#like you actively helped the issue and yet your brain made you run through the underbrush like a dog to avoid getting shot

[howtofightwrite]

Hello! I have a very particular sort of scene that I've been trying to get right for over ten years now and I can't make it work; I hope perhaps you can help.

A husband and wife duo who have Mixed Feelings about one another are trying to break out of a facility. (He was recently discovered to be a spy, she is a conscripted soldier in the facility. She was sent to escort him to execution but hesitated - I'm not sure where, in the cell, in the hall? - and - he took advantage of this hesitation? she was arrested as a traitor? - I don't know that either, yet - and they end up running through the halls together to escape)

The facility is vaguely sci-fi; think Star Wars Original Trilogy-style weapons, and there is space travel, but technology isn't... wildly advanced. Like it's not all digital and holograms and hand-wavey stuff, it's only a little more advanced than what we have available now. (Like SW OT.)

Point A is them in the cell. Point B is them on a spaceship breaking free.

I cannot get them from Point A to Point B with any kind of plausibility, or without staggering incompetence on the part of the soldiers and commanders in the facility.

They would likely be armed with only her sidearm, unless they happened to grab rifles off of further escorts sent with her?

I'm sorry this is so vague, thank you in advance for any help!

Personally, I’m of the opinion that any scene that’s been marinating in the brain for a long time (especially for years) has deeper structural/internal issues than just putting together action. Just from reading your question, I can feel the way you’ve laid this specific scenario out breaking your own suspension of disbelief. You’ve got several problems that have built up over time and, now, they’re all working against you.

Change if it’s Not Working

One of the best pieces of writing advice I ever got came from being forced to memorize my martial arts school’s Ten Steps to Mastery as part of my first test for black belt. I only remember the first five and I can’t guarantee they’re all in order.

Set a goal

Take action

Pay attention to detail

Practice, Practice, Practice

Change if it’s not working

Regardless of whether you’re practicing a front kick or writing a full length novel, flexibility is important. The more we try to force something to work, the less likely it will. Training flaws into your technique means they’ll be more difficult to correct later. So, don’t forget to stop and look at the larger picture if you feel yourself getting stuck.

Remember, change isn’t failure. Writing is a complex process and not every idea, plotline, character moment, or scene is going to work out when fit into a larger context. And that’s okay.

Outside emotional exhaustion and stress, my writer’s block kicks in when I’ve taken a wrong turn in the narrative or am avoiding a difficult emotional moment that my characters need to face before their story can progress. Something has made me/them uncomfortable and instead of facing it, I’m attempting to avoid the uncomfortable feeling by throwing some other distracting piece, usually action, in the way. I call these moments false notes. I usually hit them when I’m coming at the story from an external perspective (what have I seen other characters do in other stories/films?) rather than an internal one. (What would this character do?)

If something isn’t working, stop trying to make it work. Instead look for what you’re missing, and where the pieces aren’t connecting. It’s usually further back than the scene you’re working on.

My characters are always right. I’m either not listening or going about it the wrong way.

Food for thought.

Your Heroes are Reactively Active

We hear a lot from the writing community about the importance of Active Characters. These are characters who are doing things to move the plot forward. They make choices. They take action. Then, there are passive or, what I like to call, reactive characters. They are characters who react to things in their environment, whatever that is, but they’re not actively making choices. Passive characters get a bad rap in American storytelling tradition (more so than in the wider Western storytelling tradition.)

Passive characters really shine when working with characters who are in settings where they’re struggling to survive. In the real world, passivity is one of the best ways to survive abuse. Any victim of long term or systemic abuse can tell you that standing up and fighting back, especially in situations where you have no power or means to change your circumstances, makes the situation exponentially worse. You’ve got to gray rock it out, suppress, and survive.

Lastly, there are characters I like to call reactively active. These are characters who feel like they’re being active but are actually just reacting to actions taken by other characters. They appear a lot in YA Fantasy, but they’re everywhere. And, because these characters are always reacting to another character’s (usually the villain’s) actions and choices, they get an easy out when it comes to escaping narrative consequences for the things they do. It’s a deceptive sleight of hand used to maintain a character’s moral purity. These characters appear active on the surface, but, underneath, they’re passively reacting to the narrative events inflicted on them. They don’t take action. They respond to action with action.

Let’s get back to your scenario.

We have a husband and wife in some sort of heavily or, at least, decently fortified, military installation. The husband has been outed as a spy, put in whatever functions as a prison or holding cell within the complex, and scheduled to be executed. The wife is a loyal soldier who must now choose between her love for her husband and her love of duty.

This has the makings of some good drama.

The first obvious problem point is that these characters are trying to do too many things at once. They’re coming to terms with their deep feelings of betrayal, experiencing a last minute change of heart, making a snap decision to escape, and rapidly coming up with a plan to escape in the heat of the moment. If this feels unbelievable, it’s because it is and, even better, doubles for putting the characters in a reactive or passive state. The wife character isn’t acting, so much as she’s reacting last minute to the immediate, impending danger. That would be fine if she wasn’t also having to help carry the burden of coming up with The Plan.

There’s the surface level here, where the last minute change of heart is mimicking the kinds of behavior seen in countless other forms of media regarding escape scenes. However, this narrative decision happening in the heat of the moment is also allowing the character to skate over the emotional consequences of her own betrayal. She’s not choosing so much as she’s being forced to make a choice. And that is removing her agency.

If she makes the choice earlier, starts putting The Plan in place with the help of some friends/colleagues (even if it happens largely off page) then executes at the cell, she takes back her agency and retains her status as an active character.

The difference here is in the processing time. Characters can’t plausibly escape fortified lock up without a plan or, really, The Plan.

The Narrative Structure of Last Minute Rescues

The first problem in your scenario is that you have two characters, neither of which are doing the pre-planning legwork required to successfully execute The Plan. Rescues are like heists, they either take a village or require characters who are extremely meticulous and actively manipulating the village to fill in the gaps. (James Bond does Option 2 beautifully, but even he has a team behind him.) Usually, both happen to some degree. The burden is segregated out into different pieces for different characters. Normally, there’s at least three. The character locked up is trying to figure out a way to escape, but comes up short. The one on the outside who is putting together the pieces needed to execute the rescue/get away. And, sometimes, the one on the inside who is experiencing a change of heart, who, at the very last minute, turns heel and assists with the rescue (most often in the turn of misfortune where a piece fails and the rescue is at risk of being bungled.)

All of this additional weight/build up/expectation of the non-existent plan is being put on two characters and crammed into a single scene.

Think about the rescue of Princess Leia from the Death Star for a moment. How many characters are required to make that escape work?

Seven.

All of them. If a single character in the entire group is missing, the whole thing falls apart. Even Threepio is necessary, mostly because Artoo can’t talk. This off the cuff, by the seat of our pants rescue requires all seven characters and they still end up bungling it to kill their samurai master.

You need one to turn off the tractor beam so they can actually escape. (Doing the real work.)

You need one to figure out where the princess is being held, unlock the doors, and figure out where they are.

You need two to bullshit past the guards going in and one to pretend to be a prisoner.

You need one to bullshit past the guards a second time to save the one that can’t talk with the floor plan.

You need the princess to be the one to get them back out because she’s the only one with balls.

And none of it mattered because the escape was a trap all along.

While you don’t need these specific roles for everything, escaping from a heavily fortified facility is not a two man job. That’s where the feelings of implausibility and extreme incompetence are coming from. There aren’t enough characters helping to clear the way or be there as a safeguard for when things go wrong. This feeds into the next problem.

Soldiers, Spies, and Their Squads

We have another unintended scenario brewing at the same time. And that’s the exhausted retail employee going on a rampage and slaughtering their surprised colleagues. This really knifes your tension. By reacting to the immediate danger, the wife is not making an active, conscious choice with full knowledge of the consequences, and those consequences are killing people she knows, respects, is friends with, shares a camaraderie, or who are at least familiar to her. These other soldiers aren’t faceless goons. It’s a lot harder to pull the trigger on someone you know than someone you don’t, especially someone who has the same values that you do.

Soldiers aren’t characters who work alone. They have a squad. They’re part of a unit. They have a support network surrounding them that allows them to do their job to the best of their ability. Spies are the same way. They also have a support network which allows them to act to the best of their ability, even when it feels like they’re acting alone. Spies have handlers and they have assets, their job requires they build their own support networks so they have someone who can get into the places where they can’t. Those people may be witting or unwitting assets but they’re still there.

Both of these characters should have fairly extensive support networks to fall back on when in crisis. They’re in crisis. The crisis is both physical and emotional. Where are their people? Two characters who are social archetypes whose jobs and survival during wartime are reliant on building trust and skillful communication have no one willing to put their lives on the line to help them out? They only have each other? That’s staggering incompetence.

Spies aren’t assassins. They’re social animals. Soldiers aren’t lone wolves. They’re social animals. If there’s a structural failure here, it’s happening with your secondary characters.  Ignoring the importance of secondary characters is a mistake that a lot of new writers make and I can feel those early mistakes being carried forward in this scene. This is what Hemingway meant when he said, “kill your darlings.” If an idea isn’t working, if it’s holding you back, kill it. Look at the problem and your work from a new angle. One good line or one good scene, regardless of your emotional attachment to it, doesn’t outweigh the entire work.

Plans and Floor Plans

If you’re having trouble coming up with a character’s escape, step back and take a look at the facility itself. Whether it’s breaking in or breaking out, you, the author, need to have a clear visualization of the entire picture so you can find the weaknesses or fracture points.

Plans are easier to conceptualize when you know what the dangers are and what defenses have been put in place to prevent what your characters are attempting. Which parts of the fortress are better fortified than others? Where does this military expect to be attacked? What have they done to prevent it? What are the patrols? Who are the techs? How does the military support itself while fending off attempts to damage its resources? Who handles the supply lines?

The boring minutiae of your world is what makes it feel real. Action is dependent on your world building and this goes deeper than just their weapons. The social systems in place guide how your characters fight. It’s there in how they perceive their environment, and how they recognize usable tools. If you build a functional and consistent world, the action will take care of itself because violence is a natural response to environmental threats. Violence seeks to exploit established systems, to gain an advantage over them. If the violence is imagined separately from the environment, the violence won’t feel real because it’s not reactive and it’s not reacting to environmental stimuli. From there, it’s not logical.

Ask yourself, why do we use guns?

Then ask yourself, why do your characters use guns? What does it allow them to do that they wouldn’t be able to do otherwise? Or, what does the gun do better than other weapons that makes it the preferred choice?

The answer for the real world and your setting might be the same, and they might be different. Both will influence how the character uses their weapon. How they use their weapon guides how they fight. If you’re lost, ask yourself questions.

For example, let’s take a last look at the prison.

Prisons are built with the expectation of keeping multiple people contained for an extended period of time, preventing them from leaving in the event of an escape, and preventing those who are sympathetic from breaking in to rescue them. What have the characters in your setting (not your protagonists) done to facilitate that goal? What safeguards have been put in place to prevent someone from leaving and entering?

In the real world, prisons are built in a way that two people can’t just walk out. There are points of entry and exit that are designed to be remotely controlled from secure locations and cannot be operated or accessed on the ground. You’d need someone (like R2-D2) who can access the remote functions to get someone past the exits that they can’t open themselves.

-Michi

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[idlebeks]

Unfinished and Works in Progress Fic Recs

These are the unfinished fics that haunt my brain, sometimes years after their last updates. The fics that I cannot bear to remove from my subscription list just in case they get another update. Some are still active, some are abandoned, all of them have something special that struck my imagination and made them unforgettable. I’ve excluded unfinished series from this list. They may get their own list later. 

Mix of gen and slash, a range of ratings. As always, read at your own risk and don’t forget to leave some love for the authors.

SVSSS

A Cloak of Feathers by Asymptotical

Having a mythology halo was a little ominous, but at least it got the System off his back. Shen Qingqiu was way less annoyed about that than he was about transmigrating into a human in a world where swans didn't even exist.

Into the Abyss by esama

In which Shen Yuan pisses the System off and it sends him straight into the Endless Abyss.

Four years later, Shen Qingqiu does the same to Luo Binghe.

I dropped my head it was just around here somewhere, has anyone seen it by Cernunun

Shang Qinghua goes through the pages with renewed vigor, paying special attention to the margins and the details. Now that he’s looking for it, he can see the little transcriptions everywhere, running alongside the lines of an ink drawing or around the perimeter of a talisman, or in the corner under a section on growth rates of chi-stealing willows. The English scripts ruthlessly spoil or mock his book in turn.

Not only is it a cultivator’s field guide, it’s a tourist’s guide. Someone is touring the world he’s made.

Shen Yuan leaves his spoilers lying around. This becomes Shang Qinghua's problem, and what kind of bro would he be if he didn't make it Shen Yuan's problem too?

The Perils of LIVE Editing! (ft. BinggYuan!!!) by seol_xiv

In which Shen Yuan flounces around the PIDW timeline in different roles and makes a mess of everything. He likes to think he helped make some things better, but he’s pretty sure he made things worse too.

Apparently, constantly leaving behind a protagonist that has major abandonment issues was a bad thing.

…Huh, who knew?

The Untamed/MDZS

Melody of the Lost and Found by esama

Lan Xichen and Wei Wuxian set out to change the past and undo the many losses they'd suffered.

Cultivating Empathy by Rahar_Moonfire

Cloud Recesses is burning. Flames devour buildings and people without care. Lans are dying. He can feel them. He can feel their fear, their despair, their pain as they are struck down again and again and he curses his Empathy. He can't feel them when they change. Clutching the qiankun bags of Lan Clan relics, Lan Xichen fled on his sword. He meant to follow the shoreline to Qinghe and spread the word of the Wen Clan's assault. But in his spiritual and mental exhaustion, he overshot his goal and fell instead into a forest when a snow white creature with eyes the clearest blue found him. Chose him.

not a fair choice by Prince_Enby

"There are characters burned onto her wrist, red and raw but, thankfully, not bleeding. His sister stared at it with empty eyes. Jiang Cheng thought back to the cliff, and the sheer amount of blood that trailed down Wei Wuxian's arm - far too much to have come from Lan Wangji alone, and yet, he didn't think Wei Wuxian had truly been hit by a single cultivator.

The characters looked painful to the touch, just as painful as the red line that traces his sister's throat, miraculously healed shut."

Jiang Yanli lives, at the cost of Wei Wuxian's life. Everyone has more than a few thoughts about that.

see you yesterday by glyphic

On Halloween night, an exiled demonic cultivator and a Lan disciple get stuck in a time-loop, find each other, and try to figure it all out.

The Mire of the Lotus by hypermoyashi

Amidst the dark soil and stark bone of the Burial Mounds, Wei Wuxian died.

He died and left a war behind that none other than the Elder of Yiling could possibly hope to tip the scales enough to allow the heroes to shoot down the sun, but when thrown a loop, fate will find a way. The Wens were destined to fall, and an Elder of Yiling was destined to rise. For this story, it was Jiang Yanli who took up the mantle.

Twin Treasures by crossdressingdeath

When Madame Jin happens to come across Cangse Sanren's orphaned son on a trip to Yiling, she can't bring herself to leave him there. Wei Wuxian finds a somewhat different family. Jin Zixuan finds a little brother. The course of history changes accordingly.

(Some things are written in fate, but even fate itself changes.)

Son of a Soldier Man by FireAwayy

He always thought he would be dead when the world ended.

After all, isn’t the sun just one giant explosion? A time bomb waiting to blow, taking the solar system and all life as they know it with them. That was a terrifying thought. But when the clock was counting down from 8 billion years—well, you’d have to forgive his hubris in thinking the end of the world would have nothing to do with him...

---

Or the fic where the world is invaded by aliens, and it's somehow up to a surly paramedic, his vegan partner, an obnoxious scientist, and a group of heavily armed special forces soldiers to save it. Between running for their lives, making terrible sci-fi jokes, and flirting at wildly inappropriate times, they'll face their fears and improbably, might just fall in love.

Oh, they might save the world, too.

Growing from Mud by Aly_H

When he was young Xue Yang lived on the streets. Mostly by himself until a boy named Wei Wuxian decided to be his older brother out of nowhere. Because of him he's got a wonderful big sister who he'd do anything for and two annoying elder brothers he can't decide if he wants to murder or not.

Or the AU where Xue Yang grows up at Lotus Pier and has a family that cares.

Word of Honor

A match made in hell by Madcap_Miss

Several decades after the Liulija was shattered and its keeper murdered, Wen Kexing returns to the mortal realm to finally unleash his bloody revenge. He's barely set foot over the border before he meets an immortal who seems bizarrely unconcerned by this.

Plain Sight by jaemyun

Upon the news that a new Valley Master had ascended the throne, the jianghu was struck with fear. Fear that tenuous peace would end. Fear of another war that would deal them more casualties. In what the men of the jianghu would never admit was desperation, they sent peace offerings. Wine, food, fabrics...women. There is no war. No praise or rebuke, but the offerings continue.

Zhou Zishu cannot fathom why he can't get the attention of the Valley Master, whether it be for information gathering or assassination. He makes a pretty woman, after all, the newest 'offering' added to this donated harem of his.

He has a lot more luck when the Valley Master brings a few of the harem women with him to the Heroes Conference, of all things. Especially when he finds something of a platonic zhiji in the sharp Zhou Xu and begins to trust her with his thoughts.

He definitely has more luck when Wen Kexing proposes he pose as a man to infiltrate the Conference - although to be quite frank, the Valley Master acts...oddly, once he shows his true self.

911

Come Away, O Human Child by JustABunchOfHocusPocus

Evan Buckley is 18 when he learns about an older brother he never knew, and the lengths to which his parents went to try and save him. What they were willing to risk. What they were willing to trade. He's 18 when he learns that he he only has twelve years left before the deal his parents made to try and save his brother--the deal that cursed him, the deal that didn't even work--comes to its conclusion, and the magic that has always flowed through him so much more strongly than it should is drained by the Fae that his parents sought out.

Evan Buckley is 18 when he learns that in twelve years he is going to die.

Now, he has only two goals: do some good with the time he has left, and minimize the damage his death will do to the people he cares about. He thinks he's doing an okay job--until Eddie Diaz joins the 118. Buck knows the walls he's put up aren't the strongest, but he wasn't counting on a werewolf and his adorable son to just blow them to smithereens. But it doesn't matter how he feels about Eddie. The Changeling Child curse is impossible to break.

Isn't it?

DMBJ

Faithful in the Bone by fox_of_nine_tales

The fox had been with him almost as long as Zhang Qiling remembered.

What he no longer remembered was that the fox had been there much longer than that.

the whispers of spirits by Cross_d_a

Li Cu's already been kidnapped and dragged off on an adventure once. He'd rather not do it a second time.

Of course, things never turn out his way. --

Or, Li Cu accidentally sets up Wu Xie and Zhang Qiling with Liu Sang, gets shot twice, gets buddy-buddy with his parasitic snake spirit, kisses a pretty boy, adopts a little sister, and speaks with ghosts-- not necessarily in that order.

The Scum Tomb-Raider's Self-Saving System by fox_of_nine_tales 

[System loading]

[System loading]

[System loading]

[Transmigration successful. Welcome to the System! Your stated objective: “I could write a better story than this in my sleep!” Congratulations on this opportunity! You are starting with 100 B-points. Please complete scenarios to earn more points and unlock achievements!]  

It’s bad enough being transmigrated to the world of “Tales of the Tomb Explorers”, the pit-digging protagonist-halo-wearing webnovel he loves to hate. Even worse, Liu Sang isn’t even the hero! Stuck in the body of a bit-part villain, he has to earn points, fill in plot holes, and – what was the other thing? Oh yes: avert his character’s inevitable demise.

(A DMBJ/SVSSS mashup)

Everlasting Light by Alxina, xantissa

It's been almost five years since Xiaoge went behind the Gate, and Wu Xie hasn't been the same since. In his single-minded pursuit of the Wang family, Wu Xie was willing to give up everything that had mattered, uncaring of the costs.

And he swore he'd make it better. For Xiaoge, for everyone.

But meeting a freezing, half-dead stranger in the mountains might change everything.

The Witcher

Oh, So One of Those Djinny Djinn Djinns? Like a Genie? by BurningMattress

Jaskier is a genie that has been “freed” from his “bottle” which is bits and pieces of his lute. He isn’t truly free but enough to not actually care about being a genie. He's been traveling the world doing whatever. Upon meeting Geralt, he pretends to be a normal bard as he does with everyone but every now and then when Geralt wants something it just seems to be easier to get it. Sometimes when it’s a close call with a monster, any healing supplies are always nearby, sometimes they always have the right amount of coin, sometimes Jaskier just knows exactly what is needed for any given situation

Sometimes Jaskier and Geralt split paths and Geralt notices how his luck seems to better when his little strange bard is around.

The Crooked, The Cradle by RoyalRampionEngineer

_“Hello my daughter,” Pavetta whispers. She smooths a hand over her daughter’s ashen blonde hair, so much like her own. Pavetta idly wonders if she will inherit her own striking green eyes, or the steady dark brown of her father, Duny.

As if fated by Destiny itself, the babe blinks her eyes open. Her big, beautiful, bright cornflower blue eyes. Distantly, Pavetta hears the bard in the corner reaching the end of his song, the strings of the lute building into a resounding crescendo. She has a sudden flash of memory, of those strong lutist fingers pressed against her bare spine, playing a different kind of song._

Ah fuck, Pavetta thinks, more than a little hysterically. Ah, fuck.

…

Or, a Witcher AU where Jaskier is Ciri’s biological father.

Stranger Things

The great pretenders by theraincanttouchus

Heather bullies Billy into letting her become his beard.

Somehow this ends in both of them becoming better (and more traumatized) people.

Time in a Bottle by IncompleteSentanc (Erava)

"Someone’s gone and moved into the old trailer that used to belong to Chief Hopper. It raises a few eyebrows, not the least because Jim Hopper only just passed away, merely a month ago, and no one had seen any ‘for sale’ signs."

Socially awkward Steve Hopper has just moved into the trailer park, and Eddie Munson just wants to get to know his weird little neighbor.

Not Me

**Openly Grey by Sweet_William **

When they were kids, White was taken away from Black. Years passed, their broken connection gnawing at him every day, and finding his brother again was always there in the back of his mind. When he realised the life his father had planned for him could never include him seeing his brother again, he made a choice.

He would always choose Black.

[sevenrenny]

Having chronic migraine sucks, cause nobody took me seriously for years, telling me "Everyone gets headaches/I get headaches too!" meanwhile, without my medication, I'm incapacitated from the pain for four days a week on average, and everyone thinks I'm just being lazy when I physically can't get myself out of bed or even open my eyes, let alone feed myself without throwing up.

I go to work with ringing in my ears. I have to use a shower chair because the dizzy spells hit out of nowhere. I get blurry vision and sudden vision flashes. Even after the migraine episodes pass, I'm left with post-migraine where I'm physically drained and got massive brain fog.

And because of my GI issues (that's a whole separate medical issue that has landed me in the ER five times this year), I can't take oral medication because my body refuses to absorb most of it or it just decides my meds aren't on the guest list and activates the puke button.

The only medicine that seems to work is this autoinjector I take once a month... and it's the equivalent of about 600 USD per syringe. I have to jump through so many hoops to get it. It doesn't get rid of the migraines, just lessens their frequency and severity. (My current doctor has suggested I start Botox treatment but I don't feel financially ready for that.)

Even with my official diagnosis, hardly anybody believes me. "It's just a headache," "Ninety percent of people in the world get headaches!" "You need to eat vegetables more," "Try visiting my doctor. She's a gynecologist but she specializes in everything," "Have you tried meditation?" "Have you tried-"

I can assure you, whatever you're going to think of on the spot, I've already tried within the past 10+ years of my life dealing with this issue. This, and my GI issue and other chronic health issues.

I've also noticed people get uncomfortable when I explain to them what 'chronic' means. They squirm about it. They deny it's a thing, that there has to be a cure, I just haven't found it yet. They make up solutions on the spot. I kid you not, someone suggested I put a snail on my forehead for it to 'absorb' the migraine.

I have office workers telling me they know more than my medical professionals. I missed a few work days due to being in the ER from an intestinal issue, and had a coworker ask me what was I possibly doing to make myself sick, that- "You must have an unhealthy lifestyle, or you wouldn't be like this." Another coworker pitched in, stating that I must be doing something wrong. Family members insist on that assumption, too.

In other words: the chronic illnesses I was born with (the chronic migraine, gastroparesis, PCOS, chronic skin issues, other health concerns) are somehow my fault. I truly do believe this idea stems from how uncomfortable the thought of chronic illness makes them, and the belief that they can avoid becoming chronically ill themselves if they try hard enough, that you only get chronically ill if you did something to deserve it somehow.

I'm exhausted explaining myself to healthy people who believe I owe them my medical history. I outright say I don't want to discuss it. It just makes everyone prod harder. When I run out of energy and just want to rest and not speak anymore (because everything I say goes in one ear and out the other, anyway,) it's as if I've insulted them personally, scoffing that they're just trying to help.

This is not how you help. You're making me more tired than I already am. Literally, the things I do require help with (needing a ride home on occasion because I'm having aura symptoms and can't drive and there's no public transit, needing silence so the pain doesn't escalate, needing things to me repeated because the fatigue and brain fog made me miss what was said, needing time alone because I'm drained and can't go do the thing you want me to do, needing a ride to the ER) everyone refuses to do, which tells me this isn't about helping, it's about your curiosity regarding my health. It's about you needing to be right.

If you really want to help, just ask what can you do. That's it.

[overcomeanxietycolorado]

Anxiety Treatment Center In Denver, CO

Are you stopped in your tracks by paralyzing feelings that just don’t let you move forward with plans you’ve made? Have you canceled activities that you were actually looking forward to because you just couldn’t get your anxiety under control? Or perhaps your anxiety isn’t that bad, but it still holds you back and you’re worried it could get worse.

ANXIETY SHOWS IN MANY FORMS:

Scary and dreadful feelings in your body

Unexplained panic and fear

Thinking constantly about a problem and how to solve it

Trouble falling asleep

Trouble staying asleep or returning to sleep when you wake up too early

Avoidance of certain people or places

Feeling stopped or stuck when you try to complete a goal at work or in your personal life

Feeling unable to move forward with a project even though you really want to

Avoiding commitments because you’re afraid you’ll change your mind

Holding yourself back from even trying a new job or a new relationship

The saddest part is that anxiety may be causing you to avoid even trying to create the life you really want. You may begin to dream, then quickly second guess yourself. You’ve probably set limits for yourself that you aren’t even aware of.

What could you do with your life, if you weren’t stopped by these self-doubts? How would you feel if you could learn to easily manage your anxiety so that you could live more freely?

You may not know it, but a large number of people that you run into each day, suffer from anxiety, too. Most of the time, you can’t tell by looking. But many people suffer from the self-doubt, pounding heart and feelings of dread that can ruin a perfectly good day.

The good news is that anxiety can be treated! It doesn’t have to run your life. The first step to vastly improving your anxiety is to get into therapy with a counselor who will truly hear you, understand the roots of your distress, and teach you skills to effectively manage your anxiety as it comes up.

When you come into my office with anxiety, I will guide our sessions so we can both understand the big picture. I want to hear your unique story in order to understand the sources of trouble. The past cannot be changed, but the story you tell yourself about your life can. Let’s work together so you can learn simple ways to calm your body and your brain instantly. Then you can create more of the life you want.

Or perhaps your anxiety isn’t that bad yet, but it holds you back and you’d like a no-medication solution.

MY UNIQUE MODEL OF THERAPY INCLUDES:

Understanding how your early experiences play a part in how you feel today.

Learning to manage your emotions and motivation.

Increasing your tolerance for the challenges that keep coming up in life.

Resolving past traumas that still cause you distress.

Creating a plan that will keep you happy and healthy instead of stressed and apologetic.

If you’ve had therapy before and felt frustrated, you may be hesitant to try again. Your anxiety might actually hold you back from taking the very steps that will help. I completely understand. Sometimes hope is the scariest thing of all. Thats why I’ve created several ways for you to get involved with therapy.

SIMPLE PATHWAYS TO HEALING:

Quick Start Program

A day long retreat to help you get going. Tell your story, get support, learn some new anxiety management skills tailored to your unique needs. You can feel better fast and take home new hope.

4 session Package

Afraid you won’t follow through when life gets hectic? Commit to just 4 sessions, and come away feeling ready to change your world!

Individual Therapy (1 or 2 hour sessions)

Focus on yourself at a pace that’s perfect for you. Longer sessions are often so much more effective than the traditional 1 hour. Its tough to get into emotional issues. Longer sessions give you the time and space you need to understand what’s going on below the surface and to feel “done” with an issue. You’ll have time to become calm and ready to face the world again.

Yoga Therapy

Many yoga teachings and easy poses can be used in healing and calming anxiety. I weave these practices into my work with most clients. Longer sessions of yoga therapy are available at your request. I have completed teacher training in Anusara Elements Yoga and Amrit Method of Body Psychology.

The most important qualities to look for in a therapist are respect, safety and understanding. This is a gut feeling. When you have that sense of safety, you will be able to open up your creative side, learn easily, and move beyond your well worn patterns that have you stuck. You have this ability in you! I will work with you and create the right conditions so that you can activate your own innate ability to manage anxiety. The best way to start this process is a phone call. You’ll have an opportunity to see if our initial interaction feels safe. Then you can take the next step of making an appointment.

Call me today to set up a free phone consultation.

[edie-baby]

mr & mrs | liam lawson x reader

Summary: You and Liam were teammates at Hitech for 2021. You had the biggest crush on him, but you were sure he didn't see you as anything more than a little sister. But oh, how a few basic questions could uncover the truth between you.

Warnings: swearing, and I think that's it?

When you walked into work in the Hitech Grand Prix building this morning, you didn’t expect to be playing the fucking newlywed game with your crush. And if you’re being honest with yourself, crush is a light way to put it. You were head over heels for your F2 teammate and best friend, Liam Lawson. There was just something about the New Zealander that always had your heart racing, your legs buckling, and your stomach dropping.

So when you were directed into the garage for a ‘different background’ from other videos you had done with Liam, your stomach lurched. Here this gorgeous man was, in all his Kiwi glory, hair waxed back but falling out of place, jeans hugging the toned curves of his legs and ass and giving you a glorious view of his bulge, and the fucking blue sweater. The same blue sweater he had worn the last time the two of you did a video that had reduced you to a stuttering mess when you first saw him.

But now it is worse. So, so much worse. He was standing in a garage. Around cars, and tyres, and grease, and all of the inanimate objects you found so sinfully appealing, and he was just right in the middle of it looking like that. You just about turned around and walked right back out.

“Mighty Mouse! There you are. I was starting to think I’d have to be the brains and beauty of the operation.” Liam called once he spotted you, and suddenly you remembered why you had never tried making a move on him. He treated you like a little sister. Nicknames like ‘kiddo’ and ‘mighty mouse’ were a regular occurrence, and they never failed to make you squirm.

“Well, you struggle to be anything but the brawn, and I think I’m even starting to overtake you there.” You teased, pushing yourself to stay casual, platonic, familial. There was so much opportunity to flirt with him, but the few times you had tried were brushed off, so you had given up many moons ago.

“Ouch Princess, that hurts.” Liam mocked, his hand cradling his chest and you couldn’t help but wonder how it would be to fall asleep against his chest, curled up after a rough night of-

“Who’re you calling princess, princess?” You shot back, cutting your thoughts off before they continued developing and became an issue. Liam laughed, his arm slung around your shoulder while the two of you walked over to the team that were in charge of running your activity for the afternoon.

“Ok, I don’t know if you guys have heard of it, but this game is called Mr and Mrs, one of you will have a whiteboard and wear headphones while the other tries to guess what the answers to the questions you’re writing down are. Make sense? Ok, great, let’s do an intro and go from there.” One of the guys explained quickly, and you began having flashbacks to an awful 80s game show called The Newlywed Game, and blushed profusely. Having you and Liam in a video titled ‘Mr & Mrs’ was sure to get the fans going, and you couldn’t blame Hitech’s PR plan.

You and Liam settled into the wheely chairs from the office next door, Liam positioning himself in frame of the camera and fixing his stupidly perfect hair when you came barreling toward him with your chair, legs tucked up high so you didn’t cop a chair arm to the knee. Liam screeched when you finally hit him, almost toppling off the chair in surprise while you spun slowly, laughing freely as you did so.

Liam looked over at you, your head thrown back in carefree laughter, the yellow sundress that covered your body made you look radiant, and he was sure he had never seen a sight so beautiful before. Your laughter calmed down, and as you looked over at him, he couldn’t help but send you a lovestruck smile, his eyes dopey with admiration. You blushed slightly, laughing as the team asked if you could do the intro again, but actually introduce what you were doing.

Liam slid out of the frame, and you followed his movements as you could tell a fierce battle was about to commence. Kicking off the ground with force, you tucked your legs up onto the chair again, spinning into Liam so fast, you couldn’t actually see his face before you crashed into him. The two of you exploded in laughter again, laughter and smiles were common between you, and Hitech’s Instagram was full of photos and videos of you and Liam smiling at each other, or doubled over in laughter, clutching onto each other.

“Hi, I’m Liam Lawson, and this is Y/N, we drive for Hitech in Formula 2.” Liam began once you had slowed down your laughter. He kept a firm grip on the arm of your chair, holding you close and still, as your chair really liked spinning around.

“And we’re here to play Mr & Mrs, another game in our long series championship to see who the better teammate is.” You finished, gesturing to yourself subtly, but Liam caught it and pushed your chair away jokingly. As much as you loved the man and wished you could be more, you wouldn’t give up this relationship you have with him for something that might work.

MR & MRS | EDIE-BABY

“Liam, what is Y/N’s favourite colour?” The same guy from before asked, one who Liam still didn’t recognise due to the facemask and hat he was wearing. Nevertheless, he held up a whiteboard where the question was scribbled in messy writing, three multiple choice answers written waiting for not only Liam’s, but also your answer. You had airpods in your ears, connected to the blaring music playing from one of the Hitech employees’ laptops, a whiteboard in your hand that you quickly scribbled out an answer to.

Liam looked over at you, holding the whiteboard to your chest protectively so he wouldn’t cheat, but there was really no way that he could.

“It’s not an answer listed here, but her favourite colour is a light brown. She always says it calms her down because it reminds her of a cafe she went to once back home.” Liam spoke, watching you as he answered. You didn’t hear a word he was saying, bopping your head along to the 2000s hits pumping through the earphones. Liam pulled one of them out, his head nodding over to the camera while you proudly turned the board around, thinking you had gotten one over on Liam.

“My favourite colour is light brown, because it reminds me of the Brew Cafe in my hometown, and it brings a really nostalgic and calm feeling.” You stated, watching the faces of the employees morph from business to shock. You looked over at Liam, who had a smug smile on his face while he listened to your answer.

“There’s no way you could have known that!” You protested, glaring accusingly at the dirty blonde. He laughed in response, and you couldn’t have felt happier in any given moment. Not even the top step of the podium could compare to the warmth spreading in your chest. Little did you know, Liam was feeling the exact same way.

“Y/N earphones back in, Liam your next question. What is Y/N’s favourite song at the moment?” The same guy asked, yet this time there were no multiple choice answers. Liam’s eyes widened, turning to look at you to think of any songs he had heard blasting from your speakers or earphones recently, or something that you had ranted excitedly to him about. He spoke to himself, mumbling about artists and songs he could remember falling from your lips. You twirled a piece of hair around your finger, thinking about the answer to the question, when suddenly it hit him.

He had to wait a few moments as you were slowly writing down your answer, still not 100% sure of yourself. It was only after you had taken an earphone out that you jumped, furiously rubbing out the answer on the whiteboard and writing a new one, looking much more satisfied with the new answer. The team counted down, and as Liam spoke, you almost dropped the whiteboard.

“Feeling Something Bad by Ellise. She’ll start singing it randomly when she concentrates, which is usually a giveaway to what songs she's been listening to recently.” Liam said his answer so confidently that it made you feel as though you were inferior because he knew your favourite song and it took you a decent minute to think of it. Liam got another point as he had gotten two of your answers right, and you were starting to feel competitive.

“Alright Liam, who does Y/N get along with best in the F2 paddock? Oscar Piastri, Dan Ticktum, or you?”

“Oh, oh. Well, she hangs out with Oscar a lot, but I don’t know if she would say they get along better than we do? Like, she’s closer with Oscar but we get along best, if that makes sense? I don’t think it does. I’m gonna say Oscar because I don’t want to be rejected, but I really hope I’m wrong and that she says me.” Liam rambled, finally deciding on Oscar, and when you were told to turn your board around, Liam’s heart sank a little. You had written Oscar, and as you began trying to defend yourself, Liam waved it off and laughed to hide the disappointment in his eyes, but you could see it clear as day. You tried to move on like he did, to keep playing the game like you didn’t hurt her best friend and crush.

You began trying to cheer the Kiwi up, dancing along to the songs playing, and occasionally belting out the chorus. He was laughing along, finally joining you to sing when you were screaming the lyrics to Promiscuous, dancing all around the garage and trying to pull him up around with you. While you were dancing with some of the employees off camera, being recorded for Instagram, Liam was still in frame of the main camera, a fond smile on his face, and anyone who had looked at him could see that he was completely and utterly whipped for you, but you were too caught up in Nelly Furtado to see it yourself.

It was your turn to answer questions now, passing Liam the whiteboard that had a little love note written on it.

I’m going to crush you.

You wrote, and Liam thought it was adorable how competitive you got in trivial games like this, but it always made him try even harder just to give you some semblance of a battle.

“Y/N! How old was Liam when he started karting?” The guy you had begun to think was not an actual Hitech employee asked. The three ages to choose from scribbled on the whiteboard. You studied them for a moment, and could see Liam in the corner of your eye writing out his own answer.

“He was seven, because I remember him telling me that there’s regulations in New Zealand that you can’t race go-karts competitively until you’re seven and then won the race.” You explained, remembering the story he had told you easily, it was one of your favourites, purely because of the joy on Liam’s face when he recounted it.

He turned the board around, showing the exact answer you had given, and he gave you a cheeky smile in response to your silent gloating about getting a point. There was nothing cuter in his eyes than you getting so worked up about a game.

“What is Liam’s pre-race superstition?” Before the board with the question and possible answers came up, your mouth blurted out the answer you already knew all too well.

“He gets in the car from the left.” You practically yelled, and Liam looked at you with wide eyes, not hearing your words but seeing the excitement at knowing the answer.

“How did you know that?” One of the Hitech PR asked as her main priority was to stir up more rumours about the two of you, as it was always good for the team’s press.

“Because I’m just as superstitious about getting in from the right side, so when he found out, he asked the team if we could switch around how our cars are placed in the garage so that we could meet in the middle, do our little ritual, and then get in the car from there.” You explained, watching as Liam wrote down his answer with no idea of the words you were saying.

When Liam turned the board around, he explained the exact same story you had, and you giggled when he finished, showing off a proud smile before putting the pieces together that you had already run the same spiel.

“It’s quite cute that the two of you explain things using basically the same words.” That same PR lady stated. And you almost rolled your eyes, almost. But you caught Liam blushing slightly, and a small, stupid part of you began jumping up and down, because not only did someone think your relationship with Liam was cute, but he blushed at that.

“It happens when you spend so much time with someone. I’ve started picking up Kiwi slang, and he’s learning some of my slang. You don’t realise it until you say something to someone when he’s not there and they’ve got no idea what I mean. It’s so normal for Liam to always be by my side, and me by his that when I’m with other people it feels weird.” You started on a ramble, something you were known for. And then just would… not… fucking… stop. The press officer looked satisfied, but as you had finally gotten your mouth to stop moving, you were scared to look over at Liam.

“Whenever she’s not within arm’s reach, I feel like I’m missing something.” Liam spoke quietly, and you gulped as you heard his words. The man was going to kill you, surely. This little production crew didn’t give a shit about your blossoming romance though, as they hurried you through to the next questions. You and Liam barely looked at eachother, your answers shorter and much more vague than they were before. You just wanted to get out of this chair and go freak out in an empty office somewhere.

“Well, the winner of this round is Liam, which means he has officially overtaken Y/N in the Hitech championship. How do you guys feel about this one?” The producers asked. You would usually have felt a bit of a blow to your chest finding out you had been beaten in two ways, but you truly couldn’t think of anything except your proximity to Liam.

“I think we found out a lot, and I’m glad to finally be ahead in the championship. I think it’s the only time I’ll ever be able to beat Mighty Mouse in anything.” Liam chuckled, reverting back to your ‘little sister’ nickname because he felt like the distance would help him process his emotions.

“Hey, you already beat me in height, age, and supercar experience, you gotta let me have something.” You whined, you looked over at Liam with a pout and puppy eyes, unintentionally making his heart pound out of his chest.

“Well you’re the cuter one of the team, and you’re a hell of a lot smarter than me, so I’d say you’re winning enough. Plus you’re higher up in the drivers standings than me.” Liam replied, leaning closer to stare into your eyes, barely two inches between your faces, you blinked slowly, afraid that any sudden movements would scare him away.

His large hand reached up, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, then coming to rest at the side of your neck, his thumb resting on your jaw.

“I don’t think you realise what you do to me.” You mumbled, leaning forward very slightly to nudge your nose against Liam’s. His breath hitched, eyes boring into your soul in a way that made you freeze.

“It can’t be any worse than what you do to me. Looking as beautiful as you do, all I want to do is hold you, keep you close, show you off to the world, and I want to call you mine. I want to take you home and show you around my hometown, I want to introduce you to my parents, to take you to parties with my friends, I want to curl up in your apartment watching Harry Potter movies, and I want to dance around the kitchen with you at 2 in the morning making pancakes. I want to live my life with you.” Liam confessed, and for a few moments, you felt as though you couldn’t breathe.

You lurched forward, balling your fists up in that stupid blue sweater and pulling him closer. Liam’s eyes closed instinctively as your lips met, the coconut lip balm you applied before you came into the office was shared on your tongues, Liam’s exploring your mouth with vigor. You had never imagined him to be this passionate, this intense. But you had no complaints, his hands tugging you forward until you fell onto his lap, legs slotting in beside his own to straddle him on the wheely chair.

You broke away for a moment to catch your breath, eyes surveying every square inch of Liam’s face to commit it to memory. He truly was a gorgeous man, and you hoped you would get to see him like this many more times to come. He caught the look in your eyes and dove back into your lips, his teeth capturing your bottom lip in a bruising grip, a whimper escaping your lips before someone clearing their throat interrupted you.

“I guess we have everything we need for the video. Thanks you two.”

[i-need-air]

"Dude" — Bakugou Katsuki x Reader.

Summary: Your former bully, Midori, has confessed her undying love for one of the most famous guys at U.A.; you're just venting gossiping about it with Mei, not knowing Bakugou Katsuki is right around the corner, listening;

Warnings: None. Well, Bakugou Katsuki having various anger induced strokes > the normal > no warnings; light crackfic? subtle ending;

Word count: 4.5k;

[ Part 2 ];

"She confessed to him." You grinned, throwing a bunch of fries into your mouth like the absolute animal you were.

Mei on the other hand continued her work on whatever in the world her new prototype, or "baby", was. Still, you had the honor of having half of her attention, which was a compliment to say at least.

She just smiled, shaking her head, leading you to continue, not knowing a blond was quite literally behind the corner, just outside the door leading to the support department, frown on his face.

"She came to class giggling like an idiot saying she's got a plan." You made a face into the distance, remembering your classmate's obnoxious squeal. "Ugh, she started telling the Divas how she's gonna have The Bakugou Katsuki in the bag." An ugly snort left your body, which earned an amused chuckle from Mei.

Both of you were pretty well known to be very good friends, and as much as you hated to admit it, you were both quite the social pariahs too. She was a little bit strange or weird, as some called her, but not for a single second she cared, which was the reason you admired the girl so much in the first place. Meanwhile you've taken the role of the bitch of the whole school by far. Sadly, you were placed in the same class as your archenemy, only increasing your chances of being called said endearing term.

Middle-school was a nightmare to say at least, getting bullied for your looks, the way you spoke or dressed, anything really as long as you were the one being mocked. And who was the one doing the bullying? Midori. Stunning, graceful, baby-faced Midori. Petite yet elegant, a devil in disguise. Whoever crossed her path suffered her malice unless she had something to gain from them.

And now, sweet Midori was in the U.A.'s General Studies, coinciding with you in the majority but not all classes. It had to do with the tragedy that your quirk was so rare that the principal Nezu had to adjust a new schedule just for you. Just kidding, it was amazing. The actual tragedy was seeing her face every day.

Back to your heartbreaking backstory and origin; time made you tough, comments made you build a wall so tall and thick nobody could crumble it. Backstab after backstab made you learn that not everyone has good intentions, but in your loneliness you found Hatsume Mei. So honest and dedicated, so raw and passionate. A good person. The type of person your parents promised you'd someway cross paths with and gain such a strong friendship that nothing could tear it apart.

Becoming friends with her was easy, kinda. It took snapping back at Midori when she started her normal bullying routine on Mei, which ignored it without a care. You stepped in and the rest is history. It did feel good though, calling her a pathetic bitch before turning to the stranger with a cool gadget in her hands to compliment it. And, since she's a sucker for her babies, you had to deal with an hour of sparkly eyes and monologues about her plans and prototypes.

Funny girl, Mei. You remember thinking but the following day you passed by her usual spot to fill your curiosity, asking if she did solve the problem she was complaining about.

"He was the one she was planning to ask out?" She screamed at you, head inside a giant metal gauntlet and the reason you two started talking about said man in particular. News were extra-fresh anyway.

"Oh, yeah!" You shook your head, ashamed to exist in the same general proximity as a person like your former bully. "He's gonna be so rich and famous!" A high pitched squeal left your mouth as you tried to copy her voice. "Poor fucking guy, if only he knew."

"But people know she's a bitch!" She screamed again, repairing or adjusting something with almost all of her body inside the gauntlet. A smile, genuine and soft this time, formed on your face. The pink-haired girl wasn't one to talk bad about others or even care, but it was clear she wasn't particularly fond with Midori either, although the conversation was more for you to vent rather than gossip. Sure it was.

"Like the people from the Hero Department even care about us, the commoners." With a roll of the eyes, you followed. "If he's smart, he'll run away. If he's an asshole, he could use her too."

"What do you mean?" Pink flocks of hair suddently submerged from the gadget, eyes curious zooming on you. That probably got more than 50% of her attention and it was a new personal goal while she was at the workshop.

With shrugged shoulders, your answer came nonchalant. "He could date her and dump her like she's nothing. Would serve her right for all the shit she's talking about him." But the only response you got was a short quizzical look, followed by your exagerated sigh. "She's talking shit about him constantly, but then says he's hot and that his personality doesn't matter anyway. Money, fame, looks. She has a whole fucking life-plan! Then calls him a rabid dog!"

"Woah—" that surprised her.

"Woah indeed! Insane. It's insane. I don't know the guy but no one deserves that shit." When you got no response, you continued your speech, munching in the food with passionate hunger, words coming out almost indistinguishable. "Doubt he'd play her though. He looks like a smart guy. I've seen the Sports Festival—" you picked up your burger, giving it heart eyes. "—and I've seen the news. He's probably a good guy too, the issue is people don't see that and... Well, I understand what's it to be judged... Not many have what it takes to be a real hero but he does. Hope he finds happiness in life." Much talk for someone that doesn't know shit about the guy in particular, but even so faint, your gut instinct was trained well enough to spot malice and he lacked that. "And a therapist." And there's the little shit in you that had to drop a cheeky comment.

Mei's gaze turned downwards and even if you could see her brain do mental gymnastics to solve whatever problem she had in front of her super-eyes, she also contemplated your words with great care.

"He comes here from time to time—" she grins, smacking the grenade looking gauntlet with her weird utensil. "I noticed you two are similar." Your face twisted, eyes wide towards the girl.

Similar how? He was loud, bold with a foul mouth, definitely needed a therapist for those unresolved anger issues... But he was also bright as in whenever he went, people looked in his direction, like he shined; obviously strong, also from what you've heard smart, popular, lucky to be surrounded by kind people. Example being that very nice pink girl that had a joyous conversation with you the very first day of school and, much to your surprise, continued greeting and having sweet small talks with you every single time you saw each other. Or the blond haired guy that showed off a little bit too much and made dumb flirty comments with no bad intentions, the same blond that waved at you with enthusiasm when you'd cross paths. There was the red-head, Kirishima, that was an absolute gentleman, opening doors for you even if you had two functioning hands and smiled so bright it made your corneas burn, or also the dark haired guy, Sero, that you've seen helping literally anyone in need around the school campus with an easy going attitude and gentle grins. Bakugou Katsuki was surrounded by good people, good heroes just as amazing as him and if they liked him, he must've definitely had some good in him, right? Another point appeared in your mental presentation about the brash hero in the making was that he was way too attractive but the wise burried deep inside of you made that particular point dissappear. No need to think about that. Overall you weren't even remotely similar. Not even close. Two completely different human beings from two completely different worlds that would never collide. With that being said, there was the small chance that Mei hinted for you to get a therapist too, who knows.

"How even—"

"I mean!" She screwed something in place. "I mean in your— determination?"

"I wouldn't know that." You muttered.

"He screams I'm gonna be the best every time he's here—"

"Cute..." You vomit that endearment without thinking, but thankfully it got ignored.

"—and it always reminds me of you." A small chuckle left your mouth.

"Don't make fun of me."

"You say it too~"

"I just heal, Mei, it's not the same." Principal Nezu's speech, the speech he gave your parents months into the first year as they found themselves aware of your power made you hold your words. You had it in you. The potential. If incredible people like your teachers, like Shuzenji Chiyo or Principal Nezu twisted things around for your quirk, for how rare and powerful it is, you'd accept it.

"But you're gonna be the best healer ever, aren't you?" She taunted.

"Of course. Which reminds me—!"

"Hmm?" Her attention faded away slightly, but it wasn't a problem.

She cheered, both at you and at her finished masterpiece and proceeded to eat too, passing through the lunch hour without interruption.

"Recovery Girl is putting me on active duty at the infirmary from now on. Finally!"

Innocent pale purple eyes stared into deep crimson ones, furrowed brows covering them.

—

Bakugou Katsuki wasn't one to enjoy being annoyed or surprised and this extra managed to make him feel both things in a short notice.

Everyone around him froze in fear or wonder, awaiting his response without breathing or moving an inch. Meanwhile Whoever-she-was held a pink envelope in front of him, a perfume too sweet coming from it making him want to literally gag in the spot.

Another thing the boy did not appreciate was to have someone bullshit him. His senses were telling him to back off, alarms ringing in his head and those purple eyes held hidden intentions; he wasn't having any of it.

"Fuck off." He snapped, yet his stance was casual as he refused to move out of her way since she was the one that had the audacity to run into him.

Some gasps, even coming from his so-called idiotic friends, could be heard and an indignant Bakubro behind him as he got slapped in the shoulder but he did not care. Not until her lips started to tremble as she retreated her confession letter towards her chest dramatically. His eyebrow started to twitch at the sight.

It was a spectacle for anyone surrounding him.

"What's going on?" Shushes and whispers.

"Bakugou Katsuki just got a confession!" Gossip.

"What!? Who?!" Confusion.

"You said Bakugou Katsuki?!" Shock.

"Oh, she's pretty!" Awe.

"He told her to Fuck off! What an asshole!" Outrage.

"Is that Midori?" Surprise.

"The nerve—" Anger.

"Midori from—" Disbelief.

"Oh, my God, she's really doing it~!" Giggles.

He frowned deeper. If people were to talk about him, they should be talking about all the crap he's been doing and all the lives he saved, not because of a fake bimbo decided to cross his path.

Bakugou wasn't stupid either. With time he knew these things would eventually come in his direction, stuff he'd have to deal with in the future as fame would take over, but not now. He did not have time to entertain this show anyway.

There was only one destination in his mind and she was keeping him in the middle of the whole school cafeteria with prying eyes on them both.

"Bakugou, do something, she's about to cry!" Dunce Face harshly whispered, but turned towards the white haired girl that looked devastated in front of them. "Ignore him! Ask me out, I would never make you cry!"

He rolled his eyes so back in his head it almost hurt. With a need to hurl the food he just ate, he made a step to leave the scene but small hands with claw-like fingernails gripped his arm and he looked at her in utter disgust.

"No, I would never! He—" she sniffled but had no tears in her eyes. He gave her a scowl, trying to take his arm out of her grip but she scratched him in place with her tiny rat hands. "You're the one I love! I—" her bangs covered her face as she continued her show.

"Bakugou! Dude! Do something!" Shitty Hair said, his dumb and blind trust in people buying the act. A vein almost popped on Bakugou's forehead.

"I fucking said—" he pulled his arm so hard she fell on her knees by his side. "Fuck. Off."

Another set of gasps filled the room.

"Bakugou!"

One thing he did not want, even if he could tell it was a foul theater, was to hurt somebody. His asshole act ended at that but his pride stopped him from saying anything.

Glancing to see if she's hurt, Pink Idiot was by her side, helping her up and asking way too many fucking questions.

"No, I'm fine..." she said with such a meek voice he scoffed, also hearing all the shit everyone around him was talking.

"He's such a brute."

"What a mean guy—"

"She's crying!"

"Fucking asshole."

He gritted his teeth.

After the disaster with the League of Villains in the first year, people started to respect him for who he was yet one single, minuscule shit like this and they were all at his jugular.

"I took Bakugou-san by surprise." She excused his behavior to Ashido, which then suggested they should eat lunch together sometimes to make up for the trouble after apologizing in his behalf.

"Yeah, we'd love to have you around! Isn't that right, Bakugou?" The apologetic and almost pleading voice of his blond friend, if he ever was going to call him that anymore, just made him bare his teeth. If they wanted to get played like fools it was their problem, not his.

And that's how he found himself eavesdropping on the weirdo and an extra.

And with a single "Whatever." he left the cafeteria, going to check if his gauntlets were ready, annoyance oozing off him, making the sea of people part from his path. Except he didn't notice you rushing away a little bit in front of him, holding a bag of food, all amused.

Why the fuck was everyone talking about him? Can't they fucking keep his pretty name outta their mouths? With time and without finding a reason why the hell he was glued in place, he listened attentively, his suspicions confirmed and his ego hurt, but whoever was talking about him calmed his nerves a lot. He just needed to put a face to that voice. Just to see who's gossiping about him, nothing else.

—

With a full belly and a whole afternoon to study by Recovery Girl's side, you marched towards the infirmary after you bid your farewell to Mei. There was still time to walk around, grab something sweet for later and save any poor soul that Midori decided to sink her teeth in. It was common at this point, you getting in between her and her victims and taking the hit, yet somehow also being called a bitch by everyone. That's how high-school worked. She did have friends and they spread any word she spat. Vultures.

It was fine though. Hero [Y/N] is there to save the day no matter what. You scoffed at your own stupidity, turning the corner just to step on a leg that was sprawled on the floor.

He clicked his tongue, getting up with no worry in the world, but made no action to leave, settling for observing and analyzing you way too intensely.

"Watch where the fuck you're going, idiot." The man of the hour, the guy you've defended in front of your friend just screamed at you as he dusted off the imprint of your shoe left on his pants. Meanwhile you just paled in place before regaining your composture.

"Why are you sitting on the floor?" You said, tilting your head with a frown, already knowing you will not apologize.

Unimpressed by what was going on, even if you truly couldn't point out what really was going on, you made an attempt to move past him towards the vending machines not far behind, but he caught your arm in a firm grip.

You blinked stupidly at the skin contact.

"Heard you were talkin' shit."

Your stomach dropped. Legs almost gave up too if it weren't for his iron grip holding you still. In the silence and at the satisfaction of the reaction you let out, he smirked and raised his chin, only Mei's singing voice coming from her workshop could be heard. Realization hit you. Hit you? Bitchslapped you in the face and left a mark for sure, because your cheeks started feeling heated, tingly.

He dragged you away, maybe to have the privacy to murder you in peace, but your common sense kicked in and you came back from the land of the mortified.

Much like he did before, action you saw with your two own eyes and repeated, you pulled out of his strong grip and stared as he turned towards you, mouth already opened to probably eat you alive.

"I wasn't talking shit about you, dude." You quickly spoke first.

"You don't fucking know me." He growled back, taking a step towards you but like hell you'd back down.

"Don't need to be besties to say what I said." Without understanding why he was so agitated, the only thing left to do after this beautiful turn of events was to defend the honor remaining in you, so you raised your chin to be at par with him. The action clearly took him by surprise, making him glare more, if even possible.

"I don't fucking appreciate when extras talk about me behind my back!"

"I don't give a shit what you appreciate, dude." Your laugh was the complete opposite of his menacing loud voice, like ying and yang.

"Bakugou, the name's fucking Bakugou, you extra!" Bakugou recovered quickly at your snappy self, getting more bothered as you talked.

"Okay, dude." His hands fisted, shaking in place as he stared you down but did not continue.

Silence; the hallway was now filled with silence as he boiled in his own anger and as you raised your brows in confusion. Now what? Was it time to leave? You've never met anyone like him, this was peculiar—

"NOW IT'S WHEN YOU FUCKING TELL ME YOUR SHITTY NAME, YOU FUCKING DUMBASS!"

A second passes; two; at the third you're wheezing your lungs out, laughing at the ridiculousness of the scenario.

"What the fuck are you LAUGHING AT?!" His voice got louder just to top your howling. You did not expect that.

Through a sigh, regaining your breath, you say "It's [L/N] [Y/N].", seeing him retreat in his form and cross his arms. He was still seizing you up.

"If you have shit to say to me, say it to my fucking face, understood?"

"I—... Say what now?"

"I—." He copied in a mock, getting an incredulous look from you. "You stupid or what?" Your upper lip lifted, ready to cuss him to infinity and beyond but he continued. "Like about that bitch from before and shit—" even if he still was loud, he placed his hands in his pockets and looked more interested in the way the tiles on the wall were placed instead of your person. "An' like you told the weirdo—"

No time to be shocked at the implied; his last word enraged you, making your body shake with rage. "Don't fucking dare to call her a weirdo ever again."

Like a challenge, he snapped his face back at you, ready to take it.

"Or what?"

"Listen here, fucker—" now that was a nice surprised face he was pulling. "Just because I gave you a pat on the back in there doesn't mean you can disrespect people just because you think you're the shit. You're not. Now get out of my fucking way." With a final push to his shoulder, your mind was focused on going to the infirmary, steam almost coming out of your nostrils.

"Hey, extra!"

Ignore him, ignore him, ignore him. went through your mind, marching away without a glance back. Not until—

"[L/N]! You're a healer, hah?" That's interesting. He stood where you left him, watching.

"What's it to you?"

Someone sane would've left at your tone but this guy walked towards you then showed you his arms, recently scratched. Images came back to you about the cafeteria incident but did not underst—... did he want to get healed?

You scoffed.

"They're scratches, dude."

"They annoy me. Now heal." All the energy you had left in your body was channeled towards the slow blink you threw at him, at which he scoffed. But they did look nasty— and Midori did them. It was a curse by itself to look down at your own arms and remember that face, so the guardian angel in you decided to take control and be the better person.

Gentle fingers barely tapped his muscular arm. Smile crept up on your lips, feeling absolutely delighted at his obvious stiffness at the skin contact and the clear interest in his eyes, specially when the scratches started disappearing into nothing, leaving smooth silk skin under.

"Hey— Wha— Where the fuck do you think you're going?!" raspy voice got lost in the distance and one thought in your head.

"Want a lollipop for being a good patient too?" You mock and his face explodes in all shapes of red. It would've been great to mock him more, enthralled by his reactions, but with that you turned and left, ignoring the tingling under your fingers that should not be there and your stomping heart.

Did he wait all the lunchbreak to talk to you?

—

A long queue was ahead of you, earning the longest sigh out of your lungs. Life was pain sometimes. Mei couldn't hang out, food was too far away, the delicious croissants Lunch Rush made ran out as far as you could see. Pain. Just pure pain.

And disappointment. When you walked away with your food in a bag, maybe to sit under a tree and enjoy some peace and quiet, you saw her. Midori sitting at a table you did not expect. At the same table where Ashido Mina, Denki Kaminari, Kirishima Eijirou and Hanta Sero sat at. Good people. Honest, good people about to get bitten by a snake. If she was there, then Bakugou decided—

"You. Sit."

Thinking about the boy somehow summoned him behind you. Food in hand and bored expression on his face, he passed you not without giving you a stink eye. Indeed, disappointment.

You shrugged, trying not to pay much attention to the pang in your heart as you moved forward, but a voice— his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"You. Get the fuck out of my face." His growl made everyone around him turn to watch, you being one of them. There was no excuse to what came next, no way to run away past it and dissappear. He nodded his head at you out of all people and pointed at the seat still occupied by Midori; her purple eyes big, shocked, running between your frame and the blond's.

Do you know what it felt to be put in the spotlight without warning? Well, congratulations because that was your life now.

"Ba—Bakugou-san?" Her voice, now highed up and meek followed, then a small scream as Bakugou slammed his food on the table. His friends sat there, wide-eyed, but made no attempt to interrupt.

"Did I fucking stutter, bitch? Or want me to turn into a rabid dog for fucking real?"

You choked on your own spit, bag of goodies about to drop on the floor once you saw her horrified face. She knew that he knew. And when her pale eyes, filled with sudden malice, act dropped, turned to you it's when you realized she figured out where he found out from.

Not like you cared, really, but the little shit that always had to poke out every time she was in the same room as you decided to finally show up, making you wave and send her a wink.

"I said MOVE!" now— that growl, raspy and filled with anger startled her. The orange juice in her hands spilled all over her uniform and woke her up from whatever delusion she was in. With zero time to reconsider, every belonging of hers was picked up with trembling hands and she ran away to her group of cockroaches.

A smile was already settled on your face; your brain was storing that whole interaction deep within, ready to bring it back up whenever you needed a good laugh.

Life was pain and disappointment, you say? No. Life was great. Or more importantly, Bakugou was. Not like he needed to know. But he was a decent guy as he proved—

"THE FUCK YOU STANDING THERE LIKE A DUMBASS?! I SAID SIT!" —to be a pain in the fucking ass and the bane of your existence.

You gave him a face then turned to walk away, even rushing more when you heard his chair screeching on the floor. The exit was so close, so near, freedom never felt this great, the sunlight kissing your skin giving you a new hope to live. But not for long because he grabbed your hand and started dragging you towards his table.

Your hand was in his hand and he was dragging you—

Your hand— his big, warm, a little bit sweaty hand—

How could you ruin such a beautiful moment? Eyes on you two, shocked, silence, his adorable red ears being the only thing you could see as he was completely in front of you, still dragging you towards his friends...

"Did you wait all lunchbreak yesterday to talk to me?" You collided into him as you finished the sentence, his way taller form stiffened so much you felt you single-handedly broke Bakugou Katsuki for good.

But when he turned... Oh, when he turned. Biggest deer-caught-in-the-headlights eyes you've ever seen on anyone, cheeks painted so red you almost melted in the spot, lips trembling as his head worked a thousand miles per second just to find a retort. And you prepared yourself for—

"NO, I FUCKING DIDN'T! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, YOU FUCKING EXTRA? I'D NEVER WAIT FOR SOMEONE LIKE YO— ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME!" Mina's waving hand caught your attention and smiled at her. Your hand was still in his, gripped harshly as he still hasn't noticed it's still there.

"Hey! [L/N], long time no see!" She cheered, ignoring the living shit out of her screaming friend, like she's used to it.

"FUCKING LOOK AT ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU—"

"Hey, chill, dude. Now let go of my hand, I wanna talk to Ashido." You smiled sweetly, making extra effort to wave your linked hands arond until he finally noticed. He zapped his hand away so fast, like he's been bitten by a wild animal. Maybe even a rabid dog, if you will.

You couldn't ignore your own flustered state as you walked past him, giving him a one up, adding the absolute scandalized face he had into the back of your mind for safekeeping.

"Come sit with us!" The pinkette offered.

"Oh, hey, I know you! You're by Hatsume's workshop all the time!" Kirishima intervened with a surprised face that broke into a grin. "Nice to officially meet—"

"I fucking said." he appeared, sitting in front of you. "My name's Bakugou."

"Ok, dude, but I'm talking to someon—"

"BAKUGOU KATSUKI!" Could be heard from the stratosphere.

Note: I just realized Midori means Green [ fucking duh ] but I'm not gonna change the name or her description. I think her parents fucking up her name was the start of many accidents leading into the Midori we all know and hate. Also, I know you understand. We all know a Midori in our lives. Much love.

Note 2: I keep editing it but tumblr dot com slash Install App on Phone fucks my editing and switches paragraphs all around! If you find any PLEASE tell me, I'd really appreciate it!!!

[wizkiddx]

hiiiii i love your stuff - could u do one where the readers ill but they have stuff to do and tom has to look after her. maybe if they were just friends before too but both pining? thankuuuuuuuuu

should I be writing this instead of revising? clearly fucking not. Did I make this little blurb req ridiculously long purely to procrastinate? Of fucking course.

but also this was v cute! I assumed u meant famous!reader, sorry if that's not what u were after at all anon x

summary: Tom Holland turns into the readers knight in shining armour when they get ill during promo

warnings: fainting / feeling ill

///////////////////

It couldn’t be today. Of all days, why today? You’d been at home for two weeks doing absolutely nothing, before this trip. And yet it’s when your itinerary is packed to the brim, people moving heaven and earth just speak to you. Two weeks of unrelenting press for Marvels next big ensemble movie. 

Your manager was speaking to you, reeling off a run down of todays activities but instead of listening you nodded along blankly - head rather cloudy with this heavy mist that was not shaking off, no matter how hard you tried. 

“You got that Y/n/n?” Lucy pointedly spoke, eyes almost physically knocking you backwards as if her eyeliner was battery rams. Fumbling with your thoughts, your answer wasn’t particularly cohesive earning you just a disappointed head shake. 

“I um… yeh I think. Who-who did you say I was paired up with?” 

“Y/n please for the love of god. Tom, like I said the past fifty times.” And to be fair to Lucy she wasn’t wrong. It was the first major major promo tour for the both of you and after just two days so far - you were both exhausted. She was more than allowed to be a bit short tempered. 

“But we-we hardly know each other? The chemistry won’t be there and-“

“As I said, I tried to re-jig it but Kevin is of the mind that acting is your job.” Her tone was sharp but as she glared across the opposing seats, in the little mini van Marvel had hired for you as transportation, her eyes softened. Lucy had been so wrapped up in her own stress she may have overlooked quite how gingerly you were sitting. By the time she had arrived at the hotel, your stylist had already managed to half save your ghoulish looking face, with sunken under eyes and tired skin, so it wasn’t so blatantly obvious how crap you were feeling.  “Is everything okay with you?” 

It felt pretty puny to say that the jet lag from flying to Tokyo had been weighing you down further than you wanted, or that the local cuisine top chefs had kindly prepared for you last night wasn’t siting well in your stomach. To be honest, even you thought it was just your body being a bit overdramatic. So in response, you put on your best happy-go-lucky face feigning a smile.

“No no I’m fine, just want to give the best interviews I can and you know…. I’m awkward as hell as it is, then pair me with the most talented actor that I share about two minutes of screen time with…it’ll be interesting.” 

The way Lucy reacted with a weird slow nod, eyebrows furrowed, meant it was quite apparent you had perhaps overplayed that one. Had you not been so over the day before it even began, you would’ve tried again to give a more believable act. But as you were, you turned your attention back out to the bustling streets of Tokyo and the high rise buildings bordering each pavement. 

You didnt have a problem with Tom, far from it in fact. Tom was hilarious and the times you had met him, you’d both built up this weird and sarcastic competitiveness with each other. It was a game of who could get the last laugh, each of you pushing each other with the Mickey taking just a little further. Of course, not in a malicious way, just the way you’d both lived pretty similar but parallel careers - when everyone drew comparisons between the both of you, it was nice to make it a joke. 

Like Tom you’d also started out on stage, had a ‘big break’ movie as a kid and then spent your teenage years on and off film sets - till marvel happened. Then everything blew up to epic proportions, changing your life forever. Actually, it was so similar to Tom’s story, plus the fact you were also from the south west of the UK. It was bizarre your paths hadn’t crossed more - He probably could’ve been a useful ally in the the whole ‘becoming famous’ thing. 

And yet, you could probably count on two hands the amount of conversations you’d had with him. 

Now that, that was the issue. Right from the beginning you learn what the press want and when you are publicising a movie you cater into it too. They’d all be asking for the insider scoop on set; what pranks you’d pulled on each other; what was the most annoying thing about each other. Which is hard if you’d only had 5 or 6 days actually on set together. 

By the time the cab had wormed its way through the Tokyo traffic and you arrived at the PR hotel, it was already 9:30 - making you 15 minutes late (blame it on the traffic). Instantly then you were ushered straight to the interview room for the evening, no chance of green room chat or grabbing a drink before. The place was stuffy, everything was draped with black curtains except the poster board that Tom was already sitting infront of. 

He’d scrubbed up well, no doubt about it. He was wearing statement-ish burgundy suit trousers, teamed with a black knitted but collared shirt thing - that was clearly tailor made for the man. As soon as he noticed you scurry into the room, his face broke out into a warm smile, jumping up to greet you in a friendly hug. It was brief, and as you pulled back you accidentally bumped your head on one of the overhanging lights. No doubt someone had spent a ridiculous amount of time configuring them so they were positioned perfectly, which you had just ruined with your big head. 

“Oh shit!” Tom just laughed in response, shaking his head slightly as he lead you the two steps across to your pre-positioned seats. 

“Making an entrance as always I see!”

“Yeh, you know me, a bit of chaos just to keep everyone on their toes.”

“Oh is that why you’re ‘fashionably late’” With a playful wiggle of his eyebrows, you just rolled your eyes, fidgeting on the chair to find a position that didnt aggravate  your stomach so much.

“I’m ready now though! What did I miss? Just having to pretend to be your friend for 15 minutes?” You stressed the words as though the thought of conversation with Tom was the absolute worst thing in the world - which you definetly didnt think. Scowling like you’d insulted his dog Tessa, it was almost visible how the cogs were turning in his head looking for a comeback. Unfortunately for him though, he was quickly shut up but the organiser bringing the first interviewer in . 

For what would, no doubt, be a long day. 

////

Everything had started off so well, the banter was flowing between you and Tom, no major spoilers revealed that meant Marvel would have to make the journalist disappear. It was once you hit an hour of back-to-back interviews that everything started to crack bit. Because yes, it had only been an hour but that was enough to exhaust you on this particular day. When Tom joked around you got slower and slower, similarly the  energy was zapped from your own answers. It’s not very compelling when someone says ‘you have to watch this movie’ in a monotonous voice with sullen eyes. 

As the interviewers were swapping in and out, Tom actually lightly nudged your shoulder.

“Everything alright? We’re trying to sell tickets and you’ve got a face like thunder.”

“Oh no-no sorry I just, I-um.”

“You want some water?” Now looking at your with more concerned eyes, as if he was just nervous he’d actually offended you for calling you a boring bastard. And you would’ve picked up on it and alleviated his concerns, if it weren’t for the fact your eyes were glued on the water bottle he was holding out to you. You were thirsty. You knew that, that wasn’t the conundrum. What you weren’t so sure about was whether your stomach would accept it, or more violently reject it. In a very non ‘we’re-trying-to-sell-a-movie’ style. 

But the lightheaded fogginess in your brain won out, as you nodded jerkily, taking the bottle and taking a little swig - too cautious to take anymore. 

Now concerned with how Tom thought you were being a Debby-downer too, you managed to perk yourself up for the next four interviews. They were easy, asking questions without any activity and though you did rely on Tom beefing out and adding to your answers, it was okay. Then the next interviewer came in, who you recognised as being from the BBC, Ali Plumb, that had interviewed you a number of times. From the way Tom jumped up to give him afirendly bro-hug, you guessed he also was familiar with him. As soon as he took a seat the cameras were already flashing with the red light, demonstrating his 7 minutes had already started. 

“Guys! It’s been a while.” 

“How are you Ali?” You started it off with the pleasantries, Tom echoing, before the speccy dirty-blonde asked his first question. 

“So the last time I spoke to you guys the universe was in chaos, Peter Parkers on the run and Aurora Blake was trying to strip her own powers, so I guess my first question is how are you both doing? We can use this as a therapy session if you guys need.” His very typical nerdy joke made Tom laugh, nodding as he leaned forward and repositioned a bit. 

You didn’t share the same humour though, more focused on this invisible blanket of stuffiness that seemed to have been thrown on top of you. It made you feel groggy, incredibly hot and so unbelievable nauseous. The lights weren’t helping either, it felt like you were pouring with sweat from your forehead. You thought Tom was answering Ali, even if you couldn’t really hear  - everything had merged into a deafening roar. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, unconsciously making you fumble yourself to standing, desperate to get somewhere with fresh air. The last thing you saw before your vision tunnelled into darkness was Tom, reaching out to try and catch you. 

Because next thing you knew, you were on the floor, wires from all the cameras and lights digging into your back as you looked up to see Tom on one side and Lucy on the other - both wearing a similarly panicked expression. You knew you hadn’t been out long, seconds if that, going by the fact everyone else was in the ‘oh my god’ phase of panic. It was a bit weird how calm you where, but then again all your life you’d been the ‘class fainter’. Waking up on the floor was something you were long since used to. 

“Y/n? You awake?” Rather stating the obvious Tom asked the question as you bent your head up - allowing you sight of all the concerned facing oggling you. With a defeated sigh, you flopped your head back. 

“If this is a dream then it’s a real bloody nightmare.” This time Tom didnt seem to appreciate your joke, looking at you without almost dumbfounded eyes, as you blinked repetitively and groaned. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Lucy appeared to want to lecture you, which to be honest wasn’t the most time appropriate. You were still on the floor, legs crumpled up under you, so ignored her. Instead you pulled yourself up into a sitting position, taking a moment to blink away the blotchy haze that threatened to takeover your vision once again, whilst the pair above you both cautiously rested their palms on each of your shoulders -trying to be useful. The room still felt cramped and stifling, as everyone around were no doubt looking at you. 

It took a few minutes but your body seemed to get over itself, sitting up normally and trying to make small talk with Ali - who, by the way, was still sat awkwardly in the chair. Still nestled on the floor, your back up against the chair you had been siting on as you raved with Ali of the Harry Potter theatre show. In a natural lull in conversation, Tom perked up - from the door where he’d been muttering with the organiser as Lucy bit her nails nervously. 

“Y/n you need to go home.” 

All of you knew what Tom said was impossible. Not being egotistical, but you were too important. Although you hadn’t been paying masses of attention for Lucy’s run down of your itinerary - you knew it was packed. 

So you just looked up and rolled your eyes at Tom, earning yourself a strong glare, before locking the organiser in eye contact.

“How many have we got till lunch?” 

“Um this gent here” He gesturned toward Ali, who was almost squirming in his seat now “then two more.”  

“And then lunch?” 

“Yes, then you have a personal appearance at a dinner, so transport will be coming to pick you both up.” This poor guy seemed obsessed with the clock and his timetable, looking at your with a mixture of panic and frustration. You should know this stuff, you should’ve listened to Lucy. 

“How fars the drive?” 

“At this time probably an hour and a half.” 

The plan was clear in your head, you’d sort yourself out in the car and be fully fine by the afternoon and evening engagements. Plus you felt almost fine now. So with a sigh, you hauled yourself up onto the chair, patting for Tom to sit back down. 

“It’s half an hour and then I’ll sort myself out at lunch - come on their waiting.” The way Lucy pouted showed she disagreed somewhat, except a stern look kept her from protesting, as Tom walked toward you. 

“Are you sure you don’t loo-“

“Let me stop you before you insult my appearance.” Snickering slightly at his worried face, you laughed it off , knocking his side with a gentle murmur of ‘don’t worry about me’. 

In fact after that little episode you did feel a little recovered, which meant you were properly noticing the change in the boy sat next to you. Throughout the remaining three interviews he’d done a complete 360 from earlier. Rather than trying to get little digs at you, he had become fiercely protective - jumping in if a questions wasn’t particularly appropriate or relevant to the movie ( meaning when an awfully crap man asked what underwear you’d been able to wear in your suit) ; taking the heat of the conversation as well as just watching you like a hawk. Each time you answered his beady brown eyes were watching you from the side, you got the impression it wasn’t only just because of the risk of spoilers. 

Quite remarkably, you survived the rest of the day pretty well, after a power nap in the car on the way over - even if it was a bit difficult when you had your manager watching you like a hawk from the seat across. It was as if Lucy had never seen anyone ill before, she seemed concerned that you were going to spontaneously stop breathing and die at any point. 

Though by the time all the official business at the dinner was done, your body and willpower had reached the end of their tether. You and Tom were both on a round table, surrounded by 6 CEOs and execs of what seemed to be a multimillion pound business enterprise. With the language barrier meaning you had to speak through the two people on the table who were fluent in both japanese and English, the conversation was already pretty jilted. Though to be fair, the six did seem to be enjoying the evening - something you werent able to reciprocate. Thankfully, five minutes after the main course dishes had been collected, Tom spoke up from his position opposite you.

“This has been lovely and we really appreciate your time and generosity but me and Y/n have a really early start tomorrow so I think we should probably get back to the hotel.” You swore in that moment you could’ve kissed him, and it looked like Tom could tell - by the way your shoulders sagged and you let out an exhale of pure relief. Apparently even if you’d managed to convince the hosts you were enjoying the evening, Tom easily saw through the performance. After some hurried goodbyes, Tom led you out of the hall with his hand hovering over your lowerback, trying to make sure your exit was as discreet as possible. 

Away from the bubble of chatter and activity, in the deserted hallway, Tom stopped you - lightly holding both hands on each of your arms. 

“Wheres your team?” 

“Um Luce is back at the hotel, she was trying to see if she could reschedule any of my stuff tomorrow.” You winced at the way he sighed, realising you were all on your own in some random business event hall in Tokyo.

“Harry -my brother- is waiting in the car at the front - is that okay?”

“No Tom, don’t worry abo-“

“Yeh well I am and I think you feel ten times worse than you’re letting on.” He spoke harshly, like a school teacher telling you off - except the hint of a kind smile at the end was a dead giveaway. 

“You sure?” 

With a relieved nod (Tom had thought you might be a bit more stubborn - you obviously were really really ill) he wordlessly shrugged his suit jacket off, wrapping it round your shoulders. He muttered something about not wanting you to catch a chill but to be quite honest you were a bit distracted by the woody cedar smell of Toms aftershave that enveloped your senses. Maybe it wasn’t so bad being fussed on by him? To be fair he wasn’t wrong either, you were in a strapless evening dress - you would’ve preferred to be in joggers, but Marvels press team had other ideas. 

After a quick pit stop at the toilets, the two of you managed to make an unnoticed escape out the building - into a big SUV which had seconds prior pulled up onto the steps. You literally melted into the nearest window seat, body hunching over as you probably crumpled Tom’s jacket beyond belief. 2 seats along from you, a frizzy haired boy gave you a sympathetic smile, which you returned weakly whilst muttering a ‘hi’. Meanwhile, Tom pulled the sliding door shut, sitting across from you. 

“Oh Y/n this is Harry and Harry this is Y/n.” In unison both of you replied with an ‘I know’ eye roll. Your response was somewhat more shocking to both Holland boys, you could tell from the way they had this whole nonverbal conversation with their eyes - they were very clearly brothers. Needing to explain you continued. “I like to keep tabs on my castmates, I’ve seen you on Toms instagram.” That had both boys smirking, Harry presumably just because you knew who he was; Tom more smugly, you’d just given away you slightly stalked him on instagram. 

Silence reigned for a moment, as the driver put his foot down slightly. 

“How you doing?” Tom asked. 

“Mhm…” you thought for a second, how to eloquently describe the sensation. 

“shit.” 

Both boys chuckled a little and even though you had closed your eyes in an attempt to dull the throbbing behind your temples, you could feel the eyes on you. 

“You want the music off?” Harry asked, referring to the indie-rock coming quietly out the speakers of his laptop, which was resting on his lap. With a shake of your head you refused, even if really silence probably would help your head, you were already causing the two Hollands enough trouble - no need to bore them during the journey back into central Tokyo, especially when you weren’t the most enthusiastic company ever. 

Thankfully the music stayed on a low volume, whilst the car seemed to settle into a comfortable silence. With a long exhale you fluttered your eyes open, seeing Tom focused on his phone, before you rested the side of your head against the black-out glass. Taking some relief from the cool glass, you huddled further into the corner of the car against the door.

Floating in the space between sleep and wakefulness, you were kind of aware of your head occasionally bobbing and jerking about - but really didn’t have the energy or willpower to do anything about it. Instead, the thing that perked your attention was hearing some supposed-whispering from inside the body of the car.

“I know she said she didn’t care but she was clearly lying-“ 

“Like you know! You’ve been desperate to try and spend some time with Y/n- maybe you poisoned her just so you could be all knight-in-shini-“

“Turn. The. Music. Off.” Tom sounded scathing now, and with a grumble from your other-side the cheery drum beats ceased.

“Happy now?” …and Harry was sarcastic. 

“Swap places with me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“Why?”

“So she can lie down.” 

“Well no because you would still be in the way if we swapped.”

“Yeh but she can lie on my lap idiot.”

“She can lie on me.”

“She doesn’t know you!”

“Well for 1, barely ten minutes ago she said she did know me. And 2, she doesn’t know you any better!”

If this was their version of whispering, you would love to hear what volume ‘shouting’ was. There was no reply for a short while, you imagined the two brunettes locked in some intense staring match.The next time Tom spoke he sounded more defeated - almost begging. 

“If I admit you beat me at the driving range the other day will you-” 

“I KNEW IT!” Harry yelped, the volume making you jerk, eyes flying open before reflexively closing because the light was too bright. There was a little mutter of an apology, then silence again. 

Once agin you must’ve drifted off because it felt like absolutely no time had passed when a firm but gently hand on your shoulder nudged you awake. 

Sure enough the boys had swapped position, Tom now sitting along the seat from you, Harry looked a little sulky from across the way. It was Tom who was reaching over, a gentle and peaceful smile on his face.

“You wanna lie down? Don’t want you to strain your neck.” He wasn’t wrong, adding to the throbbing headache, the cloudiness in your brain and the unsettled feeling in your stomach… now your neck hurt. Just bloody great. 

Had you been your normal witty and perceptive self, you might’ve teased Tom as to why him and his brother had done a switch - but everything hurt and all you wanted to do was sleep for a hundered years. So with squinting eyes you jerkily nodded, missing how Tom chuckled to himself. The guy undid your seatbelt, then sat back to let you balance the back of your head on his thigh, looking up at the roof of the SUV. Already your eyes were closed again, you kicked off your slip-on heels and bent your legs up to lean against the backrest - occupying the position you had been sat in before hand. You felt his hands reposition the jacket, pulling it round so it was now like a blanket tucked under your chin. 

To be fair it was much more comfortable than sitting up and you weren’t even aware of how quickly you dropped back into sleep. 

Though it wasn’t quick enough to miss Harry’s very sulky sounding comment, presumably meant only for Tom’s ears. 

“Still think you’re being fucking creepy bro.” 

<33 lemme know what u think! (would make me feel less guilty for not doing all the work I rlly should be doing aha)

tagging : @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove

[echos-newlegs]

Hi!! I would love to request number 13 with Tech! I feel like he would definingly ask you to hold hands for ""Science"" (and no other reason why do you ask) Readers pronouns are she/her, and pg or smut whichever is fine :) Thank you so much!

For Science

hhh this would be so cute and we stan him asking in the name of science. Because honestly same,

Tech x Reader: “I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand..”

Warnings: semi smut. I mean it leads up to it, but the moment gets ruined so it’s mainly just kissing, lmao. 😎 I was too tired to actually write smut.

Tech wasn’t really even sure when he started liking you. Of course he always liked you. Who couldn’t? You were amazing, beautiful, strong, courageous, smart.. Plus you not only listened to him, but you rambled with him. But that was besides the point. He was catching feelings for you. The new gunman and technician that clone force 99 was assigned. And he wanted to act upon those feelings more than anything.

He started small. Bringing you caf everyday. Just the way you liked it. It made his day just seeing the smile that came across your face when he would enter the room with a steaming cup for you. Catching you in a small conversation if you weren’t too entirely busy.

Then he started with small touches. Nudging you more, or tapping your arm to gain your attention. Or squeezing your shoulder or patting your back when you accomplished something and he was congratulating you.

You never really took too much time to think about it. You thought he was just being nice, and honestly? You loved it. You were just as touch starved as they were, and the contact made you feel something. Made you feel warm and appreciated.

After a few weeks of this. Nearly a month, actually. He got a new idea.

You were sitting in the copilot seat, waiting for him to make his entry. You had nothing better to do, all your tasks finished. So what better thing to do than sit with your favorite Batcher? Talk with him while he flew you and the gang to the planet that was actually pretty far away. You honestly weren’t too thrilled about the trip at all. Long flights always bored you.

Tech made it into the cockpit. Turning your head as you were slid down in your seat. Hands on your stomach. Eyes watching as he walked over to the pilot seat and began checking over things. “Ready for the trip?” You asked, and caught a glimpse of his smile. “I guess,” he spoke. “Not really much to be ready for.” He flipped a few switches and checked over the gauges as he readied the engines.

“What do you mean? Aren’t you excited about doing the same thing we’ve done a million times, then heading back to 79’s and getting hit on by random strangers?” You were being sarcastic, and it made him snort. Smile spreading across both of your faces. You just loved it when you could make him smile like this.

He sighed when he finally got the ship out of the atmosphere and into light speed. You both relaxing a bit. Though he relaxed more than you, since you were practically already relaxed. Just hitting a few switches here and there for him since he normally always had piloting under control. Which you admired him for.

He reached over and tapped your shoulder. Catching your attention as always. "Hm?" You hummed, watching as he shoved up his glasses using his index finger. "Can I hold your hand?" He asked. His question baffled you. Blinking a couple times, but you only shrugged. Not thinking twice of it. “Uh, sure, you good, goggles?” You teased as you held your hand out. Tech gently taking it in his own. Gloved thumb running over the back of your bare hand.

You noticed his gaze was elsewhere. Not on you anymore. His face even looked pink. “Uh yeah,” he stammered. Mentally cursing himself. Clearing his throat. He honestly thought this out before doing anything. “It’s a test.” “What sort of test?” He should have known you would ask that.

He thought, darting his tongue out to wet his lips. Lifting his head once more so his eyes would meet yours. “I wanted to test out a theory I had.” He spoke, shifting a bit in his seat. His hands now playing with your fingers. You wanted to squeal, it was so cute.

“Have you ever watched an infant grab someone’s finger when a parent, or even someone at random places their own finger in the palm of their hand?” You nodded. “Yeah. On the holo, why?” You were growing intrigued. You always found his spews so interesting. Especially this one.

“That’s known as the grab affect. Infants, especially of the human species, crave touch. Well, really any age of person does. The signs just show as early as infants even up to four weeks before they are born. Sucking thumbs, grabbing their umbilical cord. Or twins will even hold each other’s hands in the womb. It shows in other species of Aliens as well.” He told you, you nodding along with him. “Like when some babies cling to their mothers, like apes for example. It’s a common craving and it all comes down to how our brains are programmed.” He added, bringing a hand up to tap the side of his head with a soft smile. Hand dropping back to his lap.

“I find it quite interesting, really. They are saying, and have even in some ways proven that skin on skin contact. Like for instance, holding hands.” He gave your hand a light squeeze,” let’s off a chemical in our brain called ‘Oxytocin.’ It’s a neurotransmitter that helps our brains release feelings of trust, generosity, and compassion.” Tech told you.

You took in this information like it was gold. Watching the words fall from his mouth with an intent look. “They have proven that a lack of touch, which is often known as touch hungry, or touch starved. With children can lead to physical disabilities, such as a stunt in growth. Plus mental ones. It’s most common in adults, the mental issues are. Adults can get severe depression or even anxiety from the lack of being touched, you know?” He informed you, and you shot him a lopsided smile. “You feeling depressed or anxious, Techy?” You asked, and he smiled at that. “Not when I’m around you.”

You felt the blush creeping up the back of your neck. Kriff this was adorable. He is adorable. “They also have found that when fingers are interlaced, like this.” He interlaced your fingers with both hands. Eyes watching what he was doing, carefully. “Heart rate goes down, blood pressure goes down, and it puts your body in a relaxed state. All because of the pressure receptors that are triggered just from holding hands, though interlaced fingers triggers more of those receptors. Which are called the vagal activity,” you hummed and nodded. Watching as he looked up to meet your eyes.

“So..” he trailed off, his voice lowering, and you waited for the question that would soon follow after. “Do you feel more relaxed, mesh’la?” Your lips pressed into a small smile at that question, and you nodded. “Yeah.. I actually do, that was really interesting, Tech.” You told him, and nearly exploded at the wide grin he shot back at you. “Really?” He asked, he always seemed so shocked when you enjoyed his lectures.

“Yeah, I did,” you assured him. Watching as he stood from the seat. Using his hands still interlaced with yours to pull you up from your seat. A sudden burst of confidence flowed through him, like a rush of adrenaline did after nearly being shot on field. Hands squeezing yours as he brought you closer. You nearly stumbling into his chest. Looking up at him with furrowed brows. “Because, I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand.” He nearly whispered. Voice lowered and, well.. Deeper. Your lips inches apart, and you could nearly feel his breath on your lips. Sending a shudder down your spine.

“But with that being said, I do want to test a theory.” You blinked a couple times, then licked your lips. “And what’s that?” He leaned in a bit closer, your noses brushing now. “How much more oxytocin a kiss from you would release, than just holding your hand.” He added, and your smirked a bit. “Then what are you waiting for?”

He leaned in, finally closing the gap between the two of you and it felt so.. Euphoric. Your hands released one another’s to roam each other’s bodies. One of his hands moving to run through your hair, the other resting on the small of your back. Pushing you against him. You had one hand in his hair as well. Your other hand resting on his chest.

The two of you parted. Eyes fluttering open. Looking to one another with small huffs and pants. “So,” you started, and Tech still looked like he was trying to catch his breath. “Amazing,” he cooed. The hand in your hair moving to cup the side of your face. “So fucking amazing,” he murmured, and you couldn’t help but giggle. “How about another, then?”

It didn’t take asking him twice for another kiss. He was pulling your lips back to his in and instant. This kiss was a bit more desperate. Deeper, yet still soft. He wasn’t too rough and it drove you crazy.

Your lips parted in a gasp when he guided his thigh between your legs. The friction making you cling to him like a child. His tongue slipping into your mouth. Exploring and studying every inch of it like it was his job.

You pushed him a bit, and he backed up. Backs of his knees hitting the copilot seat and he sat down. Guiding you into his lap. Never breaking the kiss. Your legs now resting on either side of him.

He pulled from the kiss to spread kisses down your jaw. Lips leaving light and feathery trails down to your neck. Mouthing over the skin. Nipping the areas that had you gasping and nearly moaning. Your hands running under his blacks. Fanning over his stomach, then moving up to his chest. Rubbing at his tanned skin, and he groaned.

You both jumped when you heard the door to the cockpit swish open. Still sitting on his lap since his hands were still placed firmly around you. Your own hands moving to yourself. Techs shirt still hiked up right below his chest. You were both disheveled and practically holding your breaths as you stared at the door way.

Cross was standing there with Hunter. The two had shocked expressions at first, but then Crosshairs look turned into a small. What seemed to be, proud smile. Hunter just looked mortified, then glared. “You’re watching where we’re going, right?” He hissed, and the two of you were frozen. “I have the coordination set for the coordinates.” He clenched his jaw and eyes shut at his repeating of the word coordinates. Mentally cursing himself for not locking the door. “You better be paying attention, and just kissing, Maker.” Hunter muttered and walked out. Back to the bunks to probably lie down.

Crosshair was still leaning in the doorway. Pulling the toothpick from his lips with a smirk. Winking at Tech, then giving you a nod. “I knew you had it in you, Vod, don’t go doing anything I wouldn’t do.” He spoke, then walked out. Door shutting behind him.

Tech sunk into his seat. You still hovering above him. Climbing off a bit awkwardly. “We’ll never hear the end of this” Tech spoke in a mortified whisper. “It can’t be that bad... Right?” “Oh... It’s that bad.”

[autumnsart22]

Drunk: Eren x reader ☁️

This definitely didn’t go in the direction I expected, but I’m not mad about it LMAO. Just a little Eren fluff for ya’ll. Lmk if you want a part 2 (which may or may not have smut hehehehe)

AGDASA this makes me drool

Art creds go to @suechimu on Twitter! 

Your head was already pounding, and you had only been drunk for a few hours. Not a good omen for the morning; you were dreading the hangover that was soon to come. 

The faint light of the camp by the sea swayed slightly as you stumbled down the path, heading for your own tent where you could finally pass out. You had been with Connie and Sasha for way longer than you intended, drinking far more than you probably should have after weeks of hard travel and planning. Connie had passed out on his bedroll after only three drinks, and Sasha had finally succumbed to the bread she had been storing, which left you alone on your walk. 

The fresh ocean air felt nice on your face, and you breathed deeply as you stumbled along. The darkness made it difficult to tell where you were going, but most people had gone to sleep a while ago, which hopefully meant that you wouldn’t get caught this drunk wandering around. 

Unfortunately, you spoke too soon. 

“Y/n?” A low, familiar voice said from behind you, and you jolted, turning. 

Eren stood a few feet away, his hands in his pockets and his hair pulled out of his face. His eyebrows were raised slightly as he took in your glazed eyes and unbalanced posture, but he didn’t say anything else. 

“Eren,” you muttered, cursing soundly in your head. Of all the people you wanted to run into, Eren was probably at the bottom of the list. Eren, who you had been in love with since the day you met him when you were fifteen, who had broken your heart over and over without even knowing. Eren, who would never, ever know your true feelings. 

“What are you doing out this late?” He took a step towards you, and it took every last sober thought to not sprint away from him at top speed. Or kiss him. 

“Lost track of time,” you said, your words slurring slightly, and his green eyes flashed. 

“Have you been drinking?” 

Obviously. “What do you care?” 

“I don’t.” 

No, no he didn’t. Which was why you would never tell him of the painful, unconditional feelings you had for him. That, and there was also the issue of Mikasa. Your friend who had loved Eren since they were children and had protected him for years… you couldn’t just insert yourself between them like that. The only person you had ever told was Armin, and you made him swear to never tell a soul. 

“I gotta go,” you said, swaying, and you didn’t look at Eren as you turned away. Unfortunately, you had less balance than you expected, and you began to tilt as your body rejected walking normally. 

You didn’t even notice Eren lunging for you until he had you wrapped in his arms, holding you upright. 

“You really shouldn’t be out like this,” he murmured in your ear, and you felt your whole body flush. 

“I-I-” Your words were cut off as he lifted you into his arms, hugging you tightly to his chest as he began to stride through the camp. 

“Hey wait!” You gasped. “Put me down!” 

“You can’t even walk straight. I think it’s better if I carry you.” 

You gritted your teeth, but he was right. You were barely sober enough to walk anymore, let alone make it across camp to your own tent. 

But being this close to Eren…you knew you’d be up all night, playing his words over and over, picturing his face in the dim light, imagining his arms around you all the time—

No. No. You wouldn’t go down this road yet again. “Will you take me to Jean?” 

Eren stiffened slightly, even as his face remained blank. “What?” 

“Will you take me to—“

“I heard you the first time. Why?”

You and Jean had a…fine relationship. You loved one another as friends, but neither of you were IN love. You could distract each other, working off your physical needs every once and a while by spending a night in each other's tent. It wasn’t permanent, and it didn’t mean anything, but you were happy he was around. Especially at times like this, when you needed to pull your thoughts as far from Eren as possible. 

“I want to…see him.” 

Eren didn’t even look at you. “You’re too drunk to continue any… nightly activities.” 

“What?” You gaped. He didn’t answer, and you wriggled in his arms. “Eren, what the hell!”

“You’re clearly exhausted. You seeing Jean won’t help you in the morning when we have to start training again.” 

You glared at him, but your drunken mind was foggy. “Fuck you,” you muttered, but...you relaxed against his chest again. 

Until you realized you weren’t going in the direction of your tent. “Where are you taking me?”

“My tent.” 

You could have sworn something in your brain exploded. “Uh...what?” 

Eren gave you an annoyed look. “I don’t trust that you won’t go wandering out again. You can just sleep on my mat for the night.” 

You swallowed. Twice. “I-I mean--”

Eren stopped in the middle of the path, his face shadowed. “I won’t take you against your will, but I would like to make sure you’re ok.” 

“Ok, fine,” you muttered, leaning your exhausted head back on his shoulder. 

You closed your eyes for only a second, but when you opened them, you were curled inside a small, warm tent, a bundle of blankets over you and a bucket to the right. 

A few feet away sat Eren, who shuffled through a stack of papers on a low table in front of him. You blinked blearily, rubbing your eyes, and Eren immediately snapped his attention to you. 

“You’re awake?” 

You groaned instead of answering, rubbing your temples. “What time is it?” 

“It’s still the middle of the night. Go back to sleep.” 

“But...what about you?” You had taken his bedroll. 

“I’m fine.” 

His eyes were intent on your face, but you avoided his gaze like your life depended on it. Those eyes… so pretty. They were why your favorite color was green. 

You heard him shift, sliding towards you across the floor, and you almost jumped out of your skin as he gently grabbed your face. 

“Why do you never look at me?” His voice was low and annoyed. 

Your eyes immediately snapped to his, your breath coming out in a whoosh. “I do.” 

He shook his head, leaning closer until his minty breath washed across your cheeks. “Don’t lie.” 

A small sound came out of your mouth, and you were sure your feelings were written all over your face. Eren studied you carefully, his eyes sweeping up your reddening cheeks and down to your lips. 

You weren’t sure you were breathing as he leaned forward, barely an inch away, and your eyes fluttered closed. Your heart was pounding loudly in your ears, and you just wanted to close the rest of the distance and kiss him…

But then the heat of his body was receding as he sat back, and you could only blink up at him in bleary, hurt confusion. “What was that?” You stuttered, your voice a little high pitched. 

“I’m not going to do this when you’re drunk.”

“I don’t…” Did he mean he would kiss you when you were sober? You suddenly regretted ever even glancing in the direction of alcohol. 

Eren could apparently see your confusion, because he looked smug. “When you’re mine, you’re going to be perfectly sober and coherent when I make you moan so the whole camp can hear.” 

Your mouth fell open. Eren only grinned in a self satisfied way as he turned back to his papers. “Go back to sleep.” 

Your still drunk mind swirled, and you couldn't be sure this wasn’t just a lucid dream. 

Part 2 here!! 

[sierraraeck]

Bad Liar

Moreid (Spencer x Derek)

Masterlist

Summary: Ever since his first day at Quantico, Spencer has had only one thought on his mind: SSA Derek Morgan. He knows that any sort of relationship would be inappropriate, but that doesn’t stop the constant stream of fantasies from flooding his mind.

Category: Spicy fluff, smut alluded

Warnings: Non-graphic descriptions of sex, fantasizing, suggestive touching, kissing, very light cussing.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: This was inspired by the song “Bad Liar” by Selena Gomez. If you wanna give that a quick listen, go for it, if not, that’s chill too. I know that I haven’t been very active and haven’t posted anything in a while, but sometimes life just happens. Hopefully this was worth the wait…

Spencer had heard the phrase “I never stop thinking about you.” He’d heard it in reference to love and relationships when people were apparently so madly in love they couldn’t stop thinking about the other. He never really bought that. Love was just a bunch of feel-good chemicals that couldn’t affect the amount of time spent thinking about another person. Plus, how could anyone ever constantly think about a person? There were so many other things to think about like surviving high school, getting into college, graduating, of course his mom, and then getting into the FBI, and how he would surely not be able to make it all the way through Quantico training. No one could ever think about one person all the time. No, definitely not.

But Spencer wasn’t known for being a good liar.

His first day at Quantico he saw Derek Morgan, and he realized that he was wrong. He was so utterly and outrageously wrong.

Because after he saw him, heard his voice just once, his exceptional mind kept those interactions on constant repeat.

He was lucky he was so good at multitasking otherwise he would have definitely failed by now.

Not like he still wouldn’t.

He couldn’t sleep, not with someone like Derek Morgan intruding his every thought, every midnight desire. On top of that, they were about to go into the hardest week of physical training yet, and Spencer knew that this was the one challenge that his brain could not overcome.

The one redeemable thing about the humiliating experience he was sure would come during the following days was that he’d get to see SSA Morgan again. Sure, it'd be more embarrassing to fail in front of him, but at least he’d get to see him a few more times before they kicked him out for being the scrawny kid he’s always been.

The feelings of excitement and anxiety twisted his gut into a wonderful knot, keeping him from yet another night of sleep. Somehow that made it both harder and easier for him to get up when the clock hit 4:45.

Spencer looked between two blinds covering the window on the right, allowing him to see that the sun was still about an hour from rising. Slipping on his given shirt and pants, he hoped that there would be some source of caffeine at breakfast, preferably coffee.

He trudged into the bathroom to find his roommate already awake and dressed. “Big day. You excited?” Jeff, a man about a head shorter than Spencer but at least twice his width in pure muscle mass, asked.

Spencer just grunted in response.

“What? You’re not excited to get pitted against someone else so that you can flail around in an attempt to spar?”

“I’ll stick to teaching you the technique,” he quipped.

Jeff laughed. “It’d suit you better. Unfortunately your wizard brain and forbidden library won’t help you in this one. But dammit if you aren’t the smartest guy here.” Jeff shook his head as if it were a shame.

Once they were ready, along with the rest of the NATs, the group was directed to jog across campus to the building they’d be training in. The day was off to a bad start.

Spencer did his best to distract himself from the actual running bit, trying to analyze the people in his group and those they passed as they went.

Bored, hungry, important, invisible… Derek?!

He turned his head to follow the tall man with short black hair and dark eyes as the group passed him on the sidewalk.

No, that wasn’t him. Of course it wasn’t. Agent Morgan is waiting for us at the facility.

Spencer tried to hide the slight disappointment that came over him. He felt so stupid for looking for him everywhere, but he couldn’t help it. Even his own knowledge and logic was failing him when it came to this man he knew next to nothing about expect for his shining smile and intense eyes and toned biceps and amazing abs and powerful legs and delicious stamina and strong hands that could grip his neck and hold him down and his defined hips bones that Spencer knew would dig into his thighs and certainly leave bruises if he were to…

What was his issue? He couldn’t be thinking that way about one of his trainors.

Although it helped the jog pass by faster. Time flies when you’re having fun, right? Or at least imagining having fun.

When they arrived at the other facility, they were provided a quick breakfast, unfortunately no coffee today, and then led to the top floor with an entire wall traded out for floor to ceiling windows.

The room they entered was massive, large mats rolled out edge to edge, and the smell was musty. It felt humid, sticky sort of, and Spencer hated to think about why that was.

He quickly scanned the room and found his target immediately. Across the way, Derek had his opponent mid flip, landing harshly on his back with a thud. He helped the poor guy up, laughing a bit as he did so. His pearly whites were on full display when he looked up and caught Spencer’s eye. Spencer quickly diverted his gaze, opting instead to look down at his twisting hands.

“Today we will be focusing on hand to hand combat,” Derek announced once the group had wandered closer. “You never know when the perpetrator will decide not to run and instead to attack you, or when you will find yourself without any weapons other than yourself to protect you. The first thing we are going to practice are some basic jabs. Grab a partner and follow our demonstration.”

Derek and the man he’d thrown on the ground earlier, Grant, demonstrated the seemingly simple movements that Spencer and the rest of the NATs were supposed to replicate. Of course, everyone else made it look easy, but Spencer just couldn’t wrap his head around what his arm was supposed to be doing where and when. It was frustrating, even more so than he’d prepared himself for.

“Keep your shoulders here,” that velvety deep voice said, accompanied by his large hands on either of Spencer’s shoulders, adjusting them to more of an angle.

All Spencer could do was swallow hard and nod. He didn’t even dare to look back at him.

“And spread your legs,” Derek said. His breath seemed to get closer to Spencer’s neck with every word, and quieter as he went along. But surely that was all in his head? Right?

Spencer’s startled eyes turned to look at the older man. The edges of his mouth twitched before resuming that stern, professional demeanour. “It’ll help you balance.” With that, he nudged Spencer’s foot farther backwards with his own and walked away, leaving Spencer feeling unnecessarily exposed and confused.

The guy across from him, Harold, one of the only people who had been genuinely nice to Spencer from the start, was watching the whole interaction with suspicion.

The day trudged on with not much change. Spencer’s skin was still on fire from where Agent Morgan had touched him, but he tried to convince himself it was because he didn’t really like being touched. He knew that was a lie, especially in this instance, but it didn’t stop him from telling it.

After lunch, training continued. But at least it got more interesting.

“Grant just got called out on a case, so I’ll be needing someone to help me with this demonstration.” Derek waited just about three whole seconds before smirking, the mischief written all over his face. “Come on? No one wants to volunteer? It’ll be fun, I promise.” When he was met with more silence (even the guys like Jeff didn’t want to be thrown around by Derek), he was forced to choose someone. “How about… Reid.”

Spencer’s head shot up from the back of the group. No, no, this is not good.

Spencer had been dreaming about getting thrown around by Derek for a few months now, but this was definitely not what he’d had in mind.

The crowd slowly parted and Spencer had to face the music; he was going to be humiliated in front of everyone, like nothing had changed since high school.

Sighing, Spencer forced himself to the front of the group. “Lay down for me, knees bent, would you?”

I’d do anything you asked, was Spencer’s initial response in his head. What he really did was shrug and follow instructions.

“The reason we practice this move is because at some point or another, you will find yourself in either position.” Spencer wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that until Derek legitimately stood over him, a leg on either side, then proceeded to get down on his knees, essentially sitting on top of Spencer.

He couldn’t even focus on what Derek was explaining anymore. Breathing didn’t exist. There was no way this glorious man was sitting on top of him right now. All he could think about was how prominent Derek’s ab muscles were through his tight shirt and how he wanted nothing more than to lean forward and run his tongue over them. Spencer could almost imagine what they would feel like; the rise and fall of his muscles, the small hairs covering his body… Spread your legs, he had said to him.

“So then Reid would grab my wrist…” Derek’s use of his name brought him back to reality. If only he could live in his fantasies for longer.

Spencer looked up at Agent Morgan confused. Derek’s eyes got wider and looked at his right hand and then down at his own left wrist. Spencer somehow got the message and reached his hand over to grab a hold of Derek’s wrist. “Good,” he declared. “After that, he would hook his left foot on the outside of my ankle.”

Spencer quickly followed orders, trying to force his brain to supply him with the information he’d missed.

“Then, he’d use my weight against me to flip me over.” Spencer’s eyes got big when Derek said that, mentally panicking that he could never be strong enough for that. Derek nodded at him, so Spencer tried to roll over, and to his, and everyone else’s, surprise, he actually could.

Within seconds Spencer was sitting on top of a very pleased Derek. “It’ll work every time. Of course, if your unsub is skilled he’ll lock you in and flip you back over and potentially pull your arm out of your socket,” Derek explained while doing just that to Spencer, minus the arm-out-of-socket thing, “But we’ll take this one step at a time.”

Derek was back on top of Spencer with his legs wrapped around him in a vice-like grip, but quickly let go to help him up. Spencer gladly accepted the help.

Spencer doesn’t exactly have what one would consider a “big dick.” He always thought that was something to be ashamed of but standing there, getting hard in the middle of an FBI training academy, he couldn’t’ve be more grateful.

The NATs were sent back to work on the newly demonstrated move with their partners. Just as Spencer was about to flip Harold over for the third time, he looked over his head and rolled his eyes.

“What?” Spencer asked.

“What is it with you two?” Harold asked in return.

“What?” Spencer repeated. Harold nodded in the direction he was just looking, and Spencer followed his gaze. Derek was walking by, but nothing else seemed of import. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh please,” Harold snorted. He was a lanky man like Spencer, but just a bit shorter and with glasses. Sometimes Spencer envied his glasses, as his contacts often got on his nerves. He continued, “The touching, the constant eye contact, the word choice that could be inherently sexual, and then literally sitting on top of you? When there were plenty of other men and women he could have picked for that demonstration? Tell me you don’t see it.”

Spencer mulled over these words for a few seconds before flipping Harold over. Looking down on him, he said, “I don’t think that means anything.”

“Then maybe you need to get a new prescription,” Harold said, pointing to his eyes.

Spencer shook his head. “What do my eyes have to do with this?”

Harold sighed. “God, your gaydar is so broken.” He flipped Spencer over, stood up, and walked away.

Shortly after, class was called and they were all let go for the remainder of the evening.

“Reid, can I speak to you for a moment?” Agent Morgan called out as the first of the NATs started to leave. A few caught Spencer’s eye with unanswered questions in them, but no more than the mound of questions Spencer had been asking himself.

Without answering, Spencer walked over to the corner of the room that Derek was standing in. He could tell that he was waiting for every single person to leave the room before speaking.

Spencer thought for sure he was getting kicked out because of how horribly he performed throughout the day.

To his surprise, that’s not at all what the outstandingly attractive man had to say. “I wanted to let you know that you did a good job today during the demo. Not many people handle that so well.”

Spencer waited for him to say more, but nothing more seemed to be coming. Derek actually seemed a bit nervous if Spencer could read him right. He replied cautiously, “Thanks.”

Derek cleared his voice and said, “Yeah. And if you ever want to stay late and work on some moves I’d be happy to help.”

Spencer just got more and more confused as his interactions with this god-like man increased. “Thanks,” he repeated. “Why are you offering to help me like that?”

Agent Morgan shrugged. “You’re one of the smartest people in FBI history to come through here, and definitely the youngest. There’s absolutely no reason you shouldn’t become an agent, and I want to see you succeed. That’s all.” He shrugged again, and if there was anything Spencer had learned from the profiling section of his training, someone being over-casual was usually a sign that they were stressed about something they viewed with extreme importance, and were trying to play it off. Why would he be stressed to talk to me?

“I guess I’ll take you up on that offer. Will you be here tomorrow?” Spencer asked, trying to mask the hope in his voice. Who was he kidding; Derek was already one of the top profilers in the Bureau.

“I will be. You can plan to stay after then.”

Spencer nodded and walked away, but not before glancing back one more time. Harold was right; they did make a lot of eye contact.

The next day couldn’t go by faster. Spencer had spent practically the entire night thinking about everything that had happened, trying to figure out if Harold was right or not. There was no way. Spencer was just Spencer, a NAT, and Derek Morgan was, well… Derek Morgan.

He probably just thought that Spencer was a hopeless case and needed extra help. Yeah, that was it. It had to be.

When the day was over, Spencer wasn’t just relieved like he usually was, but he was excited too. It no longer mattered to him what the reason was for him being there late, he just wanted to spend more time in the presence of SSA Morgan.

“I was thinking I’d help you with that second move we learned today, the cross-punch jab combo,” Derek announced. His voice echoed just a bit off the walls of the training center now that it was completely abandoned.

He walked over to one of the punching bags lined up just a few feet from the wall, and Spencer followed him in a manner that could only be described as a lost puppy. Spencer could keep track of all sorts of numbers, but the sheer amount of repeating memories morphing into new thoughts morphing into full blown fantasies was even too high for him to count. He’d never known of a drug so powerful.

“I’ll show you the move again, then I want you to try and copy it.” Derek stepped closer to the bag and executed a textbook one-two combo, the muscles in his arms and back contracting in perfect unison. God, Spencer wanted so badly to just reach out and run his hands all over this pristinely sculpted man, but he denied himself, letting his hands tremble in place instead.

Spencer stepped up to the bag next to Derek’s and attempted to do the same thing. Derek watched with a sharp eye.

After a few reps, the skilled agent took long strides that landed him only inches away from the younger man’s back. “Keep tension here.” His hands engulfed Spencer’s waist and twisted them to the side with the ease of swatting a fly.

The feeling was so overwhelming Spencer thought he might never be able to move again, and honestly, he didn’t want to. Standing there in the grip of that man was really all he’d been wanting for months now.

The only thing that pulled him out of his trance was the way Derek’s fingers lingered as he walked around to Spencer’s front, drifting down far enough to send a clear message, one that even Spencer couldn’t miss, but not far enough to be completely intrusive.

But Spencer wanted intrusive. He wanted nothing more than for Derek Morgan to invade his personal space to the point of no return.

He looked at the older man with shock and a burning question, but didn’t flinch or move back. Derek simply bit his lip and scanned Spencer up and down at what felt like a snail’s pace. He felt like a helpless deer being sized up by a lion for his next meal.

Spencer swallowed hard.

He’d been wanting nothing more than to be in this very same situation, or one of the multitudes of variations he’d created in his mind, but now that it was here could he really go through with it? Was it really the best idea? Did he really want this? No, he couldn’t.

But Spencer wasn’t known for being a good liar.

The only signal Derek needed was the simple nod of Spencer’s head.

And he got it.

Like a snake ready to strike, Derek brought his lips to Spencer’s in an instant. His questioning fingers had an answer, returning to their strong hold over Spencer’s hip bones.

Spencer knew what was happening was completely inappropriate, but couldn’t find the will to care. The man he’d been dreaming about, spending every waking and non-waking moment obsessing over, was actually interested in him too.

All his fantasies were flashing before his eyes, Derek’s muscles now completely exposed to him. He frantically pawed at him, trying to feel and memorize every millimeter of the beautiful body before him, like every inch was another drop of water in his achingly dry mouth.

“Hey, hey,” Derek whispered. “Patience. Not everything can happen at once, remember, one step at a time.”

Spencer took a moment to breathe and look into the warm eyes he’d been drowning in. Only for a moment, though, as he had a lot he wanted to do, starting with kissing his way down this man’s chest.

Derek laughed a little at Spencer’s impatience when he placed his hands on his broad shoulders and lips on his burning hot skin. He didn’t mind, though. Unexpectedly, the young man knew how to use his mouth. He couldn’t wait to explore that particular skill set some more.

Within the next few minutes, bodies were slammed into walls, forced to the ground, and pushed further down into the floor than was previously thought possible. The echo of the room only amplified the intoxicating sounds and the wall of windows overlooking the campus only increased the arousal.

Spencer would have a new appreciation for the musty smell and sweat induced humidity in the room from now on.

The tension for the remaining month before the NATs graduated was unbearable. Harold made sure to point out the nauseating amount of glances passed between the two men, but was respectful enough to not point it out to everyone. He tried to deny anything had happened, but Harold wasn’t having any of it and let Spencer know he was a lousy liar, something he definitely needed to work on.

Come graduation day when all NATs would be receiving their department assignments, Derek made sure to personally hand Spencer his.

He carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the sheet of paper with one bolded line reading: “Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Spencer immediately looked up and locked eyes with Derek. He simply smirked in return.

Maybe his fantasy of having something more with the agent would become a reality after all.

-

Taglist

@90spumkin

[nhinxsworld]

Hello, I really enjoyed your piece about Gojou's kinks in your masterlist! I was wondering if you write for male reader? Maybe a third year that Gojou likes to punish and degrade in praticular and be possessive over? (Sentimental Gojou?? He's been teaching him since his first year) Reader isn't weak or innocent but he lets Gojou treat him the way he does because he doesn't have anyone else in his life and Gojou has him wrapped around his little finger? Take it wherever you like, I'm sorry if this is too fucked up x

Is this what you wnated Im not sure!!! But i liked the request anyways 🥰 was little confused about what to do about male reader since I myself am not male! but it was fun to try i hope I did you justice on this :)

reader has Inumakis curse!!!

Gojo Satoru x male reader

my list uwu

warnings: manipulation ; non-con/dub-con(?) ; just slight degradation ; yeah im not good at this probably a couple uncomfortable stuff usage of slut etc.

Gojo Satoru loves all his students, he really does yet he still can't help himself but to pick favorites. They've all grown on him, but he can't seem to take his eyes of one specific student.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out who Gojos favorites are, it's easy to tell his favorite is his beloved third year.

Picking you up since you're only fifteen, Gojo had a liking the way you just seemed to always search for his validation. For you it has always been Gojo, Gojo, Gojo.

He has his pretty boy, by a leash and he decides how long it is.

The soccerer hums happily when he sees you in the classroom all alone, stepping inside he closes the room, causing you to look up at him.

"(Y/n)~" he calls almost too sweetly and puts his hand on the table pushing whatever you've been doing out of the way.

The rattling of paper, is heard. Before the paper could even land on the floor. He pulled down your mask to reveal your curse pattern, gripping you by your jaw "(Y/n)" he repeats and you look at him, eyes staring at his blindfold where his would usually be, yet you couldn't help yourself but trail from his blindfold to his rosy lips.

Just staring at him not able to say a word.

"Am I not your favorite?" he asks and you just stare at him. Why was he asking that, of course he is your favorite. Who else could it be?

Not allowing you to give him any kind of answer, he presses his tumb to your lips pushing at your bottom lip until, you bought out your tongue to lick and suck at his finger, making him smile.

"Haha of course I am your favorite. Who else would indulge such a dirty boy like you?" he chuckles as he spits in your face making you close your eyes instinctively. "Surely not Yuuta. Yuuta didn't pick you up when you needed someone the most now did he?"

Opening your eyes you shoke your head as Gojo just watches his spit run down your cheek like tears before he whipes it out in your face, his fingers lingering over your curse marks.

"That's right Sensei did." he reminds you once again, that it was him that took you in. It's him who made you, who you are and he can take it all away if he desires.

The older tugs at your shirt "Take everything off."

Starring at him for a moment you unbuttoned your uniform, that Gojo had chosen for you. Like many other choices, Gojo did them all for you.

Stripping of the shirt, taking off the shoes, slipping of the pants, your reached for you boxers too, taking everything of for the man before you. You're just so willing to listen to everything he says.

Pushing you down against the table he hums looking at your exposed body, the room feeling a couple degrees too cold now fully exposed, yet some other parts of your body are burning.

His large hands presses against a bruise on your side watching whince in pain and he just smiles "You see (Y/n), I have nothing against Yuuta. I like him, he is a precious student just like you."

Tracing over the bruise from your training session with the other pupils Gojo just laughs "But I have an issue, if you're getting hurt because of Yuuta."

Fingers digging into your bruise, until he hears you whine "because you're mine, this body is mine and I don't like my property getting damaged."

His, his body, his property, those words seems to spiral in your mind. His, his his, it's something you wished for. You remember clearly, the day you ran to him needing his comfort, his guidance, his touch.

Another laugh escapes his lips as he stares you down "Did my pathetic boys cock just twitch from me digging into his wounds?"

His grip gets even harsher "Or is it because this wound is caused by Yuuta? It's because of me right?"

You didn't answer him, it's none of those two options right? He had made you strip down in classroom, you're just anticipating for something else right? You're not getting off to him hurting you like this right?

A smirk spreads across his face "This bruised is caused by Sensei yeah?" he traces over it slowly as it has taken an even darker colour than before and you looked at him with scared eyes.

You weren't sure when it took a turn into this direction, from wanting to be with him, needing him as figure to guide you through the dark, to now depending your whole existence on him.

"You look so exited." he smiles as he traces careful lines under your eyes "Did you miss me?" he presses against the bruise soflty just to remind me you again of the aching pain "You can't live without my touch can you?"

You're terrified to feel this way, even more terrified the way your cock twitches from feeling like this.

He gives you a look of pity "I've told you, you're mine." Knocking against your head with his finger knuckle "Your dumb brain hasn't understood yet hmm? But your body has, and it's so honest."

"Don't you like it when Sensei talks down on you?" he questioned as he cups your face "I'd call you my pretty boy, but that doesn't make your little cock hard now does it?"

"It only does when I call you a pathetic slut, who is needy of my attention." his voice growls and to your confusion your body does react to those words, supporting his statements.

His hand gripped your throat with an amused yet somewhat judgemental face, he squeezes your neck just tiny bit, until he can hear you choke "You like this too don't you? When I'm mean, when I hurt you?"

It's hard to deny, to shake your head, wanting to tell him no, when you can't speak and you're body giving a completely diffrent answer. A harsh slap to your face, has you feeling it in your lower area.

"Haha~" he smiles "Pitifully cute aren't you?"

"You love sensei so much don't you? Your body grew accustomed to Sensei touching you the way he likes it hmm?" he askes you questions for questions knowing well you couldn't protest against him.

"Remember when you used to whimper around so cutely? When I used to praise you?" the older beams, reminiscing of older times "Sensei is your first hmm? He took such good care of you didn't he?"

"Such good care of you and your body." Gojo hums, pinching and twisting your nipples until they're hard "I had fun."

"It's so honest just for me now." The soccerer sounds proud of himself, proud to have taken such a pure boys first with love and care, just to slowly drift of that road.

Binding you to him with promises and words of love.

You felt a lash like feeling on your body, caused by his infinity "stop..." you choked out and he tilts his head to the side "Stop? You know that doesn't work on me dummy."

"When has it ever?" he laughs as he traces over your curse marks once again "Besides why would you want me to stop?"

"You like being bruised and hurt by me, no?" he continued and you want refuse, tell him no, but all you're able to do is shake you're head at him until he decides to hold your face still forcing you to nod.

"Don't lie to me." he pulls down his blindfold to reveal the sky blue eyes you've fallen in love with "You wanted me to do this, don't you remember?"

"You're such a good boy. I love you so much (Y/n). You're so perfect, I promise I'll be gentle, just tap me when I need to stop okay?"

-

"(Y/n), can we try something? Ill take it slow."

The first time you tapped against his skin, asking him to stop, with tears running down your cheeks and he stops to kissi your marks "Don't worry baby, haha see I stopped." Yet you failed to notice his cock just growing harder in his pants from the way you're crying.

-

Cries and taps, rapid taps against his shoulders, that turned into slaps, you're voice breaking from telling him to stop, an activation of your curse until he halts, blood running down your lips, you failed to notice how your curse didn't effect him "Awww no don't cry, it's okay, it's okay. I won't hit you anymore, if you don't like it. I love you, you don't have to do these things, because I like them. Don't worry about me, I give you what you need. You don't seem to like the things I do, maybe we should stop here."

-

The older had stopped touching you from there on just smiling and waving when sees you, no hugs, no kisses, no praise, nothing comes from him after what had happened making you feel guilty. This is you're fault isn't it?

Gojo always indulged in yours needs, why couldn't you indulge in his.

So the next time you see him you stopped him in his tracks, taking his hands in yours, already felling special as he had let you through his infinity. Bringing his hand to your face, you slapped yourself, and if you could see his eyes widen underneath his mask.

"Hmm? What's that for little one?"

Tugging your neck piece down you looked at him "Hurt me. Love me."

"Remember??" he looks psychotic "you wished for me to do this, I'm indulging in your fantasy. You've placed this curse on yourself, you placed this curse on us."

Gojo never leaves himself unprotected from your curse speech.

The soccerer never lets himself be vulnerable, specially not such technique as yours that is just so easy to block out. You can scream and hurt your pretty throat all you want, he won't be having any of that.

Gojo wraps his hands around yours and bought it up to his cheek slapping himself "Hurt me. Love me"

"That's what you did. I had nothing to do with that." he chuckles "You did that all on your own. I didn't force you, you wanted to be mine and I made you mine. You have to hold responsibility you know?"

Bringing you down to your knees infront of him unzipping his own pants "Don't strain yourself, you don't have to to say anything. Sensei knows, he always knows best for you hmm?"

Pumping his own cock a couple times he forced it into your mouth "Now be good boy."

Hands gripping onto his tight as he just fucks your mouth to his content, just so he can hear you choke and see you cry.

He just can't help himself when his pretty boy looks so lewd sucking him off, like it's the only thing you're made for.

"Hmmm, fuck. Might as well just be my full-time cocksleeve, if you like getting bruised and hurt so much, I'll just have to do it." he chuckled as you felt another lash like feeling against your skin making you moan.

"Awww, such a painslut aren't you?" he smirks as he looks down on you to admire his mess, his hand in your hair forcing down more than you can take "Come on slut, you've done this often enough."

A groan escapes his lips as he pulls you off him allowing you to breath "stop, please...." your voice broken and hoarse and just smiles "Didn't I tell you already not to strain yourself? You're so funny trying to pull these things on me."

No matter what you say, no matter what you do with Gojo it has no use, until it's something he wants himself.

"Or are you just that much of a plain slut? Needing to damage yourself as much as possible?" he asks as you felt the cold sole of his shoes pressed against your cock.

"Pathetically cute." he beams when he sees you're all hard and leaking, just from the way he talks to you and the sole of his shoes pressing against your lenght.

"Oh sensei loves you so much." he grins as he places a stinging slap to your face that stings and burns "And I show it through the pain I cause, I know you need this."

[lunaralight09]

Could you do books that the scps might read?

Books that the SCPs might read

SCP 035 Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins Anna is shipped off to boarding school in Paris where she meets the super-charming Etienne, and that's when things get interesting. I was a squealing, giggly, mush-fest all the while through reading this book. Stephanie Perkins knows just how to turn a seemingly ordinary love story into an unputdownable read. SCP 040 Your Brain Needs a Hug: Life, Love, Mental Health, and Sandwiches Just the title of this book by Rae Earl makes us feel a little lighter. And we don’t know about you, but our brains could definitely use a hug right now. While the book is geared towards teens, we found Earl’s advice to be relevant for all ages — particularly for anyone who struggles with depression, anxiety, social media addiction, and self-esteem issues. TBH, pretty much anyone can benefit from this book! SCP 049 And the Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini And the Mountains Echoed is such an amazing and heartwarming read. It's about a pair of siblings that fate cruelly separates and then finally reunites. A must-read for its simple yet gripping narration and amiable characters. SCP 049-j The Red Notebook by Antoine Laurain This is a French romance novella, and basically a love letter to book lovers. There's mystery, romance, and some of the most beautifully crafted sentences and paragraphs I have ever read. The ending is so sweet, even though you wonder how you ever got there so soon. SCP 053 Lulu and the Rabbit Next Door by Hilary McKay Lulu and her cousin help their neighbor Arthur learn to love and care for his (neglected) rabbit. She doesn’t want her neighbor to feel bad so she writes the rabbit little notes with helpful gifts signed from her own pet rabbit named Thumper. It’s a kind way to show Arthur how to take care of his new pet SCP 073 HumanKind: Changing the World One Small Act At a Time Looking for heart-warming stories of kindness and compassion? HumanKind by Brad Aronson was made for you. But the book isn’t only full of uplifting stories that will move you to happy tears, it’s also packed with practical and actionable tips for how to be kinder in your everyday. One thing is for sure: after you put this book down, you’ll feel inspired to do something nice for someone else. And because of that, we think this is one of the best books on the planet! SCP 076 Do Unto Animals We absolutely DEVOURED this book by Tracey Stewart. Whether you’re looking for tips on how to better understand skunks and squirrels or read your pet’s body language, every page is full of compassionate wisdom about to treat animals in a way that they deserve. Also, the illustrations are absolutely beautiful — we nearly wanted to pet the pages because the animal drawings were so lovable. SCP 079 Walden (Henry David Thoreau) With the outdoorsman renaissance happening as we speak, it is nice to look back at one of the books that probably started it. Walden isn’t the bore you read back in middle school, it takes time to appreciate like a nice bottle of red. Thoreau’s masterpiece tackles so much while quietly nudging your brain into activity. It also makes you want to build a cabin SCP 096 Black Beauty by Anna Sewell Told from the perspective of the horse, this story is so beautifully written that it's easy to get lost in it's pages. I laughed and cried, as did my daughter when she read it. SCP 105 Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury Warm and fuzzy the whole way through, Dandelion Wine is by far the best story to make you feel good. Though I'm not the correct age to directly relate to the young adult story, I still felt the warm summer days and the wonder of it all. SCP 106 Catch-22 – Joseph Heller “War is hell,” is the old adage we all know, but Catch-22 looks to modify that a bit. Instead, war becomes super goddamn weird. The book follows a bomber squadron in the Second World War whose collective sanity is slowly being eroded by whatever passes for power. Throughout it all, the main character keeps trying to prove himself insane enough to be kicked out of the Navy, which is precisely why he can’t

be kicked out. Which is a catch 22 and yes, this is where the phrase comes from. It’s a great extrapolation of quirks and idiosyncrasies we see in day to day life, only this time, they’re affecting war SCP 134 (I know she don't have eyes . But there is a books for blind people) A Mango-Shaped Space by Wendy Mass A Mango-Shaped Space is about a 13-year-old girl with synesthesia (she can see, taste, and hear colors) and her journey in getting a diagnosis and accepting herself and all her differences. It's sort of a coming-of-age story, too. As someone with multiple chronic illnesses who has gone through the same process at the same age, this really was an incredible reading experience. One of my favorite quotes is "We all do the best we can, trying to keep all the balls in the air at once." I recommend it to everyone. SCP 173 Rabbit, Run (John Updike) The greatest mid-life crisis novel of all time doesn’t actually deal with a mid-life crisis at all. Harry “Rabbit” Angstrom is 26 when he decides to leave his wife and son for a new life. Of course, what that new life is, and what exactly he wants out of it isn’t clear to the reader or to Rabbit himself. It will strike a cord with all men who struggle with the idea of settling down. SCP 239 The Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling SCP 682 THE WOLF AND THE WATCHMAN BY NIKLAS NATT OCH DAG If you're the kind of person that can't get enough of Scandi noir films, TV shows and literature, then Niklas Natt och Dag's The Wolf And The Watchman should be next on your reading list. Set in 18th-century Stockholm, this tale is as dark as it gets, following the titular watchman and a detective as they hunt down the killer behind a dismembered corpse that appears in a local pond. As gruesome as it is gripping, it's the perfect literary companion as the nights get longer and increasingly eerie. SCP 847 The Case Against Satan by Ray Russell Two priests are called in to examine a girl who might be possessed by the devil. The Exorcist, right? Nope, it’s Ray Russell‘s The Case Against Satan, a novel of theological horror that beat William Peter Blatty’s book to print by eight years. The Case Against Satan is as much the story of a crisis of faith as it is a supernatural tale, and readers looking for a nuanced take on both should give it a try SCP 953 THE PILLOW BOOK BY SEI SHŌNAGON If you want to learn a bit more about the Japan of the past – and also, weirdly, all of us in the present – The Pillow Book is a cult classic you should absolutely try. Sei Shōnagon was a lady-in-waiting in the court of Empress Teishi in the year 1000 and here she collects her thoughts and musings about court life. To read a woman more than 1,000 years ago being as philosophical, neurotic and scandalous as anyone is today on social media is a thrill that lasts from the start to the end. SCP 1678 Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden Absolutely moving, the struggles Sayuri faces are painted so beautifully by Arthur Golden's masterful craft that you totally empathize with her as she grows and triumphs in a world designed to see her fail. The ultimate conclusion of the novel fills me with such warmth — it's both entirely unexpected and wholeheartedly appreciated.

[overcomeanxietycolorado]

Anxiety Treatment in Denver, CO

Are you stopped in your tracks by paralyzing feelings that just don’t let you move forward with plans you’ve made? Have you canceled activities that you were actually looking forward to because you just couldn’t get your anxiety under control? Or perhaps your anxiety isn’t that bad, but it still holds you back and you’re worried it could get worse.

ANXIETY SHOWS IN MANY FORMS:

Scary and dreadful feelings in your body

Unexplained panic and fear

Thinking constantly about a problem and how to solve it

Trouble falling asleep

Trouble staying asleep or returning to sleep when you wake up too early

Avoidance of certain people or places

Feeling stopped or stuck when you try to complete a goal at work or in your personal life

Feeling unable to move forward with a project even though you really want to

Avoiding commitments because you’re afraid you’ll change your mind

Holding yourself back from even trying a new job or a new relationship

The saddest part is that anxiety may be causing you to avoid even trying to create the life you really want. You may begin to dream, then quickly second guess yourself. You’ve probably set limits for yourself that you aren’t even aware of.

What could you do with your life, if you weren’t stopped by these self-doubts? How would you feel if you could learn to easily manage your anxiety so that you could live more freely?

You may not know it, but a large number of people that you run into each day, suffer from anxiety, too. Most of the time, you can’t tell by looking. But many people suffer from the self-doubt, pounding heart and feelings of dread that can ruin a perfectly good day.

The good news is that anxiety can be treated! It doesn’t have to run your life. The first step to vastly improving your anxiety is to get into therapy with a counselor who will truly hear you, understand the roots of your distress, and teach you skills to effectively manage your anxiety as it comes up.

When you come into my office with anxiety, I will guide our sessions so we can both understand the big picture. I want to hear your unique story in order to understand the sources of trouble. The past cannot be changed, but the story you tell yourself about your life can. Let’s work together so you can learn simple ways to calm your body and your brain instantly. Then you can create more of the life you want.

Or perhaps your anxiety isn’t that bad yet, but it holds you back and you’d like a no-medication solution.

MY UNIQUE MODEL OF THERAPY INCLUDES:

Understanding how your early experiences play a part in how you feel today.

Learning to manage your emotions and motivation.

Increasing your tolerance for the challenges that keep coming up in life.

Resolving past traumas that still cause you distress.

Creating a plan that will keep you happy and healthy instead of stressed and apologetic.

If you’ve had therapy before and felt frustrated, you may be hesitant to try again. Your anxiety might actually hold you back from taking the very steps that will help. I completely understand. Sometimes hope is the scariest thing of all. Thats why I’ve created several ways for you to get involved with therapy.

SIMPLE PATHWAYS TO HEALING:

Quick Start Program

A day long retreat to help you get going. Tell your story, get support, learn some new anxiety management skills tailored to your unique needs. You can feel better fast and take home new hope.

4 session Package

Afraid you won’t follow through when life gets hectic? Commit to just 4 sessions, and come away feeling ready to change your world!

Individual Therapy (1 or 2 hour sessions)

Focus on yourself at a pace that’s perfect for you. Longer sessions are often so much more effective than the traditional 1 hour. Its tough to get into emotional issues. Longer sessions give you the time and space you need to understand what’s going on below the surface and to feel “done” with an issue. You’ll have time to become calm and ready to face the world again.

Yoga Therapy

Many yoga teachings and easy poses can be used in healing and calming anxiety. I weave these practices into my work with most clients. Longer sessions of yoga therapy are available at your request. I have completed teacher training in Anusara Elements Yoga and Amrit Method of Body Psychology.

The most important qualities to look for in a therapist are respect, safety and understanding. This is a gut feeling. When you have that sense of safety, you will be able to open up your creative side, learn easily, and move beyond your well worn patterns that have you stuck. You have this ability in you! I will work with you and create the right conditions so that you can activate your own innate ability to manage anxiety. The best way to start this process is a phone call. You’ll have an opportunity to see if our initial interaction feels safe. Then you can take the next step of making an appointment.

Call me today to set up a free phone consultation.

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

if this was a dream pt. 2

Part 1 | AO3 | Fanfiction Masterlist

Thomas tried to steady himself as Alastair walked - no, more like ran - away. What was he doing here, by his bedside? In what universe would his parents allow Alastair Carstairs to sit with him while they slept? He seemed to recall many nights in his youth when his mother refused to sleep at all when he was unwell. 

His mind ran through countless possibilities, each one less likely than the last, until his parents rushed into his room. He pushed those thoughts aside as mother ran to him, cupping his face in her hands and gently kissing his forehead. “We were so worried. How are you feeling?” 

Besides blinding rage? He took a moment to actually consider the question. He’d been too distracted by the Alastair fiasco to take notice of it all. Alastair said that he had been injured. “Er, my head hurts, but other than that, I feel alright.”

She smiled. “That’s good. You were attacked on patrol about three days ago, and your injuries were quite severe. There’s a Silent Brother lingering around here somewhere, we should fetch him to check on you. I’m so glad you’re feeling alright, love.” 

“Alright is one word for not being able to remember the past six months,” Eugenia commented, appearing in the doorway. 

Both of his parents looked alarmed. “What do you mean?” his father asked. 

“That’s what-” She cut herself off abruptly. “Thomas, what month is it?” 

“Um…” He thought for a moment. Now that she mentioned it, he was feeling a bit blurry. Was the engagement party last week? Two weeks ago, perhaps? “It’s August.”

His mother looked at him worriedly. 

“What?” 

“It’s February,” Eugenia answered. She was always the most blunt out of all of them.

Thomas wasn’t sure how to respond, but his mother quickly reassured, “That’s alright, dear. I’ll go find the Silent Brother now. I’m sure this will pass as your head heals.” 

She left the room and Eugenia came to the chair that Alastair had been sitting in earlier. She sighed. “I know you’re mad at him.” It took him a moment to realize she was talking about Alastair. “You should be, but also… try to keep in mind that a lot has happened over the past six months.” 

He could feel the anger rising in his bloodstream again, but there was only so much he was willing to say with his father present. “Forgive me if I find it hard to believe that…” He trailed off. What was being implied here? He had no idea what was happening at all. 

“Believe what you must, then,” Eugenia exhaled. 

“Well, what did happen in the last six months?” 

Eugenia thought for a moment. “Hm, let’s see… Well, Rosamund and Thoby got engaged. Cordelia and James got married, kind of. Matthew got a flat! And a car. And he’s trying to quit drinking now, though that’s a bit new, maybe don’t bring it up. Let’s see… There was the whole serial killer bit, we fought a couple of Princes of Hell, Lilith showed up, Lucie raised Jesse Blackthorn from the dead… Oh, I’m sure I’m missing some things. Your friends can explain it better.” 

Thomas could only stare in response. 

“See? Is your relationship with Alastair Carstairs truly the most shocking thing to have happened in the past six months?” 

Thomas’ head had ached before, but now he could feel it pounding, trying to process all that his sister had just rattled off. “I- What-” He flashed his gaze towards his father, who seemed a bit concerned, but not the least bit surprised or upset. “My- I don’t-” 

“I can see now that I’ve said far too much. You know what? It’s fine. Most of that doesn’t even matter anyways. The parts that do, well, you’ll figure them out. Besides, your memories may come back soon enough anyways. And it’s all truly not as dramatic as it sounds listed out like that.” 

Thomas closed his eyes and tried to shove all of those thoughts, his sister’s words, the many questions needing answers, into some corner of his brain to be picked up later. “Perhaps we can just… avoid that as a topic of conversation.” 

“Of course,” his sister said quickly. “By ‘that’ you mean-” 

Gideon cut her off by clearing his throat. “Genie, would you please find Bridget and request some food be brought up for your brother, now that he’s awake.” 

She shot out of her seat with nervous energy. “Of course. I’ll be back.” 

Once she was out the door, he chuckled gently. “I have no idea how she still has that much energy after staying awake for nearly three straight days.” 

Thomas bit at the inside of his lip. “It was bad, wasn’t it?” 

Gideon nodded solemnly. “You’re alright now, though, and you’re awake. That’s what is important.” He paused. “I know this has all been a lot to take in, but you needn’t worry about any of it, truly. All that matters to any of us right now is that you heal. You should try to rest, if only because Eugenia is less likely to harass you if it looks like you’re sleeping.” 

He gave him a small smile and tried to relax. He attempted, unsuccessfully, to quiet the noise in his brain. Alastair, sitting by his bedside. The look on Alastair’s face as he fled the room. How his entire family had seemingly accepted Alastair as part of his life, as his… partner? Had Alastair sat with them these three long days, hoping, praying, that he would wake? 

It didn’t make sense. Alastair had spread cruel rumors, terrible lies, about Thomas’ family. Rumors that had made his mother weep. He’d hurt Matthew so badly that the scars showed even now, four years later. He’d had a crush on Alastair in school, of course. Just a silly schoolboy crush, running after the witty and mysterious older boy with cutting words and sad eyes. Thomas had thought, for a moment, that he was falling in love with him, back in Paris. He kicked himself at the thought of it now. He’d been terribly lonely and feeling alienated, of course he would fall at the feet of the first person he connected with. 

He felt it again, though, when Alastair arrived in London, in those stolen conversations at parties or in the laboratory. He knew now that the Alastair he’d shown to Thomas was not true. It was a facade he put on to please him, a trick. That Alastair would never be able to say such terrible things about his loved ones, even as some strange, sick act. This must be another trick, Thomas thought, one that he’d seemingly convinced not only Thomas of but everyone else, too. 

Thomas silently scolded himself. There were much bigger issues to worry about than Alastair Carstairs’ games, such as the fact that he’d nearly died a few days prior or that Lucie had apparently raised Jesse Blackthorn from the dead. Those were the types of things that he should be worried about, or even the fact that this meant that it had been over half a year without his sister, or that he’d turned 19 last month and could not remember. And yet, his mind lingered. 

His mother returned soon after with Brother Shadrach. Thomas allowed himself a moment of silent relief that it was not Brother Zachariah. He had no issue with Jem, but he suspected that his presence would make it a bit difficult to keep his mind off of a different Carstairs. 

Brother Shadrach did a short physical evaluation. Thomas still had several wounds that had not finished healing, but they were reportedly improving nicely. His head injury was a different story. 

With these types of injuries, recent memories are typically more affected than older ones. Only time will tell whether the amnesia is temporary or not. It is likely that even if you begin to regain your older memories, some of your most recent memories will never return, even if that is merely the days or weeks leading up to the attack. 

Sophie thanked him for all of his help, and he left them with orders that Thomas be allowed light physical activity as he finished healing, though he should avoid anything that may make his headache worsen, such as reading. Or Alastair Carstairs, Thomas had wanted to add, though he did not. 

Over the next several hours, his family tapered off in shifts, finally allowing themselves much-needed rest and meals now that they were certain that Thomas was alright. 

It was Eugenia’s shift when he woke from a nap with too much restless energy to lie in bed any longer. “I’m going to walk around a bit,” he announced. 

She sat up, closing the book she was reading. “I’ll come with you, then.” 

“That’s alright, you don’t need to. Brother Shadrach said I’m allowed to walk around. I’m meant to avoid headaches, though, and I’d rather not have you talking my ears off.” 

Genie’s face fell. “Oh.” 

“I didn’t- That came out wrong. I only meant that I’d like some time alone.” 

“I know what you meant.” She looked back down at the book in her lap. “Go. You have until I finish this chapter, and then I’m coming to find you.” 

His wandering eventually led him to the library, though he was not meant to do any actual reading. In the library, however, was a man. 

“Why are you still here?” Thomas asked. 

Alastair looked up from the book he was holding. “I- Thomas! I didn’t realize that you were walking around.” 

“Yes, according to Brother Shadrach, my head injury has not affected my ability to walk.” 

“Right-” 

“You still haven’t answered my question. Go home, Carstairs. How many times do I need to tell it to you? Do you need it in a different language?” He was about to tell Alastair to leave in Farsi when he was cut off. 

“No, I’ll go.” He shut his book and stood up. “I’m sorry. I did not intend to bother you again, I simply-” 

“I don’t know what game you’re playing or how you’ve managed to convince my whole family of it, too, but it won’t work anymore.” 

“Thomas, there’s no-” 

“Cease constantly addressing me by my first name. We’re not schoolboys any longer. That’s what you said, isn’t it?” 

Alastair couldn’t seem to find the words to respond, though his expression was as unreadable as ever. 

Thomas could feel tears burning in his eyes. “I thought that you were different, but I was wrong. I will not allow myself to fall for your lies again.” 

“Very well, Mr. Lightwood. I will take my leave. I did not wish to upset you.” His face was still blank. 

“Really? Because you don’t seem to care all that much. We’re meant to be in a relationship, or something, according to my sister, but it doesn’t even seem like you care that I hate you.” 

There, just for a moment, was a flicker across Alastair’s face, though Thomas couldn’t quite catch what it was. He thought for a moment before finally responding. “You’re allowed to hate me, T- Perhaps you should. It matters not to me because as long as you hate me, you are awake and you are alive, and that is an easier reality to contend with than one where you are… not alive. I hope you feel better, Mr. Lightwood.” 

Thomas opened his mouth to respond, but was too flustered to find the words. He stared as he watched Alastair walk out of the library. For a moment, he thought that perhaps he would look back at him, but he simply kept walking, turning the corner towards the front entrance of the Institute.

Thanks for all of your support! taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @doitforthecarstairs @lifewouldbebetteronmars @delusioneon @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood

Part 3

[songbirdsingingthings]

Chapter Nine - A New Friend

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

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Word Count: 1.5K

A/N: YIKES I haven’t updated in a while....... welp here’s the new chapter :D

The house was much quieter without Izuku around. With your father still on the mend and confined to his room and Izuku now living with his wife, you were left to your own devices. And you didn’t know what to do. You dabbled in painting, but the watery lines and strokes you painted left you feeling disappointed in your work. You tried to needlepoint a lilac design to go on a pillow as a gift for Lord Bakugou, but one too many pricks in your index finger caused you to stop. So, you were left with a sore arm, a pricked finger, and nothing to do.

“Y/N!” Mei’s shout did nothing to rouse you from the little couch you were perched on, staring out towards the garden. “Y/N?” Mei placed a light hand on your shoulder and shook you once, then twice, then three times before your eyes met hers.

“Yes, Mei, what is it.” You said with a dejected sigh. Your head maid frowned and smoothed out the chiffon material that looked as if it was fluttering off your shoulder.

“Why don’t we go out today? I’ve heard that little boutique in town, the one you adore, has received a new shipment of dresses and accessories. We do need to start building a much larger closet since the winter balls are coming up. Perhaps we could peruse the newest additions for some yellow?” A hint of a smile quivers over your lips.

“Perhaps we shall,” you decide, making haste to grab your little purse, along with your gloves and furred shawl. The Autumn winds had recently decided to descend upon Musutafu, and you intended to escape the chilly seasons of both Autumn and Winter scot-free of a cold or flu. “I’m going to speak to Father quickly before our departure. Could you ready the carriage?” With a quick nod and a dash, Mei was off towards the front of the house while you ascended the stairs and stopped in front of your father’s door. It only took two light raps on the wood for your father to beckon you inside. You find him sitting up, this morning’s newsletter in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. A wash of relief brushes over you as you see that his cheeks have become fuller and his eyes have brightened.

“Hello my dear, are you going out?” He asks, setting the newsletter gently to the side so he can pat the empty space on the bed, inviting you to sit down. You oblige and nod.

“Yes, Mei and I both decided that it would be in my best interest to purchase some new dresses for the winter balls… and for me to get out of this house for a bit.” Your Father smiles knowingly and holds your hand lightly.

“It is difficult, not hearing Izuku’s muttering all day, hmm? I remember it would be an incessant bother to you when you were younger. What was it you would say? Ah, yes. ‘Izuku, there is no need to force your thoughts aloud. I’m younger than you and I contain them just fine within my own head.’” Your father chuckles, earning a sad smile from you.

“I never thought that I would miss it much. Now I feel that there is a void within this house.” Just as you finished speaking, a realization struck you. Izuku was off and married, living in one of the many houses owned by your family. When it comes time for you to be married… that would leave your father all alone.

“Tell me what troubles you.” Your father gives you a kind smile, but it doesn’t do much to soothe your worries. “Your mother always held the same expression when she was perplexed on some matter.”

“It’s nothing, Father.” You say, more trying to reassure yourself than him. “I was merely… thinking about my current status.” You couldn’t open a window into your father’s mind, but if you were able to, you would’ve known that he knew the issue you explained was not the one troubling you the most. But, he played along.

“Oh, I don’t think you need to trouble your mind and heart too much over that thought Dear. I wouldn’t be surprised if within the next couple of months we will be planning another wedding.” Even though Shouto had already told you about his intentions, your eyes still widened at your father’s words.

“Has he met with you in regards to an engagement?” You ask quickly, a frantic tone laced with your words. Your father chuckles and closes his eyes, leaning back against the pillows propping him up.

“Now Y/N, that would ruin the surprise, would it not? You should probably run along now downstairs, I’m sure Mei is patiently waiting for your company. With a smile of disbelief, you shake your head and squeeze your father’s hand in lieu of a hug.

“Alright. I’ll be back before supper.” You say, letting the skirt of your chiffon dress swish as you hurry downstairs.

“This one is too poofy. That one, not enough. My word, look at the colors on that one? What on earth were those seamstresses thinking?” Says Mei, thinking aloud. The both of you, donned in your winter petticoats and shawls, peruse through Henrietta’s, your favorite boutique. They always seemed to have the dresses and accessories that fit you best, both to flatter your physical features and to speak to your soul. You thought all of them were quite nice. Mei, on the other hand, had a harsh opinion on which ones needed to be purchased. You remove your gloves to let your hand trail over the material of a couple dresses, the different materials creating an interesting sensation on your fingertips. From lace, to tulle, to silk and chiffon, they all seemed quite appealing to you. Especially one in a baby blue, looking light and airy yet perfect for the icy winter months to come.

“Mei, what do you think of this one?” You say, your eyes still glued to the dress as you trail your fingers along the soft silk.

“That one’s too… actually it’s quite nice.” Mei says, taking a step forward to get a closer look.

“Nice? I believe the word you’re looking for is beautiful!” Both you and Mei spin around to find the speaker, only for your breath to be sucked tightly back in. In front of you, with the kindest smile you think you’ve ever seen on a person, stands Lady Todoroki, Shouto’s elder sister. In your brain, you try to configure several conversation starters or comments, but you just kept coming up empty, leaving you speechless and a bit embarrassed. Lady Todoroki, though, with the grace that seemed to flow through her naturally, continued for you. “And on you, my days Lady Yagi, you would just take every thought and word and snatch them right out of my younger brother’s mind and mouth!” She says with a giggle, earning a shy smile from you. “I’m sorry the last time we spoke you were privy to… an unfortunate, but common, occurance in our household.” With a sheepish smile, Lady Todoroki’s gaze flits across the room. Your mind is brought back to that day inside the Todoroki estate and all of the painful, heartbreaking things that followed. You shake your head a bit to try and chase away those thoughts, and instead offer Lady Todoroki a smile.

“Well, what’s in the past is in the past. What brings you here today?” You ask sweetly, earning a grin from Lady Todoroki.

“Henrietta’s is only my favorite boutique! I’ve heard a little rumour that they got a new arrival - from France!” A gasp is heard from beside you.

“France?!” Mei squeals, earning giggles from both you and Lady Todoroki.

“Mei, could you perhaps ask the shopkeeper if we could potentially be privy to those new arrivals?” With an eager nod and a faux salute, Mei scurries away leaving you and the man who was courting you’s sister. “So, Lady Todoroki-”

“Please do call me Fuyumi. My brother talks about you so constantly, I feel as if we’ve been close friends all this time!” You laugh and nod.

“Then call me Y/N.” You see Fuyumi nod.

“Are you here shopping for the winter balls coming up? I can’t believe they are being held so soon!” 

“Indeed,” you say, letting your fingers run over more fabric. “Mei insists that my wardrobe be better than it has ever been. It either has to do with her pride in me or just an excuse to grab the latest fashions.”

“Or it has something to do with Shouto.” Fuyumi says, making your expression flush. “But believe me, you could be dressed in any color or dress style, and he would be at your beck and call.” 

Fuyumi, you discovered, was a friend like you’ve had before. With quick wit and intelligence paired with a kind demeanor and heart, the two of you got along fast and wonderfully. So wonderfully, in fact, that she invited you - along with Mei, who had boxes upon boxes of dresses and accessories, all newly bought, with her - to her estate. You had nothing but happy thoughts about the activity. The thought of having tea in what you assume to be the most exquisite parlors to have ever been built sounded like a fantastic way to spend an afternoon. The servants you saw during your last visit were kind and helpful, taking the boxes from you and Mei and putting them in a holding place while you and Fuyumi made your way towards the parlor. You had a smile on your face and a pep in your step. Oh, how quickly they can fall into a stationary stance and a petrified expression once your eyes meet the ones of the tall Duke of Endeavor. And oh, how fast the feeling of sudden dread and fear creeps into your soul as the man stares you down, no emotion but animosity behind his eyes. I guess tea is out of the question now.

[fangirlingtodeath513]

siren | a writer’s choice bingo fill

writer’s choice bingo masterpost rating: mature warnings: none

For a hunter, Dean’s frequent visits to the monster bar are unusual, to say the least. His profession tends to not mingle with monsters, even though the ones that frequent this place are the ones that live amongst humans without any issue. Dean doesn’t care, though. He’s met good friends through here and even had a few flings with some of them. He feels more at home here than he does in a hunter crowd, and he’s not really sure if he should feel as comfortable as he does about that fact.

Doesn’t stop him from looking for someone to spend the night with, though. It’s been too long since he’s had someone underneath him—or been underneath someone, frankly—so he’s nursing a single beer as he looks for someone that piques his interest. 

It doesn’t take long. A dark-haired man walks through the door within fifteen minutes of Dean sitting down and he looks perfect. Dean doesn’t even hesitate to grab his beer and vacate his table, sidling up to the man at the bar. 

“Hey there, gorgeous. Let me buy you a drink?”

The man turns to look at him and Dean can’t help but feel a little self-conscious as the stranger’s eyes skim the length of his body. “You can’t buy me the kind of drink I want.”

Dean frowns. This is a monster bar, so if the guy’s looking for blood or something, that’s not exactly an odd request. “You sure about that?”

The stranger smirks, leaning against the counter and raising an eyebrow at Dean. “Unless you’re prepared to ingest my venom and allow me to feed off your adoration for the next several hours, yes, I’m positive.”

Dean’s brain short-circuits at that because honestly… he wouldn’t be opposed. It must show on his face because the man tilts his head as he watches Dean. “Siren, right?” The man nods, so Dean clears his throat and finishes what’s left of his beer. “Then let’s get out of here.”

Dean catches the bartender’s eye and closes out his tab, turning back to the man. “I’m Dean, by the way.”

“Castiel,” the man answers with a wry smile. “How do I know you don’t have a bronze knife on you somewhere?”

Dean can’t help but smirk. “You can pat me down when we get to where we’re going, hm? My motel isn’t far.”

Castiel hums, nodding once as he turns to leave. Dean grins and slips his jacket on, following him to the parking lot. After a short discussion about the logistics of getting to Dean’s motel, they both pile into the Impala and Dean pulls onto the road.

“Do I even want to know how many daggers you’ve got in here?”

Dean laughs. “Four, but they’re all in the trunk. Don’t encounter sirens very often, honestly. Besides, I’d need the blood of one of your victims, right? I doubt you just leave those lying around.”

Castiel quirks an eyebrow. “You do realize if you ingest my venom, you’ll be considered my victim?”

Dean blinks and glances over at Castiel. “Huh. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

An uncomfortable silence settles between them, so Dean just stays quiet as he drives. He doesn’t really blame Castiel for being nervous. A lot of hunters don’t care about the monsters that live in the gray areas, most are content to kill every monster they come across no matter what. Of course, Castiel would be concerned.

The parking lot is empty when they get there, so Dean parks in front of his room and pops the trunk before climbing out. Castiel watches him curiously, so Dean offers him a small smile and tugs the false door up to reveal his arsenal. “4 bronze daggers there. I’ve got a gun hidden in my room, though that won’t do much to you. Couple of steel knives that I’ll leave out here.” Dean proves his point by grabbing the sheaths from his waist and ankle and tossing them in the trunk.

Castiel chuckles. “I believe you, but thank you. You wouldn’t have been allowed in that bar if you weren’t friendly. Benny takes security seriously and, no offense, I could smell the hunter on you five miles away.”

Dean smirks. “I taste better than I smell, promise.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and follows Dean into his room, depositing his trenchcoat on the chair near the door. “You’re positive you don’t mind? The effect will wear off by morning.”

Dean hums, already beginning to unbutton his flannel. “Not even a little. There a certain way you need to do it?”

Castiel smiles and crosses to Dean in a few long strides, cupping his cheek gently. “A kiss will work just fine.” 

Dean’s not sure what he’s supposed to feel when their lips meet, but he definitely doesn’t feel poisoned. Not that he’d know what it felt like anyway—he wasn’t lying when he told Castiel he’d only seen a few sirens in his career. Dean lets himself get lost in the kiss, barely even noticing when Castiel starts to push the flannel off of him. He’s way more on board once Cas starts to unbutton his jeans, his long fingers brushing over the erection already forming in his briefs. 

“You’re right, Dean, you do taste better than you smell,” Castiel mumbles, a small smile on his lips as he leans down to kiss Dean again.

~

Dean pulls up to the nondescript apartment building, sitting there for a moment before shutting the car off. He hasn’t seen Castiel for over four months—apparently, the length of time a siren can go without feeding—but Castiel had called out of the blue and asked him to come over. Dean had only been a state over on a hunt, so he’d wrapped up his business there and driven straight to Castiel’s.

He looks weak when he opens the door, and far more pale than the last time Dean had seen him.

“Cas? You okay?”

Castiel smiles weakly, stepping aside to let Dean into the apartment. “I’m alright. I went… longer than I should have without feeding. I wanted to, I just... “ He turns his gaze back to Dean and the unspoken words hang heavy between them. Dean thinks he knows what Castiel was about to say, but he doesn’t want to pry. 

“Alright, well let’s get you back to yourself then, hm?”

Castiel smiles gratefully, allowing Dean to draw him into a kiss.

~

It becomes a recurring thing between them. Every month or so, sometimes more often if Dean’s passing through Cas’s state, they’ll meet up and sleep together. Castiel gets his fix of adoration, as he likes to say, and Dean gets a warm, fluffy bed and a good fuck. He can’t complain, even if he does wake up a little bit tired the morning after. 

“So, Benny’s hiring,” Dean offers one morning over breakfast. It’s been almost a year since he went home with Castiel for the first time, something he still can’t believe. He’s never actually had a relationship this long, and they’re not even actively in a relationship. 

Castiel quirks an eyebrow. “Indeed. I saw the sign on the door.”

Dean hums. “I’d make a good bartender, I think.”

Castiel leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m sure you’d be wonderful at it. You want to give up hunting?”

“I’ve been wanting a life outside of hunting recently,” Dean admits with a shrug. “Gets a little too dangerous after a while. Besides, it would be nice to sleep on a comfortable bed like yours every night instead of those shitty motel beds. Or worse, Baby’s back seat.”

Castiel studies his face for a moment before frowning. “I’m sorry, I must have given you too much venom last night. Perhaps you should stay another day.”

“What? No, Cas, I’m being serious. I like it here, I’ve got friends here, I’ve got you—well, not… you know, I… fuck. I didn’t mean it like that.” Dean sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I like you, alright? It’s not because of your venom, it’s because of you.”

Castiel smiles, though it looks sad. “We were up late last night, I’m sure my venom hasn’t worked its way out of your system yet.”

Dean scoffs. “Hey, I can think for myself, thank you very much. Your venom’s not even that potent, man, it’s never made me feel any different.”

Castiel squints at him. “Never?”

“Nope. Why?”

“Well it’s supposed to make you disoriented and passive, so you’ll follow my every order no matter what. It… doesn’t do that?”

Dean snorts. “Follow your every order? God no. If you’re so convinced I’m still poisoned, make me do something.” 

Castiel frowns. “I don’t like making people do things. It’s why I’m always so careful with what I say when we’re together.”

“I’m telling you, I’m immune to your venom or something. C’mon, try it.”

It takes a moment, but Castiel eventually acquiesces. “Refill my coffee.”

Dean waits a moment, half expecting to be compelled to refill Castiel’s mug, but nothing happens. Castiel frowns and sits up.

“Kiss me.”

Dean waits again, raising an eyebrow at Castiel. “See? Nothing.”

Castiel frowns. “Stay with me tonight? I want to see if you’re immune after you ingest my venom.”

Dean smirks. “Damn, Cas, if you wanted to fuck me again you coulda just asked.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, though the hint of a blush on his cheeks gives him away. “So you’ll stay?”

Dean hums his agreement, eyes widening as Castiel leans over the table to kiss him. Once again, they both wait, expecting God only knows what to happen, but nothing changes. 

“Go get my phone,” Castiel orders. The tone of his voice sends a shiver down Dean’s spine and though he wants to obey, he won’t. Castiel needs the proof. “You’re actually immune,” Castiel breathes, a look of wonder written on his face. “You want to move here to be closer to me of your own free will?”

Dean frowns. “Yeah, man. I like you, Cas. Not your venom.”

Castiel grins, leaning over to kiss him again. “Then just move in with me. I love you, I just didn’t want to force you to be with me.”

Dean blinks. “You love me?”

Castiel chuckles. “Why do you sound so surprised? You’re easy to fall for, Dean.” 

Dean grins, pulling Cas in for another kiss, their breakfast entirely forgotten between them. “I’ll go get my stuff out of my car and call Benny.”

Castiel hums. “Later. Right now, we need to celebrate.”

Dean laughs. “Oh? How so?”

Castiel smirks, quickly clearing off one side of the table before lifting Dean onto it and settling between his legs. “Oh, I can think of a few ways.”