as much as Bucky. He’d forgotten how amazing they feel. “Oh, Bucky,” he breathes, folding back over him to cover him with his bulk. “Bucky, Baby, you’re perfect.” He nuzzles into the curve of his neck, mouthing at his glands and inhaling the rich scent of omega—his omega, the boy he’s about to claim. “Fuck, Honey. I love you, you know that? So beautiful.”

Bucky mewls happily and squirms underneath his weight. “Love you, Steve, please. I’m ready. I’m ready.”

Steve growls and pulls his hips back, then ruts into him. Their skin claps together as he starts up a slow, deep pace; pulling out only halfway and fucking back into him hard and firm, their balls knocking together on every thrust. Bucky keens and tries to move with him, but there's not much he can do besides take it. He tips his head to bear his neck, whispering a quiet, “Alpha,” as Steve rocks them together. “Alpha, please, I'm ready.”

Steve seals his mouth to Bucky’s swollen glands and sucks hard. His teeth ache with the urge to bite down, and the sounds Bucky makes have his cock swelling larger, his knot catching a little more with every thrust. He realizes he’s going to come sooner than he’d like. “Buck,” he rasps, “I’m close. Gonna knot you, okay? Gonna bond you.”

Bucky keens hysterically and nods, desperate tears clogging his voice as he shoves his hips back and cries, “Alpha, alpha, alpha.”

Steve growls and slips a hand under his belly, finding his cocklet and rubbing it between his fingers. “Come on, Sweetheart,” he grits. “Want to feel you cum on my cock. One more time, come on, gimme one more.”

Bucky sobs and nods as he tips into his third orgasm. With Steve’s swelling knot inside, it’s stronger than the others, his body locking down and finding a true release from being filled. Steve smells it first, and then groans at the huge gush of slick that floods between them in a hot, sticky mess. “Oh yeah,” he groans, his knot popping fully. “Fuck, baby, you just squirted. F-ffuck …” He ruts harder, knot tugging deliciously on Bucky's rim again and again. The tight band of pleasure in his belly finally snaps, and he starts to come.

That’s when he finally, finally opens his mouth and sinks his teeth in. He feels the glands burst in his mouth, tastes blood and Bucky and mate. He growls furiously and fucks him hard, his knot tug-tug-tugging on Bucky’s rim.  

Bucky squeals and shudders through another orgasm that surpasses even the last. His release squirts in a hot gush between them, all over Steve’s groin and belly, and his turgid little cocklet spurts in Steve's hand as he loses control of his bladder. “Nnnnh!” 

“ ‘mega,” Steve growls, releasing the bite to seal his mouth over the wound and suck. Bucky wails, contracts into another orgasm, and pisses himself a little more. Steve’s lost in a cloud of bliss, physical pleasure and mental euphoria overwhelming his senses completely. He grunts and growls against Bucky’s skin, smearing blood on his shoulder and squirt between their bodies, humping and humping and not stopping. It goes on for long minutes, he isn't sure how many, but he’s vaguely aware of Bucky beneath him, dribbling and crying and shuddering in tiny little aftershocks as they ride out their tie together.

They collapse flat on the bed, hips still working in tiny movements. In the blankets, Steve slides his hand over the back of Bucky's and threads their fingers together. Bucky gives a gentle squeeze of acknowledgement, feeling blissed out and safe.

—and that, right there: Safe. That's the first time Steve feels the bond. Bucky is so incredibly happy and safe. The realization brings tears to Steve's eyes.

Finally, they’re connected. Bucky is his mate.

A.N.: I've had some asks about this fic , requesting extra ending scenes, so I'll likely swing back around at some point and add more parts to the epilogue, but for now this is the official ending. Hope y'all enjoyed! Thanks for reading!

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This has been a fill for:

@ultimatechrisbingo,

card: sarahowritesostucky

Square G1: Presenting

@anyfandomdarkbingo

card: sarahyellow / sarah-writes-stucky

Square I4: Knotting

@marvel-smash-bingo

card: sarah-writes-stucky

Square I2: "give me one more orgasm"

Tags:

@scottishrosefury

@not-that-syndrigast

@lolitsbuckybarnes

@kathy-2005

@stuckysgal

@thenewmissescullen

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@Yoruse

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[newts-frogs-toads]

Things I hate about my fandoms

(I will probably make posts about each of them later going more in depth)

⚠️These DO NOT apply to ALL members of these fandoms⚠️

Cartoons:

Miraculous: mischaracterisation of Kagami as a bad person who just want to ruin the love square. But at the same time they love luka because he's just a sweet little baby boy 🥺👉👈

The owl house: Hunter and Ed interacted once and people started shipping them while they complain about Hunter and Willow for having a 1 year age gap. Also people acting like everyone is siblings

Amphibia: they care about the main trio too much to care about any other character at all

Gravity falls: where do i even start

Steven universe: The Su!c!de incident (dont worry she survived)

The ghost and molly mcgee: they hate Ollie for no reason even after his redemption arc for getting in the way of Molly x Libby or Andrea. They say he and molly look like siblings but their eye colors, skin colors and hair colors are different. (Tbh they cant take it when both characters in a pairing are Asian).

Dwampyverse: Too many NSFW art of children

Ducktales: I like them. Nothing bad about them other than they just ignore canon sometimes but hey, so do I.

Hilda: same as the Dwampyverse

Tangled: pretty chill but please dont ship Varian who's 16 with Cass who's 25.

Infinity train: Saying Lake, Ryan and Min aren't queer coded. Like are you blind? Its fine if you don't ship Rymin or use She/her for Lake but remember cartoon network Stopped the creator from putting those in.

Lego monkie kid: pretty ok fandom. Nothing bad to say about them.

She ra: im pretty late to this fandom so I haven't seen anything bad but as a DT megafan the fandom doesn't give them enough attention to them lol

Dead end: too small

Kipo: WAY too small

Live action movies:

Heathers: (see Musicals)

Dead poets society: ITS DYING WE NEED MORE FANWORKS

Games:

Undertale: the needle cookie incident (they're ok now don't worry. Dont take food from strangers kids)

Stardew Valley: Toxic arguing over the Bachelors and Bachelorettes. Acting like Haley and Alex are some irredeemable monsters. like, have you tried befriending them?

Musicals:

Heathers: Acting like Heather McNamara is some sweet little angel. Like no. She is sad and deserves better but that doesn't mean shes nice. (In other words: she is damaged, far to damaged, but that does not make her wise)

Hamilton: the HIV incident (just search Hamilton HIV to know the context). Also harassing anyone who isn't the OG cast.

Ride the cyclone: Acting like the characters are so pure and innocent. Like, im against NSFW of the kids too, but the whole point of Ricky is that hes not so sweet and innocent as a disabled person. Or the whole point of Noel is that he wants to be "fucked up". The tiktok fandom is also super biased to the original cast (meanwhile tumblr loves it)

Six: Saying Jane isn't a powerful woman because she wants to get married and have kids

[johannestevans]

i was reading your post abt asab at the doctor and my brain tried to go into solution mode as it is wont to do, but i realized like. there is no solution. at least not one that isn't a complete overhaul of the medical system, including research fields.

i've been on t for a year as of tomorrow, and a few months in i noticed my adhd medication stopped working. it got so bad that when i would take it, i would have to fight to keep myself awake. i couldn't figure out what was going on and my doctor just said 'just keep taking it and maybe it'll level out.' several months later, i still felt like absolute shit when i took it to the point where i felt better when i didn't take it. i asked to up the dose but she said it would be 'too much of a shock to my system.' i eventually just stopped taking it because even though i barely function without it, i didn't function at all with it on that dose. i talked to a friend last week who is also on t and he said 'oh yeah your dose is too low. your metabolism can change on t, so it's likely you need to up your dose.' so like not only was this a situation where if i was a cis man my concerns likely would have been addressed immediately, but it was a failure of my doctor to actually understand how trans bodies on hrt work and what they need. so how exactly would having "afab" on my chart have helped??? bc there is no difference in initial dosage between male and female patients, the starting dose is usually 30mg across the board (my doc had me on 30mg initially then lowered my dose to 20mg after i lost access to it for a month??????), the thing that affected me wasn't my fucking vagina or ovaries, it was a change in my endocrine system!!!

and i feel like this heavy reliance on asab makes doctors lazy. they don't do regular blood tests, they don't test your metabolism, your hormone levels, they just assume based on the f or m what your levels should be, or they see that you're fat so they assume you have high bp, cholesterol, blood sugar, etc. (cannot tell you how many times i've had nurses take my bp numerous times bc they refused to believe it was average, and i still keep getting hounded abt my blood sugar and cholesterol despite the fact that every single test has come up normal.) like i don't think any doctor has ever even bothered giving me blood tests until i started t, they just assumed from the f on my chart and my body size. i remember getting put on metformin when i was young with no blood tests simply because i was fat, and i still have kidney issues because of it.

anyway sorry for ranting in your inbox, that was kind of all over the place, but your post just really struck a chord and reminded me how much i hate the medical system.

YEAH EXACTLY. I'm so sorry, it's just like... ARGH.

Like especially the weight problems and like... Doctors desperately want to go based off of people's ASAB and what their weight is and not what's normal for them! Same for racial assumptions, especially assumptions doctors will make about Black people and anyone who's dark-skinned and/or has natural hair.

Plus disability! Addiction! Mental health issues! They'll just make assumptions based off any other aspect of their identity - any excuse to dodge talking to the patient and treating them like they're a human being, or acting like as a doctor they're a human being rather than a god and commander.

Like, all these specific metrics rather than what the actual patient's experiences are, and what they're saying. A lot of medical professionals just think the world will end if they actually talk to and listen to one of their patients, and it's infuriating!

[stormyoceans]

a distant sun

last twilight || morkday || ~1.4k

a little note: im not too sure how much day can see or how the one palm distance actually works ;;;;; i tried to be as respectful as possible when writing about a character with disability, but please do let me know if i said something wrong. a big thank you also goes to @vera9 and @clandestinegardenias for the support, the patience, and the editing. love you both so much.

The world looks different under the covers.

A light breeze comes through the open window, and Day's ankles are warmed by the sun. It's summer, and it's hot, but not enough to feel uncomfortable with the thin bed sheet pulled over his head. Through it, the world is the color of sweet pale honey, every trembling edge blurred and melting. Despite the dark rain clouds dancing at the corners of his vision, for a moment Day almost feels like he's back outside, lying under the canopy of the pink trumpet tree in their garden.

It used to be his favorite place to read.

Downstairs a chair gets scraped over the floor, a door clicks open. Day hears the sound of soft footsteps coming up the stairs and already knows who they belong to.

That’s not something he would have been able to tell, before, but now he can easily recognize the inhabitants of the house by the way they move. His mother is feather-light and hesitant, her feet dragging a little behind her, while his brother's heels come down in a quick marching tempo, hurried and brisk.

For the longest time, it had only been the three of them, but these days there's a new set of footsteps in the symphony of the house, a steady beat that reminds Day of his own heart.

Day closes his eyes, and his lashes graze the sheet.

The footsteps reach his room, carrying the acrid smell of cigarette smoke. They linger in the doorway only for a second before walking inside and coming to a stop next to the bed.

"Day," Mork says.

Day swallows the urge to tell him to leave him alone. It usually has the opposite effect anyway, so he remains silent, hoping to convince Mork that he's asleep.

"Day," Mork calls again. Then, as if he can read Day's mind, he adds: "I know you're not sleeping. Do you plan to come out of there at all today?"

Day keeps saying nothing, just to be contrary.

The cover being lifted from his face doesn't take him by surprise. In the few weeks since Mork had taken over as his caretaker, Day thinks he has come to know what to expect. What he doesn't expect, however, is the mattress dipping next to his hand and the sudden warm length of a body settling down against his side.

Day startles, eyes flying open and moving around uselessly. All they give him back is a greyish nothingness.

"What are you doing?” he asks, still stunned.

“If you’re not coming out, then I don’t have any choice but to get in," Mork answers, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. His arm presses firmly against Day's own, skin to skin. "Move over a little, would you?”

In any other circumstances, Day would answer him by kicking him off the bed. He's not prepared for the shiver that runs down his back, for the way every nerve in his body seems set alight by the closeness, the hair on his arms and legs standing up in response. He scoots toward the center of the bed without a word.

Mork twists and wiggles until he seems to find a position he's comfortable in, then the sheet is placed back over Day's head and its yellow color turns the world bright and dream-like again.

"It's nice under here," Mork remarks, his voice sounding way too cheerful.

The smell of cigarettes is overwhelming now, but under that Day catches the hints of fabric softener, tangy and fresh. It makes Day feel lightheaded and wrong-footed in a way that reminds him of those first few days after the loss of his sight, when taking a step around his room seemed like a jump into the void, his feet stumbling on themselves and making him knock against furniture anywhere he turned.

"Are you really going to stay here all day?" Day asks, trying to recover some kind of balance.

"Well, are you?" Mork shoots back immediately.

Day grits his teeth. He can hear the gentle reprimand behind those words, the attempt at coaxing him into getting out and doing something, into living. They've been here before. Day has grown accustomed to the bickering and the kind of push and pull that's become typical of their relationship, but he's not in the mood to fight today. He just wants some peace and quiet.

“Then why not?" Mork continues after a while, taking Day's prolonged silence as a sign that he's indeed not going anywhere. "It’s easier to take care of you like this. Maybe I’ll even be able to catch up on some sleep.”

To prove his point he stretches out, heel digging into the mattress and back arching off the bed. One of his arms brushes against Day's side as he brings both of them up over his head to extend them to their full length. The sheet above them ripples and waves with each movement, letting in small gusts of fresh air. When Mork pulls his arms back down, his hand falls on top of Day's own and stays there.

Day's fingers twitch. He wants to yank his hand away, but that would feel too much like defeat.

"Suit yourself," he scoffs, and resolves to ignore Mork for as long as he can.

It proves harder than he imagined. Day is hyper-aware of every rise and fall of his chest, every small twitch of his body. The fact that Mork isn't really doing anything, for once, except breathing and lying there next to him, somehow makes it all the worse. The sun has moved up in the sky and is now warming Day's thighs. The clock in the hallway ticks time away. Mork's socked foot bumps against Day's naked one, and all Day wants to do is run.

He desperately needs a distraction, and maybe that's why he starts talking.

"As a kid," he says, "I used to get sick all the time."

Mork shifts, and Day can feel his curious gaze warming the side of his face. That's not really what he wanted, so he hurries to add: "It's one of the reasons I picked up sports. To become stronger, have better resistance." He slides his hand away from where it's still trapped under Mork's and presses it against the sheet right above his eyes. This close, he can recognize the blurred edges of his fingers. "I still got sick from time to time, of course. Whenever that happened, I’d hide under the covers like this, waiting. Eventually, my mom would slip in and stay with me until I got better." Day spreads out his fingertips and moves his hand further away from his face, until it gets swallowed by the darkness. "There's no getting better this time, though," he concludes, dropping his hand on his stomach and letting the sheet fall back onto his face. "I guess that's why she doesn't come to my room anymore."

He's not sure why he told Mork this. He hates being pitied and that's the reason he picked Mork as his caretaker in the first place, because he is the only person who doesn't treat him like he's made of glass. Things would be so much easier if he acted like everybody else, and maybe that's what Day is aiming for: making him slip, so he'd have an excuse to send him away.

Mork shuffles close to him and suddenly there's a hand splayed over Day's chest, grounding him. "It's okay," Mork says. His voice is sweet and soft, his breath warm against Day's cheek. If Day turned his head, he thinks they'd be close enough for Day to see the hazy outlines of Mork's face. He makes sure to remain stock still, his treacherous heart beating so loud that when Mork speaks again Day almost doesn't hear him.

"I'll stay here until you feel like coming out," Mork says, "then I'll take you to her."

Day wants to scream. He wants to scream and lash out and curse at the world. He wants to break something, wants to kick Mork out of the bed and yell at him to leave and never come back, but there's a lump in his throat and a wetness forming at the corners of his eyes. He shuts them as tight as he can to prevent the tears from falling. His hand finds Mork's on his chest, and Day holds on.

[batmanshole]

been thinking about those posts where people talk about their fav character's shampoo choices so i wanted to try with the bats. and then i went overboard.

tim uses 5 in 1 shampoo / conditioner / body wash / face wash / shaving cream. you cannot change my mind about this. his hair is greasy btw. has one eyeliner he uses religiously and he doesn't wash it off. not even with makeup wipes.

dick has a pretty basic but fun routine. by basic i mean he's not super into skincare but he has a bunch of products he thinks are fun and smell nice. probably some lush, innisfree, and other generally fresh-feeling products. i think he uses some good quality but not too fancy hair products. once he's out of his mullet arc his hair is soft i think. he also generally just has nice skin to begin with. wears some makeup

steph likes doing face masks, she's got a bunch and she likes to do them while hanging out with cass and babs. tried to get tim to do one once but he ran away. she's got some nice quality curly hair products (she has curly hair. to me.) and her makeup is basic but she won't buy it if she thinks the packaging is ugly.

cass initially didn't have much of a routine but after hanging out with steph she got more into it. i think she stole dick's innisfree moisturizer. probably uses basic but effective products for her face. enjoys body washes and loofahs (i have a whole thing about how she interacts w being feminine after her training ok? it drives me crazy. i love her lots)

jason conflicts me. i think when he's younger he didnt do much of anything except shower with small amounts of what was there. later on he tried stealing dick's foundation for fun but it didn't work out because their skin tones are. very different. after he dies/comes back i think he does not give a shit for a long time. he's too focused on revenge. that helmet cannot be good for your skin tho so i think he has some acne at this point. later on once he's calmed down a little i think he'll get into using like, a gentle facial soap or something to wash his face. he def has to shave so he uses moisturizing products for that just cause if he doesn't it irritates his skin and that bothers him. probably just uses basic shampoo and conditioner, but does have separate body wash. he has curly hair but it would take a lot of convincing from someone close to him to get him to like. actually use a curly hair shampoo + conditioner on it. also he doesn't wear sunscreen unless he has to. (is he tougher than the sun? who knows...)

barbara doesn't strike me as a makeup person but i think she'd use a lot of sunscreen bc she is a redhead and they burn easily (source: my mom is a redhead) as for shower products this is coming from experience (hi. im disabled) she has a shower chair obvs, and a loofah on a stick to reach places. showering can be difficult for disabled people (trust me lol) so i don't think she has a very complex routine or anything. she might use a very basic moisturizer on her face from time to time. would def let steph and cass do face masks with her though.

i think duke has a very effective but inexpensive routine. he likes moisturizing stuff and stays away from stuff with strong exfoliating ingredients + alcohol cause he doesn't like how it feels. doesn't own any makeup but would probably look great in it if he did. takes care of himself but doesn't go overboard.

bruce probably gets things sent to him for pr or whatever. he does seem like a clinique moisturizer guy though. he probably tells people / the media that he uses a bunch of fancy products to keep up his image but like he doesn't really use much

im conflicted about damian. i will have to keep thinking about this.

[ashsocsandrps]

BASIC INFO

Name: Oliver Valentine

Gender: Male

Place of Birth: Somewhere in Oregon

Religion / Belief: not religious

Year (Age): 19

Birthday: 10/9/04

Death: 10/10/2024

Preferred Title/nickname: Val

LIKES & DISLIKES

Personality: Hes kind, sometimes a little crazy, and paranoid/anxious, yet hes also very clueless he tends to forget things a lot, and very easily. its most likely from pushing down what happened to him deep down.

Likes: he likes painting, finger painting, listening to music. and running.

Dislikes: he hates the ocean, he def has beef with the anglers.

APPEARANCE - BEFORE EXPERIMENTS

Hair Colour: black

Eye Colour: green

Skin Colour: white/pale

Body Type: skinnier but with a bit of chubbiness to his bones

Scars: none

Hand Size: skinny hands, longer nails

Genetic Conditions / Disabilities: red birth marks on his hands and chest

APPEARANCE - AFTER EXPERIMENTS

Hair Colour: white

Eye Colour: red

Skin Colour: a pink shade

Body Type: skinnier but with a bit of chubbiness to his bones

Scars: scars all over his body, from the constant experiments.

Hand Size: skinny hands, longer nails

Genetic Conditions / Disabilities: his red birth marks turned into a light pink, still in the same places. A slightly different shade from his skin color

NEW BODY: His skin was a light pink, just like those pink dolphins, with random white/black spots just like an orca whale. His back had a small shark fin coming out of his uniform. Fins as ears, just like a lil fish. and gills the the sides of his ribs

EXTRASENSORY

Smells like: he smells like caramel. surprisingly not like fish, due to him living in the ocean.

Feels like: his skin is rugged, due to the scars.

EMOTIONAL

Common Expressions: His usual expression had a worried look, the constant anxiety was rushing through his body just made him an anxious mess.

Most Common Mood:

Happy when: he happy when he finds new things in the rooms he explores, he usually just finds files and stuff, but he LOVES wen he finds new flashlights and toys.

Sad when: Hes usually sad/anxious, but he normally forgets why.

Afraid of: the ocean, he stays as far away from the windows and keeps headphones in his ears to drown out the sounds from outside.

FAMILY

Mother: REDACTED

Father: REDACTED

Parent Jobs (if any): REDACTED

Siblings: REDACTED

Notable Family Members: REDACTED

Family Home: REDACTED

Related Families: REDACTED

Family Wealth: REDACTED

Upbringing: REDACTED

FRIENDS

Best Friend: REDACTED

Childhood Friends: REDACTED

Friends Currently: none

Strained Friendships: REDACTED

Type of Friend: He tends to forget who the people are when he sees them again, he barely even remembers REDACTED name.

Willingness to Make Friends: Mid

Become their friend by: giving him random things, he may forget but he will love you for it.

Favourite gifts from friends: He doesn't remember who it was, but he got a gummie flashlight, he loves the green light

ENEMIES

Enemies (if any): REDACTED

How to become disliked by character: Stealing from him, touching him, hurting him. he usually doesn't remember tho.

How enemies are treated: He doesn't remember the people who do him wrong.

Be forgiven by: giving him things, even if its a few files, he loves buying random things from Sebastian when he sees him.

Worst thing done by enemy: He was experimented on, and heavily injured. He hates the workers/scientists who did this to him. making him into a monster.

LINKS

Pinterest Board: none (for now)

Spotify Playlist:

RP Blog (if any): https://www.tumblr.com/ashsocsandrps?source=share

Faceclaim: unknown

Voiceclaim: Angsty Teen (fnaf)

Handwriting font:

Character inpirations: pressure oc!!

This is a really bad drawing of him, I tried my best but it's just horrible 🥲

[frosted-buns]

do people actually give money to random trans people who do fuck all and have no money to help them afford treatment? people do that? its not just people putting themselves out there and hoping for something? I've been broke for like 4 years and not knowing how to get electrolysis or laser and wanting it, I've had therapists for over a decade telling me often to just give up that I'll never have a job and to just get on disability. I've been suffering with facial hair most of my life and wanting to kill myself daily over it. I have sensitive skin so unlike all the lucky bitches out there who can just fucking shave, I can't, I shaved earlier this week and have wanted to cry every fucking day since because I am PHYSICALLY unable to shave without causing extreme pain and bleeding because I break out. I have literally tried over 20 different razors, over 10 different shaving creams, aftershaves, 4 different electric razors, I have only found one thing that barely works without causing me extreme pain for an entire week after shaving.

I know I'm just being a pussy fucking bitch when I get mad about this stuff but I see people complain they have to shave that are trans and its like. do you know how fucking lucky you are you can just SHAVE and have it gone?? being able to shave daily??? I have never been able to because of my sensitive skin.

[monkey-d-addy9000]

Hey~ some young EraserMic fanfics.

First of all, sorry for my english, it's not my native language

Since I don't find many young Erasermic fanfics, I decided to share with you some of the ones I liked the most and, who knows, with this encouragement, some writers feel inspired and decide to write some more? I don't know, I think it's just an appeal from a disaster girl.

Anyway~

Summary: As far as camping goes, it’s probably within Yamada’s Top Three Least Favorite Things To Do list.

But maybe this camping trip wouldn’t turn out so bad, so long as he has Aizawa by his side.

Second part:

Hizashi apologizing to Aizawa for making him insecure. Read Murphy's law first to understand.

Written by @tiniest-hands-in-all-the-land

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Summary: “I thought you might wanna hang around someone who didn’t hate your guts!” Yamada yells. “But I guess you just get off on everyone hating you!”

“I don’t care what people think about me,” Aizawa hisses back, just as coldly.

Or

Yamada's relationship with Aizawa is on thin ice, to say the least. Too bad class trips, technical mishaps, and simulated natural disasters don't consider personal vendettas when putting a damper on your day.

I highly recommend this story as it is a twist of feelings and emotions. I could feel on my skin every sensation I read. All the effort the author puts into their stories is almost magical.

Written by @tiniest-hands-in-all-the-land

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5 times Hizashi drops everything to take Shōta somewhere where he can rest comfortably, and 1 time Shōta picks everything up to allow Hizashi some repose

Hizashi being cute and careful with his "friend".

Written by @tiniest-hands-in-all-the-land

----------------------------------------------------------

I smiled on every line of this story. Just two cute boys being cute.

Written by @ill-go-with-that-then

----------------------------------------------------------

Just a warning: it's hot.

----------------------------------------------------------

Summary: 8-year-old Hitoshi Shinsou is Quirkless—at least, that’s what his foster dads have been told by the orphanage. Hitoshi never speaks, he signs, although there were no mentioned disabilities or medical conditions on his file to explain this. He’s seemingly capable of speaking, but it’s a mystery as to why he doesn’t. One day, however, a ruthless gang member breaks into the Aizawa-Yamada residence, intent on revenge for Shouta's capture of their brother, and upon seeing his foster dads in trouble, Hitoshi is left with no choice but to reveal his ‘villainous’ Quirk to save them.

I was so moved by this story that I had to reread it 4 times in less than a month to relive every good feeling that was transmitted to me.

----------------------------------------------------------

“What are you, scared, Aizawa?” Kayama leered, leaning in too close and poking at his side.

Shouta swatted her hand away. “Why would I be scared?” he scoffed. “They’re just mirrors.”

Hizashi fidgeted, leaning closer in a way that would be imperceptible if Shouta weren’t ridiculously over-aware of him. “The place looked deserted when we came in… maybe we should leave? We could still make it to the party!”

“We can’t leave without solving the maze,” Shouta said, irritably.

--

Don't trust your eyes...

Ma babys are scared and in love

Written by @ill-go-with-that-then

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He tries to put all the enthusiasm he feels into it, to reassure Shouta that this step in their friendship is wanted and welcome.

It seems to work. Shouta’s shoulders relax, and he grins up at Hizashi, wiping his hair out of his eyes. He misses a piece, and Hizashi has to shove his hands into his pockets to keep from giving in to the strange impulse to tuck it behind Shouta’s ear.

It’s different, after that.

Another point of view.

Ah, young love. These boys are so soft. I can't handle that anymore. If you want to scream because you can't handle the amount of cuteness, you must read this.

Written by @ill-go-with-that-then

----------------------------------------------------------

1.

One In A Billion summary: Mic as a weapon is too much to handle. Aizawa as a meister is difficult to get along with. What will happen when these two odd souls are forced into taking on one of the names at the top of

Death's hit list?

It's Soul Eater AU time!!

2.

Clarity summary: Mic had his secrets, this Shouta knew. Even after all this time, when their souls resonated, there were places Shouta felt he couldn’t go, places Mic blocked from him. Shouta had these places within his own soul, too, but whenever something was truly important, Mic always seemed to know how to gently tug the truth out of him. Shouta, unfortunately, had no such similar tact, and usually he didn’t need to; Mic was open about so much.

How bad could Mic's secrets really be?

I was fine, until Yami quotes the song Clarity, and Yamada enjoying the song claiming to remember Shota when he hears it? I almost screamed. I love this fanfic from the bottom of my soul.

Written by @yamiheart and @nartothelar

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Those were the cutest young Erasermic stories I've read. I just wanted to share with you a little bit of my daily dose of love.

And yes, I reread them every day because they are the ones I liked the most. It's so well written that it really makes me feel every emotion as I read this.

Oh! And I will be updating as I find new good fanfics

[seijorhi]

This isn't a request or anything but I had a soulmate AU idea that I think you'd like.... And reminded me of Oikawa. Imagine you find ur soulmate from their name written on your skin on ur 16/18 bday, but.... You're blind. And dating Oikawa. And he /swears/ your name is on his skin... But when your birthday rolls around, he insists you don't show anyone else.... And starts buying you clothes to cover the mark.... And you hear him whispering about his mark to Iwa.... And you begin to worry. 👀

I know it wasn’t specifically meant as a request, but I took the idea and ran with it - I hope it’s okay!! 💕

Oikawa Tooru x Female Reader

TW gaslighting, manipulation, dub con nsfw, blind reader

Part II

Always

“You promise me it’s there?”

Are you sure it’s me?

Rich, warm laughter fills the air around you, and despite the tension gnawing away in your stomach, the corners of your lips twitch into a soft smile.

“You don’t believe me!”

He’s happy. Even gasping in mock indignation Tooru can’t quite manage to keep it from his voice.

He has every reason to be; you’re both home for the first time in a year and a half, settled in the well worn couch at his parents house, your friends sprawled out either side of you. He’s twenty one today and as of five minutes ago the proud owner of his very own soulmate mark.

Or so he tells you. 

“Well it’s not like I can see it,” you tease, nudging yourself closer so that you can rest your head against his shoulder and sighing loudly. “It could be Issei’s name for all I know, and you’re all just too nice to break the news to me.”

The choked snort from your left side makes you giggle, but not as much as the sound of your boyfriend fake gagging. 

“Please, he fucking wishes!”

“Iwa tell her!” Oikawa demands, and you can just imagine the way that Iwaizumi’s eyes must roll before he ultimately gives in.

He always does.

“It’s yours,” he sighs. “Unfortunately you’re stuck with him, Y/N. My condolences.”

Yours. 

It’s hard, even as raucous laughter fills the air around you and Oikawa turns to shout at his best friend, to deny the warm fluttering in your chest. The arm around you eases you closer, a thumb absentmindedly stroking at your side and you allow yourself to relax against him. 

It’s your name on his skin. You’re his soulmate. 

For the first time in weeks, it feels like you can breathe easy. You wonder if Oikawa knew, if he noticed the way you held onto him just that little bit tighter - like you were scared to let go.

You’ve loved Oikawa for as long as you can remember, but you only get one soulmate. Was it really so outlandish to wonder whether his first love would be his last? Whether you could ever be good enough to be his?

The little blind girl, always following at his heels.

For all your faults, you’ve never been naive. You know how amazing he is - Tooru has always been destined for great things and you were just his highschool sweetheart.

A hindrance, one of his very dedicated fans had once taken the time to inform you, clinging desperately to whatever scraps of pity he felt charitable enough to throw your way.

Neither one of you had realised that Oikawa had heard every damn word. 

—

“Can you just…”

Oikawa pauses, the hand he has wrapped around yours squeezes lightly. “Hmm?”

Breathe deep. Just say it. 

Tell him. 

You’re almost at the gate, your flight’s leaving in twenty minutes (and you would have been there sooner if he hadn’t insisted on dragging you through every overpriced store in the damn airport) and in a few hours, you’ll be home again. 

But it isn’t the thought of being back in Japan that worries you. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth, your heart thumping unsteadily in your chest. His birthday is in two days, and that’s when he’ll find out who his soulmate is supposed to be. And you trust him, you love him. Even if the name on his forearm isn't yours, it’s not like he’s just going to suddenly toss you aside like yesterday’s trash, but… things’ll change, you know they will. And you couldn’t even blame him for that, because how much effort can you really be expected to put into a relationship if you know they’re not the one you’re supposed to end up with?

The doubts you have, the ones that fester and play on your every insecurity, keeping you up at night long after Tooru has drifted off -  you’ve tried to shut them out and ignore them as best you can, but you just can’t get on that plane without having some kind of reassurance.

What if it’s not you?

“Just promise me that if…” your breath catches in your throat, and you try to force a smile on your face even though you know that it wobbles. “If it’s not- if I’m not-”

Soft lips press against yours, cutting you off. It’s only for a heartbeat, enough to get you to stop the panicked tumble of words you couldn’t quite get out, but for you it feels like it lasts a lifetime. You could lose yourself in Oikawa’s kisses, you think. Lose yourself and be happy for it.

A warm palm cups your face. “I love you,” he says, and it isn’t the murmured declaration first thing in the morning, his voice still thick with sleep as he rolls over to kiss you good morning, and it isn’t the cheesy, throwaway line he gives whenever you save him the last bite of the milk bread that he specifically bought for you (because god knows his coach would kill him if he found out he ate the entire thing himself).

It’s a promise.

“You are my soulmate,” his thumb strokes along your cheekbone, and you can’t help but lean into the touch. “You’re the only one I’m ever going to want.”

Standing on the outskirts of your gate, moments away from boarding the plane that’ll take you both home, you’re not entirely sure if he’s trying to tell you that he’s certain that the name on his arm is going to be yours, or that he doesn’t care if it isn’t.

Either way, it’s enough.

“You’re mine,” he breathes, and captures your lips in another kiss - this one brimming with ardent devotion, a love too deep for either one of you to speak.  

 —

Hours later, Iwa, Makki and Mattsun are all asleep downstairs and it’s just Tooru and you curled up in his bed. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised that being back in his childhood bedroom did little in the way of curbing his appetite, but between giggles and breathy moans, Oikawa’s hand clamped over your mouth and his lips at your ear-

‘Shhh, you have to keep it down, cutie. Unless you want the whole house to hear all the pretty sounds you make when you’re about to cum for me?’

- he manages to wring four orgasms out of you before the two of you collapse back against the mattress, all sweaty and panting.

And you think he’s fallen asleep now, an arm slung around your waist, his face buried against the nape of your neck despite the warmth of the balmy summer night. With his chest flush against your back, you can feel the steady rhythm of his heart, lulling you gently to sleep with every beat. 

Soulmate.

This, here, in Oikawa’s arms, this is where you belong, where you’ve always belonged. And yet even with happiness and relief and an overwhelming love singing through your veins - keeping you wide awake - you can’t deny that it feels… strange almost, knowing that out of seven and a half billion people, you’re the one he’s marked for. 

He’d sounded so sure back at the airport, like there wasn’t even the possibility of doubt in his mind that you were the one for him. And maybe he was just saying it to calm you down and get your ass on the plane, but if the situations were reversed and it was your birthday first… could you really say with one hundred percent certainty that you knew it would be his name that’d show up on your arm?

You love him more than you’ve ever loved anybody else (more than you ever probably will love anybody else), it’s just that you’ve always known that the two of you were on wildly different paths. Tooru’s the starting setter for a pro volleyball team, and there’s already whispers of that national squad, Olympic selection.

He’s talented and driven and sometimes you wonder whether you ever would have left Miyagi let alone Japan at all if it hadn’t been for him dragging you along with him. 

You’ve always been so content in your own little bubble. You cling to what’s comfortable, what you know - all your life, you’ve been told that you’re not defined by your disability, but you’ve never tried to push yourself beyond it. 

With Tooru, you’ve never had to.

That girl, years ago - she wasn’t wrong. You do cling to him, like you’d clung to your friends and your family. And maybe that’s not the worst thing in the world, but when you compare what Oikawa has to offer his soulmate compared to what you bring to the table, and-

“I can hear you thinking from here,” your apparently not-so-asleep-after-all boyfriend murmurs in your ear. “Tell me what’s bothering my pretty girl.”

You sigh, rolling over to face him. It’s pointless to lie to Tooru - he can read you better than anyone else - but admitting the whole truth, even here under this little refuge of soft intimacy between the two of you, feels harder than it should be.

“You’re not… disappointed, are you?” 

The harrumph that escapes his lips sounds almost offended, but the brush of his lips against the tip of your nose is sweet. “How long have I known you?” he asks.

Your forehead wrinkles at the question. “Fifteen or so years, I guess?”

You’d only been six or so when your family had moved in the house next door to his, across the street from Iwaizumi’s, and you can still vividly remember the first time you met him - crying in your front yard with a scraped up knee - always too eager for your own good.

“Hmm,” he acknowledges, “and how long have we been dating?”

“Seven-ish years?”

He chuckles, kissing you again, this time on your cheek. “And how long do you think I’ve been in love with you?”

Your whole face warms, and you fight the urge to bury it in his bare chest, especially when he reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair that had fallen out of place back behind your ear. “Tooru-”

He sighs again, the sound tinged with just a hint of fond exasperation. “Give me your hand.”

You oblige, and you feel his long fingers curl around yours, tucking all of your fingers but your index away and drawing your hand closer towards him. It’s only when your pointer brushes against skin that you realise what he’s trying to do. Still, you don’t offer a word as Tooru slowly traces your finger along the dark letters on his skin - his soulmate mark.

Your name. 

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, Y/N. You’re mine, you’ve always been mine, just as I’m yours,” he vows, and you almost shiver with the intensity that burns in every word. “Any other name would have been nothing more than a filthy lie.”

Any further protests are swallowed up by another kiss, and your boyfriend takes it upon himself to show you exactly how much he adores you, over and over again, until sheer, utter exhaustion drags you to sleep in his arms.

 —

Your own twenty-first birthday is a vastly different kind of affair. For one, the two of you decide to stay in Argentina - Oikawa’s mid season and can’t afford the time off training to traipse back home again.

Which means that it is just the two of you alone in your villa when you feel an odd burning sensation start to creep through your left arm. It doesn’t hurt exactly, more like a warm tingling sensation that flows along your skin as one by one the letters of your soulmate’s name come to light.

The sharp little gasp that slips from your lips must have alerted Tooru - hovering as he had been for the better part of the day - because his hands are on your arm within a moment, flipping it over and eagerly dragging it closer for him to inspect. His own breath hitches in his throat, his fingers tightening on your soft skin and a tentative smile works its way across your face. 

People have told you before that your boyfriend is handsome - stupidly beautiful, you’d once overheard one of your old high school classmates bemoan. His voice certainly is, soft and pretty and lilting, warm like the first rays of the sun on a cool winter’s morning, though not without its sharpness. Oikawa always has had a wicked tongue. In your head, you picture a face to match, delicate, angular features, warm eyes and a grin that’s just a little impish. Trouble, but the irresistible kind. 

You wish you could see it now, watch your soulmate’s eyes widen with delight, or maybe soften with quiet awe. You want to see him happy, deliriously so, you want to look into those lovely eyes of his and see all the love that’s coursing through your veins right now reflected right back at you. 

He still hasn’t spoken a word.

The slow drag of a breath, shaky and too sharp, had your bright smile freezing on your face. His grip hasn’t relented, fingers calloused from years of playing volleyball digging into your arm almost painfully. The air between you two is still, he hasn’t moved, not so much as a twitch.

Unease creeps its way into your stomach.

Why hasn’t he said anything?

He’s never exactly been the strong, silent type, and you love him for that. Iwa often complains that his best friend likes the sound of his own voice too damn much (half heartedly at best), and maybe that’s true, but he never realised that it doesn’t bother you in the slightest. 

It’s different for you, not being able to see. 

You don’t exactly blame them for not understanding - how could they, really? Without your sight to help you, your other senses have to work in overdrive just to make sense of things. Tooru’s voice builds the world around you, imbues it with a spark, guides you like a hand stretching out through the darkness. It’s a gap in the void, a reassurance you cling to - because without it there’s nothing. You’re alone with only your thoughts to keep you company. 

So when he goes quiet like this, it’s never a good sign.

A lump lodges its way in your throat. Without your sight, his silence is almost impossible to read, but you can sense the sudden heaviness in the air, the tension hanging thick between the two of you. 

You expected dramatics. Tears, maybe, or a burst of affectionate cuddles and kisses. Gushing over your mark just as he had when his own had come through. Hell, you thought he’d grab his phone and take a thousand and one pictures just to prove to the world that you were his as much as he was yours - because you loved each other. Because you were soulmates. 

Is there something wrong with your mark?

“Tooru?” you murmur, the edges of your smile starting to slip as your panic rises. “I-is everything-”

“You’re mine.”

The clipped words are little more than a whisper, hoarse and choked. It takes you by surprise, making your heart skip a beat, the knot in your stomach tighten, yet just as that paralysing apprehension starts to take root, he clears his throat, and a laugh bubbles to the surface.

Slowly, like ice thawing, his fingers relax on your forearm, gliding up over your shoulder to curl around your neck. “You love me, right?” 

Your eyebrows knit together, but you nod anyway. “Always.”

There’s another shaky breath, and suddenly his arms are wrapping around you, drawing you into a tight embrace. You don’t fight it, still bewildered by the sudden whiplash of his tone.

His own heart is racing, you can feel it as he holds you against him. The question burns deep inside of your chest, a thought you don’t want to give voice to, but you can’t seem to stop yourself - it slips out before you even realise you’ve opened your mouth.

“It is your name, Tooru, isn’t it? You’re my soulmate?”

There’s a beat of silence, and Oikawa hums, resting his chin against the top of your head. “Of course it is, cutie,” he chuckles. “Who else’s name would it be?”

He takes you out for dinner to celebrate. You’d originally picked one of his favourite dresses to wear, a strapless white number with a pretty, flowing skirt that fell to your mid thigh, but Oikawa stops you before you can leave, passing you over an old denim jacket of yours.

“It’s cool out tonight,” he says as he eases it over your shoulders before you can protest.

You don’t question it.

—

He fucks you that night, hard, fast and unrelenting, holding onto you so tight that you swear you’ll have bruises come morning.

—

Oikawa likes doing little things for you. 

He likes it when you hold onto his arm and let him guide you around when you go out together (you do have a cane - it sits in the back of your closet for ‘emergency uses’ only). He likes to buy you pretty things, jewellery, clothes, little trinkets that remind him of you - spoiling you with every opportunity he can, doubly so now that he has a salary that affords him that luxury.

It’s not uncommon for him to pick out your outfits. For one, you can’t see so you kind of have to rely on somebody else’s help so you don’t end up a mismatched disaster, and Tooru seems to enjoy doing it. He likes seeing you wear the things he buys for you - lacy, soft and demure. 

He also likes it when people know that you’re his.

So it doesn’t strike you as odd when Tooru insists on you wearing his club hoodie over your dress the next time you go to one of his games. You might not be able to see him fly across the court, but you can hear the cheers, the roar of the crowd as they stamp their feet and chant like a battle cry when San Juan scores. You can taste the excitement in the air, and whenever your soulmate steps up to the plate to serve, you feel the rabid excitement of the crowd thrumming in your veins. 

It’s warm in the stadium with so many people crammed close together, you push the sleeves up without even thinking. It’s not an issue - it shouldn’t be - but when your boyfriend slips his arms around you, fresh from the locker room post match, it’s the first thing he notices. He’s tugging them back down before you can so much as offer a hello, tersely muttering something about you getting a cold when you frown.

There’s a tiny flicker of unease at the odd behaviour, but he’s kissing you before you can linger on it for too much longer. 

And if that’s all it was, maybe it would be easier for you to shove that niggling worry aside. 

But once you start noticing things - little, inconsequential things you would have just shrugged off before - you can’t seem to stop, and that tiny seed of doubt starts to take root, to sprout and grow.

Your friends stop calling by. Back home your social circle was pretty much limited to Tooru, Iwa and their friends - not that you minded at all, you love them all dearly, it’s just that you didn’t really have any friends of your own outside of that little group. When you moved across to Argentina and Oikawa started training for longer hours, dedicating himself wholeheartedly to his new team, you got lonely, sitting in your new home just waiting around for him to come back to you.

And it took a while, but eventually you started to venture outside of your comfort zone and lo and behold - even with your stumbling Spanish, you managed to make a few friends! Though you can tell that your beloved boyfriend wasn’t exactly thrilled by the burgeoning new friendships you gushed to him about, he’s never begrudged you them. If it made you happy, then he was happy. 

Lately though, they’ve been kind of distant. And by distant, you mean… well, nonexistent. They don’t come visit you anymore, when you call their numbers, it just rings out. 

You can’t even leave voicemails - there’s just an automated voice telling you their message banks are full. Regardless, not one of them has made the effort to call you back, and it’s not like you can text them to ask why they’re avoiding you. Life gets in the way, you know that, and sometimes people just drift apart but it’s like all of a sudden they’ve just dropped off the face of the planet. 

But when you mention venturing out into town one day without them while Tooru’s at practice, he seems strangely resistant to the idea. 

“I just don’t like the idea of you wandering around by yourself. It’s not safe out there for you, cutie,” he tells you.

The words are saccharine, as sweet as the kisses he presses against your lips when he coaxes your chin upwards. You love him, you do. And you understand that he worries - even away from the hustle and bustle of the big cities, San Juan isn’t exactly a crime free neighbourhood, but for the first time the strong, muscular arms that wrap around your waist don’t bring comfort. 

It’s like they’re a cage, locked around you and dragging you slowly down to the depths, and it’s driving you mad because you can’t figure out why it feels like that.

Biting back your annoyance, you sigh, forcing yourself to relax against him. You love him - this is normal, couples disagree all the time. “I’m not an invalid, babe. I’ve done it before - I can’t just sit around the villa all day moping all alone or I’ll go crazy.”

He hums noncommittally, his fingers trailing idly across your skin as he draws you closer still, and the conversation is dropped. 

Two days later, you find your cane snapped in two in the back of the closet. Oikawa has some weights stuffed in an old gym bag for when he can’t be bothered leaving home to work out - the bag must have fallen on your cane and cracked it when he put it back after his session yesterday afternoon.

An accident, it has to be. He’d never deliberately do something so petty, right?

And there are moments where you can forget the doubts that gnaw away at your insides. Tooru has always been a caring, attentive lover - the perfect boyfriend. He seems more determined that ever to shower you in love, whether that’s by waking you up with his tongue eagerly lapping at your cunt, bringing you home bouquets of fragrant flowers and cooking the two of you dinner, or just with the tiny gestures of affection - tucking your hair back away from your face, linking his hands with yours, the little kisses and compliments he lavishes you with on a daily basis.

When it’s just the two of you, lounging around on the couch, his head resting on your lap and your fingers carding through his hair, it’s easy to pretend that everything’s fine. The two of you love each other. You’ve been his rock, his biggest supporter right from the early days, and Tooru’s the one who drew you out of your shell, who makes you feel like you’re actually worth something.

That you’re beautiful, and loved.

It’s not until you come home one afternoon from an impromptu trip to the local bakery just down the road that all the little pieces fall into place, and you realise why.

The craving for something sweet was what drew you out. Truthfully, you hadn’t really thought twice about it. It was a short trip, one you’d made a thousand times before, and it wasn’t like the locals didn’t know you, wouldn’t watch out for you if they saw you about to unknowingly hurt yourself or trip over something. 

The alfajores in your hand were supposed to be a surprise, Tooru had been wound up from practice lately, more stressed than he usually was this late in the season, and you knew you weren’t the only one with a wicked sweet tooth. You’d just wanted to cheer him up. 

You hadn’t expected to come home to find Tooru pacing in your bedroom, muttering to himself, and you certainly hadn’t expected him to whirl around at the sound of your approach, snatching at your wrist and all but hauling you inside. 

You certainly aren’t prepared for the snarling, bitter words he hurls at you. 

And yet even as tears fill your eyes, a choked sob bursting free as he berates you for leaving the villa without telling him, Tooru clutches at you so tightly it feels like your arm’s going to snap. 

“You can’t leave me! You can’t - you’re mine!”

He doesn’t stop, barely pauses for breath, but those eight words hit you like a freight train, and everything else fades out into white noise. You can’t for the life of you explain how or why, but in that moment, you know with absolute certainty that the name on your arm can’t be his. 

Tooru lied to you. 

He’s not your soulmate. 

It’s all you can do to stand there numbly while your boyfriend falls to pieces in front of you. The angry yells and screams turn into wretched sobs, and suddenly it’s Tooru collapsing in your arms, clinging to your neck like it’s a lifeline as he sniffles against your chest, and when desperate apologies turn into desperate kisses and he starts to lead you backwards towards the bed, you don’t fight him.

He treats you like you’re made of glass, worshipping every inch of your skin, fervent declarations of love spilling out between kisses like prayers of the devout at an altar. He fucks you slowly, lovingly, moaning your name so sweetly as he searches for absolution within the plush walls of your sex.

And with his fingers coaxing at your clit, his lips dancing against yours you fall off that precipice with him.

You have no idea long the two of you lie there in silence, limbs entangled with one other, but eventually you register the warmth of his hand on your cheek, caressing it with a gentle kind of tenderness that makes something deep inside of you ache.

“You still love me, don’t you?” Tooru’s voice is quiet. Hesitant. It reminds you of the little boy you knew, the one who confided all his fears of never being good enough to you, desperately seeking the validation you always gave so freely. 

Your eyes flutter shut, another stray tear spilling down your cheek, and your heart breaks anew.

“Always.”

[whitexwingedxdoves]

Foxtails and Rabbit trails | Part 2

A/N: This is part 2 to my collab with @starlessea​ i’ve had such a fun time working on this with Yaz and I hope you all love it as much as we do   🐰 Read Part One Here  Summary:  Daryl Dixon was a good hunter, but there were still some things that he struggled to find. Such as the patience to deal with you. You wore a rabbit’s foot keyring, but Daryl thought you were the furthest thing from lucky. After all, you ended up stuck with him, too.

-  Lying back on the grass, staring up at the cloudless sky, you thought that the world had never looked so pretty. 

The foxtails tickled your cheeks, and you could feel the fresh dew on the leaves as they gathered up beneath your fingers. You tried to focus on their texture, and how you could hear them crunch brittley before they scattered to the ground like autumn confetti.  

You really did try to focus on the good.

But the pain was blinding. 

“Hol’ still, ‘m gonna get ya outta there,” Daryl whispered, but you picked up on the way his voice stuttered over the words.

He got to work on disabling the trap, every little movement translating into a jolt of searing pain which made you cry out for him to stop. Though, the look in his eyes was no better. Even through your tears, you could understand that this was hurting him just as much as it hurt you - maybe even more.

If only you hadn’t been so fucking careless.

You reached out your hand for your satchel, fumbling in the grass until your fingertips brushed up against the soft fur of your rabbit’s foot. It was supposed to be lucky.

What a joke, you laughed, and grit your teeth through the pain.

Daryl disarmed the trap, making you whimper hoarsely once more as the metal jaws dislodged from your ankle. Your knuckles had turned white over that rabbit’s foot - almost matching its snowy pelt.

The man retrieved the rag from his back pocket - that same one you’d joked about not so long ago - and used it to bind your leg to stop the bleeding. 

Maybe that ratty cloth was handy, after all.

You tried to look down to catch a glimpse of the injury, and assess the damage. Except, Daryl didn’t let you.

“Eyes on me,” he instructed, gesturing to himself with his free hand.

You nodded, before letting your head fall back onto the damp grass. You glanced off to the side, noticing the mounds of dirt that crumbled near you.

“Hey, Daryl,” you murmured, “look at all of the burrows.”

The man didn’t look up from what he was doing - tending to you - but he still nodded his head anyway.

“Yeah,” he replied, tightening the makeshift bandage, “see if ya can spot any rabbits.”

And with that, Daryl carried you back to Alexandria - quickly and carefully, looking down at his feet the entire time.

Once you reached the infirmary, the man placed you on one of the beds whilst Denise got to work. She tried her hardest to be gentle with you, but even the softest touch made your skin crawl. Painkillers were given - only dulling the sensation ever so slightly - but they seemed to be enough for the doctor to stitch up your wounds, and replace Daryl’s old red rag with a clean bandage.

“I thought you hunters were supposed to be mindful of your surroundings,” Denise quipped, sending one of her sneaky looks your way as she finished her work. 

You rolled her eyes and shuffled ever so slightly in the bed, trying to get a glimpse.

“Yeah well, it was pretty well hidden,” you hit back. 

Daryl cleared his throat from the corner of the room; he’d been so quiet that you almost forgot he was there.

“Nah, ya got too distracted by the damn rabbits,” he grumbled.

More like too distracted by damn Daryl Dixon.

A glare was exchanged between you and the archer, but your smile got wider the longer you stared.

“Either way, it got you pretty good. You need to stay off that leg.” 

With a stern tone, Denise broke your gaze.

You shook your head. “That doesn’t work for me,” you argued, “I’ve got people to feed!” 

In response, you tried to shuffle off the bed - but a searing pain clambered up your leg and stunted your movements.

“I’m sure Daryl wouldn’t mind taking over for a while. Just until you’re better,” Denise reassured you.

The young doctor peered over her glasses at the archer, only for him to reply with a grunt.

“Now rest,” she told you, pressing your shoulder back down into the mattress. “Doctor’s orders!” 

That first night at the clinic had been quiet - far too quiet. It made you mull over your mistake until it was old in your mind, and heavy on your conscience. 

That is, until Daryl returned to bring you dandelions.

Denise had insisted that you stay where she could keep an eye on you, until the morning at least. But, you missed the comforts of your own room - where it was familiar. The walls of the infirmary were too white and barren, as opposed to your house which was decorated with pressed flowers and furs and much too many books. 

Your foot twitched occasionally, and every time you closed your eyes you could hear the snapping of those metal jaws as they clamped shut.

Sleep would probably elude you tonight.

Your nerves were made even worse when you were startled by knuckles rapping on the window. Reaching for the lamp, you illuminated the figure behind the glass - who also seemed spooked at having been caught.

Daryl stood there, motioning for you to open the latch on the window. 

You did, and the man lifted the pane, letting in the cool night’s breeze. 

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” you whispered, peering around the infirmary.

Daryl scowled, and muttered something below his breath that you couldn’t quite make out. The lampshade cast long shadows on his face, and you could only see the whites of his eyes poking out from between the strands of hair hanging over them.

“I ain’t,” he rasped back, gesturing to where he stood. “Technically.”

You raised an eyebrow at the man, not expecting that dry humour to come from him. He shook you off, and continued.

“Not stoppin’ long,” he dismissed, lifting up his backpack and fumbling around in it. “Went back out there an’ couldn’t see no more traps.” 

He smirked - faint and dim in the artificial light. But you still caught it.

“Ya must’ve sprung the only fuckin’ one.”

You laughed a little too loudly.

“Just my luck,” you shot back.

Daryl pulled something out from his bag - something you immediately recognised. It was a pelt blanket of soft, tawny fur. You’d made it yourself.

“Olivia tol’ me to give ya this,” he explained, feeding the material through the open window until you could reach it. “She went to get it from yer room.”

The feeling between your fingers instantly brought you comfort, and you ran the blanket along your cheek absentmindedly. 

Before you could reply, Daryl fished something else out from the rucksack and placed it on the windowsill. 

It was a glass bottle of dandelions.

It was a soda bottle, to be exact - probably snuck out of the pantry when no one was looking. You also recognised the flowers; you’d seen them out hunting once and noted just how much you liked the colour.

They looked like sunshine.

“Those from Olivia, too?” you whispered, gently stroking over the petals with your fingertips.

Daryl zipped up his bag and shook his head.

“Nah,” he mumbled, gesturing for you to close the window behind him. “These are from me.”

That was when you realised that perhaps Daryl Dixon wasn’t such a hard ass after all.

Though, your favourite memory from back then had to be the time he brought you bluebells. You’d practically chewed his ear off on one of your earlier trips, telling him all about how pretty they were - but you never thought he was listening.

You’d been sitting in your front room, pressing the previous bunch of flowers between one of your bigger books, when Daryl entered your home that day. Denise still hadn’t given you the all clear to go back out and hunt, and your movements were still pretty limited.

Hence, the constant appearances by the other hunter.

At this point, it had just become a part of the routine. Daryl would visit the house, walk straight to the empty vase on your bedside, and fill it with a new set of flowers. 

Though, today was a little different. 

Usually, he’d drop off some of the meat he’d managed to catch, and then leave. But, today he took a seat on the sofa opposite yours and fumbled with a tangled up cord.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” you giggled, sitting further back into your cushion.

“Been trying to fix ya stupid traps out there. Can’t get the knot right,” he mumbled, his patience wearing as thin as that rope in his hands. 

You couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh at his words. 

The irony tasted so sweet. 

Daryl shot you a look which instantly made you cover your mouth. “Come here, I’ll help you,” you managed to say, whilst beckoning him over.

He did as instructed, but not without grumbling.

You took the cord from his hands and effortlessly untangled it. Daryl muttered something under his breath - but instead of prying, you took the victory and proceeded with your demonstration.

“Loop the rope around your hand like this and tie it.” 

Before finishing the action, you handed it over to Daryl so that he could do it by himself. 

“Then you fold the loop over to make ears, just like a rabbit!” you announced proudly, leaning over the man to show him exactly how it should look.

He scoffed. “What is it with you and the damn rabbits?” 

You rolled your eyes at the archer, and nudged him in the side for not paying attention - to which he carried on following your directions. 

“Then you thread the rope through,” you instructed, your hand hovering over his as you watched for any mistakes.

You hadn’t realised how close you were to him until he had finished the knot. You pulled away, and cleared your throat before refocusing on the cord - not daring to dwell on the tension.

“Then you add this end to the spring and leave the other end hanging.”

Daryl nodded silently, inspecting your work like he was trying to recreate it in his mind.

“Thanks,” he eventually whispered, chewing at the corner of his lip.

It didn’t take the man long to spring to his feet and murmur a goodbye before leaving. 

Thinking back on it, you could only laugh at how naive you both had been. 

Those bluebells were the last flowers ever left in that glass vase, but they hadn’t been the last you’d seen during your time at Alexandria. To this day, you still had an old, leather-bound book tucked away somewhere on a shelf - containing all of those pressed flowers with their dried up petals and stems. But, they weren’t the most memorable.

No. The ones you could remember the best, despite not having them laid flat atop a page, were the foxtail lilies.

“You good?” the man asked, guiding you through the long grass.

You followed him slowly, weaving through the wildflowers - being careful not to trod on them. 

Your leg had mostly healed, but your confidence still hadn’t made a full recovery. It was your first time hunting since the accident, and you couldn’t help but keep your eyes locked on your feet the entire time - despite Daryl having reassured you that he’d checked the area three times over.

“Yeah, just feels weird,” you replied, rolling your ankle. “But it’s good to be out again, thanks for taking over for me.”

Despite being out of commission for a few weeks, the people of Alexandria definitely hadn’t starved - that’s for damn sure.

Daryl shook his head, and continued to step through the foxtail lilies. He was leading you back to that new area - to explore it properly this time.

“Nah, ain’t nothin’,” he shrugged, not even sparing you a backwards glance.

You followed his trail, where his boots had flattened the grass and made it easier for you to navigate.

You sighed. “Can’t just say ‘you’re welcome’, can you?”

Something sprung in the distance, and you immediately flinched. It took you a few seconds to figure it out - but you soon realised that you recognised that sound.

You turned to the other hunter, only to find that he was already looking at you.

“Daryl Dixon,” you breathed, a smile already wide on your face. “Did you set a twitch-up snare?”

The man shook his head, before pointing into the distance - at the dozens of burrows you hadn’t gotten the chance to show him that day.

“Not jus’ one,” he announced, as you glanced around the field, counting the traps.

No wonder Alexandria hadn’t gone hungry.

Another one sprung, and made you jump. You couldn’t help it, you slapped Daryl over the back and laughed too loudly - probably making the remaining rabbits scurry back into their burrows.

“Be still my beating heart!” you joked. ��I knew you’d come around.”

The lilies tickled your legs as they blew in the breeze, and made you laugh even more. But for once, the man didn’t scold you for scaring away the game.

“Yer welcome,” he replied, and smirked straight back.

Daryl thought of that memory, as he and Judith made their way through the darkened forest, back to the house. 

You had definitely changed him since then - in more ways than how he set up his traps.

Daryl hung behind the young girl, watching her feet as she navigated the thick overgrowth, and stepped over tree roots - her fox tail charm swinging from her jeans. 

It had been his, once. He’d caught that red fox himself in the dead of winter, and kept the brush just like you’d told him to do. Though, Judith Grimes had taken a liking to it as a baby - always reaching for the soft fur with her small hands, and sneezing when Daryl used it to tickle her nose.

It was hers now; it had been since that day.

As if feeling his stare, Judith turned back and called out to Daryl for him to hurry up - unless he wanted dinner to be cold. He let out a grunt and picked up the pace.

He was too damn old for this.

The two of them returned to the cabin before the sun had set, but Daryl could already smell the scent of cooked meat from the pathway, a few minutes back. The lights were on inside, flickering warmly behind the glass windows - as though calling the both of them home.

Judith reached the door first, and rapped on the wood, tapping out their signature knock. As soon as it creaked open, the young girl burst through - nearly knocking you over as she trudged through the house with a wide smile and muddy boots.

 Then, you disappeared behind the frame after her - yelling something about how animals were meant to be on a plate, and not seated at the dinner table.

Daryl couldn’t help but laugh at that one; you always did have a good sense of humour.

But for that reason, the hunter made sure to wash his hands as soon as he stepped through the door - before even attempting to put them on you, and pull you in close.

But once he did, you beckoned him over.

Daryl felt the warmth of your skin as you pressed your forehead to his.

“‘M home,” he murmured, offering out the bunch of wildflowers he’d picked for you on the way back.

They were slightly crushed from his grip - the stalks bent and the petals flaking off - but you still smiled at him in such a way that it made his breath catch.

Yeah, he thought, you hadn’t changed one bit.

“My favourites,” you replied, and placed those foxtails in fresh water at the centre of the dinner table.

-

tags:  @browneyes528​ @phoenixblack89​ @srhxpci​ @jodiereedus22​ @witch-of-letters​ @deadthewalking​

[catwithangerissues]

𝐇𝐪 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞.

🌿 Hello! First post since the break baby! V glad to be back. Let’s start it off well, shall we?

-We all are brutally aware of the lack of representation in different fandoms and their writings- and while the Haikyuu fandom has been nothing but good to me personally, I thought making a mini series out of this could be a neat idea. The basic idea is take a hq character and write about the things they would do to help out/cheer up a significant other with a certain condition or disability.

- I marked each of the ones that personally affect me in my day to day life in case you’re interested.

- These are ways the hq characters HELP THEIR SO. This does not mean they treat them differently or lesser than others. Keep that in mind- scrubs.

- This by no means whatsoever fully encompasses what it’s like for any party involved to be in these romantic relationships- however, I do experience some of these conditions in my personal day to day and thought I did pretty well at writing those specifically. This does not mean I didn’t make mistakes in the rest, however. Please leave CONSTRUCTIVE AND NOT BLATANTLY RUDE CRITICISM if that’s the case. I did not intend to offend anybody, so keep that in mind.

Characters: Tendou Satori, Kita Shinsuke, Iwaizumi Hajime, Osamu Miya, Bokuto Koutaro, Hinata Shoyo, Tsukishima Kei, Sugawara Koushi, Suna Rintaro, Kuroo Tetsuro

Genre: Fluff/comfort

Warnings: mentions of blindness, deafness, eating issues, depression, anxiety, chronic migraines, wheelchair use, dyslexia, ADHD, and Insomnia. Established relationships.

- Tendou Satori with a blind significant other consists of his constant singing/humming around the house, or turning random household objects into makeshift instruments to both entertain you, and so you always know where he’s at and therefore doesn’t frighten you with his sudden presence. He reads things to you, usually describing various things you come in contact with in your day to day life that may not be so friendly to the blind. Letting you touch his face or body in order to get a mental image of his features, doing your hair or makeup and even picking an outfit if you ever ask, holding your hand and guiding you when you’re out or if you request it. He tries his best to continue learning new things to help out where he can, and the thought goes a long way. Bb Tendou ily

- *Kita Shinsuke being more than happy to spend quiet time with his deaf significant other, enjoying the process of learning sign language in order to surprise you, and communicate with you. He’s very thankful his grandmother taught him some growing up. He adores leaving love letters on your nightstand to find at random, and his gentle loving touches in the morning bring you to the day unlike an alarm. He enjoys laying you on his chest so you can feel his heartbeat, and always ensures he approaches you from the front, leaving soft touches on your skin as he twirls you around in the kitchen in the late evenings of your days spent together, smiling wide at the happy grin plastered on your face. This man is incredibly smart, and he continues to surprise you with new sweet gestures every single day.

(This one hits extremely close to home, so I apologize if it’s longer than the rest.)

- *Iwaizumi Hajime with a wheelchair bound significant other consists of many things. Like him happily pushing around your chair for as long as you’d like if you use a manual, or holding your hand as you drive around in your electric chair, always remembering to plug it in at night to charge too. He regularly finds extremely wheelchair friendly places to explore or visit, restaurants without stairs and large enough bathrooms and tables to make you comfortable, or parks and entertainment spaces where you can enjoy yourself without needing to worry about different terrain or judgmental strangers. Him always pressing the handicap door button for you, since he agrees that it’s incredibly disrespectful when more able people kick the button with their dirty shoe for seemingly no reason. It’s his willingness to carry you around bridal style all day if you get uncomfortable sitting for so long, or to give you a massage when you’re sore. Him giving you alone time when you request it, (because for some reason people think it’s okay to crowd wheelchair users all the time?), and chewing people out when they think it’s alright to touch your chair without permission. He does so much more, but unfortunately this drabble is getting a bit long. Though I’ll definitely be writing about this more in the future..

- *Osamu Miya is always mindful of his significant others eating issues, offering up healthy meals with portion sizes that your body both needs and enjoys each day. Making sure to text you a reminder to drink enough water when he’s away or working, or bringing you a glass randomly throughout the day while you were busy with your studies or career. He seems to always keep snacks he knows you enjoy in his car and office at work, and he always offers encouraging, honest advice about your progress and just how proud he is of you. 10/10 bb Osamu

- *Bokuto Kotaro with a significant other who struggles with anxiety, and his constant never ending support and reassurance. His strong arms wrapping around you in a big hug when you ask for them, his uncharacteristic whispers, usually of encouragement or funny stories to make you laugh and bring forward that beautiful smile of yours. It’s how he took the time in the beginning of your relationship to really ingrain the signs of your oncoming anxiety attacks into his brain in order to remove you from those situations as seamlessly as possible in the future. It’s his seemingly endless “I found a new thing that could help, baby! Wanna try?” phrases. How he bought weighted blankets and bubble bath in your favorite scent, and tea in your favorite flavor- always keeping them stocked in the house. It’s how he calls Akaashi at times to ask about what he does to help his own anxiety, and how learning about yours transforms his treatment towards his family, friends, and even shy fans who admire the loud boisterous man, but are too scared to approach him for the same reasons. It’s when he crouches down next to a small child and gently holds their hand, quietly telling them that it’s okay to be anxious sometimes and not to worry. (I went off here- oops)

- *Hinata Shoyo always being helpful and loving when it comes to your depression. Encouraging you every day and reassuring you that you’re doing so well. It’s him bringing you glasses of water or snacks throughout the day to ensure you eat and drink enough, and offering to take bubble baths with you and wash your hair if you’d like, since it can be hard for some to motivate themselves to do that with depression. Him helping you with work or studies in order to take some of the load off of you, even with his busy schedule. It’s how he cuddles you at night, if you’re okay with it, and tells you how proud and happy he is to have you in his life. Him being a ball of sunshine that makes you smile everyday, and taking you on dates he knows will bring happiness to your day. (I will be writing more about this soon too!)

- Tsukishima Kei is always helpful when it comes to his significant others dyslexia. Offering to read things for you, or helping to keep track of small details when you request those of him. He’s always there to comfort you when you’re feeling insecure, and he not-so-secretly really enjoys when you ask him to help with your work or studies, even when they have to do strongly with numbers or extensive reading, he enjoys spending the time with you, it feels intimate to him. Similarly, calming you down or comforting you whenever/if ever you become overwhelmed, or reading a book you seemed really interested in to you at night before snuggling up in bed.

- *Sugawara Koushi and his mix of calm and chaotic nature that pairs well with his significant others ADHD. How he’s always helping keep track of ideas and such, or just generally being a good listener. He knows how frustrating it can be to forget something important. He’s always so down for spontaneous shit too. Wanna paint a room at 4am? Let’s go get the paint. Want to bake cookies and learn the basics of guitar while you wait for them to bake? He’s got one around here somewhere. It’s how he’s thankful he chose being a school teacher as a career path, because keeping you on track for work and school/leaving little reminders to do those things becomes second nature for him. As chaotic as he himself is, he’s always there to comfort you when you’re feeling insecure, and reminding you to take your medication if you take any. He enjoys taking you on walks to clear you mind, and often goes out to buy you notebooks and sticky note to write things down for whenever he isn’t there to help you out. Suga bb ily you’re doing great sweetie

- *Suna Rintaro and his significant other with insomnia, finding himself thanking his professional athlete training schedule that keeps his own sleep on track unlike in high school, so he can drag you to bed and hold you close to him whenever you’re struggling to sleep. It’s him learning of all the different things around the house he can do to help, like making sure all the screens in your home have a blue light filter, and ensuring any caffeine or sugar are tucked away into the kitchen cabinets to avoid temptation. It’s him running you a hot bath with lavender or vanilla, and giving you massages when you ask for them, buying fluffy blankets and comfy socks for you occasionally when he’s out. Him being willing to stay awake all night with you until you fall asleep, or taking you out for a late night/early morning walk to the park, and his gentle morning touches that first wake you everyday.

- *Kuroo Tetsuro always being mindful of his significant other with chronic migraines. It’s him turning off all the lights whenever he starts to notice your signs of one coming on, and making as little noise as he possibly can when maneuvering around the house while you’re attempting to sleep one away. It’s how when you wake up he’s giving you massages and bringing you medication with a glass of water, if you take any. How he’s always ready to run you hot baths, or showers if you’d prefer, and making sure to keep the house stocked up on scented/unscented products that won’t aggravate your headache more. It’s him ensuring you eat and drink enough, and bringing you caffeine in the early morning hours to help keep the pain away. Him quietly bringing you hot rags to place over your forehead, and putting blue light filters on all the devices in the house. If they get too bad, he’s driving you to the doctors when needed, or just generally comforting you. His own busy schedule helps in dragging you to bed to get enough rest, and he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy helping you with your work and/or studies- the nerd in him just can’t help it.

🌿 If you guys enjoy this content, I will gladly write more! Please let me know what you think cause this has been racking my brain for a while🥴 I’ll be back to posting regular content soon if you haven’t seen my apology post for my absence/impromptu break for my mental health!

Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Taglist: @sunalma @toworuu @livy384

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© catwithangerissues 2021 - do not repost, edit/alter, plagiarize or claim any works as your own.

[lostandsearching]

Her Loss

Pairings: Maria Hill/Fem!Reader, Natasha Romanoff/Fem!Reader, Wanda Maximoff/Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N is forever searching for her, the half of her soul that will free her form the pain in her heart. But what does she do when the roads fork into different paths and into different arms. How does she differentiate from true love and fleeting lust? Can she find the arms of her destined or will she simply doom herself and let them slip through her fingers.

Warnings: WandaVision elements used, swearing (maybe?)

Word Count: 2600+

A/N: Here’s chapter 3 and we’re following our favourite little witchy! Just a shout out to @theperfectlovestory​ for being so patient and reading through my chapters. If you ain’t read her work, you’re missing out! As always, reblogs and feedback are welcome. Enjoy :)

Chapter One | Chapter Two

Tossing and turning, she shifts around in bed uncomfortably. Having been able to sleep the night before, exhaustion catching up to her, she is faced with another restless night. Her sleeping has improved over the months. The nights she cried to sleep was no longer a regular occurrence but she still had her difficulties.

The bed was always too unfamiliarly empty no matter how much time had passed. There was no weight by her side causing a dip in the mattress, no strong arms wrapped around her waist encasing her protectively and no cool body to nestle herself against. Her empty bed serves as just another reminder of everything she’s lost. The fates had been cruel to her, delivering her time and time again into loving arms only to rip them away from her far too soon.

Having accepted that sleep will not welcome her tonight, she looked towards the wall clock on her right. ‘It’s only four but I guess I can enjoy the quiet and watch the sunrise for a little while’ muttering to herself. She clambers out of bed throwing on a large dark blue jumper, his jumper, and a pair of jeans careful not to make any noise and stir the children next door.

She loves Clint’s children dearly and wholeheartedly. They accepted her, a stranger, as family without hesitation or fear of her abilities. Little Nate went so far as running to her with the widest grin on his face to proudly proclaim that he’s also named after her brother. This only brought happy tears to her eyes as she engulfed him in a hug. Yes, she loved them dearly and she couldn’t be more grateful to the retired archer and Laura for opening their home to her but sometimes it was too much.

The happy shrieks of laughing children reverberating off the walls, the gentle and loving touches between Laura and Clint, the pure love and pride in Clint’s eyes as he took in his family at the dinner table would sometimes be unbearable for Wanda. This was supposed to be the life she had with him. A home, he had secretly bought for them, in a place called Westview with two children at least. They would have dinner together as a family, watch their children grow up like no time has passed at all, even go trick-or-treating wearing silly family costumes. Her life would have been filled with love, laughter and warm embraces but he was gone, taking her dreams along with him.

Wanda quickly threw on her slippers and crept as quietly as possible out of the farmhouse, trying to avoid rousing the slumber of the ever attentive Hawkeye. He may need hearing aids but Wanda would bet anything that he wore them to bed to avoid being taken by surprise. One misstep on a creaky floorboard would have him rushing out with bow and arrow in hand, ready to protect his family from any intruder, only for her to flounder a lame excuse at her sneaking around at an ungodly hour.

Lady luck was on her side it would seem and she escaped the confines of the home without incident. She is instantly greeted by a cool and gentle breeze caressing her skin. She sits on the steps of the home looking up at the clear night sky as the sun teeters on the horizon, teasing the darkness with a warm glow. She lets her mind wander back to over a year ago, to the events that unfolded after her return from the now dubbed Blip.

//

One moment she had Vision’s lifeless body cradled against her as she sobs, only to be suddenly greeted by a strange man calling her to arms, Vision’s body nowhere to be found.

“The fate of the world needs you to come with me now if we are to have any hope in defeating Thanos” and with that he opened a portal and passed through, Wanda nipping at his heels.

She thrust herself into the chaotic battlefield, remnants of the destroyed compound strewn about, with only one goal in mind. He took the love of her life, he took her life and he’s taken her home. Thanos has taken everything from her and now she’ll make him pay.

She flew in engaging Thanos, bombarding him with all the rage coursing through her veins. Angry, red wisps encase the tyrant threatening to rip him apart but as she was within a hair’s breadth away from finding her revenge, hell fire reigned from the skies knocking her off her feet. The battle for the gauntlet waged on being passed from Avenger to Avenger in hopes of getting it to some rickety van in the distance.

When all hope seemed to be lost, the gauntlet fixed around Thanos’s hand once again with an arrogant line about inevitability escaping his lips, their one and only chance arrived.

“Stark! Now!” a sound shouts commandingly before a woman encompassed in light crashes into the purple titan throwing him back. In the few moments after the order, Tony flew into action and disabled the gauntlet remotely allowing it to fall from Thanos’s hand and to wrap itself around the ready fist of Captain Marvel.

“Yeah, I don’t think so” she retorts with a head tilt and a cocky grin painted on her face. ‘Snap’ the battlefield is once again being covered in ash but it is Thanos’s army that is falling to dust with himself crumbling soon after. Being exposed to gamma radiation in space for years and receiving power from the space stone made her more resilient to the after effects of using the infinity stones. Painful as it was, she would recover.

Wanda on the other hand wasn’t sure she would recover herself. Not only had she lost Vision and her home, in what felt like a matter of fleeting moments, she lost the chance at avenging him by her own hands. ‘He’s gone, this will have to be good enough’ she finally relents to herself.

It was only after the battle had ended, when Bruce and Captain Marvel, she later learned, had been tended to that she found out the true price of  her, and the half the universe’s return. Natasha Romanoff had given her life in exchange for the soul stone, she gave her life so the world could be set right.

The icy cold Black Widow had held her at arms-length after Wanda had entered the older woman’s mind at Ultron’s behest. At the battle of Sokovia Wanda tried to remedy her mistake and prove herself but lost her first home and the life of her brother, Pietro, instead. Clint quickly took it upon himself to care for the young witch and urged Natasha to give Wanda a chance. He believed she already paid a heavy price for her mistake, she doesn’t need to be punished anymore.

With many gruelling training sessions under the watchful eye of the Black Widow, a tentative bond slowly grew, one of mentorship and then eventually friendship. Natasha grew to care for Wanda like a younger sister, although she would never out rightly admit of her fondness to the other Avengers. Wanda learnt to appreciate that the harshness delivered in Natasha’s training had served to keep Wanda alive, to give her the tools to protect herself from their dangerous job.

She had lost another loved one, Natasha on a planet and in a time she couldn’t reach, she needed to get one of them back. She approached the only man she knew that would have the unending finances to find Vision’s body. Although she still doesn’t trust Tony Stark, his hubris being the reason for her parents’ death and then his pride being the reason she was locked away in the Raft like an animal, she believed that his intentions were only ever good, even if his methods were questionable at best. He swore on his daughter’s life, much to the surprise of Wanda only having learnt of Morgan, that he would find Vision for her. She will try to trust him once more.

The compound needed to be rebuilt and Stark needed to build another time machine so that the stones could be returned to their original time, cutting off the branches, at least that’s what was explained to her.

//

It took no time at all, considering Stark’s wealth and that the world was also eternally grateful for the return of their loved ones, for the Avengers compound to be rebuilt. Surprisingly, especially to Stark, she continued to stay at the cabin whilst the new time machine was being built. She couldn’t possibly go back to the compound with both her love and her sister being gone.

“Please bring her back, I can’t lose anyone else. I don’t know what I’d do” she pleads with her arms around the super soldier. She pulls back from their embrace, tears threatening to fall.

“I’ll bring her back Wanda, whatever it takes” Steve promises with finality and with a gentle squeeze of her hand, he steps into the portal.

Wanda stood there with bated breath, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around herself. She squeezes herself tightly as if holding back a terrible force and its impending explosion from within, should Steve fail. It isn’t until Bruce speaks that she tempts fate by opening her eyes, fixed on the platform once more.

“5…4…3…2…1. Ha! It worked!” he yelps, fisting the air with joy.

Wanda couldn’t believe the sight in front of her, Steve kept his word. Forest green eyes land on hazel green ones. She wasn’t too sure what happened, one moment she was standing and the next moment, she was crumpled on the floor sobbing. She finally let the tears free fall, allowing the anguish, loss and small reprieve to wash over her. ‘She came back, someone came back’ a mantra repeating itself in her mind begging to be believed.

With all the agility and grace attributed to the Widow, Natasha leapt out of Steve’s arms to engulf the younger woman in hers. As is always in the Avengers’ lives, the joy of a win is forever marred with sorrow at the cost of gaining it.

The compound having already been built, Wanda finally returned with Natasha by her side. The Avengers home was no longer filled with mirth as it once was, trauma, loss and exhaustion hangs heavy in the air. Clint had chosen to stay at the compound temporarily, with his family, to spend time with Wanda and Natasha. Tony and Rhodey chose to retire, Captain Marvel had long since returned to space but promised to visit when she was in the galaxy, Thor chose to leave the Avengers to join The Guardians in space and Vision was gone.

It was a week after Natasha’s return, a week at the compound that Wanda finally got the call she so desperately needed.

“Hey witchy, how are you liking the new digs?” Tony jokes. Wanda couldn’t help but roll her eyes as anger began bubbling beneath the surface.

“I am not in the mood for your jokes Stark” her thick Sokovian accent slipping past the cracks of her control.

Tony lets out a heavy sigh before responding. “OK kid, this isn’t a social call. I promised I’d find him but I don’t think you’re gonna like what I’m about to tell you” he tries carefully.

Her eyes are consumed with whirls of red while her hand holds the phone in a vice-like grip. “Where is he Stark?” she says through gritted teeth.

“I tried to get his body released to me this morning, but they refused. I could spend every dime I have and liquidate all my assets, they still won’t let him go claiming that he is government property since he signed the Accords.” frustration clear in his voice.

“I will get the best lawyers on the case but it will take time be…”

“Where” she interrupts with a bite in her tone.

“S.W.O.R.D”

//

After the events of meeting Hayward and seeing what he had done to Vision, Wanda knew she had two choices. She opted for the latter. She called Natasha as soon as she left S.W.O.R.D’s offices making her way back to her car.

“Wanda, what’s going on? You ran…” Before she could finish her questioning, she is interrupted by Wanda’s broken voice.

“S.W.O.R.D have Vision’s body and they wouldn’t let me take him home to bury him. They’re tearing him apart like an OBJECT! He gave his LIFE and they won’t even let what’s left of him find PEACE!” her anger is replaced by breaking sobs wracking through her body, ending her ability to speak any further.

“Come home now. Clint and I will fix it” She commands calmly and confidently.

Just as Wanda was the female assassin’s younger sister, she was also the archer’s daughter. No-one messes with the two deadly assassins’ family and escapes unscathed.

True to the Widow name, Natasha seduced and hacked her way into S.W.O.R.D’s data server and extracted details on questionable S.W.O.R.D activities including Hayward’s isolated server with files and data on his less than legal proclivities.

Clint, being true to his ethos, was crawling through S.W.O.R.D ventilation shafts, planting well placed audio and visual recording devices, courtesy of Stark himself.

With all the pieces at hand, Natasha only needed the perfect person for the execution. Her love for Wanda saw her doing the unimaginable for the first time. She asked for help.

“Maria, I need you to do something for me. I need you to get Vision’s body from S.W.O.R.D. Clint and I have all the data you’ll need to make it happen” her steady voice not betraying the pounding in her heart.

“Why would I get on S.W.O.R.D’S radar exactly?” Maria responds emotionlessly. She would have done it without question of course, but she can’t let Natasha know that. After all, she has a reputation to maintain.

“Because I will owe you a favour” Natasha retorts through clenched teeth. A pregnant pause fills the air before Maria responds.

“Send me everything you have and give me 48 hours” without another word, Maria ends the call and Natasha releases a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding.

Maria, always a woman of her word, saw to it that 48 hours later Vision’s body was being returned to Wanda at the compound under S.H.I.E.L.D escort. Wanda may not have given her lover the death that he asked of her nor the vengeance that he was owed, but she could give him the burial that he deserved and the farewell she needed.

All the Avengers, including Rhodey, Tony and Thor, returned one last time to pay their respects, to honour their fallen ally and friend. Wanda laid to rest the love of her life and yet another piece of her heart.

//

“You know, you still aren’t as quiet as Nat” he teases taking a seat on the step beside her. “Penny for your thoughts?” he gently prods.

“Thinking about him” Wanda whispers, still unable to say Vision’s name since the funeral. “Thinking about what you, Nat and even Tony have done for me since”

He turns to look at the young woman and sees not only pain in her eyes, but a steady determination that wasn’t there before. He keeps quiet, allowing her to gather her thoughts without interruption.

“I think…no, I know I’m ready to go home Clint” she says with growing confidence. She finally turns to face the archer. She sees time, suffering and loss etched on his aging face but those are all muted by the brightness in his blue-grey eyes full of love and pride.

Wanda has survived the loss of her parents, her brother, her first home and her lover. She’s tired of surviving and she is finally ready to go home to start living.

“I’ll tell Nat so she can get a jet ready and prepared for you” and with that, they spend the last few moments together, sitting in silence and basking in the warm glow of the sunrise full of hope and gentle promises. 

Chapter Four

[thechangeling]

She burns like rum on a fire

Why did I do this to myself ughhhhh?

So @adoravel-fenomeno and I were talking about Kit potentially getting into an abusive relationship given that he's statistically likely too given his roots. So now I give you this fic! Sorry. Kit is using he/him in this fic because he hasn't really gone on his gender quest yet.

The title is from Cherry Wine by Hozier. I reccomend you listen to Cherry Wine and Trauma by NF while reading this.

Cw: Mentions of physical and verbal abuse, abusive, controlling behavior, negative self talk and extreme denial. Also brief mention of blood.

2013

Don't cry.

Don't cry Kit told himself over and over inside his head as he tried to get a hold of his breathing. As he lay on his bed at 2 in the morning, desperately refreshing his conversation with Autumn.

Autumn or as his best friend Janessa liked to call her "the virus" was Kit's girlfriend. His very first. A mundane with the sight. They had been dating for a few months now. When they had first gotten together everything was amazing, it so it seemed.

They had some much in common and they had fun together. Autumn was hot, funny and charasmatic. She had this way of making him feel like the only person in the room. She showered him with gifts and complements that made Kit finally feel worthy for the first time in his life.

But as time went on things shifted. Autumn insisted on spending almost ever waking second with him. Kit didn't mind at first, he loved hanging out with her. But he missed his parents and his sister, and he knew they missed him too. Whenever they had family movie night, or they wanted Kit to watch Mina, Autumn threw a fit. She insisted that he was ignoring her.

She didn't want him seeing Janessa either, or Nessie as Kit called her for short. Autumn always insisted that she was plotting to steal Kit away from her, which was ridiculous but nothing could change Autumn's mind when she was in a mood. So Kit had found himself blowing Nessie off to hang out with Autumn and making excuses for it.

Kit always felt super guilty for making Autumn so upset. He tried to get out of his agreements if it to stop her from crying but sometimes Tessa and Jem wouldn't let him. It was frustrating when they didn't understand. She would rage for awhile, calling Kit stupid and worthless. Sometimes she would make comments about him being adopted, telling him that Tessa and Jem didn't really love him and they only saw him as a free babysitter for their real child.

She would make jokes about all kinds of things. How Kit wasn't a real shadowhunter, his weight, his past, his bisexuality, his ADHD. Kit knew that Autimn didn't really mean anything by it. It was nothing personal and she didn't really mean it. She loved him. And he loved her.

Tonight had been different though. His grades had taken a turn for the worst because he had been blowing of the tutoring sessions the school had payed for as a part of his accommodations. Because he had been spending that time with Autumn. Kit knew it was a bad idea to miss those, but his girlfriend needed him. She didn't have anybody else. She couldn't count on her parents like he could, and she didn't really have any friends.

But Kit was in big trouble. Tessa and Jem were mad. The school was mad. People were saying that Kit was ungrateful.

Ah yes because every disabled person should just bend down and kiss the feet of every person that deigns to give them what they're legally entitled to.

But Kit knew that he had really screwed up this time. He tried to explain to Autumn that he couldn't see her as often as he used to anymore because he needed to fix his grades. And she absolutely lost it. Which he had been expecting.

However what Kit hadn't been expecting this time was for her to hit him.

And she hit him hard. Punched him straight in the nose. And sure it wasn't that big of a deal. Kit was a shadowhunter and he was pretty much used to being hit. But he hadn't been expecting it.

And there was just so much blood.

Autumn of course instantly apologized profusely. She kissed him over and over and told him that she loved him and she didn't mean to. And Kit knew she was telling the truth but-

But he still felt a sinking feeling in his chest that he couldn't explain.

But Kit had applied an iratze, wiped off the blood, and now everything was as good as new. When he had arrived back home, his parents had noticed anything or asked him any questions.

Now he was lying awake at 2 in the morning, filled with guilt and worry as he waited for Autumn to text him back. He gnawed on his bottom lip anxiously as he tried not to over think things.

Maybe she was still mad at him? Was there something else Kit was supposed to say or do? Or maybe he should just leave her alone for awhile?

It was maddening.

Kit turned off his phone and threw it down in frustration, pulling his giant red and black flannel over his shoulders and curling in on himself. He felt strangely exhausted, but unable to sleep. His nose and left eye socket still throbbed a little despite the fact that they should be healed.

Kit thought about using another iratze but his steele was across the room and he couldn't bring himself to stand up to go get it.

God he really was pathetic. Maybe he deserved this. Tears welled up in Kit's eyes.

Don't cry. Don't cry.

This time Kit couldn't hold it back. So he let himself cry. Tears came streaming down his cheeks as he tried to muffle his sobs with his hand. Deep down he knew it was his fault. It was always his fault.

But with Autumn he had really tried. Sure he wasn't perfect but Kit really cared about her. And it wasn't good enough. He wasn't good enough.

Kit couldn't help but think of the last time he felt like this. The last time he was rejected. He had been careful about trying to keep all thoughts of Ty Blackthorn out of his head for awhile. Autumn was a good distraction, even when she was screaming obscenities at him. It was still a distraction.

Kit closed his eyes and conjured the memory of holding Ty up on the roof. If he squeezed his eyes tightly enough, Kit could still feel the softness of his hoodie and the slight tickle of Ty's dark hair against his skin. He could conjure the smell of Ty's skin and the way he had trembled slightly against Kit's body.

I should have kissed him. Kit mused, hugging himself tightly. Just once. Even if Ty had pushed him away in disgust, it would have been worth it. Just to know what it felt like.

Suddenly from the bottom of the bed, Kit's phone lit up with a call. He scrambled to grab it, thinking it was Autumn, but it was actually Janessa. Kit cleared his throat, trying to make his voice sound normal as he answered the phone.

"Why are you calling me at 2 am Nessie?"

"The better question is why are you still awake at 2 am," she pointed out, sounding smug. "I'm a vampire. Creature of the night remember? It's kinda prime time for me Kit Kat."

Kit smiled as he felt the previous angst wash away. "Yeah fair enough. But still, why are you calling me?"

Kit heard her sigh into the phone. "Well honestly because this is probably the only time you're free now a days," she said spitefully. "You know thanks to she-who-must-not-be-named." Kit rolled his eyes.

"That's my girlfriend you're talking about, Janessa!" He snapped.

"Well your girlfriend's a total bitch!"

Normally Kit would argue with her and tell her that she was way off base. That Autumn wasn't so bad and that she was trying. That she loved him. But today he just couldn't.

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "We got into another fight tonight," he admitted. "Just a few hours ago actually."

"I'm sorry love," Janessa murmed. Nessie wasn't British. She was actually Canadian. But she had moved around the world with her previous band before settling in Devon and leaving them to go solo. She had picked up on some British expressions though.

"I wish you weren't going through this. But Kit, you gotta break up with her! She's bad news!"

Kit rested his face against the palm of his left hand. "I can't," he groaned.

Janessa let out a frustrated yell on the other end of the phone. "What the hell are you planning on doing Kit!? I mean are you just gonna wait into she hits you or what?" She spat.

"She already did," Kit responded instantly without missing a beat.

He gasped and slapped a hand to cover his mouth. Kit had no idea why he actually told her. Impulsivity maybe? Or maybe he just needed to get it out. But he instantly regretted it.

There was a long uncomfortable silence on the other end of the phone. Kit was just about to ask Janessa where she went when suddenly she spoke.

"I'm coming over."

Kit tried to protest but she hung up on him.

Before he had time to panic or scream or throw something, there was an aggressive tapping on his window. Of course. Janessa had vampire speed. He looked up to see Nessie perched on his windowsill looking solem.

Her long black curly hair was pulled into a high ponytail and she wore what by her standards was probably a casual outfit. A black long sleeved low cut crop top and white ripped skinny jeans tucked into thigh high heeled leather boots. And of course, she wore a full face of makeup. Even after the facial feminization surgery she was still a little insecure about going out without makeup on.

Nessie banged on his window again, more impatiently and Kit jumped up to let her in. She landed on his bedroom floor with the grace of a cat, making no sound. She stared at him silently with an expression that Kit found hard to decipher.

"Show me where," she whispered in that deep raspy voice of hers. She reached for his face and Kit let Janessa cradle his face with her hands and tried not to wince as her cold skin came into contact with his.

He shook his head. "No you won't see it, I put an iratze on it already. It's done." Janessa scoffed and stepped back.

"You know the damage isn't just skin deep Kit," she said pointedly. "No matter how much you want to pretend it is."

He glared at her. "Wow that's so insightful Nessie!," he said sarcastically. "What else you got?"

"Oh come on Kit you know I'm right," She hissed. "You have to end it!"

Kit shook his head. Why does she keep saying that?

"No. Why should I?" Kit retorted. "She loves me." He tried to sound as confident as he could, but truthfully he wasn't so sure anymore.

Autumn had gone above and beyond to make Kit feel loved and appreciated yo the point where she was almost obsessive. But she could also be cruel and spiteful. Kit had convinced himself that he should be happy with what he had because it was as good as he was gonna get.

And the sad part was that was still true.

"No she doesn't," Janessa breathed desperately. To Kit's horror, it looked like she was about to cry. Kit couldn't remember if he had ever seen her cry. Not once.

"Somebody who really loved you could never hurt you like that!" She protested shakily, her voice warbled as tears spilled down her face.

Kit could feel his tears returning at the sight of Nessie crying. He rushed towards her and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her neck. In the comfort of his best friend's embeace he allowed himself to finally sob. He cried for that broken niave part of himself that kept getting hurt.

She rested her chin on the top of his head, (she was taller then him,) and held him close. "Please promise me you will break up with her," Janessa begged.

"I just don't get it," Kit whispered against her skin. "I did everything right. I did everything I could." He blinked back tears. "Why doesn't she love me Nessie?"

He felt her shake against him. "I don't know Kit," she sobbed. "But I love you ok? I love you and your parents love you, and Mina loves you so much!"

Kit sighed, pulling back to wipe his tears. "I know, but what if I, you know-. What if I never find someone? Like romantically?"

Janessa studied him, raising her eyebrow. "Well do you need to find someone? Who is this arbitrary someone who can give you something a friendship can't?"

That's actually a good point.

"I mean," Nessie continued, crossing her arms and shifting her weight. "If you do end up in a relationship then cool, it's whatever. But the way I see it is you shouldn't focus all of your energy on looking because you're gonna end up missing out on some pretty cool stuff in the mean time." She smiled.

Kit thought about it. He knew logically Janessa had a point. But he just couldn't feel it. He was too depressed and defeated. And as ashamed as it made him, Kit still missed Autumn. He tried to smile along with Nessie but it must have looked weak because she looked concerned.

"Hey," she cooed, reaching for him.

"Can you sing to me Nessie?" He asked. Kit  felt a little pathetic but hopefully she wouldn't judge him.

She smiled lovingly at him. "Sure." Janessa took his hand and led him to his bed.

"Any requests?" She asked as she pulled off her boots and lay down on Kit's bed. He followed her, snuggling up against Nessie with his back to her.

"No not really," he murmered, closing his eyes. Kit was finally starting to feel how exhausted he really was.

Janessa wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, resting her head slightly against his shoulder. "Ok," she whispered very softly.

Kit heard her clear her throat softly before the sound of her breathy angelic alto filled his ears.

"I'm turning out the lights, to remember how to see. Till the renaissance takes place, Until a renaissance takes place, and resuscitates the color of paint and divinity."

Kit smiled sleepily at the sound of his enneagram song, something Janessa had introduced him to.

He yawned and let the sound of Nessie's voice lull him to sleep, putting all thoughts of Autumn behind him.

In my head Kit is like 5'4 and Janessa is 5'9. Originally I had her at 5'11 but I wanted her to be closer in height to Kit. Also did I name Kit's abusive girlfriend Autumn after my toxic controlling ex best friend? You bet I did!

Tag list: (you know the deal) @playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies   @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @clarys-heosphoros @queenlilith43 @arangiajoan @hardlymatters @the-wckd-powers @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @adoravel-fenomeno

[hyperesthesias]

How the Batch Comforts You with Your Chronic Pain

SUMMARY: Some Soft headcanons on how The Batch Boys™️ would take care of you on a flare day.

CONTENT: Gender Neutral ; No ailment is specified in particular, besides chronic pain ; brief allusion to cannabis ; SFW.

NOTES: I love our Boys! <3 They would take very good care of you when you're hurting. I really enjoyed writing this, I may continue writing for the chronic pain/disabled SW community. We don't get a lot of recognition and it's been therapeutic to write some visibility for us!

Enjoy, loves! 💖

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Crosshair

Is the protective one.

Seriously. He will fight anyone who comes near you while you're trying to rest. If you need your space, consider your space locked down just for you.

He can see exactly what is bothering you and where. Which makes him perfect at back massages. He also has impeccable taste in lotions and oils, from having rough hands himself, so you have a selection to choose from!

These massages can be strictly platonic, or very sensual! Whichever you prefer. He's very respectful of your space and needs. He gets it, he needs a lot of space and has a lot of boundaries himself.

Gives you lots of words of reassurance. Chronic pain can take a toll on the mental health, and he can see that, too. He gives you quiet whispers of comfort. No one else can hear them, they're just for you.

He's also perfect to lean against. You can sit right in front of him, leaned back against his chest with your full weight and he'll support you.

He thinks it's cute when you fall asleep like that. 💖

Echo

He draws a bath for you. Puts some Epsom salts in, along with some healing tinctures. It's so comforting and relaxing. You're able to float there, buoyant and without any pressure on trigger points or joints.

If you want him to join, he's more than happy to! All of his prosthetics are completely waterproof so there's no concern. He likes taking baths, too, it relieves pressure from his connective joints. But if you prefer to be alone, he's more than happy to put your clothes and towels on the counter and wait outside for you.

He makes you a pain relieving concoction: a tea and a lotion. He's studied many alternative remedies to help with his own struggles, he's got a whole notebook full of ideas. It helps. It's soothing, and it's nice to have the quiet company as you both sip your tea together. He also has an herb you can smoke, too, but that's entirely up to you. ;)

When you're feeling a bit more mobile, or if you're feeling stiff, he has a gentle stretch routine he would practice in his recovery. It helps wake the joints up and lubricate the bones a bit. It's simple, nothing strenuous, and it soothes some of the aches. He's right there to support you if you lose your balance or can't continue.

He's very empathetic, someone you can trust with how you feel. You know he gets it, and he's always very compassionate.

Hunter

He can sense when you're going to have a flare the day before.

He has a whole game plan on how to help you.

It's a little excessive.

Once he chills out though, he realises all he needs to do is listen. He's a great listener.

You both come to an understanding that you have similar physical experiences. He didn't really consider it before, but he realises he has a degree of chronic pain, too. It was all he'd ever known and he didn't know anyone else who was different like him, too. It's a very personal, bonding experience between the both of you.

This makes him easy to talk to. You're able to get a lot off your chest on how your illness affects you, how it makes you feel. It's not something you get to talk about often in a safe setting, he just sits and listens.

He doesn't judge you if you cry.

He lets you borrow his most prized possession: his fuzzy blanket. He bought it for himself after an assignment on Naboo. It's soft, silky, so warm and cuddly. Nothing about it itches or tickles or scratches. It's the only thing that doesn't cause pain against your skin.

He's determined to buy you one next time they're on Naboo.

Tech

This man has the lo down on every symptom you have. Literally. Like a whole ass binder full of every piece of knowledge on your particular ailment. You're practically better off consulting him than a doctor (which, let's be real, would probably be for the better anyway).

He knows he can get real clinical. He also knows you've probably had a lot of that in your life already -- like he and the other clones. He knows how tiring it can be, to be looked at like an object or an experiment instead of a living, breathing being.

So his most sensitive side comes out when you're having a flare. He speaks quietly and deliberately, he tries not to touch you, he reminds you to take your medicine on time. He even has it in a little pill box with a glass of water or juice for you.

He's very thoughtful. He anticipates everything you need. He has a heating pad ready, ice packs in the freezer, he even makes you a nutritional drink for you to sip on if you're not up to eating.

Is secretly a cuddle bug. At night when you're preparing to go to sleep, he wraps you in the blanket you're sharing and puts his arm around you. You fit perfectly against his chest, a snug little spoon. He gives you a kiss on the head and wishes you sweet dreams, mesh'la. 💖

Wrecker

Oh, Wrecker. He's the gentlest of them all. So tender. He knows he can be super loud, so he does his best to whisper. It's a loud whisper, but still. You appreciate it. Sound can be hard to process through the pain.

He is PREPARED. Like he has a whole ass kit ready for your flare days. He keeps it for you, special.

At the end of the day, he just wants to be useful. He knows he's not usually equipped to handle sensitive situations like this, so he does the absolute best he can to learn and do what he can.

He is the best person to marathon TV shows with. Complete with hilarious commentary.

This man would do anything to make you laugh. He loves laughing with you.

It helps take away the pain. Takes your mind off of everything. His sense of humour is the perfect balance between just dark enough, and wholesome.

OBVIOUSLY a huge cuddle bug, too. A very gentle cuddle bug. He knows his strength, and he knows when to be tender.

He likes playing with your hair, stroking your scalp -- it calms you both and brings you both some comfort.

💖