#it is a form of pain that most people are familiar with even though it's more highly concentrated among various marginalised groups

[lindwurmkai]

I think I need to move away from the framing of "missing out on teen experiences" (or experiences associated with any other age range) and instead put it like this: there are things I would have liked to do in the past, for which it may now be too late, that I never got to do. And there are things I would like to be doing now that I can't, as well as things I would like to do one day in the future that I'm afraid I will never get the chance to do.

That sucks, regardless of age. But it is highly individual. Some of the things that I wish I had done, other people simply didn't do because they didn't want to. Some people also didn't get the chance, but for a completely different reason. When my fellow LGBTQ+ folks talk about "catching up on teen experiences in their 20s", all I can think is that being queer didn't prevent me from experiencing those things, it was chronic illness, and it did not magically stop in my 20s. Or 30s.

There is no point in continuing to hope I will get to "catch up" one day. And to say that I have "less experience" than other people my age is not even truly accurate because someone who has not experienced chronic pain or inpatient treatment or any of the other unpleasant things I have gone through in these almost 37 years of life may well think of me as the "more experienced" one.

For any age-associated experience you can think of (other than basic childhood milestones), there's someone out there who didn't do it simply because they were poor, because it wasn't part of their culture, because they didn't feel like it, and so on. Whatever they experienced instead was also an authentic [insert age here] experience. I have been a teenager, I have been someone in their 20s, and I have been someone in their early to mid-30s. I was no less those ages because my experiences didn't look like "everyone else's", and they certainly were experiences.

Now, you can be inexperienced in one particular area of life - sex, romance, friendship, work, living on your own or whatever. But there will always be people out there who are older than you and in the same boat. They are still older than you.

[ph4ngz]

lust quirk bkg plssssss 😭😭😭

Lust quirk w/ Bakugo

Contains: pro hero!Bakugo x fem!reader, aphrodisiac(?) themes, reader and Bakubro are complete strangers, squirting, exhibitionism, almost getting caught, slight size kink? Bakugo is so sexy when he’s not ripping everybody’s head off :P

Lust quirk w/ Izuku here

Lust quirk w/ Shoto here

/-/-/-/

Bakugo, Todoroki and Deku had been on patrol for the past couple of hours. Cars were loud as they zoomed past, pedestrians just going about their days. All three of them were bored out of their minds until you'd shown up, having already split up and examined the entire area independently before meeting each other again. You'd been on the way to go grocery shopping when you spotted them, your cutest dress flowing short around your thighs with the middle cinched and tight to your waist.

"Izuku!" You yelled loud enough to steal the pro hero's attention from afar as you crossed the road, a few people turning heads out of curiosity.

"Hm?" Izuku hums, stopping to search his surroundings for the source of your familiar voice. He called your name in return as you weaselled your way through a small crowd to approach the group of guys almost half tucked away in an empty alleyway. One of them in particular stood out to you as you latched onto Izuku's arm.

He studied your appearance for as long as you studied his.

"Oh! Yeah- Todoroki, this is my friend Y/n! We've actually known each other since we were kids! Our mom's were really close, and so..." The green haired hero introduced you to the other taller boy, though his words ultimately ended up fading out as you became enthralled by another's presence.

Your eyes trailed upward from his chunky, heavy boots to the baggy cargo pants, secured by a khaki belt, that seemed to accentuate his figure. Then, the tight black vest that clung to his abs, some parts orange that were made to form an X across his chest. And finally, the matching, spiky mask that concealed his face.

All you could see was his crimson glare, beating down on you like the summer sun rays.

And were those grenades attached to his arms?!

What felt like hours passed by before a large, calloused hand shot into the corner of your vision. Slightly flustered after jumping, you spun on your heel to face whoever's hand thankfully distracted you.

"Nice to meet you." A rather unenthusiastic greeting met your ears.

Oh great, another one. You were starting to feel not so attractive the longer you hung around Izuku and his hero friends. This one had heterochromatic eyes, one grey and one a striking turquoise.

"Uh- yeah! Nice to meet you too!" You gave Todoroki both of your hands with a giggle, glancing to your side involuntarily every few seconds. It seemed the mysterious grenade-arms kept a lock on your attention.

He was taller, bigger than you. You'd guessed he was about twice your bodyweight, if the muscles protruding from his upper half were anything to go by. He came off as insanely powerful. Even his stance was intimidating, and you couldn't imagine what his demeanour would be like.

"Ah, Kacchan, this is Y/n." Deku stated a lot less enthusiastically than the last time. You wondered if maybe these two got off on a bad foot.

Hardly tearing your eyes away from handsome Todoroki's, you'd slowly aimed your vision upward to get yet another glimpse of "Kacchan". But this time around, you were temporarily stiff with surprise.

He'd pushed the mask he wore just over his hairline, revealing the most grumpy expression you'd ever seen. Even your roommate didn't look this irked when you'd eaten her favourite chocolate snacks that you found stashed away. You definitely would've been put off him if it wasn't for the overall 'Sex God' vibe he gave off. Although, his immovable frown oddly suited his boyish features.

Another hand was extended to you. His hand.

But before either of you could exchange a touch, a single word to each other, you'd been literally hit with the weirdest pain. Only after the sensation bloomed from within your body did you witness the pink-purple glow outlining your skin. You'd almost failed to register the fact that your feet were not on the ground.

The forceful impact of whatever hit you had spun and knocked you backward further into the isolated alleyway and you skidded to a stop.

"Y/n! Kacchan!?"

"Bakugo! Be careful!"

Being pro heroes and all, the three guys you'd just been surrounded by had spread out in a matter of nanoseconds. No hesitation present at all. Though one had stuck by your side and hurriedly crouched to your level on the concrete floor to finally encase his hand with your own and prop you up against a wall. It was all a blur to you from then, the odd pain you were experiencing in your groin not letting you regard anything other. You didn't even catch who'd stayed with you.

"Oi! Snap out of it!" A deep, gruff yelling in your ear does in fact snap you out of it, the volume interrupting whatever injury you've attained. Damn, you can hear everything all at once now. People are screaming and there's rapid footsteps to accompany the terrified sounds. You're appreciative of the copious stacks of delivery boxes shielding you from the panic.

You lean your full weight on the building behind you, not caring if the old bricks dig into your spine. Your ass is probably bruised due to the hard flooring you've been sat on for what feels like years.

A pained grimace paints your face as your head shoots downward to locate the ticklish feeling on your propped up legs, unintentionally ignoring the firm grip continuously shaking your shoulder. Blood is soaking through the thick strips of gauze knotted around your wounds. What... who...?

“Your knees hit the ground before we even knew what was happening. Shit’s not as bad as it loo… hey I’m talkin’ to you.”

All of a sudden you're breathing a lot faster. Oh god, you're freaking out! What if your injuries are really bad? Why are your insides on fire? Are you overheating? What if you're bleeding internally? What if—

Eventually you're forced to come face to face with those same eyes, that now unmasked crimson glare. Even in your current state, your mind can't help but engrave the blurry image of his concerned yet pissed expression, his flawless skin illuminated by the pretty hue of your glowing aura.

A particularly strong surge of NOT GOOD emits from your core.

"Hey, stop panicking. I'm here to help, you're gonna be totally fine."

The hero's hand is still atop of your messy hair even though he's got you paying attention already. Still recovering from shock, you give your guy another once-over.

Steadily crouched between your numb knees, a slight sign of respect evident as he's an inch or two away from bursting your personal bubble. Stressfully massaging the bridge of his nose. He looks no different compared to when you first met him earlier, bar the fact that his shirt may as well not be there at all.

Yes, the sight of this guy practically shirtless is heavenly. The very real possibility that you're the reason for his injuries if he's sustained any? Not so heavenly.

Oh but why is he so gorgeous? And why is the area between your legs so hot?

Shit. Your insides contract along to the mere thought of him.

"Bakugo, your shirt. You okay? Are you hu- hurt?" You ask whilst trying your hardest not to let your eyes zero in on his physical existence. It's sort of... out there, but you think the trigger for your internal aching might be the hero himself.

"You ripped it off me. Memory loss?" Bakugo spits cheekily, his heart unwelcomely thumping at how you remembered his name after Todoroki yelled it. Removing his hand from your head, he seems a little confused. Why're you avoiding looking at him?

Heat rises from beneath the skin of your cheeks now that he's jogged your foggy memory. What in all hell did you do that for?!

"Right— sorry. I feel so weird I- Mmph! Agh-" Your apology carries into a lengthy string of anxious moans. You didn't look at him that time.

"What the fuck is goin' on? You sick or somethin'?" He asks deadly serious.

Bakugo attempts to shift closer to your shivering form to use the back of his palm to check your temperature but you stop him just in time, instinctively pressing your hand against his bared chest.

"D-Don't! Come any closer."

"Yeah, must have a cold or something, getting a little hot." You continue from your outburst and half-lie to his face.

He rapidly observes your odd behaviour as you force yourself to ignore the obvious discomfort. Scanning your convulsing body to discover your other hand is unconsciously jolting between tense thighs, fingers pressing down the fabric of your dress. Your glowing skin is visibly sticky with sweat, and so is the shivering it brings once it dries.

Oh. Oh, he's figured it out. A quirk. Something to do with aphrodisiacs, maybe? He remembers his hero buddy Kaminari telling him about a time he fell under a 'lust' quirk in the past. Perhaps?

For some reason unknown to you, Bakugo stills. You think you can see his cheeks redden in your peripheral vision. Paranoid, you spare a fleeting glance below his neck. The hand you'd placed on his chest has been slowly making it's way down, the position you finally catch it in being dragged directly over one of his nipples.

Absolutely horrified by your own actions, the rest of your body freezing in place, your eyes find his. Except they're not looking for yours in return. Following his awkward line of sight, you come to find your hand desperately rubbing where it shouldn't.

"Hey..." The hero's gravelly voice sends exaggerated tingles throughout the entirety of your weakened body.

No longer unable to move, you rip your hands away and hug yourself as you wobble into a stand in one fluid motion. There's a little more distance between you now, but this view... Bakugo knelt in front of you, head level with your—

No, you tell yourself. Well, try to.

All you can imagine is his spiky hair clasped between your fingers to pull him closer into you, his beautiful features covered in your juices.

You're currently unaware of how he's discarding the dangerous looking equipment that dons his neck and forearms, setting them aside. You know, just incase.

The dirtiest scenes flash by one by one within your cloudy head, rendering you hopelessly horny. They keep coming, each and every detailed fantasy clogging your brain faster by the second.

The sting you'd felt just now returns, still as unexpected as the last time, yet more unbearable than ever. You twitch uncontrollably as the concerned hero stands straight, his intimidating stance looming over you.

"Touch— me!" You don't mean to demand, but this calls for urgency. So much urgency in fact, that you dare to press down on his shoulders until he's kneeling once more. Real classy.

"B-Bakugo, touch me. Please, it hurts! Hurts so bad— so fucking bad and, I can't control myself-!"

He's letting you do this. He's witnessing you fall apart right there in front of him. Speechless as you proceed to beg him for his hefty touch. Helplessly touching yourself all the while. What the hell is he supposed to do? He can't just whisk you away to somewhere more private and fuck you! And you're injured, so his first destination should be the hospital, right?

"I'm in my right mind— hah! I pro—mise!" You yelp, hoping to rid him of any thoughts about taking advantage of you. You want this. Need this. Even if you weren't in pain.

A shimmery substance trickling along the soft skin of your thigh from beneath your dress steals Bakugo's faltering attention. Damn.

Were his pants always this tight?

It seems you've noticed it too, voice small as an embarrassed "fuck" falls from your plumped lips. He angles his head upward, then back to your thigh. You're expectedly peering down at him underneath you, his and your face both filtered by the pinkish haze outlining your increasingly sensitive body.

"Jesus fucking christ... I—"

He knows that you're the only civilian who'd been attacked, Bakugo had seen the villain flee without so much as touching anybody else, too busy avoiding his Deku and Todoroki's attacks. He has no other duty but to take you to the hospital. So... why isn't he moving?

"Touch. me." A twinge of seriousness shows through your words.

Don't fucking do it, his mind warns.

Don't do it.

As if your display isn't enough, you urgently slip your trembling fingers into his messy locks and tug him forward into your hips.

Damn it!

"Don't tell me what to do..." He mutters somewhat guiltily, giving into his present and not his future. You're irresistible.

After giving your surroundings a quick study, Bakugo's lustful face inches closer to the streak of arousal that'd escaped from your soaked panties, the speed at which he does so being way too slow for your liking. Fluttering his eyelids closed in an act of shame, he lets his eager tongue drag over the plush, wet skin, simultaneously taking a handful of your calfs to keep you steady. He misses the way your teeth bury themselves into your bottom lip.

Bakugo collects your sweet sick with the flat of his tongue, mouth wide open making every laboured exhale audible. If he said he wasn't thoroughly enjoying himself right now he'd be lying. You scrunch your dress up and secure it with a free hand on your waist, dying to continue watching his frowning expression before it's hidden.

"Mmmmmnnnn," You whine impatiently, the sting intensifying the closer the shameful hero gets to the drenched cotton concealing your yearning pussy. His breath fanning out upon your body is driving you up the wall.

His stabilising grip travels upward by the back of your legs, stopping just under your ass cheeks. Just as his mouth reaches the lower seams of your skimpy panties, blunt nails dig in and you're sure there will be red half-moons left in their place. This makes you suck the steamy air in through your gritted teeth.

Tears are rolling down your flushed cheeks, frustration growing within you.

Then, right as you're beginning to become more aggravated by the non-stop aching, Bakugo nuzzles into your covered cunt, damping his nose and lips with your scent.

The irritating pain seizes completely. The fuse in you is set alight.

"OH— yes yes, fuck! Keep doing... that!" Trying to lower the volume of your uncontainable moans proves to be very difficult, but the commotion taking place not even fifteen metres away is hopefully loud enough to disguise your sobs.

His huge hands are cupping the whole span of your ass now, fingers having slipped under your thong, pulling your jittery form even closer so he can take it all for himself, shaking his head and inhaling everything you.

A groan emerges from his throat once your pull increases on his hair, the guttural sound going straight to your muddled head. You're practically riding his face with your back arched away from the wall, and Bakugo wants to cry at how hard you're making him. He needs more.

You're about to pipe up when you see him move away, but your desperate whining and pleading immediately comes to a stop after he pushes your underwear to the side and licks a clean stripe through your folds, separating them to kiss your aimlessly clenching hole.

"No! No, please... I said keep do- MNMN!" The fingers clutching at your dress grow limp, letting the creased fabric drape over the antsy man knelt at your feet.

You swear you're temporarily blinded by white when you sense a skilled tongue swirl around your swollen bud only twice, the lone sensations hurling you head-on into what you believe is the most unbelievably mind-numbing orgasm you'll ever experience. The initial shock preventing you from noticing how he flinches.

The hero pauses for a hot second and his crimson eyes widen with disbelief beneath you, but he continues to flick, swipe, prod nonetheless.

His cock was begging to be released from the confines of his pants to begin with. Now this new incessant twitching is gonna drive him crazy.

"Grr! Urgh!"

All you can do is growl and put as much effort into keeping still and not crushing Bakugo with your thighs as possible whilst you come undone, every sudden wave of numbing pleasure whooshing through you with an unrivalled force causing your throat to open and close up for a short moment.

After a while spent to come down from your insane high, he eventually reveals himself from under the light cloth, removing the hands that once had a harsh squeeze of your asscheeks and comfortingly rubbing your vibrating upper legs instead.

You're confused.

He's staring up at you in an uncharacteristically adorable way, akin to a lost puppy, observing breathlessly as you clock the watery sheen layering his nose, the way his long lashes are clinging together with a teeny sparkle to them. Oh shit. You clamp a hand atop of your quivering mouth, droplets still flowing from your waterlines and subconsciously relishing in the unbroken eye contact between you both. Bakugo speaks first, though you're too surprised to register it, ending in a mutual interruption.

"Did you just...?"

"Did I—?"

Not only did you cum less than a minute into it, you squirted all over the guy's face in doing so. Great going!

Bakugo wipes his chin and nose with the back of his thumb, licks his lips then lets out a huff that turns into an undeniably sexy chuckle. His smile...

"Fuuuuuuuuck."

You'd be embarrassed if it weren't for that now familiar sensation returning to reside within you. Something is telling you that reaching orgasm isn't the key to stopping it.

"I need you. Now." The annoying quirk induced pain has you tearfully mumble the words before you can even think them.

"I-I don't think I should— is this eve-" The unsure hero stutters pathetically, still proceeding to grab your panties by the pretty lace hem and quickly yank them to rest loosely upon your feet.

"H-hurts! Please!"

You're half expecting him to decline again after seeing the guilt ridden look on him once he stands up. Wow, you forgot how tall he is when you aren't mounting his face. A regretful sigh leaves him. Then a hesitant attempt to speak up again. Then finally,

"...Alright."

Without a second thought, Bakugo latches his lips upon your own to greedily tongue you down, letting the taste of your sweet cunt mingle on the tip of your tastebuds. His buff arms are caging you in, both of them soon reaching for his belt and the zipper of his cargo pants. He expertly undoes both without breaking the heated kiss once, now taking deep breaths through his nose whilst he frees his unbearably stiff dick and smears precum all over the length.

Suddenly, your legs give out due to exhaustion. Luckily your hero catches you by the waist and pulls you into his chest, turning what would've been another fall into a clumsy stumble.

"Hey, jump." Bakugo orders moodily, and you don't need to be told twice.

Putting all your trust into him, you do as he says, ultimately jumping out of your underwear to accidentally hook them up with one foot as you land in his strong arms.

"Atta girl." He praises deeply.

You use your last remnants of energy to get your dress out of his way as he's positioning you, and he's wasting no time in coating himself in your cum once he's gotten his arms wrapped under your bandaged knees. The repeated drag of his thick cock, up and down on your throbbing clit, is enough to drive you mad. Muscles locking in place and toes curling in your shoes at the overstimulation.

"Please please please please please," A string of breathy whispers falls from your sore lips and hits the shell of Bakugo's ear, causing him to bare his bottom teeth out of sheer arousal, animosity. Your voice does things to him.

The way your small selection of words is slowly chipping away at his self control, he can deal with.

"Hah- 'm serious! It stings! Bakugo..."

It's the desperate, almost saddened moan of his name that gets him to crack.

He plunges into you within an instant, exhaling what, to his slight embarrassment, sounds like a positively defeated whine. As if he's experiencing the same overpowering pleasure that you are.

"H'oh my fuckin' god,"

You'd actually forgotten all about the magical-esque hue surrounding your form until it starts to flicker. It's fading.

You're clung to him like your life depends on him, and he's loving all of it. Your legs constricting his waist and biceps, arms looped around his flushed neck, squeezing his toned body harder and harder with every laboured thrust, the way your sticky sweet pussy is adjusting and sucking on every inch of his dick making it increasingly difficult to move.

"How are you this—" Bakugo seethes, pauses to snap his hips up into you with a new amount of strength whilst simultaneously resting his head on your shoulder for some kind of fucked-out comfort, the same way your head is on his. "Tight!" He muffles into the crook of your neck, drinking in each debauched cry you bless him with.

"Ah, ah, ah!" You struggle not to bite your lolling tongue with how hard he's fucking into you, bouncing you on his perfect cock with just the power of his thrusts alone. You think he could please you the same without the wall as support.

He's hardly given you any time at all to get accustomed with his size and shape buried deep inside. Are you truly that fucking wet? You open your mouth with a silent scream, the enraptured hero having changed his pace to go even faster.

Well, if you weren't that wet before, you definitely are now.

Your coloured aura is completely gone, darkness of shadows cast by city buildings drawing a veil to conceal both of your animalistic deeds.

"Sho g-ood! Gonna cum shoon gon- cum shoon," Your lips are smushed upon his salty skin, shamelessly indulging in his delicious scent.

As if on cue, Bakugo comes to an abrupt stop.

"What are youMMPH!?"

You're roughly sandwiched between him and the bricks at your back, squished impossibly closer to his heaving chest, the new position spreading your legs almost painfully to accommodate his frame. The large, scarred hand that had clamped over your mouth the second you raised your head kept a steel grip in it's place. Leaving one of your shaking legs to dangle beside him. His wide eyes signal to somewhere behind him, informing you of someone else presence. Nostrils flaring with anxiety, you rear your head to the side.

Deku and Todoroki.

Bakugo turns his upper half away from you to check on them a second time, appearing to be holding his breath. Ah, he's still inside you, dick twitching and jumping with the involuntary clenching of your cunt. This must be torture for him, too.

You feel him tense and see his ruby eyes dart, like he's forming an urgent plan.

As smoothly as he possibly can, he sighs and rapidly takes his hand from your mouth to replace it with his tooth-marked lips. This kiss is much more hurried and passionate than the others, so much so that your senses are practically void of anything else but him. But that also comes to a stop.

The sudden lack of his taste enhances your other senses dramatically, allowing you to catch on to the quiet concerns of a suspicious green hero to his half and half friend.

"Wait, Todoroki. I think I just saw something."

"Like what?"

"I'm not really sure. I just caught this flash of something in the corner of my eye..."

You don't understand why he's acting so reckless right now when you could easily be caught until his hand returns to your face once more. You're absolutely bewildered.

Oh, god.

This sight is something you'll never forget.

Your hero is face to face with you, the twisted lace hem of your panties secured between his gritted teeth, thick eyebrows bowed with a silently pleading sparkle in his irises to match. 'Please, stay quiet' they say. This entire situation is fucking unreal, it's making you dizzy. The other hero had seen your cum-stained, saturated underwear from behind the cardboard boxes keeping you hidden. Mostly.

Deku is slowly sauntering in your direction when Bakugo has the audacity to resume moving inside your fluttering pussy, picking up the coil in your abdomen from where he'd left it just to tighten it again. Not once breaking eye contact.

And you thought he was reckless before.

"Maybe it was a stray cat or something." You hear Todoroki approach Deku's side.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. You're both so turned on, so close to one another's release.

Ecstasy consumes you as your hero begins to hump into you, not daring to pull away even the slightest bit in fear of the smacking noises. You wish he would've warned you beforehand, and he wishes he would've too.

No. No no no! He's gonna make you cum again! Your heartbeat is through the roof, and you try to warn him by shaking your head as quick as you can but—

The swollen tip of his length is repeatedly nudging the one spot within you that brings enough pleasure to have you sobbing. And naturally, you sob. Initial volume hardly muffled by his palm until he presses down too late. You're cumming even harder than earlier, you and him clenching wide eyes shut in sync at the feeling of your sex squirting all over his clothes, his scalding skin, his pulsing cock.

"MmmmHmHm-!"

"Uraraka! Hold on a sec!"

Bakugo's heart plummets. Shit! He can't stop himself. Not after that.

"Fuck! God— damn!" A muffled, strained groan escapes his narrowed throat into the panties in his mouth, along with your spellbinding cry, his greedy body too busy jackhammering your poor little cunt to notice Deku’s voice overriding everything. Including the obvious squelch emitting from your hole.

Two sets of running footsteps quickly fade away, relieving the two of you from a crushing weight on your shoulders as white hot ropes of your hero's cum coat your insides. One final burst of glowing purple-pink shows itself before you're deservedly rid of any symptoms caused by that bastard villains quirk.

At last…

You smile into space, warm and genuinely appreciative.

Bakugo removes himself from you, understanding of how his cum seemed to be the cure. You can sense his release sliding down your bare legs. To say he's been struck by love would be an understatement when you collect some on the tip of your finger whilst he stuffs your underwear in his pocket, to then teasingly suck on it once he looks up again.

The hero gawks at your exhausted but albeit playful display and proceeds to manoeuvre you so that he's resting against the wall with your back to his chest. Neither of you care about the intimacy, already comfortable together as if you'd known one another for years. You guess that villain was good for at least one thing…

An overwhelmed sigh from him blows past your hair.

"Don't think I've ever been so stressed out," He complains tiredly with his cheeks puffed out, dropping down to the concrete beneath him with you complying to curl up in his lap.

You close your eyes. It sounds like the commotion outside has finally come to an end, the city's usual ambiance having returned during your panicked moments. An amused giggle shakes your weak body.

"I hadn’t even asked you out yet and we’ve already fucked. Wanna get married next?"

"Pfft, shut up..." Bakugo replies with a snort, placing his spinning head atop of yours.

/-/-/-/

This took fucking forever

[crybaby-bkg]

Trainer Bakugou who you're a little terrified of the first day you're paired with him. when asking for a trainer at the gym, you had expected the friendly redhead who always looked so sweet and encouraging and cut as hell. you weren't expecting his grumpy looking blond counterpart, who was all glares and shouts for his clients to keep pushing themselves.

you were hesitant at first, before you quickly realized that it was all a ruse, for the most part. he pushed those who needed that extra encouragement, but was more lenient to people like you who simply wanted a professionals guidance. so, after a few weeks, you liked him for the most part, and his looks damn sure made it easier to cozy up to the big guy.

the only issue you've been having with Bakugou though are the...coregasms, as you've seen them been named on social media, that you keep experiencing. the first time, you weren't sure what it was, why your stomach and pelvis kept tightening up. you couldn't have...climaxed, or anything. you hadn't even been touched!

but, as the weeks go by, and the workouts get more strenuous, they've become harder and harder to subside and ignore, and so had Bakugou's commands to keep going when you suddenly stopped. you can only lie and say its cramps so many times before he realizes that something is up.

you're midway through a good morning, when that familiar feeling starts tightening in the pit of your gut. you clench your eyes shut, shaking your head a little, as if you could ward off the impending feeling. bakugou notices though, frowning at your almost pained expression in the mirror, walking up behind you to stop you as you pull yourself back up. his hands are on your waist, and as you come up, you feel his bulge glide over the curve of your ass, and something in you snaps.

you gasp, buckling over, one hand on your knee as the other reaches back for bakugou's hand to keep you up as your thighs shake. you can feel yourself spasming, clenching and unclenching around nothing, secretly wishing you had something that could fill you up, something that you felt throb against you as bakugou leaned over your form.

"Another coregasm, huh?" he asks you lowly, his lips brushing your ear as you bite your bottom lip to hold back your moan. your eyes buck open though, when his words sink in, head tipping back to look at him in the mirror, only to find his gaze already on you.

"You knew every time?" you ask quietly, panting now that its finally starting to pass over you. but bakugou doesn't let you up from this position, especially since the area you're in seems to be desolate for now.

"It's hard to ignore how pretty you look when you cum, sweetheart." Bakugou seals his words with a firm press to your ass, his cock rubbing the seam, and you can practically feel the heat and veins of it through your thin bottoms. you groan under your breath, getting lost in the feeling of him grinding against you, when he suddenly speaks again.

"You still feel it?" he asks, voice low as he looks at you through his lashes. you nod, biting at your bottom lip as you meet the steady rock of his hips, watching how he smiles before slotting his lips against your ear.

"Want me to help make it go away?" and he does, in the employee locker room after hours. he makes it go away, and rebuild, and go away again and again until you're hoarse and your legs are weaker than they typically are on leg day. bakugou helps the ache go away, but not for that sweet redheaded coworker of his, whose fists have fucked his cock the entire time of watching bakugou rail you over the locker room bench again and again.

[nayziiz]

Lost & Found | OP81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

Oscar thrived on the energy you brought to the paddock during race weekends. Your mere presence seemed to anchor him amidst the whirlwind of anticipation and nerves that often accompanied such high-stakes events. Amidst the chaos of the paddock, your steady presence provided him with a sense of comfort and confidence, acting as a stabilising force in the midst of the adrenaline-fueled atmosphere.

Your support didn't just stop at being physically present; it extended to an unwavering encouragement that boosted his morale and mental fortitude. Knowing that you were there, cheering him on from the sidelines, fueled his determination to perform at his best. Your belief in him mirrored his own, serving as a constant reminder of his capabilities and potential.

But perhaps most significantly, your presence seemed to translate into tangible results on the track. Whenever you were there to celebrate with him, Oscar's performance seemed to reach new heights. It was as if your support had a direct correlation to his success, as if your belief in him propelled him forward, pushing him to push the boundaries of his own abilities.

As the weekend unfolded, Oscar found solace in your company, relishing every moment spent together, from leisurely strolls around the paddock to shared lunches and casual conversations while watching replays in the garage. Your presence brought him a sense of contentment, grounding him amidst the intensity of race weekends.

However, a shadow fell over his contentment when he noticed you chatting with Lando. The sight of you laughing at Lando's jokes, your hand resting casually on his arm, ignited a surge of jealousy within Oscar. He couldn't help but feel a pang of insecurity as he observed the easy rapport between you and his teammate, the way Lando's eyes seemed to light up in response to your laughter.

In that moment, Oscar's contentment gave way to a gnawing sense of unease. He couldn't shake the feeling of being sidelined, of watching from the sidelines as you shared a connection with someone he considered a friend. The laughter that had once brought him joy now rang hollow in his ears, overshadowed by the discomfort of seeing you engage with another driver in such a familiar manner.

Later, as Oscar stumbled upon you engrossed in conversation with Pato, a surge of frustration and hurt bubbled up within him. The sight of you hanging onto Pato's every word, your gaze fixed attentively on him, felt like a blow to Oscar's ego. It seemed as though you were captivated by Pato's presence, absorbing his insights and perspectives with an eagerness that Oscar found difficult to stomach.

For Oscar, this encounter with Pato served as a painful reminder of his own perceived insignificance in your eyes. Throughout the day, he had watched as you effortlessly connected with various people in the paddock, never sparing a moment to seek him out or engage with him in the same way. It was as if he didn't even register on your radar, as if his presence didn't matter to you at all.

As Oscar observed you leaning in closely, preoccupied in conversation with a mechanic as he explained the intricate details of Oscar's car, a wave of possessiveness and protectiveness washed over him. Though outwardly composed, inwardly, Oscar's emotions roiled like a storm ready to break.

The sight of you showing interest in the workings of his car, sharing a moment of camaraderie with another man, ignited a primal instinct within Oscar to defend what he considered his territory. The mechanic's presence, while innocent and professional, suddenly felt like a threat to Oscar's sense of security and connection with you.

Behind his calm exterior, Oscar's mind raced with thoughts of competition and rivalry. He felt an overwhelming urge to assert his dominance, to remind everyone in the paddock that you were his, and his alone. The idea of anyone else encroaching on your attention filled him with a fierce determination to reclaim your focus, to ensure that you remained firmly by his side.

In that moment, Oscar's love for you transformed into a fierce, primal instinct to protect and possess. He would do anything to keep you close, to ensure that no other man could come between you. Though his actions might seem extreme to an outsider, for Oscar, it was a matter of preserving what he held most dear: his connection with you.

Despite the storm of emotions raging within him, Oscar knew better than to confront the situation in public. He understood the importance of maintaining a composed facade amidst the public eye, unwilling to air his grievances or reveal his insecurities in front of others. Instead, he made a silent vow to address the issue with you privately, where he could express his feelings without fear of judgement or scrutiny.

As the day wore on and the activities in the paddock continued, Oscar bided his time, keeping his emotions carefully in check. With each passing hour, his resolve to discuss the matter with you grew stronger, fueled by a mixture of frustration, hurt, and a deep-seated desire to salvage what he perceived as a strained connection between them.

It wasn't until you both returned to the privacy of the hotel that Oscar felt the weight of the day's events press upon him once more. As Oscar and you entered the hushed confines of the hotel lobby, the tension between them crackled like electricity in the air. Oscar's jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of longing and apprehension. Finally, as the elevator doors closed behind them, sealing them in a cocoon of privacy, Oscar couldn't hold back any longer.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice taut with emotion. Your eyebrows furrowed, sensing the gravity of his tone.

“What's on your mind?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the growing sense of unease.

“You know damn well what's on my mind,” Oscar snapped, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “I saw you today, cozying up to Lando, Pato, and that mechanic. It felt like I was invisible to you, like you didn't even bother to look for me.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, but before you could respond, Oscar continued, his words tumbling out in a rush of pent-up emotion. “I can't stand seeing you with other guys, laughing and flirting like I'm not even here. I know I should trust you, but it's driving me insane.”

A flicker of hurt flashed across your face, mingling with empathy as you reached out to touch his arm gently.

“I was just being polite, Osc. I didn’t mean for it to seem like I was flirting with them. I didn't realise it was affecting you like this," you said softly, your voice laced with sincerity. Oscar's shoulders sagged with relief at your understanding, but the fire in his eyes didn't dim.

“I just... I need you to know how much you mean to me,” he admitted, his voice wavering slightly. “I can't stand the thought of losing you.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing I’m with you then, and not one of those stupid boys. Now I can just show you how much I love being yours,” You told him.

Tension hung in the air between them, but as you reached out to envelop him in a comforting embrace, Oscar felt a weight lift from his chest. A tentative smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you met his gaze, a silent reassurance passing between you.

“I'm here, with you, completely and utterly yours,” you continued, your voice filled with conviction.

In that moment, as the weight of the day's tensions melted away, Oscar felt a surge of gratitude for the unwavering love and devotion you offered him. With a renewed sense of purpose, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close in a tender embrace.

Together, in the quiet sanctuary of the hotel room, you found solace in each other's arms, reaffirming the bond that held you together amidst the chaos of the racing world. And as you whispered words of love and reassurance into the night, Oscar knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as he had you by his side, he could weather any storm. And, perhaps learn to be less jealous at times.

[hiraeth-sonder]

Delusive Masks - Nasu

Yan! Tamamo no Mae x Reader

Old foxes aren't the best servants, they're wily and complex, and most of all, possessive

TW: Mentions of violence in the form of burning, general toxic manipulative behaviour, not really proof read

//The brainrot hit so bad that I wrote a bad fever dream. A whole bunch of liberties taken with the way being an onmyoji works and with characters as per usual. Poem is from 陽成院歌合, topic of 夏虫の恋 and is number 06 of the whole collection

あふことを, いつともしらぬ

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To be a good person is not difficult, to be a good onmyoji perhaps less so. For many people, merely getting the skill and natural ability to qualify as one is already a kind of privilege, it taints the way they view themselves, creating grandiose splendours that they can transcend beyond the mortal principles. Yet when one becomes powerful enough to summon shikigami beyond weak spirits imbued into paper dolls, it gets to their head. They suddenly, foolishly believe themselves capable of nothing short of miracles. How fast they fall, turning themselves into cruel masters, bidding their servants to acts no better than the very yokai they seek to exorcise, kicking upon their shikigami to which they had entered that sacred contract. 

You are grateful for many things in life, the first that you had good parents that supported your wishes, the second that you could become a practising onmyoji, and the third being your master’s consistent and persistent hammering of humility and altruism. No lesser or greater than any being that walks upon this world, whether human or spirit, your duty was to protect the innocent and excise the guilty. Of course, he had worded it much more eloquently than such, but the motive was still present in his orotund words. 

Your shikigami are as equally deserving of respect as you are, unconditional kindness could very often make the difference between an evil spirit and a good one. You have stuck by such truths for as long as you have started, even when the only spirits under your command were Ubume and Zashiki Warashi. It became a promise of kinds, that you would always do right by them so long as they showed the same sentiment in return. Eventually, you ended up with quite a few of them, a good entourage of them you knew you could trust. Yet, it was rather difficult for people to take you seriously without certifiably powerful spirits, or perhaps it was more accurate to say that there was a certain gap between the perceived disciple of the great Abe no Seimei, and the reality that you were. 

There was some part of you that did resent that expectation, partly that others should have no right to comment on your ability solely on your patronage, and partly because it felt too close to home. Of course you knew it was shameful to be so powerless when you study under one of the best practitioners, it is only natural you did. 

The smell of incense fills your nose as your eyes adjust to the dim room, a talisman before you laying on the wooden floor. With a brush in hand, dipped in ink and poised for use, you calm your pounding heart. You have already summoned a few shikigami before, yet at this very moment, you could feel nothing but inexplicable foreboding. It made no sense, with your current living quarters more than protected by both your and your shikigamis’ efforts, yet you could not merely shake off the tenseness in your joints and the roiling in your stomach. 

It hurts, everything still hurts. Your hands from all the preparation, your knees from kneeling on such hard floors, your head from everything that has been and shall be. It is as though your body only knows to bear suffering, pain from which is borne from being mortal, pain borne of the pure action of breathing. 

Still, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Picking up your brush in a ramrod perfect posture, the incantation so familiar to your lips spill out as ink stains the talisman. Your voice starts soft, barely a whisper in the wind and as your hand scrawls and scrawls with a fervour not quite known to human consciousness, it rises until the only sound in your ear is your very own words. 

The moment your brush lifts off the paper and the ink settles within, placed within the circle, it resonates and glows, bursting with light and into flame as it burns into a brilliant blaze. It threatens to engulf the summoning room, grazing at the ceiling as even the fire from your candles are absorbed into such a violent inferno. You can feel the heat, practically licking your skin and singeing the ends of your coat, sweat beading at your brow as you shield your eyes from the bright display. 

Even when the flames dim, what is before your eyes is merely the shaping of the firestorm into nine distinct tails, a vulpine silhouette that eventually reveals a tall figure, draped in silks and brocades. With an elaborate fox-like mask hiding the top half of his face, this spirit which presented himself as both court official and decadent noble snapped open his fan to further hide his jade white visage. Among the cool night, all you could feel was the radiating heat from his form, even if he retracted his flames, it was as if there was nothing beyond him and his fire. 

The high wooden geta clacks against the wooden floorboards, elegant footfalls approaching you ever closer as he steps out of the circle. He makes no effort to lower himself to your level, fervid eyes burning behind the mask as he tips his fan beneath your chin and lifts it. The spirit takes a gander at your appearance, scrutinising your every feature with an intensity far beyond mild interest. 

“This place has experienced great change since I’ve last been here,” The old fox’s lips curl into a smile, the peek of sharp canines peeking from behind. His voice is sultry, a minacious bite to his words,  “Onmyoji, we finally finally meet.”

No matter this first introduction, dealing with this great spirit will be much more complicated than any you have ever met. A venerable kitsune in which vagary destruction lay right at the snap of his fingers, no matter what kind of fate he deems worthy for your mortal self, it is exactly because you are mortal that you should meet this trial. 

Bowing, you raise your clasped hands in front of you and dip until you feel your back screech for mercy, “Tamamo no mae-sama, it is an honour to meet you.”

“Do take care of me, little lady,” He croons and a shiver runs through your bones, no matter how gentle his words were.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

なつむしの, おもひはかぎり

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

“Master, I did not think you would arrive so quickly.”

Your hands are steady as you tip the lacquered teapot, fragrant tea pouring in a steady stream from its slender spout. The dark liquid a blend you rarely take out other than to entertain your master, there is a certain trepidation that comes with such an act, one you are not sure when will finally leave you. The joints of your fingers ache, throbbing even as you lay at rest. 

“It is so wrong for me to worry for you?” He raises a brow, azure eyes regarding you with some placid gleam.

Despite your admittedly out of place nerves, your master has done nothing to warrant such, that in spite of his graceful and aloof poise, Seimei may likely be one of the kindest people you have ever met. You understand that a person can in no way be entirely benevolent nor evil, for that is what makes a sentient being sentient, but there is merely something about him that brings forward ease within a person. 

You only shake your head, an abashed quirk tugging at your lips. Watching him take a sip from his cup, your mind drifts back to the message you had sent. A letter that was hastily scrawled and messy beyond reason, the paper carried the distinct stench of smoke and ash, it was a moment of panic now that you could look upon the incident with a much clearer head. The minute you had situated the old yokai in conditions appeasable to his own tastes, you remember sprinting back to your room, sweat clinging to your skin and staining the paper as you wrote, informing your master what had just occurred and asking for his guidance. 

“Of course not, I just thought you would have taken more time to get here,” You hum, your voice lowered and sheepish. “Were you not at the capital when my letter arrived?”

Your master only nods, “Your words were so fearful, I thought you had come across a great trouble.”

He takes a moment to partake from his drink once more, a silence falling upon the sun-lit room as birds chirp in the nearby trees and the sound of your shikigami going about their lives ring from the distance. You rest your eyes upon his form, noting the seeming flawlessness of his presence. Sharper features that hinted at some otherworldly grace, just the most minute sign found in the form of the slight furrow of his brow revealed the distress that plagued him. Then, his long lashes flutter open, and your master merely seems to smile, relief all but seeping from his eyes. 

“I am glad you are well.”

Averting your gaze, you thank him under your breath as heat flushes at the tips of your ears, not quite certain whether such bashfulness stems from troubling him or emotions else explained. 

You can only move the conversation of topic away from that moment, putting on a facade of ease, “I thought you would have more insight about him.”

The expression on his face shifts ever so slightly, a sudden hardness in his eyes as he grips the teacup just the little tighter. 

“He…has experienced a great number of losses due to both divine and human action,” He manages to breathe out, the sound almost all but serene if not for the lengthy pause between his words. Your master inhales, as though to continue his words, yet he only sighs, “I am afraid that is as much as I can disclose for now, it is not my place to tell what he does not wish to be revealed.”

Just as you think to pry just a little further, Hana’s voice echoes from beyond the closed doors, asking for your presence. There is a concern tinging her words, and judging by the pattering of rushed footsteps, this was a matter that required your immediate and utmost earnest attention. 

“Master, I must apologise but…” Your eyes glance between him and the door, chest tightening ever so slightly as blood rushes through your veins. 

Seimei merely shakes his head, an assuaging expression on his face as he waves you off, “Do not worry about me, go ahead.”

Nodding, you rise as quickly as possible, rushing off as you are swiftly carted off to the issue. The white haired man remains in his seated position, taking in the scent of his tea as he closes his eyes. He hears the silence of the wind, with neither bird song nor liveliness of existence. Seimei finishes the rest of his tea, herbal and heady fragrance greeting his senses for the last time before he places it down alongside your abandoned cup. 

He takes a breath, not bothering to open his eyes as he speaks, “Uncle, I know you are there.”

From beyond the door and announcing his entrance through soft clicks, a masked man deigns to show his face as he lowers his fan. With his lips almost permanently lifted in mirth, the scarlet markings that painted his mask aided with the unease that your master suddenly feels creeping onto his spine. He is unfamiliar with this sensation, especially from the man before him. 

“Seimei, its been a long time,” The old fox croons, insouciant tinge to his voice. 

Without missing a beat, your master finds a new urgency within him, “What are your intentions with my disciple?”

“We have yet to see each other after so long and this is your first question for me?” Tamamo hums, an unexplainable expression on his jade white face. His fan taps against his jaw in a rhythmic manner, voice much more playful and recondite than Seimei would have liked, “She called out and I responded, nothing more, nothing less.”

“If you have any malintention upon her, I fear I may have to take action.”

Not quite a threat, for even he is unable to deny their relationship, but more so a warning. This tension between the two of them has an unspoken depth, one that had existed long before this clandestine reunion, and with Seimei’s admittedly almost obvious concern for your wellbeing, it only seems to sour so. 

The old fox smiles, and the younger finds that he does not enjoy the way those golden eyes seem to shine with burning regard from beyond the mask. Tamamo only muses, yet despite the airy nature of his voice, behind his lilt was a zealous avariciousness, “I promise you, no harm shall befall her so long as I am by her side.”

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

なくやあるらん

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For all that the froglets incident was worth, a situation that had been more so confusing and hysterical for the regional townspeople than any life-threatening catastrophe as you had been led to believe, it was only a mild inconvenience. A few dozen little frogs dressed to appear as great yokais were merely wandering around and acting as if they were the spirits themselves, of course they had also been imbued with some kind of ability that allowed them to recreate such acts, but it was still not some matter that would raze the whole of Heian-Kyo. 

Still, that had not meant you expected to return to your abode with said froglets nipping at your heels ready to make themselves useful. 

“Master…” At a loss for words, Momo could only cock her head at the image before her. 

Rather than being seated at your desk pouring over documents, you were instead making yourself quite busy with some leisurely reading while the froglets dedicate themselves to stacking your books in an order only they seemed to know. 

“It’s okay, they are not causing any issue,” You smile, an amused huff escaping your nose when your eyes drift to Susabi Frog balancing on top of Ichimokuren Frog as it just barely pushes a star chart into place, “I am just keeping them busy.”

Turning your attention back to Momo, you place down your book as you roll your shoulders back, the vertebrae in your spine not quite as sore. “Did you have something for me to look at?”

“Ubume asked whether you wanted to join us for lunch or have us eat with you.” Her voice is slightly hesitant, just one step away from wavering. 

It feels like instinct at this point, you rest your head upon your palm and squeeze your eyes in delight. If you had to be honest, you did quite miss being able to have meals with your shikigamis, always some lively affair and certainly occuring far too sparsely for your liking.

“It has been some time since we all sat down together and ate, has it not?”

She nods her head, a hopeful expression on her face as her eyes widen in mock innocence, “Mhm! So will you?”

You laugh, shaking your head as you get up and dust your clothes. An excitement fills her as the little blooms in her hair burst open, grabbing your arm and all but dragging you out. Turning a glance to the froglets, you wave them over and they come scampering to your side at the first notice, almost all too excited to follow along. They clamour in the occasional croak or ribbit, asking about this and that. More akin to children, you wonder when that sentiment started. 

By the time you arrive in your courtyard, it is all but a wonderfully teeming gathering, noise filling your ears in a manner that only served to coax your heart from its tight cage. Seeing them like this, you are happy that you get to have such a sight, living free from suffering and safe, that was the most important point, that they were safe. 

“I see you all are in good spirits,” You hum, an announcement that is swiftly followed by a symphony of ‘Master’s’. 

Some of the younger shikigami immediately leap from their seats to your side, to which you only greet them with on overfond smile and a pat on the head. Those busy with serving food or handing out cutlery likewise greet you, not quite able to pull themselves away from their tasks but still sending a smile or a wave. Momo is quick to join everyone else, flitting between chatting and aiding. Ootengu had busied himself with scooping soup while Hana had been floating around ensuring everyone had some kind of meal, leaving one person notably uninvolved. 

“Little lady,” The old yokai calls for you, resting his head on his palm as a smile plays on his lips. Sitting beneath the plum blossom tree, he almost looks like the subject of a great painting under falling petals and soft sunlight. Just the view of such makes you almost afraid to approach him, yet still you do so. You are unable to tell exactly whether his levity is real, but you can only assume so by his leisurely tone, “Have the froglets been helping you?”

Glancing at the frogs now being babied by the rest of your shikigami, a notion you did not think they would take up so fast, you only laugh, “They are very earnest, thank you.”

Silence falls upon the two of you and for a moment, it truly does feel that all is right in the world. There is little discomfort in your body, joints no longer cracking at every minute action nor head pounding at every little stimulus that dared to exist. The smell of sweet flowers and delightful aroma of proper food fills the air, and you yearn for nothing more than these days to continue on. 

Those froglets, troublesome at first though they may, had ended up being a kind of blessing. For ever since their attempted marauding, you have had little, if any issues that required your action. You spend your days reading and writing, responding to correspondence and finally able to focus on your studies. 

It is while reminiscing that Tamamo’s silvery words reach your ears, pleasant and coaxing. 

“These few weeks have been rather peaceful, don’t you think?” He tilts his head to the side, meeting your gaze in a single move. 

You squeeze your eyes again, a soft sigh escaping you as a smile tugs at your lips, “It has, I can finally get to some marriage proposals I had apparently recieved.”

For a moment, just the slightest second late, you thought the old fox’s expression darkened. Yet just as quickly as it came, it left, and he simply continues on. His eagerness almost resembles that of those older ladies, that crooning voice asking for more and more, ready to give advice you never thought you would need, older yokais surely were no different than mortals. 

“Oh? And who is the lucky fellow?” His nails, scarlet and far longer than you remember, clasp around his fan. 

“Just another onmyoji, he isn’t from the big name clans that sent their pathetic excuse they call letters,” You sigh, then hold your hands up in clarification, as though to correct yourself from your perceived distate, “Which is good, less likely to be some bigoted oaf.”

Tamamo merely hums, snapping open his fan to hide the bottom of his face, yet there was an odd wry tinge to his words, “How intriguing, our little lady seems to be quite popular to attract even onmyojis from the big clans.”

“Don’t flatter me, they just want to find someone they can continue their bloodlines with.”

Rolling your eyes, an acerbic grin appears on your face as you take a drink from the teacup one of the froglets brought over. Just like those old ladies, he places a hand on your shoulder and with an assuaging tone, a sense of warm reassurance is poured into your being. 

“Well, you won’t have to worry. I’m certain you will have no trouble.”

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

またまたも, みをぞすてつる

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Kiyohara Genjirou, a practicing onmyoji that had sought you out not only for his pursuit of the craft but admiration as well. So he cited in his first correspondence, and so you would like to believe. 

As he wrote to you, you found him an eloquent and diligent man. Genjirou, though not hailing from a noble family nor considered talented enough to join a major clan, wandered through the country aiding when he could. All he had were paper dolls and simple talisman, yet that was all he needed. He had heard tales from those whose qualms you have solved, and had grown curious of your being. It was natural, yet this natural curiosity had grown to longing when he caught a glimpse of you in the city. 

The image he described of you had seem otherworldly when you first read it, donned in simple robes and merely another face among the crowd, his eyes had no choice but to follow along your form, entirely unable to pull away from you. As if sent down from the high heavens, even the slightest whisper of your voice had made him understand why men should turn to religion. 

You thought of him less fondly, perhaps not an infatuation such as his but an interest nonetheless. He had only sent two letters, the first that had been introductory and more similar to polite courtesy, the second much more personal and akin to courting. Still, you had been touched by his words, further still when you read the last portion. He would make the journey to your estate, to meet you and to perhaps, if you would allow him the chance to, to court you. 

It was by no means a demand, but rather a suggestion. Genjirou had gone so far as to write that should you not find him appealing in any manner, that should you deem him overstepping, you were in every right to have him kicked out and his hair cut short. 

You remember showing Tamamo the letter, surrounded by the froglets as he read from behind your shoulder. You told him that you would like to meet such a staunch person, and perhaps at the time, you had laughed alongside him when he said that should Genjirou truly act as he feared, then it would not be humiliation that he would bear. There was nothing to worry for, all you had to do was await his arrival. 

Yet, despite his staid words and his solemn promises, he never came. 

Under the moonlight and through the cold night wind, you can only let out a soft sigh. Your shoulders slump beneath your robes as all of a sudden, your body feels too heavy for your feet. Leaning against the wooden pillars of the front gate, that familiar tightness in your chest returns once more. Yet rather than what feels like your ribs enclosing onto your rapidly beating heart, what occurs to you now is more akin to that sentimental organ squeezing against its cage, yearning to pry straight through to leap out and wither away. Your lungs long for air, forcing in and out and yet it is not enough, never enough. 

It is cold, so, so cold. Why were you cold?

Closing your eyes, you feel a presence approach from behind you, then a hand pulls you away from your resting spot. You lay against a warm body, that even through layers and layers of silk and brocade, you do not even have to open your eyes to know who it is. 

“Tamamo,” Your murmur disappears into the night, yet it is a call that he hears and responds to. 

With your limp limbs that which hang uselessly, the old fox gathers you into his embrace, allowing you to bury your face into his chest. “I thought he was different…”

Methodical and rhythmic, his chest rises and lowers, coaxing your breath to follow suite. Within his hold, there is a warmth that penetrates the skin, enveloping your tendons in loving flame. Tightly held and tightly received, Tamamo lets you dig your nails into him, until your fingertips ache and your wrists cramp up. He merely returns the sentiment, as though it was entirely natural to do so. 

“Will you be honest with me?” 

As though ashamed to even consider such a thought an option, you can barely muster your voice to above a whisper, “Do you think I’m a disappointment to my master?”

“Of course not, my little lady is very accomplished,” He croons, his voice soft and soothing. “Do you think I would have answered your call otherwise?”

Still enveloped in his presence, you inhale the familiar smell that clings to him. When he speaks to you as such, it truly does feel like all will be right in this world. Desiring nothing more than to keep you safe, this old fox you had once shrinked from has now become your only succour. How fast you had let him in your heart, that he should treat you with the same regard and care you do the rest of your shikigami, and you would become so easily reliant on what he may give you. Ironic, yet undeniably a notion you had grown aware of since his arrival. 

“Besides, he is rather foolish to give up on you,” He sighs, an undertone distantly related to triumph hidden beneath assuage and fondness. 

That graceful hand cups your face, reverent as though bearing a great treasure. Your eyes flutter open, and it is then you notice that he is no longer wearing his mask, presenting that exquisite face once hidden to you. Narrow eyes of beguiling gold with long lashes, lips that more appeared as delicate petals. No matter the scarlet markings painted upon his skin, it is no wonder that men should turn to fanaticism in the face of such sublimity. You can only stare in awe, how warm your ears flush and how heat roils in your stomach upon the sonorous hum of his voice. 

“You deserve much, much better than a human who only knows to lie to you.”

Lying on the beaten dirt path, Kiyohara Genjirou will be buried in an unmarked grave, neither name nor profession known to those who will find him. For all that remains of this unwitting suitor is the stench of smoke and shrivelled corpse, caught too soon in a fox’s tempestuous favour and left to burn in the same blazing rancour that once threatened to engulf the tranquil capital. 

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

なつむしの, なほあきたらぬ

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

Being a good onmyoji is not difficult, it is not some arduous task to respect and love your shikigami, to treat them as one would dear friends and family. Yet, a shikigami that has only lost and lost, when given a second chance to make it all right, what then happens to that good onmyoji is very often known only to those hidden away.

Your master, when he had learned of the events that transpired had taken it with nothing more than a furrowed brow and a sharp exhale. Before he left, he had gifted you a talisman and instructed you to hang it in your room, to which you did. Yet, that very day, it had gone missing from your door. You had no unease at it, after all, he had given you hundreds of protection talismans, what difference was one going missing?

You on the other hand, had come to realise many things about your emotions with the arrival of both dismay and prolonged peace. That old fox who has done nothing but inexplicably care for you, with no explanation nor clarification. It had come out of nowhere, that quiet wistfulness and longing glances, you nearly thought yourself mad yet it was true. Torturing yourself with what could only possibly be, one could only imagine the joy that filled you when you had to do nothing but wait just a little longer, and even that foolish wish should come to be. 

Cicadas sing in the distant night, your lover has long retired for the night and lays atop the bed, what you may see now is but his most true form, masks and disguises left at the door. Vulpine ears atop his head along with nine full tails, he once again scoops you into his embrace as even his tails move to cover you. 

“Cold…” You only whine, squirming closer as though you could crawl into his skin. 

Tamamo only huffs in amusement, no sign of actual vexation, and pulls you in closer. The increased contact brings burning touch falling upon your skin, the old fox noses along some invisible line at your neck, his lips pressing a kiss upon your pulse. He coaxes a sigh from your throat, soft and airy and almost all too practiced. Wholeheartedly embracing the fervid greed within him, you think you feel the prick of sharp canines against tender skin, yet you could care less. 

In nothing more than your sleeping robes, luxurious clothes stripped off, legs entangled and limbs intertwined. To an unwitting observer, it would be difficult to discern whose form was whose, so thoroughly ensnared fox and human may as well be one body.

With neither onmyoji nor spirit to separate the two of you, and in this little delusion, not even the heavens will seize you from his side. He has ensured it, he shall see to it that the one he loves will never bear such suffering ever again. 

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

こひをたのみて

[asuyaka]

GUESS WHO'S CLASSES ARE FINALLY OVER GIRLIES💃💃

Damn, it's been a heck of a while since I last came back to this blog--

Anyways! I've been following the new JJK episodes(I am not fine and it's all Mahito's fault.), so to put a bandage on his gap in my chest, how about some reverse comfort shot for our boy Yuuji during the Shibuya arc? Heaven knows he's in need of it. The prompt would be that he's having the meltdown/panic attack after regaining control over his body after Sukuna raised hell on the city(along with all the memories that come with it) and his lover finds him crying on the ground and rushes to comfort him and ground him.

I just want my boy to get a hug goddamn it, Gege won't give him any breaks😭

- Sincerely, '🌈' Anon.

★ - 'm honestly haven't watched the new episode yet (prayin' s'the "I'm you." timeline !!) but, 100% agree! 'm boy needs a break !! (gege is cruel (；′⌒`) )

☆ - Itadori Yuuji x Reader!

♡ - 'm sososososo glad t'see you again 🌈 !! 've lowkey been burnin' out, but 'm glad you're here !! <;33 （〃｀ 3′〃）| listenin' to... Skyfall

Good God— you don't know how you're alive right now.

The stench of curses and blood permeated the air, dried blood from curse users and curses stuck your hair to your face; heavy breaths leaving your lips as you looked around for any familiar faces.

Shibuya is in shambles, nothing more and nothing less. Dead civilians and auxiliary managers litter the streets, and several cars and buildings are smashed and flipped on their sides.

"Fuck," you wheeze, holding onto the scar that stretches to two separate sides of your face.

Your ribs are most definitely bruised or broken— there's no doubt about it. Your ankle is a bit sprained and you can't hear anything from your left ear.

You're really looking for Yuuji, you're lovable, and sometimes (a lot of the time) oblivious boyfriend. It's a bit biased, you know. Though Yuuji is at the top of your priority list, you really just want to find anybody who came to Shibuya with Gojo.

An earth-shattering sound makes its way through your ear(s). You turn around sharply, staring in shock as a few inches away from your foot is completely gone.

There's a presence you've felt ever since you woke up and you more or less guessed it was Sukuna.

If you had moved one step ahead, you would've died by what you assumed was Sukuna's domain.

Sukuna.

Your eyes widen as they stare at the crater formed by the King of Curses' domain. There's no way people aren't dead.

Yuuji.

"Oh fuck, Yuuji?!" Your anxiety goes haywire as you force your body to move. Even though every bone in your body aches in pain, pushed to its limit and beyond during the plethora of curses you've fought, you move.

Your heartbeat accelerates as your breaths get shorter. As fast as you run around the perimeter of the crater, you still haven't found Yuuji. Yuuji and his boyish smile every time you get him a gift, Yuuji, and his airy laugh whenever he sees something that manages to get him just right.

Yuuji and, his adorable love for movies, Yuuji, and his bright demeanor, able to make almost anyone fall under his spell.

Yuuji, who you find scratching at the road with tears falling down his eyes, wailing about how he should be the one to die.

It's right then and there, that your heart breaks.

Forgetting about the pain in your body, you rush over to where Yuuji was a heavy exhale, tears brimming your eyes and throbbing pain coursing through your body.

He turns to look at you with eyes that don't look like your boy, that don't look like Yuuji. He looks as if he's seen a ghost —like he didn't expect someone he knew to still be alive.

"You're alive...?" His voice is hoarse like he's dehydrated. It's missing its usual animated tone, his normal light voice, and his smile — fuck his smile.

"Yuuji," You exhale. "Yuuji, you're alive, fuck— you're alive." You get closer, and your body finally collapses on you. You're able to feel the emotions you forced yourself to push down the minute you stepped into the veil encasing Shibuya.

The hurt when you saw people you hold near to your heart die in front of you, the pain every time you felt your bones cracking, or the feeling of your skin stretching to accommodate the wound that was bound to form a scar stretching across your face.

Yuuji backs away from you, his fingers leaving a bloody trail from where you found him scratching at the road. "No! Get away from me— I'll try and kill you too!"

He'll... try and kill you?

Yuuji hangs his head in his arms as he curls into himself, seemingly trying to make his body as small as normal. "I'm nothing but a murderer! No matter what I do— or what I try to do— I just," He interrupts himself with a hiccup, blood mixed with tears leaking from the bottom of his face.

"I can't help anybody! I killed innocent people, I shouldn't be allowed to live!"

Yuuji continues to cry, his bloody fingers gripping his now dirtied pink hair.

Gently, as to not make him pull away from you, your arms wrap around his body. He refuses, trashing in your hold as he begs for you to let go of him, to distance yourself from him in case Sukuna somehow manages to take control again.

"Yuuji." You say softly, letting your coarse arms run through his hair.

He doesn't respond. Though he isn't struggling to move, he still remains unresponsive. "Yuuji, you aren't a monster."

He shakes his head furiously. "I killed them with my own—"

"Sukuna killed them, not you." You mutter softly. Even though you don't know the whole story, you know Yuuji, your Yuuji, would never kill innocent people.

"Yuuji, you aren't a murderer. You aren't a murderer."

Yuuji sobs into your shoulder, his bloody fingers gripping tightly against your shirt. "I'm sorry— I'm sorry!"

You keep your voice soft, softly running through his hair and rubbing circles on his back as well. "It wasn't your fault, 's okay..."

You reassure him, keep telling him that he wasn't a murderer, that he wouldn't kill innocent people on purpose, and little by little you think he's believing you.

"We, we have to go find everyone else," Yuuji says. His voice is drier if that's possible and his eyes feel so sunken, they don't feel like Yuuji. You don't hold that against him, he just went through a traumatic experience and obviously he isn't going to be the same boy you're used to.

Your shoulder is wet, and Yuuji's blood is staining your back. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Yuuji nods. Though it doesn't feel all the way true, it doesn't feel fake either. You press a tiny peck on his cheek, showing him a smile to let him know that he isn't alone.

As long as you were there with him, he'll never be alone.

"Fushiguro is... is [Name] still alive?" Itadori asks, sitting across from Yuta, divided by their makeshift fireplace.

Fushiguro averts his eyes with a guilty look on his face as he shakes his head.

"Oh."

Itadori Yuuji is alone.

He's lost his best friend, Nobara, his mentor (practically his father), Nanamin, Todo lost his technique because of him, and now, he's lost the one person who he truly felt like he could fall back on.

The one person who saw him at his lowest, and somehow brought him back from that.

"Oh."

He's alone.

And he genuinely doesn't know how he can cope without the help of his lover, his [Name].

[sillysowa]

CHANGE

PAIRING: HOBIE BROWN X FEM!VILLAIN!READER

GENRE: ENEMIES TO LOVERS, ANGST, MUTUAL PINING, COMFORT

WORD COUNT: 8K

WARNINGS: THEMES OF ABUSE! READER HAS AN ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP WITH THEIR PARENT THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING! GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF INJURIES. DOES NOT FOLLOW ATSV PLOT.

AUTHORS NOTE: PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO TOPICS LIKE ABUSE, FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED. I DID MY BEST TO LEAVE THE DESCRIPTION OF READERS GEAR VAUGE SO THAT YOU CAN IMAGINE WHATEVER YOU'D LIKE BUT READER AT BASELINE HAS FIRE ABILITIES + WINGS, AND A MASK THAT CAN SHOW EXPRESSIONS LIKE A SPIDER-PERSON CAN. HOBIES PERSONALITY IS HEAVILY INSPIRED OFF OF HIS COMICS!

SYNOPSIS: YOURE SUPPOSED TO HATE SPIDERPUNK, BUT…WHEN HES THE ONLY ONE WHO TREATS YOU KINDLY…AND THE ONLY ONE WHO HELPS YOU WHEN THE PERSON YOU SHOULD TRUST BETRAYS YOU, HOW COULD YOU?

-

There was the sound of the city below, and the rushing of wind above, but there was nothing in between. You felt nothing; just coming to and completely delirious. Your head spun as you looked down on London, watching droplets of blood fall from…your body? Were you bleeding? You suddenly became aware of the familiar deep mumbling above your head and the secure arms that held you tightly. You looked down at the red suit and black leather worn by who held you and pieced it all together, albeit slowly; you were in your rival’s arms, bleeding out as he was web slinging through the sky. You groaned, growing privy of injures that you didn't know you had, immediately feeling Hobie’s arms tighten,

“It's okay, you're gonna be okay.” You heard his deep voice faintly, sounding panicked and far away. You squirmed, wincing and crying out,

You couldn't feel your wings.

– 

Spiderman, Spiderpunk, asshole–whatever you wanted to call him—he was a royal pain in your ass. He’d cocoon you inside indestructible webs when he caught your gang in a crime, beeline to you when he was fighting off the group, and web you down whenever he’d catch you lurking on the rooftops at night, leaving the scene slinging away with a sly or flirty remark. At first, you just assumed that he must have sensed weakness in you–not taking you seriously and toying with you for kicks…it could have been true and honestly probably was, but you were ready for a change. You had changed significantly since you and Spiderman first met. He didn’t see you for a very long time while you worked out and trained, touching up your fighting skills, reaction time, and stamina–never slacking off. It didn't take long for you to surpass your once superiors, becoming your Master’s most prized possession. 

Your Master was all you knew for a guardian figure. They called you their ‘Firefly,’ as you had phoenix-like wings and fire based abilities that they were oh so proud of. What you didn’t know, was that they formed your supernatural self, nurturing you in their lab after destroying your genetic makeup until you were ready to be their perfect prodigy, yet they didn't want you taking on their largest mission–killing Spiderman. They told you that they knew about the way he targeted you and took you down with minimal effort and they hated it–not wanting to see you caught in a life-or-death fight with him.

“He may have never hurt you, but if he wants to, he will.”  They would say. You never knew that it was all lies, only hating the idea of your Master looking down on you. 

So you would become Spiderman’s biggest threat–telling yourself it was not to prove a point to them, but to you.

–

You were ready for this city to finally start taking you seriously; buildings emptying at the glow of your fiery wings, blinds closing and light flicking off at the sound of your crackling fire, streets clearing with screams of “Spiderpunk!” and “Help!” You believed today was the day.

The people of London already knew the sight of you meant trouble—often the most eye-catching of your master’s entourage even though you weren’t the most dangerous, but you were rarely seen alone. It was alarming to the citizens who quickly emptied the dark streets. You felt a sense of confidence surge in your chest at the fear in their eyes just from you simply walking, lighting up the streets with a red-orange glow and wildfire-like crackling sounds. You didn’t get very far though, a faint booming guitar chord piercing the air nearby like a firework. You grit the soles of your gear into the ground, securing your mask and looking up to catch Spiderpunk swinging off a tall building, legs spread and hand outstretched in your direction,

“Ay, what do you know?! If it isn't the Firefly all by herself! What do you think you're doing out here, lil phoenix?” His voice quickly gained volume as he swung full speed ahead in your direction, aiming to effortlessly web you up and leave the scene when he neared and took a powerful blow directly to the chin, flying into the wall like a magnet to metal.

He groaned, fallen on the floor and back slammed into the brick wall, “Damn! Where did you learn how to throw a punch like that? Did’ja friends finally decide to teach you the basics?” With squinty spider-suit eyes, he rubbed his jaw, comically ‘fixing’ it back into place before lunging like a jumping spider and tackling you with his arms around your waist. Your back hit the ground with a thud and you quickly kicked your feet up on his stomach and flipped the two of you backwards with your hands on his leather vest. You throw punches and hits with calculated precision and instead of being scared…Spiderpunk is pleasantly surprised at your newfound strength. He finds himself totally up for the challenge of fighting someone ‘worth his time.’ He web slings out from under you, jumping behind a nearby bench to put some distance between the two of you and attempt to apprehend you,

“Come on Spiderpunk, throw a punch! What are you, scared? Didn’t think you’d have to even try to beat me huh? Is that it, asshole?” You yell in frustration, hand clutching the back of the bench and clearing it like a track meet. He backpedals, never once getting violent with you–no hitting, punching or kicking, just strategically tiring you out until he can find an opening and restrain you.

“Come on now, you know this is just anotha cakewalk for your friendly neighborhood Spiderman.” He laughs in a sarcastic teasing way to rile you up, ducking to avoid your advances when you unexpectedly lunge at him, your masked heads knocking against each other and sending him falling over into a messy alley. Spiderpunk struggles against you before you slam your fist across his cheek, sending his head left before he cranes it back, grabs your ready fist, and then the other one when you raise it. You're both grunting and panting, his eyes squinty and your arms shaking like an arm wrestle when, eventually, he overpowers you and pushes you off him, wrapping you up like a spider to its prey and having the temerity to dust his hands off after,

“Well, I oughta say, tonight was full of more surprises than I would've ever guessed! Didn’t know you had all that fight in you, Firefly.” He said, casually leaning against the wall across from you with his foot up, wiping his wrist over his masked forehead and feigning exhaustion. Your face scrunched up in anger at the name, reserved for only your Master.

“Don't call me that! I don't need you underestimating me, Spiderpunk, and I don't need your pity–actually fight me next time!” You spit, “I’ll be back for you.” Your ablaze wings tear through the web restrains and you fly away, knowing he’ll let you go. He watched you leave into the night sky, cursing to himself at the throbbing pain in his jaw. He slumped off the wall, web slinging home with a sense of sympathy weighing heavy in his heart,

“Poor thing–all fucked in the head.”

–

Your Master has a long standing history with Spiderpunk. They were once a cop—devoted to their work and truly confident that they were doing the right thing. Then one day, this ‘Spiderman’ came along. He ruined everything; encouraging anarchy, winning the people's hearts and turning the citizens against the officers–but worst of all, he killed their brother who was also in the police force. Nothing was the same since, and they turned to a life of crime, building a force of people who wanted to do anything in their power to stop Spiderman. 

Spiderpunk had directly attacked their old headquarters before, growing more and more familiar with their motives, their methods, and more importantly, their members. There was a new lair now, sneakily hidden from Spiderpunk to keep him from learning more than he already knew.

What he did know was your Master was like a parent in your eyes. He knew you were unable to label anyone else as a guardian in your broken life, but damn it was sick to him. Your Master literally made you address them as such to enforce harsh power dynamics and keep you in your place. They mutilated your genetic code like a lab rat, but you can't remember a thing because you were completely comatose. They wanted to train you until you were strong enough to fight for them, and then do nothing to prevent your death when the foreign chemicals in your body would eventually catch up to you. Worst of all, they don't want you around Spiderpunk because he knows the truth. They do everything in their power to keep you faithful to them because they know you'll be too strong on Spiderman’s side–you'll turn to him without sparing them a second glance if you knew the truth. 

They couldn't let that happen. They wouldn't let that happen. They swore it to themselves everyday.

–

You came quietly through the doors of the lair (which was disguised as just another house in a crowded street) keeping all noise to an absolute minimum to avoid the ‘where were you’ questions from your comrades. You were new to sneaking out, never seeing a point in it before this self-improvement journey of yours. You were lost in thought, walking to your room when a loud slam jumped you. You cursed and looked up to see none other than your Master standing in front of you, staring at you with an intensity that never meant any good, rendering the hallway placate. You looked up at them, fear taking over your bones.

“…Where have you been for the past hour?” Their dour tone sliced through the thick silence. You held eye contact like you've been told,

“I went out to train.” You answered, not the full truth but not a lie either. You looked up at them with a cold-sweat inducing anticipation rattling your knees. The silence was so loud, and your heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

You didn't even register that you had been slapped until you noticed you were no longer looking your Master in the eyes. Your face felt warm, stinging with pain as your eyes welled with tears that you fought back. They said nothing more, leaving you to stand stunned in the hallway for a long moment and then trudge into your room to fall asleep feeling numb. 

–

You knew you must have done something to deserve the punishment of getting slapped and grounded, but you also felt that your Master just didn't understand what you were doing— that you were doing it for them. You were going to help them take down Spiderpunk! You were going to do what they had always wanted! After thinking for a long hour in your room, you decided you just needed to be more sneaky. That way, they couldn't be mad at you in the end when you finally got their worst enemy in the lair, bound up and defenseless. 

Nothing could stop you from training mercilessly for days, readying yourself to fight Spiderpunk again. You lived for the shocked expression on his spider-suit mask when you threw punch after punch at him, taunting him with an attitude that he had never seen from eager but stupid you–you who had failed to even get close enough to attack him in the past. He had wondered why he wasn't seeing you with the usual group for a couple months, almost worried that your Master had done something.

Time passed and the few times you saw Spidepunk, you were with a bigger group. You were no longer the first person he took down, rather the last—he struggled more and more fighting you these days. It had been days since your last 1V1 encounter and night fell—this time, you waited until you were absolutely positive that your Master was asleep before you left out your window, flying into the night with your blazing wings. You knew how Spiderpunk was going to fight you this time, playing a completely defensive game until he saw an opening to take you down, and you were prepared for it–ready to counteract it. You didn't want to leave this battle completely unscathed like last time, you wanted a fair fight.

–

Hobie sat on a distant rooftop, overlooking London in the darkness of the night. He had had a very ‘normal’ day in Spiderpunk terms—help a little old lady across the road, stop a handful of thief’s dumb enough to steal in broad daylight with his spidergang, and graffiti a couple political statements in places that no one else could reach. He chose a rooftop garden area to relax, chewing his bright pink bubblegum and strumming on his guitar with his heavy boots hanging over the ledge.

Hobie thought about you, he thought about Y/N L/N. It was difficult to fight someone who was so misguided, so fixated on a dream that would only hurt them more. He didn’t know what he could do to get to you—to get you comfortable enough with him to even believe a word of what he’s been dying to tell you. Hobie needed to save you from your Master and the twisted ideology they had drilled into every fiber of your being.

He knew no one else would understand why he cared the way he did. Hobie had a soft spot for you and your gang because he knew of the lives that you were all robbed of.

He strummed his sticker-covered guitar to the bridge of ‘Change (In the House of Flies),’ looking down at the bursts of color that his guitar cycled through in time with each chord he played.

There was a fleeting moment of tranquility, then his spidey-senses went wild, a fiery glow seen from behind him. 

Hobie didn’t move—he didn’t even flinch—he just softly finished the song, 

“I was beginning to think I wouldn’t be seein’ you again.” Hobie quipped, getting on his feet and slinging his guitar behind him, turning to face you.

You looked him over—his spiky accessories, his expressive messy spider-suit eyes, his guitar and all its color. You wondered what he could have done to become the center of all your Masters hate. You knew it had to have been pretty significant, even if you didn’t understand it.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Spiderman.” You said, voice muffled through your mask. Now it was Hobie’s turn to take you all in. You had definitely made some augmentations to your gear since he last saw you, he could see how touched up it looked and he started to worry you might catch him off guard this time, so he tested the waters. He circled you slowly and instantly you tensed and out came exactly what he feared—new weaponry.

Fiery blades ignited out of your wrist gear as you put your hands up in a block. Hobie was actually impressed,

“Well would ya look at that! A shiny new weapon, eh? did ya make that all by yourself, lil phoenix?” He inquired, leaning in with typical comical Spiderman enthusiasm. He got too close for comfort, resulting in you swinging your burning blades at him with a grunt. Hobie lurched backwards, making a shocked noise,

“Alright alright, trying to show me what those new blades can do huh? Come on, come get me.” He teased, web-slinging away and starting a chase. Hobie was often chasing, not entirely used to the reverse, but he felt adrenaline pump through his veins at the sound of your yells, chasing him like a rabid animal through the rooftops of London.  

This time, you knew well what he was doing—attempting to tire you out and get you at your weakest without even having to lay a finger on you, then restrain you like last time—so you came to the fight with a couple tricks up your sleeve.

You ducked down into an alleyway, seemingly headfirst, running down the wall and up the next. 

Spiderpunk looked behind him, expecting to see your struggling form desperately trying to keep up with him, only for his heart to stop at the sight of you—or the lack thereof. 

His reflexes came in handy when he saw a faint glow out of his peripherals. He swung from a high-hanging sign when you lunged at him from his side, giving him minimal time to react. He tried to web to another building, but he was too slow. Your fingers closed around his neck, slamming him into the wall, his long fingers instinctively came up to your wrists, only to falter away when he nearly slices his hands clean off on your blades. He instead opts to use his boots to try and kick you away, but blades instantly ignite out of the gear surrounding your ankles,

“You really came prepared huh? Whipped up all this new gear in a matter of days just to see me? You’re so thoughtful.” He grit out, still trying to not harm you if he doesn’t have to. He was in the middle of calculating your next move when you brought your head back like you were going to knock him out with it. Instantly, Hobie ducks down, thrusting his spiky spider-suit mask at your chest and pushing away from you when you flinch and let go of him. 

“Spiderpunk!” You screamed, jumping up and lunging at him, sending artificial webs his way. He rolled and dodged them, yelping in surprise,

“Look at you! I mean, you’re basically a spider woman now!” He shoots his own webs, snagging your ankle and effectively stumping you, if only for a moment when your heated blades sear them off. You angrily throw yourself at him again, falling to the ground when he dodges. Suddenly, a loud crack is heard as your left ankle gear slams against the solid rooftop, buzzing and crackling as it breaks. You hiss and grunt angrily, and Hobie’s brain lights up. He has to break all your new toys to take you down, that’s all. 

Spiderpunk suddenly jumps at you, tackling you onto your back to keep your wings useless and webbing your biceps down, then your thighs—they’re the spots where you have no defense mechanisms, although you’re a lot stronger than he’s used to seeing you so he remains cautious. He grabs hold of your ankle, pressing his palms into the gear and sending electric volts through it—he risks the chance of hurting you, but when he begins to fry the electrical cords and sees only confusion in your eyes, he continues. The gear fizzes and smokes as it breaks, but Hobie feels the shock of it all, wincing and grunting as he get electrocuted. 

Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s doing, and you scream,

“No! No!” You strain against his webs, freeing one arm and swinging your fist at the man, slicing the cheek of his mask only for him to grab your bicep and pin you back down with a struggle, electrocuting himself once more as he kills your right wrists gear with a zap!

You look up at him, paralyzed with confusion as he still refuses to hurt you, only breaking your gear so you’ll run back home again. You won’t take it, breaking free your left fist the very next second and screaming in anger when he pins it down with all the strength he can muster.

"Why are you doing this? Why won't you ever fight me?" You scream emotionally, struggling against him as he uses all the strength he has left to fry your last piece of protective gear while you struggle against him, kicking and pushing to no use. He doesn't speak at first, breathing heavily, and sighing,

“You really wanna know?” He mumbles, looking at you through his mask with squinty eyes, “Or do you just want an answer that will make you happy?” He asks, leaning back and getting off of you completely, but keeping you restrained on the ground.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You ask, genuinely caught off guard, letting out a scoff, “Dont pull some weird mysterious bullshit with me-”

“I’m serious.” He cuts you off. It doesn't sound harsh or angry, it’s strangely genuine. “The truth hurts–worse than anything I could do to you if I fought back the way you so badly want.” He says through his thick accent, sitting beside you and looking out at the city.

You looked up, knocking your masked head on the hard surface while you thought in angry silence. What could Spiderpunk have to tell you? Why did he think it would matter to you? You hadn't really guessed there was a good reason for why he didn't fight you, just assuming he pitied you. You let your head loll to the side and looked at the spikey masked man with dark skin peeking through the cut you left in his mask, your curiosity winning,

“I…I’m all ears.” You mumble, your voice hoarse. 

He just looked at you for a moment, then he cursed and ran his large palm down his covered face, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't know what to say or how to say it. How do you tell someone their whole life is a lie? Furthermore, they're fighting for a cause that will end in their demise? He gazed off into the sparkling lights below,

“It’s not easy to say so i’m just gonna tell you as bluntly as possible. I’ve known that lousy sod you call ‘Master’ for years now…they’re not at all who you think they are.” He starts, missing the way your body stiffens, “And…neither are you. They actually…made you what you are. You weren't supposed to have the abilities you have but they-”

“No, no I'm not listening to this, this is useless! You're full of shit!” You spat, arching your back enough to set your wings free, cutting through the webs, triggering him to jump up and put his palms out defensively,

“Hey, hey! You said you were all ears right? Don't go throwin’ a wobbly on me now! Just listen okay? I’m trying to save your life!” He frantically begged, walking towards you slowly with bent knees and a tilt of his head, trying his absolute hardest to not come across as a threat. You weren’t having it.

You got close, “You can go to hell with your weird conspiracies about my Master and I! I-I’ll never believe you—you don’t even know me!” You yelled your fists up defensively. You felt weak and angry with your gear useless, and you didn’t exactly expect a deep discussion about your life and what it might or might not be,

“I do though, Y/N. That’s…that’s what I’m trying to get at here.” He states, not once taking his eyes off you. He watches as your eyes flicker wide open, your guard faltering for only a moment. You stand there stunned, the silence of midnight surrounding both of you, until you finally have the courage to speak up,

“Is…that how you know my name?” You state the obvious. You know the answer, but you want him to be the one to say it.

“Yes, because what i’m telling you is the truth. Your Master, they used to be an officer until I came around and fought against the police force…one day, there was an attack from a villain force and I couldn’t save their closest friend…but from what they saw, it looked as though their blood was on my hands. They changed overnight—quitting the force and becoming the worst villain overlord of this city. They built their own empire, and they bought you. You and the rest of their army, you’re all captives who were brainwashed and robbed of your lives.” He finishes, full of anticipation as he looks at you.

There’s a long silence, as you take it all in. You don’t know what to say to do for a while, internally struggling on if you even believe his words or not…but the longer you think about it…you’re sad to admit the more sense it starts to make.

You don’t remember having any sort of childhood, no matter how hard you thought, and you’ve only ever known your Master and their orders on how you should live your life. You were lost in thought, puzzle pieces slowly fitting together, and Spiderpunk just watched you patiently. You thought about how he looked at you, how he refused to hurt you, and how he seemed to genuinely mean every word he said…It was too much to take in all at once.

“I’m sorry, I-I can’t.” You stammer out, your voice cracking as you back up.  Your wings crackle with burning fire. He doesn’t follow you, just stands still as you walk backwards, then turn and fly off. The wind whistles as you fly home faster than you ever have in your life, your thoughts racing a mile a minute with every flap of your wings. Hobie watches you fly off into the sparkly night sky like a burning shooting star, sighing in relief. 

—

That night opened your eyes, and nothing was the same between you and your Master since. You pulled back and unintentionally started acting cold, now you were afraid they were noticing. They had been randomly gifting you things or spending time with you, a lot more than they ever do. You were starting to feel incredibly uncomfortable and anxious as the days went on, and strangely, you decided you wanted to clear some things up with Spiderpunk—you just needed to find a way to sneak out without your Master noticing with all their excessive hovering over you these days.

It was dawn, and you had just finished the dinner that they insisted you have with them. Your Master had finished eating and was now cleaning both your dishes when you quietly headed to the door and slipped on your jacket,

“Going somewhere?” They asked questioningly, not turning from their spot at the sink but still instilling nausea in you from their tone alone. You hesitated for a second, then slipped on your shoes,

“Just going on a walk.” 

“Right after eating? Shouldn’t you give it an hour or two?” They pressured.

“I’d rather walk while it’s still relatively light out, I won’t be gone long.” You countered carefully, trying to keep the peace the best you could. You reached for the door handle, your back turned to them when you heard the water shut off, footsteps, and then felt their arms around you, turning you into their embrace. It was uncomfortably silent, and their hands suddenly tightening on your jacket felt horrible,

“I know you’ve been lying to me.” They murmured, their grip strong as they feel your body go rigid for a moment. You stall. They release you and stare coldy,

“I-I don’t know what you’re-“ The hardest slap you’ve ever felt lands across your face and cuts you off. It burns like hell and leaves your head blank for a moment. You look down only to get your eyes forced upwards from a pressuring grip on your jaw,

“You know you can’t keep secrets from me…I will figure out what you’ve been doing, my Firefly, and you won’t like it.” They grumbled, pushing you outside and slamming the door.

—

There had to be at least five cops chasing after as you careened around the block, all having yelled at you when you raced out of a small jewelry store with hands full of anything shiny and expensive looking that you could loop around your fingers. You zoomed down the dark street and caught a myriad of unfortunate obstacles ablaze in your wake. You were trying to cause as much of a scene as humanly possible—It was working.

You turned to look behind your shoulder right as Spiderpunk swung down towards you, one hand high above his head and the other swinging a web straight for your abdomen. When you were about to redirect your focus ahead of you, you’re left with no time to process your masked ‘rival’ headed straight for you before pulling you up into the sky with him. A scream tears out of your throat from shock and you can’t move as your body is pulled through the sky, golden rings and necklaces spilling from your fingers. The loud hollering of Spiderpunk is echoing around you before he pulls you onto a rooftop, both of you rolling onto the building. He grunts and pants, looking at you as he lays on his side, propped up on his elbow,

“How’s my favorite little villain doin huh? Long time no see…I was starting to miss your pretty mask.” He pulled you towards him by his webs like Scorpion, before tearing it when you were close enough, “Was there a reason you caused such a dilemma down there or did ya just miss me?” He smirks, pretending to run a hand through his hair. He was clearly in a good mood today.

You sigh, full of emotions and slightly bothered by his over-the-top entrance and flirty behavior, “There’s a reason, asshole…I need to talk to you.” You confess, sitting up in a comfortable position while he mirrors you, leaning his head in his hands. He stays silent and only nods, allowing you to continue, 

“I thought about what you said—all of it. Things weren’t the same when I woke up that next morning. I still don’t trust you but I don’t really hate you the way I used to…because of what you said I sorta started to think for myself. I came to see you today to ask you a couple of questions and maybe get some answers?” You whispered, voice soft as you looked into his masked face. The moonlit night was cold and dark. It left you shivering with a sense of anxiety squeezing at your lungs. He nodded once more, leaning in,

“What can your friendly neighborhood spiderman do for you?” He asked with an audible smiled, trying to ease your obvious distress.

“Who was I?” You blurted out.

He shuddered, expecting the question but still feeling underprepared for it. He exhaled through a buzz of his lips and clicked his tongue a couple of times,

“That’s a difficult question, doll. To put it simply, you’re a normal girl who was supposed to live a normal life with her normal parents—they were some of the many that were killed by the multiple heinous villains that terrorized London a few years ago. You weren’t too much younger than me when you were forced into a hostage situation by the killers, soon after you were sold. I couldn’t save you all before the brainwashing, and I couldn’t get to you like this until…now.” He admitted. He felt sympathy knowing that you were sitting in front of him, probably feeling as though you were suffering the consequences of his incompetence—but the thought never crossed your mind. You just wished you knew that girl, the one who was robbed of her normal life, but you felt that moping was useless, 

“Well, what can I do? I mean i’ve basically learned that my whole life isn’t at all what I think it has been and i’ve been chasing after the one person who was kind enough to tell me the truth-“

“You didn’t know any better.” He corrected, “I tried to go easy on you…couldn’t bring myself to fight such a sweet, misguided, girl.” He admitted genuinely.

“I am so stunned…I mean I never thought you’d be able to be this close or say these things to me without attacking you.” You teased, looking at the way his eyes scrunch up and his knees come close in a laugh, “I…I don’t know how to thank you. All I’ve done has been attacking you every chance I got because my Master painted you out to be some threat. I never thought for myself until you told me the truth, and now you’re being so nice to me, Spiderpunk.” You sighed.

Suddenly, he shifted before reaching his hands up to his neck and pulling his mask off, revealing his identity to you. The newly unmasked Spiderpunk shook his hair slightly, and looked at your still masked face as you took in every detail of him. He had deep brown skin, messy wicks, plump lips, a big nose with a ring on the side, deep set eyes complimented with pierced eyebrows and high cheekbones. He had the face of a model and it was no surprise that that effected your ability to breathe for a moment,

“You can call me Hobie.” He said with a cheeky tone at your silence, leaning back, “And you don’t have to thank me, just glad I could help.” He answered. He looked at you solemnly, his heart warming at the idea of helping you. “But you can at least make us equal and share a taste of your secret identity.” He winks, leaning in eagerly.

You roll your eyes and trail your hands up to your own mask, removing it and watching as his eyes scan you in the low lighting, taking in your appearance. You expected something different than what you got, your stomach dropping at the sudden look of shock on his face. You felt anxiety well up in a matter of seconds before he speaks,

“Who did this?” His deep voice lingers in the air and you’re left with no time to process his words, his hands that were reaching for you stuttering when you flinch, “Y/N, who hurt you?” He asks you, stern but gentle, looking into your eyes with his large hands gently on either side of your head to examine the red blistering slap mark. You can’t even respond, your mouth open but no words coming out. You both know the answer. 

Hobie knew there was a possibility your Master was hurting you, but this just confirmed it and left him feeling inexplicably enraged. 

“I’m sorry, I-“ 

“Why are you apologizing? You have no reason to be sorry, If I had known I…I would have stopped this a lot sooner.” He whispered, gaze soft as he instinctively holds your head to his chest, almost motherly. 

You just try to focus on stabilizing your breathing, the comforting hold new and strange to you. You never would have expected this, that’s for sure.

Time goes by, Hobie allowing you to sit in front of him again while you eventually talk about your relationship with your Master. It’s difficult, and Hobie has to thank his lucky stars for his ability to remain expressionless, because if not, he probably would have cried or thrown up several times. It becomes emotional for you as you wrap up, Hobie feeling his gut twist at the sight,

“It’s alright. I-I’m not going to let you be in that place much longer. I’m going to stop them okay? I’ll be helping you out of there soon.” He spoke clearly, his hands on your shoulders to keep steady eye contact. You felt uneasy at the idea of your Master and your unsteady relationship. You didn’t want to see them hurt but you knew that how they had treated you all these years was wrong, especially if what Hobie said was true. It was conflicting, and you were scared. You tried your hardest to trust Hobie, but you had only just opened up to him…so could you really? Was it safe?

“Okay…bye, Hobie’.” Was all you said before you parted, disappearing into the dark of the night. Hobie plotted, swinging far behind after a lot of careful thought and a ton of unusual hyperactivity from his spidey-senses.

—

The door creaked louder than it usually does—just your luck. You cursed as you held the handle all the way twisted until it was in the frame, manually twisting it back into place to keep the house silent. You were on a mission, and it couldn’t wait. You walked your way into the basement and into your Master’s secret laboratory. This was where they kept all of their ‘work stuff.’ You had never cared about anything in the dingy and dark room until now…you never knew any of it would pertain to you. You sifted though their stuff, everything seemingly kosher until a file, stuffed in the back of the lowest cabinet of their desk with the bold printed letters ‘Y/N L/N’ splattered over it in red ink called to you among all the other tan files. You wasted zero time in pulling it out and investigating. The file was full of information about you—things that you didn’t even know about yourself; the day you were bought, the chemical makeup of your fucked-up genes, and the day that you were…no…that couldn’t be right…the day that you were supposed to die? Your heart stopped. You read the date over and over again, adrenaline rushing through your body and pumping blood straight to your head. You couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see, couldn’t think. Your Master horrifyingly lingered in the doorway, watching as you trembled in unbridled terror. Why the fuck did you have a pre-determined death date? You tore your gaze off the paper, looking up and jumping when you saw, to you absolute dismay, your ‘Master.’ 

“Y/N. I’ve heard that you made a new friend! Is that right, my little Firefly?” Your master seethed through their sickening smile. You had never seen them this angry…it terrified you, but your adrenaline was stronger than your fear.

“I know who you are…and…I know who I am. You’re a sick person, and you’ve been lying to me my whole life!” You yelled, defensively staring them down with as fierce of a face as you could muster, “You destroyed the person that I’m supposed to be! You bought me out of a hostage situation to build your own suck army! Worst of all, you have a predetermined death date for me? What the fuck do I look like, perishable goods?” You scream.

“Quit acting dumb, child. If you were smart enough to understand maybe you wouldn’t be so angry at your loving Master. I did what I did to give you a life worth living. I made you who I made you at the cost of your life span shortening. Would you rather live a long, boring, and sad life with no parents and no purpose? Or would you rather life a fulfilling life with me?” They spat, anger present in their red eyes.

“I would rather die than live with you any longer. Spiderpunk told me the truth and I believed him because it makes sense! He was the first person to ever let me think for myself! He has never hurt me the way that you have!” Screaming, you threw the file onto the ground, the contents spilling out at your Master’s feet and your wings burning hot. Embers flicked across the room, catching small things on fire. Your Master had had enough.

“Is that so? And what exactly do you intend on doing with that information, hm? Run away from the loving,“ they flip the desk as it begins to burn, sending wood and fire all over as they come closer, “supportive,” they slam their fist into your side and kick your feet out from under you, “family that I’ve pioneered for you? You’d leave that all behind to follow a brain-dead, arachnid, anarchist who killed my loved ones?!” They scream, pulling you by your wrist out of the office and into the basement, shoving you down onto your stomach and crawling onto of you harshly. Your wings were as intense as your emotions—your horror, sadness, and anger all causing the flames to burn unusually hot and wildly—but your Master didn’t care. All they saw was red.

“You know what happens when you go against my rules, Y/N. How dare you do the one thing I specifically instructed you against.” They snapped, tears pooling out of your eyes as you struggled to breathe. Your eyes shot open as you heard their hisses in pain and felt their hands tighten around the base of your blazing wings. Your heart raced as fire embers flung around the room and you felt a sharp tugging, triggering you into screaming uncontrollably,

“No! No! Please, stop it! Master, I’m sorry! please d-don’t! What are you doing?! I’m-I’m sorry, please!” You screamed, feeling the extension of your body being torn out of your spine, uselessly screaming in agony. You were kicking and crying as you felt the most uncomfortable pain you had ever felt in your life. You were helpless, the room around you catching on fire as your powers go haywire. You didn’t know who to call, but the one name you knew started spilling from your lips,

“Hobie! Hobie please help me!” You cried, voice cracking and hoarse as the building rapidly started to burn. Your master brought their heel up digging it into your lower back as leverage as they grunted and pulled, fueled on your screams alone. You let out one last scream of Hobie’s name before it all faded to black.

—

Hobie had no idea where he should be looking for you, never having located your Master’s new hideout. He relied completely on his senses, a game of ‘hotter’ and ‘colder.’ He raced around like a madman, ignoring the excited screams of “It’s spiderpunk!” However, soon the screams became about a fire, and his senses were overwhelmed with a buzzing feeling. He snapped out of it and looked down to see a house on fire, mentally battling on if he should continue searching for you or deal with the house fire, opting for the latter. When he Hobie leapt down, he got a sinking feeling that he had found you. 

He tore through the burning building, groups of familiar villains racing out of the doors and windows. He kept low and crawled like a spider when he heard a broken scream of his name, so pained and so desperate. He nearly tripped down the burning basement stairs and took in the horrific scenery. 

Your blood was all over the floor, surrounding (what Hobie prayed was) your unconscious body. Your Master was panting, and holding your bloody, fleshy, wings. They had never looked this truly evil, staring down at you with no remorse until they noticed Hobie’s presence,

“Spiderpunk.” They stated, tossing your wings into the calmed with burning with rage,

 “I think it’s time for our long overdue last dance, ‘Master.’” Hobie grumbled, circling them. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” They smiled, chucking a knife from their belt at his head, watching as he expertly dodges it and maneuvers around the collapsing room combating with bloodshed heavy on his mind. There’s a symphony of punches and stabs, Hobie was growing bloody and angry. He was kicked into the fire his face whacking across a burning plank and causing him to cry out. Hobie shook his head and screamed, lunging at them, 

“I’m gonna make you wish you never payed your hands on her.” Hobie grunted, his grip tightening around their throat as they desperately tried to pull him off. All Hobie could think about was what he could have done to save you all these years; if he had known the torture you were enduring at their hands he would have helped you sooner. He knew the whole time that it was doomed, but he didn’t know how to save you. 

Hobie felt a crunch, and he snapped out of it, finding himself on top of your Masters now dead body. he pulled his hands back, wiping them off on his jeans and spitting down on the corpse of your abuser. Turning rapidly to scoop you into his arms and burst out of the burning building. The fire department was there, and ready to take care of it, but Hobie needed to get you as far away as possible.

—

There was the sound of the city below, and the rushing of wind above, but there was nothing in between. You felt nothing; just coming to and completely delirious. Your head spun as you looked down on London, watching droplets of blood fall from…your body? Were you bleeding? You suddenly became aware of the familiar deep mumbling above your head and the secure arms that held you tightly. You looked down at the red suit and black leather worn by who held you and pieced it all together, albeit slowly; you were in your rival’s arms, bleeding out as he was web slinging through the sky. You groaned, growing privy of the injures that you didn't know you had, immediately feeling Hobie’s arms tighten,

“It's okay, you're gonna be okay.” You heard his deep voice faintly, sounding panicked and far away. You squirmed, wincing and crying out,

You couldn't feel your wings—and it all came back to you. Your ‘Master’ had pulled them completely out of your body, and now you had never felt so light in your entire life. There were gaping holes in your back, and cuts that littered your skin from your struggle. You felt robbed, but oddly, you felt free. However, nothing could compare to, above all, how much pain you were in. You clung to Hobie, becoming aware that you’d have no way to support yourself if you were to fall, but Hobie held you tightly, telling you he would never drop you without saying a single word. 

He landed somewhere unfamiliar, carrying you through a window with an odd amount of calculated grace. He set you down on what you assumed was his carpet, and you didn’t realize he was currently in front of you, helping you onto your stomach. You took his hand and allowed him to help you, gasping and whimpering when your entire body hurt.

“Easy, love, m’gonna take care of ya.” He whispers. He tears your shirt clean off, beginning to clean your wounds,

“Ah! Hobie!” You mumble, wincing.

“I know, I know, it’s gonna hurt love m’sorry.” He says in the most soothing voice he can.

He bandaged your cuts, and he feels his heart sink with every pained noise you make, watching you fiddle with his carpet to take your mind off of how it all feels. When he’s finished, he slips a clean shirt over you and he scoops you up—laying you down on his soft couch.

“Your wounds are deep love, but they’re not unsalvageable. Give it time and you’ll be feeling as good as new.”  Hobie smiled softly. He was covered in blood, ash, and grime, but no one had ever looked as beautiful as he did in that moment. He pulled the blanket off the back of his couch, draping in over you and tucking it in gently,

“I am truly sorry for everything, doll.” He said suddenly with raw emotion taking over. You looked up at him confused,

“Don’t…don’t be sorry, Hobie. You…you saved my life.” You murmured, exhausted and pained. 

He softly smiled at you, his eyes full of sadness as he forced himself to get up off his knees by your side,

“Well, i’ll be in the other room love, just holler if you-“ 

“Wait!” You interrupt. He stops abruptly, turning to look at you with confusion present on his face, scanning over you and taking note of the space you made in front of you on the couch,

“I don’t want to be alone.” 

And with that, Hobie feels his heart break. Your voice sounded so fragile and meek, and he never wanted to hear it sound that way ever again. He would feel horrible holding you in his state, but he would feel worse if he said no to you. Reluctantly, he walks over to you, unties his shoes, and lays down with you, holding you close and gently running his hands up and down the bandages.

You didn’t understand how your whole life could change in a matter of days—going from hating Spiderpunk with every fiber of your being, to being genuinely afraid of him not being in the same room as you. But…he’s the one who saved you. This whole time, he was the only one who truly cared, and you felt so blind to have not seen it. He held you closer, lost deeply in his own thoughts. Hobie’s mind raced with thoughts of your safety, and specifically the death date in your files. 

He decided he would worry about that another day, and for now, he would hold you closer.

[soov]

CHATTERBOXㅤ. . .ㅤ﹫ yang jungwon ★

꒰ 🧾 ꒱ yang jungwon & gn reader, 500 words. ㅤg fluff, no set au, established relationship, drabble. ㅤw kisses (on the face), mentions of death. ㅤinspired by the ksana concept picsㅤlibrary

“it feels like the rain won’t stop any time soon.”

a quiet, almost imperceptible hum emerged from your throat at jungwon’s comment. you didn’t bother to give him a full reply. after knowing him for good two years, and dating him for one, you learned that he pointed out random things out of the blue for fun.

despite being an introvert, he was also exceptionally talkative, and the fact that you gave him the liberty to keep blurting out the obvious made the boy even more of a chatterbox in your presence. that wasn’t a bother, not in one bit.

he stayed in silence for a minute.

“hey,” jungwon started, “did you know that you’re really warm?”

you nodded with your eyes closed, burying your face in his neck. he would speak up again soon; it was too easy to read him, so you remained quiet.

“how do you stay so warm? i’m not complaining, just curious. i get more cuddles when you’re this warm. but like– the car is colder than a fridge right now.” after finishing his monologue, jungwon clicked his tongue. his arms, that were already wrapped around you before, pulled you even closer to him.

a grin stretched the edges of your mouth at the familiar feeling of your boyfriend’s lips on your temple. “i don’t know, really.” the rain was starting to pour down harder, clashing against the windows of his car, though the loud sounds felt somewhat comforting to you.

jungwon refrained himself from prying further and let his gaze travel down to your form.

you looked otherworldly clad in his leather jacket, cheek pressed to his chest. when your nose scrunched up, or when you tightened your hold around his body, he couldn’t help but silently thank you for choosing him over other eight billion people.

since you stopped hearing his voice, one of your eyes peeked open to gaze at him, “is everything okay? why did you stop talking?”

a timid laugh left jungwon, “i was too busy to say anything.”

his statement sounded hilarious inside your mind. what could possibly keep him busy when you two were locked inside that stupid 612 scaglietti — that he treated more like his own child — and the sky fell upon you?

“oh, really?” you snickered, almost becoming one with him and the cushions of the backseat. “what got you so busy?”

he smiled, “you.” and that firm reply caught you off guard. jungwon pulled the collar of the jacket up to shield your ears from the cold, cocooning you. “i was admiring you.”

”don’t say that.” you noticed how ironic his actions were — worrying about the cold and ensuring that you maintained your temperature when he was shivering, a white tank top doing nothing to warm him up. with a gentle kiss to his red nose, you cradled his face in your palms. “you’ll make me melt... kind of literally.”

another one of his dimpled beams showed up, “that’s great. better that than freezing to death. i’ve heard that deaths from cold are less painful, though.”

there wasn’t any need for words to be exchanged when you chuckled amusedly at his fun fact. this was jungwon’s main goal with his rambles. your laughs whenever he told you something were his most precious treasure. yet, this confession would not slip along with the others so soon.

⠀ ⠀ SOOV © 2O23

ㅤ𝗿𝗲𝗶’s notes ⪩⪨ do u ever hate a drabble cs same

[thesharktanksdriver]

Sharky throws hands Fins (Platonic)

Part 1 part 3 part 4 part 5

@crazyfandomist Maybe a request!! Sharky goes out on a mission with them and they see Sharky doing the up most terrifying take down along with a good scare of when they get hit by a bullet? Of course Sharky is fine but now they’re in lockdown till they’re fully healed

You asked and you shall receive. Really like this request and decided to go the full mile. You guys can expect some more Sharky stuff with shadow company and eventually some other stuff.

If there’s one thing that the entire squad of 141 can agree on it’s that your a bit of a wild card

A wild shark as Soap would joke in the heli as it landed and everyone felt the true weight of their guns now in their hands

They knew you were rambunctious, a bit of a hot head and maybe a bit fucked in the head from the shit you constant spouted out

But this was a whole new level of bullshitery that they had to unpack

It all started out as a relatively normal mission that turned into yet another battlefield

Intel was wrong and everyone walked into a trap that lead them all to scatter for cover

Intel was wrong and everyone walked into a trap that lead them all to scatter for cover

Intel was wrong and everyone walked into a trap that lead them all to scatter for cover

Intel was wrong and everyone walked into a trap that lead them all to scatter for cover

Intel was wrong and everyone walked into a trap that lead them all to scatter for cover

Intel was wrong and everyone walked into a trap that lead them all to scatter for cover

Intel was wrong and everyone walked into a trap that lead them all to scatter for cover

Intel was wrong and everyone walked into a trap that lead them all to scatter for cover

Intel was wrong and everyone walked into a trap that lead them all to scatter for cover

Like the others you ran, your smaller form being able to be somewhat ignored by the enemies as dust clouded the air

Sadly though even with this you got shot in the scuffle and now had to deal with the pain that rumbled through you

Adrenaline was kicking in now but you still took the time to try and deal with you wound as best you could with limited resources

Seems like Ghosts’s gorilla warfare class actually came to good use unlike algebra like your teaches insisted

Hushed cursed words fall from your mouth as you climb the stairs of an old decrepit home, carefully placing each step in case of any trip wires

“Kid you alright?!” Seems like your com wasn’t broken, that’s good but what isn’t is the amount of worrying that was gonna make Price’s hair go grey. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” You try to hid the smile hidden in your voice as you role your eyes. You hear a sigh of relief on the other end, you continue through the empty home before getting to the top floor that contained some extra ammo that you nabbed.

“Where are you?”

“Old house. Looks like something from a horror movie?, Texas chainsaw vibes honestly. Wonder if they’ll have the dead teenagers as well”

You get a array of different responses over the live that makes you giggle as you look out the broken window

Seems like they’ve made good work, most of who’s left are dropping like flies to the shared effort of everyone else

A once yellow and dusty ground painted a rouge red by a liquid your so familiar with now

Through a gust of wind you notice a form

You instantly recognize it’s not price, too small, not ghost, not as bulky, not Gaz, not as slim, and not soap, doesn’t have the swagger in his step

Oh and they aren’t wearing the same uniform

That was probably a better identifier but by now you had memorialized your teammates and it was easier to identify people by that alone

He had his back turned to the house, hiding behind a small rusted over car as he gazed out its windows with his gun raised

Oh hell no

You get closer to the window you spied out of, pulling out your knife as you placed a foot on the windowsill

You could just shot the guy, it would be quick and easy but you decided to bite the bullet today

You’d seen ghost do something similar once and had to admit it was pretty badass

Probably something someone would put into some “top ten badass military moments” list by watchmojo or something

He’s unfocused and not paying attention to his surroundings

He’s dead before he even realizes you jumped from the second story window

Knife plunging into him as you wrap yourself around him, legs squeezing his waist and one arm pulling his head back allowing his throat to be open season

Like a scythe reaping a crop, he’s left falling to the ground with the spoil of your reaping

A curtain of red spouting from his neck as it stained the ground and your blade

You get up with terracotta coloured dust sticking to your fingertips like cheeto dust with a mixture of blood

Your then meet with your slack jawed team mates all of whom glanced from his corpse to you, to his corpse and then to your bleeding arm

Shit

Safe to say they all have varying reactions and are all not very happy about you lying about being ok

Ghost is a mixture of annoyance, anger and some slight sliver of pride

He’s not happy about you lying about not being harmed in the events of the attack

For fucks sake it could’ve hit something vital and you could’ve died before they got there

It makes him realize how your reliance on yourself is both a blessing and curse that they need to find a balance on

But on the other hand….nice

Listen, he’s still bloody pissed and is giving you a good old British style verbal smack down but he has to admit he’s very proud at watching that takedown

Yours was slightly adjusted to suit you better but it worked like a charm

Makes the old man proud even if he’s still vibrating from anger

It kinda makes him worried at the same time though since it shows your being influenced by him

He’s afraid you’ll become like him, lose that annoyingly bright smile of yours that never failed to lift him from the trenches of his mind

He knows he can’t protect you from the hardships of this job, the crusted blood on you is a reminder of that

But, keyword is but, he will do everything in his power to protect the one last semblance of good in his life

After he simmers a bit he eventually ends up pulling you into his arms, hands slightly shaking

His grip is strong as he holds you, a hand gently maneuvering itself to cradle your head carefully. As if your made of glass. “Please don’t do that again” he sounds painfully fragile, a thin wooden house that can be destroyed by a simple breeze. “I can’t lose you kid. So please don’t do stupid shit like that again or become like me…aight Sharky?” it sounds less like a command and more like him pleading. You pull back slightly and nod, watching as hidden eyes that were surrounded by black voids became slightly wet. It smudges the black makeup around his eyes as you return the hug.

Price as you can expect is pissed and worried like ghost

Like he’s going full on disappointed dad mode as holds your hand in med bay as a nurse removes the bullet

Your grounded for the next 2 weeks

No amount of whining will be able to guilt nor change his mind. Don’t test him cause he may extend it if you try to weasel your way out of this

He frequently checks up on your wound making sure it’s healing correctly

Him along with Laswell are the ones who help you change bandages and disinfect it from time to time

Doesn’t want to admit it but he Almost had a heart attack when he realized you were shot and still proceeded to jump out a 2 story building

100% pulls you into his office after you got your wound properly patched up and have you a serious talking to

It’s moreso about why you had lied to them about being fine when you were short

It’s then on like ghost he realizes this could become a reoccurring issue if he doesn’t do anything about it

He personally teaches you how to properly treat yourself with limited supplies

And also teaches you the importance of relying on your teammates

Plus how important it is to not ignore what can look like a simple bullet wound

He probably opens up a bit, telling you an experience he had when he was younger. How something similar happened to a friend of his who thought it was nothing but paid for it in the end

It sticks better than most of his angry comments since you can see genuine fear in his eyes

You nod, getting a sigh in return from him as he settles down in his cushioned leather chair

Cigar smoke lingers up in the air as Price taps it against his ashtray, you notice that there’s more ash than usual piled up in it. “Do you get why it’s important now?” His voice is stern as usual but you can see a hint of vulnerability in it, shining through the cracks of his built up walls. “Yes sir” at this be nods, a smile finally finding a place on his face as he adds “good. other than that you did good out there, great takedown. now your still in lockdown but you allowed to train with some limitations”. The praise makes you smile and has a surge of pride claw at you.

Soap is low key still kinda concerned but he’d be a hypocrite to say he hadn’t done the same before

Only difference is that he hasn’t gotten caught…often

He swears Ghost is like a fucking blood hound cause that’s the only reason why he’s been caught hiding a wound

On the way back to base he’s two seconds away from complimenting your takedown until he gets the side eye from both Price and Ghost which shits him up

Well shuts him up until he visits you that night

Kinda has to sneak to you room but once he gets there he’s full on pat on the back and taking nonstop

He suggests you teach him lol

Probably jokes at one point that ghost is jealous that you do it better and that why he’s all pissy

While he isn’t upset about what happened he still suggest not to be stupid (like him) and hide stuff like that often

He tries to convince Price to get body cams but he shuts that down sadly

No watchmojo top ten sadly nor one of those military propaganda TikTok’s

To make you possibly feel better about getting shot and getting a scar from it he tells you about all the scars he got

Going into detail with each and maybe making up a few fake stories to make them more interesting rather than “I feel down the stairs and then laid there face down for 15 minutes before their found me”

Though to be honest that would probably be funnier but he has his pride to keep intact

Pokes your wound which leads you to slap his hand

During your grounding he gets you some dvd’s and give you his Netflix password (despite the fact you already have Netflix)

You cancel your subscription and now mooch off of him

Your profile is named “parasite” due to this

Sends you a lot of TikTok’s that he thinks will lift your mood

Likes to spend his free time In Your room in your mountain of shark and ocean animals plushies

For once he lets you play with his hair

Your hands rank through Soaps hair as the sound of a random Netflix documentary plays in the background. He’s leaned back, head resting in your hands as you use hair clips and hair tied to mess with his hair. He lets out a small chuckle when you mumble that “i bet with this look you’d be the prettiest princess of them all”, it also receives an eye roll from him as he clutches one of your many shark plushies.

Gaz is kinda a mixture of soap and Price. Like that was rad as fuck but at the same time wtf are you doing walking around with a gunshot wound

Honestly the most neutral about it

Like he pats you on the shoulder for how impressive that was but he’s also telling you please not ignore wounds next time

Like Soap he visits you during your grounding and makes sure to tell you what happened

Probably tries to lessen the blow by being “nah nothing much had been happening on those missions your not missing much”

Give you free reign to go in his room and play on his Xbox while he’s gone

Might’ve even bought a few extra games to keep you busy

Also delivers snacks

He constantly checks to make sure your wound is ok despite the fact you told him Price and Laswell check up on it

Listen he’s just worried and can’t sleep easy after seeing a soldier a year back getting a nasty infection and dying

Doesn’t tell you about this though since he doesn’t want to worry you about it

He doodles on your skin in his free time with crayola wash markers

Their all fun little drawings of the team, their actually well down in a cute but simple kinda way

You might be tempted to actually get it tattooed

And might’ve done it impulsively so when he got back he’s confused as to why one of his drawings seemingly stuck

When he finds out though he slam it cries cause he finds it really heartfelt

Seems like this forced vacation wasn’t bad after all except for ghost bonking you in the head for getting something like that done without a second thought

Ghost admittedly does think it’s a cute tattoo and has a nice meaning but still, he urges you to tell at least him next time so he can take you to his tattoo artist

Gaz now colours in your tattoo with those same Crayola markers for fun with a giant smile

“Fuck I can’t believe you actually got this done” he says taking out a blue blueberry scented marker, the smell is strongly synthetic but it brings back a lot of memories. “Worth it though!, I now have your hat permanently on my body” he makes a face from that which makes you laugh, his brows crinkling up ever so slightly.

“Please don’t phrase it like that “

[zombiekilllers]

Roach x Medic! reader

Medic reader is hopeless about furthering her small relations with Roach, until one un mistakeable opportunity arises to grow closer with the quiet soldier.

Word count: 1200

gn!reader x roach !!

Persistent beeping of machinery in the infirmary encapsulated my ears entirely, as I focused on packing up the last of my medical supplies after a long grueling day on the job. 

Being a medic here was never easy work, horrible wounds and people in agony is a sight I had to see and treat on the daily. Sometimes, the turmoil all catches up to me.

 On rare quiet moments where I was the one of the only people left in the infirmary, and nothing but the sounds of beeping filled my ears was when reflection of the day made my psyche weak. 

As I put away the last tool at my station I found myself unable to get up from my small wheeled chair. My vision zoned out on the doorway and that damned beeping was almost deafening as I recalled all of the horrors I had seen just this day. The gruesome wounds, the cries of pain, the feeling of defeat when you know there is nothing left you can do to save a life, even when saving people is your primary job. 

A person entered the doorway, and the figure that was at first unrecognizable in my half unconscious state, became starkly clear as I came to my senses and looked up at the approaching soldier. 

Him. 

Roach. This alias was the only name I knew him by, but that was enough for me. His awfully quiet demeanor was of stark contrast to the rest of his task force he belonged to, the rest of the force following closely behind him while in conversation. 

They always pass through the medical bay on their way back to the barracks at the end of the day, a path in which I welcome with open arms. Even the passing sight of Roach was enough to lift my spirits slightly, though no words are being exchanged between us in this passage, hardly a fleeting moment of eye contact. 

My infatuation with him was a slow growing one, with his small silent acts of kindness towards me everytime I served him in my medical bay making my heart grow fond of him. Consistent muted demeanor was not only something I have never seen in the soldiers I treat, but also something that adds a level of mystery to my mystery man. 

I glanced up to meet eyes with Soap, who was now in front of the task force members and steadily making his way towards the barracks. 

“y/n”

He acknowledged me with a small smile and greeting nod as he passed, a greeting I met with my own affirming nod. 

Roach was now the last in the lineup of passers by, I knew that even the short lasting presence of his would make me forget about my current feeling of deprecation towards my job, and boost my emotions. 

His eyes, which could barely be seen from behind his goggles, met mine for a second, had a small crinkle to them and a certain gleam that would indicate that he was casting a smile in my direction, a gesture that I could feel make my cheeks heat up. 

Such a silly thing for me to feel, I thought to myself as I was once again in the medical bay all alone. Such feelings for a man I rarely see, a man who has not verbally returned the words I exchanged to him, a man whose presence was swallowed in secrecy. 

I pondered as I was returning to my own quarters what I could possibly do to increase my interaction levels with Roach. It would be a bit strange for one of the medics to begin trailing a sergeant without any established reason like a lost dog, and no other form of resolve came to mind. 

An empty bed was what I crawled into with the prospect of Roach still on my mind. I have always taken full acknowledgement to myself that he most likely barely registers me in his mind, but still; tiny glimmers of hope always serge through me everytime he gives me that familiar gleaming stare. 

I thought any attempts I would make towards getting closer to him could be futile. 

Last fleeting thought sin my half awake state consistent of incoherent hopes for some sort of opportunity to get closer to this silent masked man, 

One can only hope. 

                                                                   。      。    。

Four knocks in rapid succession upon my door was what woke me up the next groggy morning. 

Confusion filled my head immediately. People almost never need me or my skill set so desperately they feel they need to come to my quarters, especially so early in the morning. Cracking open the door, the familiar friendly face of Laswell meets me. 

“Oh! Morning Laswell,”

I say rubbing my eyes driving away the last feelings of sleep. Her face appears lenient, but with an underlying appearance of some form of worry, something I have never seen in Laswell before. 

 “Is there something wrong in the medbay?” 

I inquired, not knowing what else she could possibly need from me so desperately. 

“Y/n, your file states that you have had an extensive history as a sniper, and by the sounds of it you were a damn good one at that.” 

My eyes widen in curiosity at such an opening statement. What could have possibly provoked her to dig up my file, let alone read it? It was true my service used to include me being exclusively a recon sniper, but I did not see how such a skill would impact my work as a medic. 

I nod my head at her slowly, Not yet knowing her intentions behind this visit had me approaching with severe caution. 

“Well, call it late notice but we have a task force going on a mission where the skills of a sniper are needed. I asked around and discovered you used to have quite skill set for the job.” 

“What?”

I look at her with unmasked bafflement. Why would I of all people be the first selected for such a high rank sounding mission, as a medic? 

“Your extensive skills as a medic also play a contributing role, they could use one out on the field, you know.” 

I glanced down at the floor, trying to make sense of the situation. Should I even accept? The proposition sounded too daunting for me, especially considering I have not used a gun let alone picked up one for several months now. 

“Why me of all people?” 

I decided to ask. Be it blunt or not, the curiosity of these circumstances were eating away at me. 

Laswell paused in a moment of thought, before smiling in remembrance. 

“One of the members of this force recommended you in particular to be the member joining this mission. Would have never even known you used to be a sniper without them.”

I squint my eyes for her looking for an answer to who could have possibly recommended me into such a specific mission. The more compounding thought that came first was which task force was even being discussed. I tilt my head at her. 

‘Which task force?”

“141.”

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

This is my first attempt at writing a fanfiction ever! Was not pleased with the lack of Roach love.

Should I continue this??

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 10th: College | Loser Denial - Heyrocco | Determined a/n: steddie, college au, really just fluffy getting together. un-betaed because I’m challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to masterpost on ao3

They say that the most basic human need is to feel a sense of belonging, to feel welcomed. Eddie’s yet to find that acceptance at Ivy Tech Community College in Fort Wayne, about 25 miles southeast of his hometown. He’d hoped that getting away from Hawkins and joining a program for automotive technology would give him a good shot at meeting some like-minded people but so far, it’s been nothing short of a bust. 

Not only is he yet to touch a car because he’s had to focus on meaningless general education classes first, he’s made one friend. One single friend in the form of a lab partner, and he’s not actually sure if they’re even friends so much as they are two people forced into talking on a regular basis. But Eddie counts it, because it’s all he’s got for now. 

Without his high school reputation and the safety of a familiar environment, college is an ominous beast with sharp teeth. Each day feels like stepping into a pasture with no shepherd, but he’s determined not to fail. Three attempts at graduating high school is enough failure for a lifetime. So yes, he counts his lab partner. 

Besides, if they aren’t really friends yet, Eddie would like to be. Steve’s a good dude— not quite his normal type in company, sure, but he’s studying to become a nurse, he’s smart in a quick-witted non-traditional sort of way, and Eddie can’t imagine anyone being on the receiving end of that smile and not going a little wobbly in the knees. 

Alright, so maybe Eddie wants a little more than friendship but he’s only greedy when the end goal seems possible. And determined as Eddie may be, he can’t imagine that he’s Steve type. Some days are harder than others though, like the days when they’re crammed next to each other in the library at tiny tables, or the days when they hang back in the lab to work through their latest experiment. 

Today though? Today is downright painful. 

Today, he’s in Steve’s fucking apartment. Steve’s tiny, off-campus apartment that he shares with someone named Robin who Eddie can only assume is his girlfriend. There are pictures of the two of them all over the place, distracting Eddie from the lab report they’re supposed to be working on. Words jump off the page in front of him as he sits cross legged on the floor with his back against the couch Steve’s sitting on. It doesn’t help that Steve’s sitting so close, his foot occasionally grazing Eddie’s side, his thigh close enough for Eddie to rest his head against. 

Twice now, Steve’s leaned down over Eddie’s shoulders to get a closer look at the data chart, turning to face him close enough that their noses nearly touch. Eddie’s just about stopped breathing both times because his hair tickles Eddie’s ear and he smells so good. 

Molecular weight. Boiling point. Propanol. 

He tries his damndest to focus on his section, opting to take on the procedures and data analysis while Steve works on the lengthy conclusion section, but he just— 

He can’t. Maybe he can’t be friends with Steve after all. Not when he’s sitting in his apartment, surrounded by happy pictures of Steve with his girlfriend, feeling his disappointment grow stronger and stronger. Through his haze, he barely recognizes Steve asking him a question. 

“Hello? Eddie? Earth to Eddie Munson?” Steve nudges him gently in the shoulder with his knee. “We have to rank the order that the pure substances traveled through the column from fastest to slowest, and you’ve got the data.” 

Eddie shakes his head, trying his best to hide his disappointment that Steve can’t be a friend because of his own stupid crush and that Steve can’t be more because well, he’s clearly spoken for and why wouldn’t he be? Who wouldn’t just fall ass over ankles for Steve? 

Apparently, he already has. 

“Uh, hey man, you good? Seriously, you’re kinda freaking me out.” Steve drops his papers on the coffee table and slides off the couch to kneel in front of Eddie. He reaches out and gently tips his chin up, probably checking for some kind of medical issue. 

Stupid nursing program, Eddie thinks. But he just looks up, lets himself be guided by Steve soft, practiced hand and makes eye contact. Hazel, he thinks. I’ve never been close enough to notice that. 

But he still hasn’t spoken and can see that Steve is truly starting to panic so he swallows and finds his tongue again. 

“I’m fine, I’m good, promise. Just uh, just lost in thought. That’s a thing that I do a lot, you’ve seen my notebooks,” he tries to laugh it off but Steve doesn’t drop his hand. He simply slides it to the side, resting carefully on Eddie’s cheek. Eddie’s sure that Steve can feel it growing warmer beneath his touch. 

“What about?” Steve asks, inquisitive. Eddie must be going insane because he swears he sees Steve’s eyes flicker between his gaze and his lips. 

Eddie smiles, mostly fake but there’s something about Steve’s touch that does give him a reason to. 

“Didn’t know you had a girlfriend, that’s all. Got a little lost looking at all the pictures, she seems awesome.”

Not that he’s thought too deeply about how Steve would react, but hysterical laughter wouldn’t have been one of them if he had. But that’s what he sees: Steve falling to the side, his face turning red, his hand slipping from Eddie’s cheek to his chest, and his elbow leaning on the coffee table as his entire body shakes with laughter. 

What the fuck is going on here? Eddie wonders.

“That’s—” Steve tries to speak but takes several tries to get audible words out. “God, she knew that was gonna happen, I owe Robin $20.” 

Eddie sits, stuck in place, his eyes wide and brows knitted tightly above his nose. “Robin? What was gonna happen? $20?” 

“Oh my God, Eddie, I’m— no. Robin is the girl in these pictures, and she’s my best friend. She bet me $20 that the pictures were gonna throw you off and I thought I’d been obvious enough by now that you wouldn’t go down that route. But no, we’re definitely not dating. I’m uh, I’m not exactly her type.” Steve grins and slowly sits back upright, this time cross-legged to mirror Eddie’s position, their knees touching this time. 

“How the fuck could you not be someone’s type?” Eddie lets slip, his mouth moving faster than his brain. No surprise there. 

Before he can take it back, Steve just quirks one eyebrow up. “Well, unless I wake tomorrow a woman… not gonna happen. Did you miss that picture?” 

Eddie follows Steve’s finger that’s pointing to the largest picture hung on the wall, one of them at a Pride event. Robin sits on Steve’s shoulders, wearing a flag of varying shades of reds, oranges, and purples like a cape around her neck. Steve’s smiling from ear to ear, otherwise dressed as he does every day save for the pink, purple, and blue stripes painted on his cheek. 

It’s the largest picture in the room, and somehow, Eddie’s missed it completely.

“So yeah, not really her type. Is that why you’ve been so quiet? And completely ignoring all of my attempts to make a move?” 

“A move? On what?” Eddie asks, incredulous. 

Steve shrugs and leans forward, resting his palms on Eddie’s knees. “You, dumbass. Why else would we study here instead of the library?” 

“Gonna level with you here, I didn’t even think about it. I figured you were just tired of me almost getting us kicked out for being too loud or something! That was not obvious, Steve.” Eddie’s heart pounds in his chest, hope clawing its way through a graveyard of isolation. 

Steve just huffs a small laugh through his nose and bites his lower lip. “Let me be clearer, then. I like you. And maybe we can see if we’ve got as much chemistry as propanol and… whatever the fuck else was on that list, I don’t remember.” 

It’s Eddie’s turn to laugh, wild and free as he throws his head back against the couch. When he looks back at Steve, his laughter lulls to a soft smile. “Jesus Christ, that was so bad and I can’t believe it’s about to work on me.” 

“Yeah?” Steve grins, leaning closer, almost closing the distance. 

Eddie nods, breathless. “Yeah.”

Terrible chemistry puns and pick up lines aside, kissing Steve does feel like a chemical reaction, one that deserves its own lab report. 

His lips are soft, a little chapped to match Eddie’s, but he moves with intention and care, two things Eddie isn’t familiar with. He’s kissed before but not like this, not like his partner is trying to pour affection into him with every movement. Over time, he’ll grow to learn that that’s just how Steve is, all-in on everything he finds worth his time and energy. 

Their lab report goes forgotten in favor of learning more about one another until Robin comes home hours later, thankfully after they’ve washed up and settled in on the couch in a much less precarious position. 

“Aw, man,” she bemoans, dropping her bag next to the door with a loud thud. “I really thought the pictures were gonna cockblock you.” 

Eddie elbows Steve in the side. “Pay up, Stevie. Be a man of your word. I don’t date men with poor integrity.” 

“You two are gonna be the worse fucking tag team, goddamn it,” he mutters under his breath as he lifts his hips up to fish around for his wallet, tossing a $20 on the coffee table. “I don’t think it should count because it was fine once I explained!” 

Robin grins, walking over to the couch and grabbing the bill off the table before making herself comfortable in the free corner next to Eddie. 

“Eddie, I’ve heard a lot about you and I think we’re gonna be really good friends.” 

He finds himself sandwiched between Steve and Robin for the rest of the night, comfortable and welcomed, as though he’s belonged there the whole time. The evening doesn’t end with Eddie making a friend out of Steve, but how can he complain when he finds so much more?

[distort-opia]

Bruce is emotionally a masochist and sexually a sadist comfirmed 🤑😨😱????? Or both, hes batman he can do anything (except therapy)

Lol. You could put it that way, though I think it's a lot more complicated, and at the end of the day, ambiguous. There's multiple ways to interpret this side of Bruce, but while I agree that sadism is easy to see in his actions, masochism is more complicated. Thing is, if Bruce liked pain (emotional or otherwise)... he would probably avoid it.

To Bruce it isn't about what makes him happy, or feel good. The things he puts himself through, the pain he seeks out, are a form of self-punishment (a major function of being Batman in and of itself). The reasons are easily apparent: survivor's guilt, being helpless and unable to save his parents from being killed, thinking of himself as never enough and his body as an instrument only. As Batman, Bruce doesn't even register pain as a limitation or an obstacle, so a lot of the time it isn't that he looks for it... it's just that he doesn't care if it hurts, as long as he achieves his goals. After all, why would it matter that he's hurting, when he doesn't matter as much as the Mission? His Vow, saving others and forever compensating for a loss he couldn't stop, is more important than his own wellbeing and comfort, both on a physical and emotional level.

Put simply, pain is something he feels he deserves for failing. And in so many ways, pain is what fuels Batman; to quote King, he's an "engine that turns pain into hope". But the issue is that, to maintain the status quo, he cannot be anything else, and the engine needs feeding. It needs fresh pain, which is what Bruce keeps providing.

However, it's really hard to draw the line. If you do something like this for so long, if you make doling out pain and suffering pain an integral part of your life and identity, if it's so familiar it becomes a comfort... is that enjoyment? Is that emotional masochism? I just remembered I had a similar discussion before (link here), with some people making very valid and interesting points-- both about Bruce being masochistic, and not. And recently, @psalmsofpsychosis posted a fascinating meta and then web weave about Bruce's relationship to pain (and Joker, who tortures him the most) that got me thinking and rethinking these aspects again (link here). She pointed out that emotionally, Bruce might equate love to pain because the moment he felt the most love was also the moment he was destroyed by grief; when he lost his parents, the people he loved most. God, do check out the post because it does drive me crazy. "Whenever he experiences pain he feels capable of love." @psalmsofpsychosis I'm outside your house, come out, I just wanna talk--

[queuestarter]

diluted

(johanna mason x reader)

cw: panic attacks, crying, mentions of torture

link to the request → reader helping johanna overcome her fear of water

You eye Johanna critically from across the room. It’s been weeks since she’s been rescued from the Capitol and she’s been completely ignoring you since then. Every time you ask her if she’s okay or if you can do anything for her, she brushes you off.

You understand that she’s been through a lot, but as her girlfriend, her indifference upset you. In an effort to keep yourself busy, you spend most of your time with Beetee in the weapons room, helping to design defensive strategies. Ever since you banned Gale from helping, things have been better on that front.

“Stop looking at me like I’m going to collapse at any moment.” Johanna calls out to you. She’s playing with the sheets on her bed, not even looking in your direction.

You sigh. “I just want you to be okay, Jo. I worry about you.”

She sneers down at her sheets. “Worry about me when Snow’s dead.”

So you do. After Katniss kills President Coin, Snow dies, and the underground community of District 13 falls apart, you move to District 7 and begin to worry about Johanna like it’s a full time job.

It starts with weaning her off of her morphling supply. You two live in the middle of the woods, so there’s no easy access to the drug, nor do you want Johanna using it to cope anymore. It takes her weeks to get back to her healthy self, which brings you great relief.

The other issue that you quickly learn about is Johanna’s newfound fear of water. You quickly piece together that when she was held captive by the Capitol, they used water as a form of torture for her. She doesn’t like talking about it, but you can see the truth in the way her face scrunches up in fear whenever she’s confronted with water. 

It breaks your heart.

You decide to take matters into your own hands once again. You helped her with her morphling withdrawals, you think, how much harder can it be to help her overcome her fear of water?

“Come on, Jo,” you plead with her. “I want to go down to the lake.”

You don’t really want to go to the lake- swimming in freshwater scares you a little bit- but you figure this is a good step one.

Johanna eyes you with a look of disdain on her face. “I don’t want to go. I’m sure there’s a hundred other people in District 7 that would love to join you.”

You grab her hand and kiss her palm. “But there’s no one else in this district that I love like I love you.” You know as soon as you say the words that you’ve sufficiently sweet talked her.

Johanna likes to pretend that she’s tough, but she’s really a giant softy.

Once you actually make it down to the lake, three hours later, Johanna grips your hand with all of her strength, it seems. You take it in stride, though, and hold on just as tight.

“It looks beautiful,” you comment, staring at the water. “Reminds me of you.”

It really does. The way the trees cast a shade upon the surface perfectly complements the highlights from the sun. Just like Johanna, there’s darkness and light.

Johanna rolls her eyes and sets your belongings down on the grass. “Go on, have your fun. I’ll be over here.”

You pout. “Oh. I wanted you to join me.”

The pained look that you’re now so familiar with makes its return. “You know that I don’t want to.”

You instantly melt, wrapping your arms around her. She clings back to you just as tight. “You don’t have to, my love. I just want you to be able to let go of what they did to you. I want you to reclaim it.”

Johanna pulls back and looks into your eyes. “Yeah. You’re right.” And with renewed vigor, Johanna grabs your hand and pulls you to the lake, kicking off her shoes along the way. When she gets to the water’s edge, she stops suddenly.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You ask, letting your own toes dip into the water.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” she says in a soft tone. “I don’t think I can reclaim it.”

You frown, standing in front of her. “Jo, if you don’t want to go in you absolutely don’t have to. It was just a stupid idea.”

Now it’s her turn to frown. “It’s not stupid, you were just trying to help me.” With that, she dips her toes in the lake.

Your jaw drops. You were not expecting her to go in the water that easily. “Baby, you did it!” 

Johanna closes her eyes. “Can we eat lunch now?”

You grin. “Of course.”

After that day, you don’t force her to deal with water so boldly for another few weeks. The next time you bring up the exposure therapy is during a rainstorm that has your girlfriend curled up on the couch holding her ears.

“How about,” you say, rubbing her back. “After this has all cleared up, we do something fun.”

“Like what?” Her voice is muffled by a pillow.

“We can jump in the puddles outside.”

Johanna tenses, more than she already was. “And how is that supposed to be fun?”

You lean down and kiss her nose. “I always used to do that when I was a kid. I liked it. And I feel like it’ll help with what we’ve been working on. You’re scared of this rain, but we’ll have fun playing in the puddles it provides afterwards.”

Johanna looks at you, trust in her eyes. “Okay.”

So that’s what you do.

After the rain ends, it barely takes any coaxing to get Johanna out of the house and bounding into puddles. Once she sees you do it, giggles leaving your lips with each jump, she joins in.

“This isn’t so bad,” she admits, wiping some mud that splashed up on her off of her arms. “It’s kind of nice.”

You nod, grabbing both of her hands. “It is what you make it, baby.”

That’s what you repeat to her when it’s time to get in the shower upon your return home. “It is what you make it, baby. You need to clean off.”

Johanna shakes her head. “I can’t. This is too much.” It breaks your heart to see tears flowing freely from her eyes.

“I’ll be there with you the entire time. Holding you, kissing you. This is just going to be another good memory,” you try to convince her.

Without wasting another moment, you strip out of your filthy clothes and throw them in the hamper. You then turn on the shower, heart panging at the sound of another one of Johanna’s sobs.

You turn back to your girlfriend, helping her strip as well. You pepper kisses all over her cheeks and lips, hands running over her back. “Let’s wash off, baby. It’ll be quick.”

You step into the shower, just standing under the stream. You think that maybe if she sees that you’re okay under the flow of water, she will be too.

That hope doesn’t last long- Johanna just stands and watches you with tears in her eyes, hands twisting together.

“Come on,” you plead. “You can’t stay covered in mud forever. And I’m lonely in here. I need you with me, always.”

That seems to do it. Johanna takes a step forward, then another, and then eventually she collapses in your arms, sobs wracking her body.

“That’s my girl,” you say, petting her hair. “I’ve never been so proud of you in my life.” You continue to repeat positive affirmations to her, holding her close to you.

After a few minutes, Johanna is calm enough to agree to you washing her body. You take your time, scrubbing her from top to bottom. She even jokes around with you towards the end while you quickly wash yourself off.

Hours later, wrapped up in your matching robes on your bed, she thanks you. “I never would have done that without you. Thank you, baby.” It’s so uncharacteristic for her to say, even more so when she tucks her head in your neck.

You love that she feels safe enough with you to be soft.

“There’s no need to thank me. I just want you to be the happiest you can be. This is the start of the rest of our life, baby. I don’t want the past to hold us back.”

She nods, kissing your collarbone. A few moments later, she’s asleep. 

You fall asleep shortly after her, a smile on your face.

-

[mothwingwritings]

There’s Honey On The Moon Tonight

F!Reader X Kaoru Hanayama

Maaaaan it’s been so long and I am SO sorry. I kinda got out of my groove for a bit and life got overwhelming and draining, hence the radio silence. I wanted to come back with a little fic to get me back into the swing of things and since I have wanted to write for Hanayama for some time, this came about. It was based around a yandere prompt I saw that was “I love you so much, you have no idea what limits I would go to prove that to you.” I actually started writing this for Jack, had all kinds of issues, and decided to write it for Hanayama instead lol. I may still possibly post the little Jack fic I plucked at, but I am overall pretty meh about it so we’ll see. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I really want to work on writing some shorter stuff for a while. I am so in awe of all of you that can churn out these small masterpieces. My ass does NOT know when to shut up and when I start to write my brain is like no… You must explain EVERYTHING, which (whether my mind believes it or not) is not something that needs to be done. ( ͜。 ͡ʖ ͜。) So going through a lot of trying to unlearn that.

ANYWAY I will be quiet and leave this hear for your perusal. It is my gift for coming home (finally) and working to get back up to speed! Thank you all for reading anything I write, and thank you if you like it! I am constantly floored by how wonderful you all are, and I appreciate anyone that reads my stuff more than you all know. (╥﹏╥)

This fic is set a few years in the future, you and Hanayama are both adults and at this point he is even more of a Yakuza big shot. You play the starring role of his forced little mob princess wife, isn’t that sweet? I love romance! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

WARNINGS: Yandere, very dubcon (dare I say even noncon?), power imbalances, grooming, unwanted touching/kissing/heavy petting, forced marriage, mentions of violence and hints of cruelty, mentions of sex.

Some people may call this ‘the dream life’.

Sitting on this private beach, you soaked in the last of the sun’s rays before it dipped beyond your view. The world was bathed in a swirl of pinks and oranges as the sun sunk into the sea, the gentle lap of the waves coming so close the water nearly touched your toes. The sand beneath your feet was soft, still warmed by the quickly setting sun. Gulls cooed as they circled above you, the flap of their wings diminishing as they began to fly off for the night. You were envious of them as you watched them soar freely, pained by how easily they could fly away to their home.

If only you could be so lucky.

Drops of salt water dotted your arms, mingling with what was left of your sunscreen. Though you had long since applied it, the remnants of the lotion and sea water left a slightly uncomfortable film on your skin, flaking under your nails when you scratched at it. A gust of wind blew, sending a chill through you. Absentmindedly you wondered if despite your preparations, you had been burned.

“Do you plan to stay out here all night?”

Your breath caught in your throat, an all too familiar voice shattering the tranquility of the evening. You had been so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the lumbering form coming up behind you, his arrival marking the end of your solitude.

Another gust of wind blew causing you to shudder once more. As it whipped wildly around you, your body grew colder. It was an unwelcome feeling, especially when just moments ago you were surrounded by such blissful warmth.

If only you could have just a few more minutes to yourself…

It had been a peaceful day, the nicest one you had had on this little honeymoon of yours. Kaoru Hanayama, your newly appointed husband, had been occupied most of the day, leaving you to your own devices.  The peace that awarded was something you sorely needed, seeing as none of this was anything you had ever agreed to willingly.

But now that he had returned all the contentment you had felt moments prior had been drained away, the joy of this island paradise tainted by his unwanted presence.

The night Kaoru proposed he had told you that he could not imagine living a life without you by his side, that his love for you had grown so rampantly that he could no longer bear the thought of not having you officially. He had long since coerced you into being his lover, leaving marriage the logical next step. Brandishing a ring so extravagant it bordered on gaudy, Kaoru got down on one knee. The upper echelon of the Hanayama group surrounded you in a constricting, tight circle, each set of eyes on you fixated on the scene with great interest… Thinking back on it, you had no idea how you didn’t pass out from sheer anxiety.

At that point, you were doomed to become his blushing, beautiful bride.

To you, Kaoru was husband in name only. This marriage would be just another trial that had been forced upon you since meeting the man, his ceaseless infatuation continually ripping your life asunder.  Needless to say, when he was off doing some important ‘family’ related things that ate up the majority of the day you didn’t have many complaints about his absence.

When he had departed this morning you did your best to look forlorn as he kissed you goodbye, shoulders slightly slumped as he ducked through the door, off to do god knows what to god knows who. Even as his now wife, you were never made privy to his ‘business’ dealings. So much of his life was shrouded in mystery, and you were just fine keeping it unknown.

You preferred when Kaoru was bogged down by work. If he was otherwise preoccupied that meant you had no expectation to be latched to his side, forced to play the role of obedient, doting wife. You abhorred the part you played in his life almost as much as you detested the man himself. It took years of whittling you down, making you shed piece after piece of yourself until you were everything he envisioned you would be, his perfect partner. He had molded you into his ideal love, and even though you knew you were sinking to a depth you were unsure you could ever escape, there was nothing you could do to stop it. It was hard going against a man who had the whole Yakuza at his fingertips, and the threat someone of Hanayama’s caliber posed against your family and friends was too high to risk insubordination.

So you acquiesced to his heavy handed flirting, playing along with his awkward and curt stabs at romance. You dropped everything for Hanayama, not because you wanted to, but because he expected it. And if there was one thing you gleaned about the mob life these past few years, it was what the boss wanted, the boss got.

He needed you in every way he could have you. You never had the option of saying no.

A heavy sigh came from behind you, annoyance radiating from your husband when you didn’t acknowledge him. Despite the irritation, the words he spoke came surprisingly gentle. “It’s time to come inside, (name). Dinner has arrived, it will be ready for us shortly.”

You wrapped your towel tightly around your shoulders, and with a deep shuddering breath, rose to your feet.

~

Silence hung heavy over the dinner table.

The meal Hanayama had served was nothing short of gourmet. ‘Only the finest for the finest’ was something he once joked to you, but he held firm to that ideal with every aspect of your life. The Oyabun’s wife was spared no expense, why would your meals be any different?  A caterer must have come with him to set the table up when Kaoru first arrived home, as it was set in a way that was far too charming for just him to pull off. Flowers and delicate candles garnished the surface, giving the whole room a romantic feel. Condiments and spices stood within arm’s reach, concealed in aesthetically pleasing containers, ready to season the cuisine as you saw fit.

Sighing lightly, you raised your glass for another sip of champagne. Even with the pretty presentation, you lacked the appetite to enjoy the meal. Picking at it lazily, you swirled the food around to make it appear as though you had eaten more than you had, like a child desperate to meet their parent’s approval so they could leave the table.

“Aren’t you hungry,” Kaoru’s deep voice finally interjected, his own feasting halted to shoot you a questioning glance. “You’ve barely touched your dinner. I thought you liked this restaurant? I chose to cater from them to please you.”

“Sorry,” You gave him a forced smile, “The food is delicious, but I think I may have snacked too much today, so I don’t have much of an appetite right now.”

You always had to choose your words carefully with Kaoru, his doting had a tendency to become overbearing if he believed you to be suffering from any ills. The last thing you needed was him fretting over you missing a dinner.  “I’ll have to box it up soon, that way I’ll have something to look forward to tomorrow.”

He grunted in response and an uneasy quiet once more loomed over the table. Hanayama did not seem totally appeased by your excuse, and refrained from placing his focus back on his meal. Dark, steely eyes bore holes into you as you sat hunched over, fixing your focus on anything but him.

“(Name)...”

He waited a moment before continuing, a look of brief tension flashing across his features.

“I know you are upset with me for leaving you alone all day, but you must know that I am sorry… Will you forgive me?”

To most people, this would be a shocking sight. It was highly unusual for a man like Kaoru Hanayama to be asking forgiveness so modestly, in fact, you were more apt to be groveling at his feet begging mercy than ever hearing the man beg pardon.

But things were different with you, they always had been. Try as he might to harden the soft spot he had for you, he never could seem to bring himself to give you the same detached treatment he gave others. And while his love for you was something he quite proudly displayed, he also refused to let his affections make either of you a target.

Being the Oyabun’s cherished wife put you in danger, his devotion to you making your demise extremely appealing to his enemies. The knowledge that your death would be a huge blow to the indomitable Hanayama was not lost on any who opposed him, but the problem laid in ever getting close to you. He certainly made it hard for anyone trying, finding a moment when you weren’t glued to his side was rare, finding you completely alone even more so.

However catching you by your lonesome was not entirely impossible, and leaving you vulnerable and ripe for assaulting was not something Kaoru could live with.

To combat this threat, he chose to lock you away so that no one could hurt you, touch you, see you, or ever be near enough to harm you. You were his and his alone, and he would let no other soul take you from him.

Ever since you had become ‘official’, the only people besides Hanayama ever allowed to have any correspondence with you were his closest inner circle and occasionally your family. But even then, Kaoru made sure he was always close by to monitor, hovering near to insure nothing untoward or upsetting could happen to you.

In your mind, the isolation hardly seemed necessary. No one ever questioned Hanayama’s might-one look at the man was all you needed to ascertain that he was a terrifyingly powerful figure. When you were in his vicinity your safety became his only care, any risk to that transforming him into a downright beast, bloodthirsty and rage filled beyond compare. Any unfortunate idiot wandering your way who held even a smidge of bad intent was in for a world of excruciating pain, followed by a slow and agonizing death.

But alone, in your own shared space away from prying eyes and hidden dangers, traces of that monster were nowhere to be found. When it’s just the two of you, Kaoru lets himself be overcome with his fondness for you, serenity overtaking his brute side. This display of vulnerability, these small moments of sickening intimacy, he saves solely for you, blanketing them upon you in suffocating layers until you can scarcely breathe.

“It was wrong of me to do,” He reached across the table, his thick hand encompassing yours in a tight grip. “A matter required my utmost attention, but it was not fair to leave my wife at any point during our honeymoon. This time is reserved for you and me alone, and I went against that. I just want you to know that I only left because I had to, and that I hurried back the moment I was able. I hope you can forgive me.”

If you could have done so consequence free, you would have burst out laughing. Of all the wrongs Hanayama had committed against you, giving you breathing room was the most minor of offences.

“It’s alright Kaoru,” you shook your head, keeping your voice even “I understand, and I’m not upset at you. I spent most of my day out enjoying the ocean while you had to get work done, so really I’m the one who should feel sorry for you in this situation, right?”

He smiled at your jest, a sparkle in his eyes as they drank you in.

“You are always my top priority,” Releasing your hand, he went to cup your cheek, engulfing the entirety of it. His calloused thumb pressed in a bit too hard as he stroked you, scratching at the soft skin of your cheeks apple. His hold was deeply uncomfortable, but you dared not move. “Don’t forget that, (name). Never question how much I treasure you.”

A chill ran through you at the intensity of his words, the rough feel of his palm reminding you of each violation his hands had ever committed against you. You watched as his eyes darted to your lips, a different kind of hunger overtaking his expression as he began to lean towards you, eager for a kiss. In a slight panic, you readjusted yourself, creating a moment to break away.  

“W-well, I really need to get this boxed up,” you spoke, pushing off the table until you were standing. Hanayama’s hand lingered in the air for a brief moment, still savoring the memory of holding you. An aggravated look flashed through his eyes, but was gone as quick as it came. “I don’t want to keep it out too long or else it will go bad. I’ll go grab a box.”

If there was going to be a time to escape him for the evening, this was it. You sprang into action, darting around the table as you made your way to the kitchen. The faster you could box up this meal, the faster you could excuse yourself and leave the room while Hanayama took his time finishing. Though it only would buy you a few minutes of privacy in the long run, any time to yourself was worth the effort.

But just before you could completely round the table, a tight grip around your waist snatched you from your course. In an instant you were tugged to the side, plucked up and planted until you were straddling one of your husband’s girthy legs.

Before your brain could even fully register what had happened, he was on you. Desirous, sloppy kisses littered your face as a salacious grin spread across his lips, a low growl rumbling from his chest with each smack of his lips. Your head was spinning at the speed it all occurred, a protesting whine all you could muster as his lips feverishly claimed yours.

Sweat mingled with the scent of his cologne, the heady scent a sign that his actions were quickly and effectively getting him riled up. Overcome with the essence of him, you could do little to fight his intrusion of your personal space, your balled fists pressing against his chest doing all they could to try and create distance. His tongue worked violently, the muscle forcing itself inside you until you were nearly choking on it. Your whole body was thrumming with discontent over how quickly Hanayama came to control your every sensation, his sheer mass totally overpowering all that you were.

The feverish grip he had on your hips kept you rooted, grasping you as if you were his lifeline. Bruises were already starting to form around the press of his fingers, your flesh searing in his hot hold. His hands began to forcibly gyrate your body, rocking you against his leg so that the short skirt you donned had ridden up completely, the sheer fabric of your panties the only thing keeping you from the raw friction of his leg. Your breath hitched as he jostled you against him, small pulses of unwanted pleasure resulting from the action.

His lips parted from yours, moving to latch on your neck. A dull ache emanated from the area he sucked, the bruises he had marked you with days prior not yet completely healed. Without warning, he bit into the tender flesh, causing you to jolt. A dark chuckle rumbled from within him at your response, his tongue laving up the small trail of blood the fresh wound had inflicted.

“My pretty wife,” he murmured in your ear, brushing the straps of your top off your shoulders, “Being apart from you made this day seem never ending. I longed for the moment I could come back and have you all to myself.”

He grabbed one of your hands off his chest, trailing it down his body until coming to a rest on the growing bulge of his crotch. He released a shuddering breath as he thrust against your unwilling palm, his hand guiding yours to trail his length through his tightening pants. Dread gripped you as he began to harden under your touch, his already impressive size growing with each hesitant stroke. Feeling him throb beneath you made your stomach turn, a horrible precursor to the pain you were about to endure.

“Feel what you do to me?” He rasped in your ear, hot breath fanning your neck, “This is all for you.”

“Please Kaoru, I-” Your meek voice began to object, but was cut off by another domineering kiss.

“You don’t have to beg me,” his voice was growing more ragged, breathing becoming choppier the harder he grinded your body against his, “Let me spoil you tonight, it’s the least my beautiful wife deserves for being such a good, patient girl for me.”

Unable to stand the torment of your touches any longer, he stood, throwing you over his shoulder in a display you could almost call barbaric. Making his way towards the bedroom, he smacked your ass harshly, eliciting a pleased hum at the pained gasp the act had garnered.

“I was going to offer dessert after our meal, but you have presented something much sweeter to me,” he chuckled as he entered the bedroom, tossing you to the awaiting bed, “And what you offer is something I would much rather devour.”

Tears stung your eyes as you watched Kaoru begin to shed his clothing, his scarred body coming more into view with each piece of fabric he cast aside.

“Get undressed,” he ordered, lust dripping from his features. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, before shooting you a cocky grin, “I can wait no longer. I love you so much, and you have no idea the limit’s I’ll go through to prove that to you.”

He took a step forward, inching his way up the bed, “But tonight, I don’t intend to stop until you understand.”

[gay4abby]

A Significant Crack in Time !!

or in which jordan has an important decision to make & fears of making the wrong choice.

warnings, fluff, angst, possible character death, au, slowish burn for Jordan n reader. pairings, Jordan Li x reaper!nameless oc x Marie Moreau. gif creds to ayoedebiris. idk how long this is, plus idk where this was going didn’t know how to end it, im not proud of it either but !

Jordan couldn’t imagine being in this current predicament. It was hazy, the memory they’re trying to remember, but there all the same. It was like trying to recall a word that’s at the tip of your tongue. A dull pain flashes through their skull, rendering them to keep in the same position they’re in since they’ve gained consciousness. The surface they were laying on was just right, it didn’t make them feel too cold or too hot. A significant temperature that almost seemed impossible to attain. Their eyes were slowly opening, blinking every 5 seconds to adjust to sudden bleak haze that managed to obscure her vision. For a second they thought they’ve lost their sight with how many times they’ve had to blink just to focus their eyes.

They took in their surroundings wondering just where they are and why it was so damn foggy. “What the fuck?” they whispered. Quickly feeling uneasy, Jordan switched to their masculine form, extending their hands out in defence in case anything jumped out to attack. “Hello?” their soft yet hoarse voice rang out into the empty open space. It almost looked like…God U almost, except it’s vacant and dismal. Something out of silent hill almost. He let their guard down, defensive hands lowering with a steady pace. As if something might go wrong if he made any sudden movements. No reply was given as they began to relax, big brown eyes scanning the place. Slow steps were being taken as Jordan’s cautiousness simmered, but only for a bit.

“Fuck me, fuck where the hell am I.” he breathed out, seeing the fog of his breath as they walked further on to campus. It wasn’t cold, but still seeing that made it all the more suspicious. Jordan couldn’t decipher where they were, just that a nagging memory was chipping away at a cement wall that was threatening to crack. His doe eyes laid upon the café of the university that many of the students frequent to. But, it wasn’t as warm looking as the original, Jordan denounced. They once again seamlessly switched back to her feminine form, feeling no immediate threat. Like they were safe here.

Carefully, Jordan made their up towards the entrance, seeing a few figures lingering by inside. She was just as confused as she was when they first appeared in this place. They stayed outside, hand slightly hovering over the door handle that seemed to be frozen over. And yet, they still weren’t cold. As she peered inside, the people (if you can consider them that?) seemed as though they had no care in the world. Most were drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, others were devouring pastries that even made Jordan’s stomach turn. She couldn’t fathom digesting something so confectionery.

“You planning on going inside or are you just gonna stand there?” Jordan swore they jumped 20 feet into the air at the sudden voice behind them. It was a vehement sound, sending chills through Jordan as she quickly turned around and shifted to their male form. “Who the hell are you?” He spoke, taking in the strangers appearance. For a minute there was a moment of familiarity, but Jordan has never seen you in his entire life before. So why did they feel so familiar? “I don’t think that’s really important now. You going in or what?”

Jordan didn’t know whether to defend themselves or walk into the café like nothing’s wrong. When everything is wrong because he doesn’t know where the fuck he is! “Where the hell am I?” He spat at her which didn’t seem to affect them at all. The stranger looked serene, as if they weren’t in a universe that held absolutely no one besides the few who look lost inside the café. “Well, that’s for you to decide. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have customers to attend to.” Moving out of Jordan’s way, you made your way inside leaving them more befuddled than when they came in. He turned around and followed your movements as you disappeared behind the counter.

Harbouring the feeling that there’s no immediate threat, Jordan shifts back to their female form, bracing themselves before walking inside of the rather vacant establishment. Jordan looked around at everyone she saw and concluded on one thing, they all looked content where they currently were. Which confused her to no end, how come no one was talking about how off everything is? But that also most of the people here were other Supes who she hasn’t seen since sophomore year. Supes she thought left and never returned.

“Would you like to order something while you wait?” The same voice rang through the otherwise desolate café. Jordan turned around with a bewildered expression on their face. Wait for what? “What do you mean?” Your hands settled on the counter. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Well, yes! That tends to happen when you have no idea where you fucking are.”

You chuckled, turning around to grab a mug and begin brewing a concoction Jordan didn’t seem to keen on trying. It only took a few moments before she turned around again with a steaming cup of cappuccino. You pushed the cup towards Jordan, cocking your head to the side to show them where to sit. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” you summarised before turning your attention to someone standing behind Jordan. They turned around to see someone they never expected to lay eyes on again.

“Dusty?!”

“Hey, man. Long time no see.”

“Last time I saw you were burned to bits! How the fuck are you here?” Jordan followed his movements, moving to the side as he took ahold of the mug that was freshly brewed right after Jordan’s drink. How the fuck did you do that so fast? “Dude, I got sent here because I died. Seems like you’re in the same boat. Or close to it anyway.” He walked off, taking a seat near the window to look at god knows what considering there’s shit out there. Jordan looked back at the mug patiently waiting to be picked up and devoured. Then it hit them. “I’m fucking dead?” She whispered. “Yeah…you are.”

Jordan looked up, tears welling up in their eyes as they began to shake their head. “No, no, no, no. You’re lying. I didn’t fucking die. I’m alive. What the fuck. You’re fucking lying. Stop lying to me! Stop it! Stop fucking lying to me!” They yelled, immediately pushing forth energy blasts that would have knocked over the woman, but you were still standing, unmoving in her place behind the counter. Was that the memory that was trying to break through? Of them dying? How could they not know they were dead?

“Are you done?”

“What the fuck!”

“Take a seat, Jordan, drink this. And I’ll explain everything.” You said calmly. The way you spoke to them made the twisting and turning in their chest settle just a bit. How the fuck did she do that? Jordan picked up the cup, eyeing it with uncertainty. She took a deep breath, bringing the cup to her pink lips; one sip was all it took before they downed the entire thing. Jordan slammed the cup on the counter, sending the woman a scowl before making their way to the seat on the other side of the café next to the window.

You followed, sighing quietly. You always got people like this pass through, not ever knowing what happened to them or why they’re even there in the first place. It’s not unusual to see someone have a mental breakdown about finding out they’re in fucking limbo. “Tell me what the fuck is going on.” Jordan was angry and you can tell from the firmness of their voice to the furrowed eyebrows wrinkling up their delicate forehead. “Are you calm?”

“Listen–”

“I will not explain anything unless you calm down.” Jordan took a deep breath before slouching back into the booth seat. “Thank you. Now, it’s a good thing you know someone here or else this probably would’ve went a completely different way.” You laughed, quickly coming to a halt at the sight of their face. “Right, so. You’re Jordan Li. Indestructible. Invincible. And yet, here you are in limbo.”

“LIMBO?”

“You died, Jordan. It’s as simple as that. Well, you’re actually on the brink of death. No pun intended. Sorry about your mentor.”

“Thanks…I guess. Wait, what do you mean brink of death? I’m not dead yet?” Jordan couldn’t get a grasp on what was going on. All she knew was that she needed to get the hell out of there knowing she’s not fully dead yet. “Yes. Precisely. You have the opportunity to go back, to stay here or to just let it all go.”

“To go back?” You could tell Jordan was getting even more confused than they were before. “I–where,” Jordan could not form a proper sentence to respond to this new found information. “Do you know how I died?” You shake your head no. Jordan sighs, running their small hands over their face. “That answer doesn’t usually come to me, it’s more so of what your status is in regards to you know.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well.”

“You’re not very good at explaining these things. And what the fuck even are you? Who are you?”

“People who usually end up in limbo have a choice to make. I gave you your options, now choose.” Jordan was at an impasse. Finding out you died was one thing, but finding out you have the choice to stay dead and move on or to go back was another. Jordan couldn’t even believe they were…would you call it dead? It didn’t seem real at all considering they’re indestructible. In their male form. Could they have been in their female form when their injuries turned worse for wear? Fuck, they got to get their memories back. It wasn’t like her at all to feel this way.

Jordan looked at you sitting in front of them, an emotionless expression on your soft features. She never got your name, they assumed it had to be something like the Ghastly Rider of the Lost Souls. Which brought her back to their original question, “What are you?” You just smiled at Jordan, folding your hands neatly on the table. “I’m someone you’ve seen, but never care to register. But if we’re being technical, I’m the bridge between your plane of existence and everything else after.”

You leaned forward, “What do you want, Jordan?” It was barely audible, but Jordan heard it all the same. The question seemed to hit a nerve that they never knew was there. What did they want? Why was this happening to them that brought her to this situation of deciding to leave those they love in despair or to live to fight another day? Or to stay in the in between of everything and find peace knowing they’ll watch others come and go. Why did it feel like the answer was right there but they could barely reach it yet? And what the fuck happened to have them end up here?

“Come. I want to show you something.” You extended out your hand as you rose from the seat, awaiting Jordan’s acceptance. And they knew now to not even fight it. She grabbed on to your hand and before they knew it they were before a pensive, unable to describe the rest of her surroundings. “Where–” Jordan began but stopped immediately after you let go of their hand. “If I hear you ask again where you are, I’ll make the decision for you, got it?” Your smile was sickeningly sweet, but daunting at the same time. Jordan decided not to speak unless spoken to.

The pensieve floated gracefully up until it reached just below their collarbones. Jordan was fascinated by the contraption, not knowing how to react to it. They’ve never seen anything like it and wondered exactly what it was the woman wanted to show them. It was glimmering light, the shine captivating that Jordan felt themselves leaning towards it involuntarily; the sudden pull coming from nowhere. Before they could get any further, a sharp push collided against their chest, causing them to shift to their male form.

“Wait.”

“What is that?” Jordan’s breathing became hoarse, staring at the object floating in front of them. “I don’t usually do this with those who pass through here. For some reason, it’s hard to get a reading on you. That doesn’t happen often, s’why I brought you here.” You raised your finger to tap the very centre of the pensieve, ripples of water wafting back at the both of you. “Since I don’t know what the fuck happened to you, I’m gonna allow Sabine to tell us both.”

“Sabine?” Jordan looked at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“It’s what I named her when I first got her. She’s nice, she won’t bite.” You smirked at him before grabbing ahold of their neck and plunging them into the water.

Another dreading morning means another early class Jordan regrets enrolling for. It wasn’t by choice either rather their only option and if it wasn’t a requirement, god he would’ve said fuck all. Leading a day after a treacherous event as if nothing’s wrong was one of the hardest things the Supe had to do. Losing a close friend was on a whole other level of trauma; witnessing people pretending to be upset about it was absolutely jarring. They weren’t actually feeling the pain that comes with loss. That empty, aching feeling in your chest that seemed to grow deeper with each passing day. The feeling of not knowing when it’s going to be okay again. Or if it gets easier to bear.

Grief looked different on everyone, so when they showed up to class that morning not seeing Cate in her usual seat it was understandable that the blonde wanted to take some time off. Jordan didn’t blame her.

They sat through class zoning in and out so much so that they didn’t even realise class was over. Everyone was packing up to leave when he suddenly got a text from Cate saying to meet her in her dorm. Jordan all but hauled ass to straight to her quarter on campus, not stopping for anyone along the way. With haste, he was at her door quickly switching to their female form as Cate swung the door open. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was heaving, but one thing that felt off besides those was that her smile. It was crazed almost.

Her pupils were blown wide, she grabbed ahold of Jordan’s arm and yanked her inside. “I’m so glad you’re here! You got here quick,” she breathed out, walking to stand in the middle of her dorm room, Jordan slowly approaching. “I mean…yeah. You said to come and with everything…”

“Yeah I know, but that’s not why I called you here.” Jordan was beginning to really notice Cate. She was dishevelled, clothes looked pulled at almost as if she was doing hard labour. Eyes erratic, breathing slightly heavy but it seemed to be calming down. “Is everything alright, Cate?” Jordan whispered as she stepped closer. She put her hands on Cate’s arms, gently stroking them as she looked at her with a sympathetic expression. It annoyed Cate to no end that she was being looked at like that, but there was no time to react to that right now.

“Yes, I’m fine. More than fine, actually…I need to tell you something,” she leaned closer to Jordan, grabbing ahold of their arms too squeezing gently. Jordan didn’t like how this was beginning to make her feel. She can’t remember the last time Cate almost fell off her hinges, but it for sure definitely happened. Luke was there to console her after they got caught up with something for Brink, but was immediately there after the fact. She can’t help but worry if Luke’s death was sending her through another spiral again.

“You have to promise me you can’t get mad.” That made Jordan’s heart drop. “What the fuck, Cate…”

“Promise me!”

Jordan hesitated before slowly nodding, “Yeah. I promise. Fuck.” Cate smiled once more and it made Jordan even more uneasy than they already were. She left go of Jordan, turning back in a hurry to grab her phone. She frantically typing away on the screen when she turned around, her breathing becoming erratic again. “Luke’s death was no accident. I’ve been trying to figure out exactly what could’ve made him do that, you know? It didn’t seem like him. To…to just kill himself. Not my Luke, you know?”

“Yes, I know.”

“Right. So, I did some digging and I found out that Brink’s death and Luke’s are connected. In fact, there’s even a witness. Fucking Marie Moreau. That freshman we hung out with, can you believe that?

“Anyway. Turns out his brother’s alive and they’ve kept Luke in the dark about it. He killed Brink because of this. Because they were torturing his brother…underneath this fucking school. He wasn’t the only one either. And Shetty’s…she’s behind all of this. Look, I got her to tell me everything,” she pulled up a video of Shetty confessing exactly everything she just told Jordan, they watching with horror, “She’s been experimenting on fucking Supes to figure out a way to kill us all, Jordan.

“But she’s not going to do that because I’m going to kill her and everyone else apart of this.” Cate put her phone away looking at Jordan as her eyes grew wider than they can possibly go. The blood around her cornea spread further, waiting expectantly for Jordan to agree with her so they can get this going. She was at a standstill, though. On one hand, she couldn’t let Cate commit mass murder but Shetty’s confession made them crossed of wanting to make them pay. But Jordan knew they couldn’t do that, especially risking the lives of innocents who could be caught in the crossfire.

Jordan shook her head, “No, Cate. I won’t let you do that. Are you fucking insane? Do you hear yourself, kill Shetty? We’d be no better than them.” Cate was not expecting that answer and the annoyance she felt from earlier slowly seeped back turning into anger. Her breathing became heavy again and she found herself reaching out to touch Jordan, but before she even had the chance an energy blast sent her flying hitting the window behind her and falling against the floor with a loud thud.

She groaned, making her way up from the ground, “Do not make me fight you, Cate.”

“I’m not making you do anything, I just want you to see reason! Why we need to stop them before they stop us!” She charged towards Jordan again before she shifted to his male form knocking her on the side of her head with his fist which sent her to the ground. Blood seeped from where the blow was met, but still she got up. All the commotion had the door bursting open, Marie on the other side. It caused Jordan to turn around giving Cate the distraction she desperately needed.

“Marie! She’s trying to–” Jordan couldn’t finish his sentence before he collapsed to the ground. The last thing he heard was a loud scream, from which girl they did know.

Jordan was thrown back from the pensieve, switching to their female form immediately. Their breathing was staggered, tears filling up their sockets as she looked over at you. “Did, what– what happened?” She spoke softly, the tears escaping as she shook their head. “I don’t…I don’t remember any of that. What Luke’s brother never died, what? What the fuck did you show me!”

“I only showed you what you refused to remember.”

“You fucking planted that in my head, you psycho–” Before Jordan could even finish their sentence, their mouths were sealed shut by you an evident frown slowly making its way on to your features. “You keep denying what’s right in front of you is only going to delay your decision, which will then be made for you.” You lowered your fingers which caused her mouth to unseal, small hands balling up into fists as Jordan steadied their breathing.

“So, what now? What does it mean?” You studied Jordan for a moment finally seeing and realising how vulnerable they are. You waved your hand nonchalantly, casting away the pensieve before you grabbed their hand again and within a blink of an eye, you both were back at the café. Dusty was gone Jordan noticed and it made her wonder did he move on? “It means you have a decision to make. Like I said, you either stay, let it go or move on.”

“What if I don’t know what to do?” Jordan said it so timidly it made your heart crack just a little. You never really got emotional over passers, most just being an afterthought, but Jordan…with Jordan it was different. You felt the need to hold their hand every step of the way.

“When you were conscious, on any general day, what did you feel like?”

It took a moment for Jordan to answer because she felt a lot of things. There was always a battle going on in their heads about anything and nothing. Jordan suffered from severe anxiety, but was able to mask it so well it became second nature. The question kept replaying in Jordan’s head, “I felt like I was going. Like auto pilot, prioritising things like rankings, engagement, and follows. Just overall exposure. To show that I’m the best.”

“To show you’re good enough?”

“Yes.”

You sighed, pulling Jordan to the seat you both preoccupied before this time sitting next to each other rather than across. Jordan was confused but let you manoeuvre them however way you wanted to. Sitting this close to you made Jordan realise that you carry a halo of comfort around you, no matter how snarky and pensive you can get. Always thinking but she assumed that was part of the job.

But, up close and personal it felt like a whole other reality. “I think your reason is because if you decide to go back, you’re not sure if you can come back from such a takedown as the one Cate gave you. And that’s understandable, I don’t think anyone can truly heal from that sort of trauma.

“You’re what, 180 when you’re a guy? Or does the weight just stay the same…” You extended your arms out to question with your shoulders raised slightly, head turned to a 40 degree angle with your eyes still on them. Jordan gave you a bored look with a slight head tilt.

“It stays the same!” You put your hands up in defence. “I understand.” Jordan shook her head, leaning back against the booth seat. She began looking worse for wear, the reality that they might never even come back is daunting on them slowly. And considering the idea of not returning was something on their mind, it scared them a little at just how much they actually loved life. You watched them with curious eyes as she remained silent. Like they were assessing everything over in their heads.

Jordan really want to think about this, but they felt like she didn’t have much time. “What if I go back and I can’t do anything about what’s happening? What if I can’t realise that there’s more taxing and important things going on besides whatever battle I created for myself in my head?”

“Jordan, you coming to the realisation alone should be enough of a push to be the person you actually want to be.” You placed your hand over theirs that was laid on top of the table. To you, Jordan felt warm and to Jordan, you felt cold, a comforting cold that helps you fall asleep easier in a dark room. She didn’t know how to feel about this, but she knew it wasn’t anything malicious or negative, but it was still strange. They didn’t move their hand away. “But what if it’s not enough? What if I’m too stubborn to realise that this isn’t something I want and I can do something–” Before Jordan could even finish the last sentence, you sealed their mouth shut once more.

Jordan sighed through their nose, irritated at being silenced again. But in this case, they understood after realising what they were saying. The constant what if’s is exactly why Jordan always felt the need to second guess themselves. No matter how sure of themselves they are, there was always a small voice in the deepest corner of their psyche, telling her the most obscene things. These are things that they began to believe over time. She never told anyone either. She always felt like they were alone.

Their mouth suddenly opened, you leaning back after looking at Jordan expectantly. “I get it now.” You let out a relief sigh, “I just…don’t want to do this alone. I don’t know what it’s going to be like if I do this alone.”

“You don’t have to do it alone if you don’t want to. You’ll have help. You’ll have someone there every step of the way. I know this.”

“How do you know?” Jordan looked at you, eyebrows raised in question. You sat unmoving, just blinking. It began to grow dark around the both of you, everything just fading away slowly. It brought Jordan unease, big brown eyes flittering around, heartbeat picking up. “What the fuck is happening?” She couldn’t see you clearly anymore, a silhouette in replacement of where your physical body used to be. Jordan began hyperventilating when they couldn’t see a thing anymore. “Hello! Fuck, can anyone hear me? Hello!”

The EKG began beeping rapidly, Marie already on high alert as she sat next to the bed that held a distraught Jordan. Their eyes were still closed but she could see their eyes moving vigorously underneath the lids. She leaned over, gently placing her hand on their arm, “Jordan…Jordan, hey. I’m here. It’s okay, I’m here,” she almost whispered, her hand stroking their arm. Jordan’s eyes opened frantically, jumping up from the laying position he was in turning every which way.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re here. Thank god, you’re awake!” Marie exclaimed, practically jumping into Jordan’s arms. The door burst open and in came the doctor that was assigned to Jordan. “You’re awake!”

“He’s awake,” Marie couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “What…what happened?” The doctor walked over to the other side of Jordan’s bed, examining his vitals as he began to explain. “You were in a coma for three weeks, Mr Li. We weren’t sure how long it’ll be before you awoke again.” The length of time shocked Jordan to their very core. How has it been three weeks? All that transpired three weeks ago and it felt like it happened in a matter of seconds. Jordan was in disbelief, he couldn’t fathom this from any point in time. His eyes flittered to Marie’s wide ones, her hand grasping theirs as she squeezed it gently. He squeezed it back. “We’ll have to keep for the next two days to monitor your progress, but everything here looks good. Just remember to stay hydrated after you’re discharged.”

Jordan nodded at the words, but didn’t bother taking any of it in. Three weeks? Three fucking weeks and it felt like you and them were just together for mere minutes. It all came flooding back to him in no time and he looked at Marie again, mouth open but nothing coming out. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything what you went through was tough. Cate’s…she’s under surveillance. If you could even call it that. But she’s not coming around any time soon.”

“What happened while I was out?” Marie sighed at the question. She didn’t exactly know how to explain it. Cate didn’t receive any sort of repercussions. After she terrorised the school, she went after Supes who didn’t agree with her and that’s when they began taking everything seriously. Andre was killed (by his own power no less), Sam was captured alongside Cate but were sent to different correctional facilities as to prevent any tyranny. Government involvement meant there were restrictions cracked down on Supes who were and weren’t apart of the sudden uprising.

There was so much more and Marie didn’t even know where to start. “It’s a lot, Jordan.”

Jordan was released two days later, Marie at her side as they walked towards the car waiting for the both of them. They were healed, physically, but mentally…Jordan just wondered what got them back here in the first place. She doesn’t exactly remember making a decision and it wasn’t something she was willing to discuss with Marie just yet. Marie eyed Jordan with worry, she knew something was off by their body language but didn’t want to intrude. It was killing her not to say anything, but knowing Jordan she’ll come around eventually.

“Finally! The comatose vegetable is ripe!”

“Emma, what?”

“I don’t know. I just missed you, Jordy,” the smaller girl’s voice pitched up a bit as she wrapped her arms around Jordan’s torso, squeezing with all her might to convey the amount of yearning Emma had for her presence. The two grew closer from their first meeting to now and Jordan couldn’t help but feel their heart grow in size at Emma’s affection. “I missed you too, Little Cricket.” The hug was cut after she had said that. If looks could kill, Jordan would be dead…again?

They were all about to pile in the car, a conversation being had between Marie and Emma as she hopped into the drivers seat. Jordan turned their head up becoming immediately frigid at the sight in front of her. She didn’t even know you were fucking real, let alone existed on this plane of reality? Is that what you call it? Their name was faintly being called but that was a mile away, she didn’t even feel her feet move until she stood in front of you.

“It’s you. It’s fucking you,” they started before continuing. “What the fuck are you doing here?” You shut the car door, the locking sound engaging. “I’m visiting my grandmot–”

“No, I mean here. This plane of existence. In my world. I thought you were a fucking bridge or something.” Jordan was intimidated by your demeanour, the lean against the car, the foot over the other and you looked calm as ever. Just like limbo and it pissed Jordan off to no end. “I also said I was someone you don’t even pay attention to.” The softened expression on Jordan’s face matched how they felt. They completely mistook what was said at your first meeting and it didn’t even occur to Jordan that you meant face to face. In real time. In reality.

“Who the fuck are they talking to?”

“Beats me.”

“They don’t look a little familiar to you?” Marie shook her head, tilting it a bit before she carried herself over to them. Not that it mattered. Jordan could talk to anyone they wanted, right? They weren’t exclusive or anything. “That’s your Supe power? That’s what Compound V fucking gave you?” Jordan sounded incredulous at your confession just as Marie joined the two of you. As soon as your eyes landed on Marie, your throat felt tight along with your chest. Were you not breathing? “Hey…what’s going on here?”

“I’ll explain later…” Jordan trailed off just as you spoke up and introduced yourself. Marie nodded her head, the usually perplexed expression on her soft features. You couldn’t take your eyes off her, but you didn’t want to make it noticeable. She’ll probably think you’re a loser. “Nice to meet you, I’m Marie,” it grew silent after she answered. And Jordan couldn’t clenched their fist trying to figure out how to get out of this. “I don’t wanna keep you, we should go. I have to rest anyway, you know being in a coma for three weeks can drain the fuck out of you.”

Jordan’s incisiveness threw Marie for a loop and she was confused on the fact on how Jordan knew you. Her arm was being pulled away as Jordan was in front of her before stopping abruptly. “You go on ahead, actually, I think they have something of mine I’m just gonna, yeah,”

“How do you know them, Jordan?”

“I’ll be with you in a sec!” She exclaimed, shoving Marie forward, her expression apologetic. Once Marie was out earshot, Jordan turned back around to you still standing there, eyebrows raised in question. “When you said I wasn’t going to be alone…did you mean…”

“You have a support system, Jordan. And if your friends allow it, I can definitely be apart of that.” Although it was going to be a tough road and it’s going to take some getting used to, everything being different for Supes, Jordan knew it was going to be trial and error. But as long as they had you and the others, they knew they’d be fine. It’s just going to take a bit of convincing for Emma and Marie to warm up to you, especially Marie. You lot had a lot of work cut out for you, but Jordan knew there wasn’t failure for them in the future.

[yourlocalstranger123]

[I was bored and wanted to take a break from writing....something 😳 👀💧]

The yandere sagau side: it's exactly the same but just a little too obsessed. They worship you, giving you sacrifices offerings. You couldn't exactly see since you have a limit to see what they offer you. You just maybe it's an item that has a shape of a human. Who knows... the experimenters like dottore and Albedo will work together to create a body for you that is made on the details of the ancient script. Ei/raiden would make the body eternity, Zhongli would put protection on it, Venti would give the blessing of the wind to alarm you of the danger and Nahida would give you knowledge since you only just protect and make people safe and ofc make them feel warm. So you don't know what's happening 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♀️🤷 and they made sure the body could at least withstand most of your power.

● Morax first felt a little alert. 'Who are you?' 'What do you want?' He was confused. He never felt a presence that felt more godly than the celestials themselves. He felt stiff. He asked the others if they felt this...presence. They say yes but it seems to have no harm. He couldn't risk it, he was still on high alert. But when the moment he was fighting, he felt protected, stronger too. Are you perhaps helping him..? Why? He did not worship you if you were a God of some kind. After the war, he cried, cried loudly as the people of liyue can hear his pain and the cries of his roaring. Suddenly he felt your presence once again but stronger. Were you here to attack him? "SHOW YOURSELF!" He yelled. Still no answer. Weird....he laid down then continued softly sobbing, mourning of his friend's death. He felt comforted though, he tried keeping it away from him, this 'comfort' feeling. But slowly he melted into it. Sleeping soundly. He felt safe. When he woke up he saw his friends, were they actually alive? Is this perhaps an illusion you made to taunt him? His knees went weak. 'No matter, even if this is fake, please...just let him hold them one more time..even if it's not real.' He actually woke up. He looked sad, as he was about to accept the death of his friends, he sees all of them. Even the yakshas came back alive. He saw Xiao on his knees sobbing in happiness. Is this your doing?...thank you..thank you so much. Truly. He accepted you. Your kindness. He made everyone know you, well the only people who didn't know you was the one who has no vision. The yaksha knows you, well only your doings and presence. They can also feel it. They worshiped you, and give you things. They weren't rich so they could only give you simple things like flowers but it didn't matter to you. They could feel the warmth grow bigger. They smiled. They wonder if you smiled back at them? Your truly a wonderful God. Slowly everyone in liyue finds out your the creator somehow and they worshiped you even more. Everyone who had one felt your presence even more. They felt very happy, truly they are blessed to have you as their creator. When Zhongli abandoned his duty as a archon, he still worshiped you. Although not fancy as it used to but he felt that you were still happy with these simple offerings. Everyone in liyue was so very happy. Azhada also felt it. He was set free and when Zhongli tried to make him go back, there was a note before he could attack. "He deserves a second chance. Let him experience the wonderful things in life. To: Rex Lapis" he was confused, was this the Morax he knew? His heart grew soft as he read the letter. Suddenly he felt his form start to change. He panicked and looked into the river. He looked like a mortal. Although he must give you credit for your taste. In the future, he brags on and on that you made a form for him. "Shall the Geo protect you with its heart."

● Heck, even the celestials were concerned and a little scared of you. 'What are you?' They thought. You felt familiar but yet not so familiar either. 'Are you an outlander?' Later they got used to it. They thought maybe you were a Supreme God that is watching over them, in the past, they were on guard. Waiting for you to strike. But....they felt a safe feeling, an addictive feeling. 'Who are you? Why are you so...nice?' Until it clicked. Are you...the creator? If you're not then why are you so nice to them?? But it does not matter no more. They will welcome and worship you even if you are a God who is an out-lander

I was too lazy. Oh well, thus is just for practice.