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justyanle · 1 year

Note

I warmly greet! Can I have a request for Miles Spider from Avatar please? Where the reader (human) tries to learn how to jump and climb trees like her good friend Spider does, but during the training she missteps and is in danger of falling down from a great height. She manages to grab the edges of the branch, but she can't climb back up, so out of sheer fear and desperation, she screams for help...and Spider hears her.

Please something cuteeeee, I adore this boy!❤️

Well Being

(Spider x f!Reader)

Spider has been helping you get used to the environment of Pandora until things go wrong or rather, right.

Content Warning: Fluff, slight swearing, reader almost getting hurt, more fluff, Spider x f!Reader

As of the moment, you were trying to imitate the boy who had grown up in the forest - he's strong and hasty, ridiculously jacked for his age.

You were another baby that got stuck on the green and bioluminescent lands of Pandora. Unlike Spider, you reserved yourself in the lab growing up, often preferring to study the surroundings rather than being in it.

Your athletic abilities weren't the best, usually having trouble trailing behind Spider's lean physique.

This disadvantage was one of the things you dreaded due to the fact you were currently trying to climb up a tall tree in the woods.

"Spider! This better be worth it!" you yelled at the boy far down on the ground as the only thing he was focused on was your figure high above a branch of the wood you were seated on.

"I won't catch you if you fall, you gotta learn how to be independent, [Y/N]!" he teased, a cheeky smile accompanying his face in amusement while you were doing your best to keep your body stable and balanced on the tree branch that stood high.

Spider knew you were lacking in the athletic field so he wanted to train you for the instances in the forest.

Though, that's what he wanted to believe.

Spider wanted to take you to all the breathtaking views and nature in the environment you grew opposite of. He was hoping to have more time and moments with you, the gushy feeling in his stomach would always bubble in his stomach when you were there, even just mentioned.

Pushing your nervous emotions to the side, standing up on the branch that had your knees shaky.

Jittering, you got your stance ready to leap onto another large piece of wood in front of you, searching for it's stability.

You wind up your body, preparing for the big leap you were about to perform. With all your might and strength, the locomotions of your body moved and -

"SHIT!"

Your hand was gripping onto the branch you had tried to make your big jump on, trying to compose all your body weight with a tight hold of your digits off the tree you were hanging off.

Not wanting to give up your pride, you tried to pull your body higher that was getting weighed down by Pandora's gravity, though that resulted in a shaking arm and a hand releasing its hold.

You were close to tears, not sure if it was because of the fear that you were going to possibly fall or if it was because of your ego hurting if you called for Spider.

Sighing, you could only prepare for the embarrassment and shame you would face after this inciden, not wanting to seem weak.

"Spider! Help!"

Spider's head followed the source of the high pitched sound of screams, the view he found was the image of your body dangling from a high piece of the tree you were climbing and jumping on.

"Shit! [Y/N]! Hang on, okay?!" he onwardly rushed to the tree with no signs of showing struggle, leaping and climbing onto branches one by one. His toned and muscular body was working it's way to you, his agility and flexibility working all at the same time.

The boy was nearing your aching body, trying to hold onto the tree for your life, your last moments could've been possibly happening. With one last jump, he was on the branch you were dangling off of.

"[Y/N]! You good?" he asked, taking your one arm that was still clinging to the Pandorian oak and pulling you with strength. Once he pulled you up enough, your other hand finally got ahold of the branch you were bracing yourself on and pushed your body weight up.

Spider has successfully pulled you onto the thick and sturdy branch where the two of you now shared the space on.

The scared boy spoke up, "My God, oh my God.." voice trembling and breathy due to the fact that he almost lost you and the speedy trek he performed in order to save the precious girl he adored.

"Thank you Spider.. Thank you..." you sweetly mumbled into his neck, basically straddling his thighs and kept your arms around his neck, his muscular biceps around and wrapped around your waist.

"You're okay now [Y/N], you're okay."

He felt foolish for making you risk your life just to be able to hang out with him rather than adjusting his ways for you, he felt immense shame and guilt creep into his chest, he couldn't take the mental picture of you - his [Y/N], being in danger just to have the ability to make memories with him.

But,

he knew he could only care less about his feelings at the moment, he only cared about you. All of you. He was more than relieved and happy to see your state of well-being with no bruises or scratches, it was perfect. You are perfect.

a/n: this is so half assed and im still suffering from the shame of accidentally posting a whole ass fanfic that was supposed 2 be a draft..... if u saw it no u didnt, thank you for requesting and my reqs r still open

#atwow #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar movie #miles socorro #miles spider socorro x reader #miles spider socorro #avatar spider x reader #spider avatar x reader #spider avatar #avatar spider #spider socorro x reader #spider socorro #spider x reader

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is-the-fire-real · 1 month

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'Reminder that "punch a nazi uwu" leftists utilize Nazi rhetoric to justify punching Jews.

It was never about punching Nazis; it was about getting social permission to punch.'

It was this very mentality that drove me away from considering myself a liberal anymore (I AM VERY MUCH LEFT LEANING, I DIDN'T DECIDE TO BECOME CONSERVATIVE JUST TO BE CLEAR. I just don't feel like those spaces have any intrinsic safety any longer). It feels like so much of western leftism has become about "punching up". I don't think it's about compassion or concern anymore, it's about finding the "right" targets. And so often that was just used as a way to excuse bigotry. I'm a goy but I noticed this on a personal level plenty with people identifying as feminists, they'd be perfectly okay saying something unquestionably sexist, as long as "white women" was attached onto the front. It's very much the same with shaming people over physical features that others may have, as long as the individual person is "bad enough" it doesn't matter if wide foreheads or big noses or acne are features many people have and would feel hurt by seeing them used as an insult, because they're only "really" directing it at "one of the bad ones"

So, I'm going to link to this piece again because it's been embarrassingly useful, and explains why I say things like "pretending to believe" despite their clunkiness. For new material, I hope you don't mind that you have accidentally triggered a massive unskippable cutscene, but you tapped into a few things I have been pondering and I'd like to take advantage of your observances to add my own.

Part of what you're discussing here, which I agree with, is that toxic slacktivists pretend to believe that they are Good People Doing Good Work. They are Bad People and their work is Bad Work, but if they all get in a group and pretend together that it's Good, then that's almost the same as being Good, right?

Another worthwhile aspect of what you're discussing is something I became aware of in the aftermath of the collapse of Occupy Wall Street. One commenter on a liberal blog I still follow lamented that mass protest never seems to accomplish anything, and how the millions of people who turned out for OWS protests should have affected more political change. Considering most of them could also vote, write to representatives, etc., something other than littering and arrests could've been done.

Another commenter pointed out that he had personally been at most of the anti-Iraq War protests, including the largest worldwide protest on 15 February 2003 (6-10 million estimated participants). But most of those protesters did not agree with each other. There were at least four major coalitions of antiwar protesters showing up then and thereafter. The ones he listed were:

"Just war" advocates who believed the Iraq War was unjust.

Total pacifists who believed all armed conflicts are unjust, and therefore the Iraq War is as well.

Right-wing bigots who believed a war might potentially benefit those they thought of as religiously or ethnically inferior and subhuman.

Xenophobes, both left- and right-wing, who believed "the US can't be the police of the world" and that any action taken outside USian borders was immoral.

Imagine four people with these beliefs in a room talking about the Iraq War... then bring up the war in Ukraine to them and see how fast the coalition falls apart.

"Well, the war for Ukrainian liberation is a just war," says the just-war advocate. The pacifist starts to scream "HOW COULD YOU DEFEND ANY ACTION THAT MIGHT LEAD TO CHILDREN DYING, YOU MONSTER!". The right-wing bigot says they support the war, too--on the side of the ethnically and religiously superior Russians. And then a left-wing xenophobe says we're wasting money that should be supporting American workers and uplifting Americans out of poverty instead of buying new bombs for Ukraine.

And your "antiwar" coalition collapses, with the pacifist wandering off to agree with the xenophobe while the just-war liberal and the right-wing bigot scream at each other pointlessly and without resolution.

This is one of the wisest breakdowns of human behavior I have ever discovered:

Any coalition of people is made up of many sub-coalitions who only temporarily agree on a single aspect of a single issue. Making sure the group does not collapse prematurely is the true, unsung labor of movement maintenance.

To be real, it's much easier to let one's coalition collapse and scream about how The Menz, or The CIA, or Greedy Capitalists, or The Jews artificially forced your group's collapse than it is to admit that one might just suck a big one at coalition building. This is especially true among leftists, who are sometimes anti-hierarchy and frequently fall for populist, anti-expert nonsense. Having a leader means you're suggesting someone should have authority, and a lot of leftists are allergic to that suggestion.

Moreover, though, a lot of "leftists" are "leftists" but only agree with one or two aspects of leftism.

To use your feminism example: I have absolutely seen feminists who think they can be misogynists so long as they say "white" before they say "woman". I mean, who can even argue? I have also seen feminists who think they can be gender bioessentialists so long as they're doing it towards "men" (a category which includes a lot of people who neither look like men, nor live as men, nor benefit from male privilege). I have seen feminists who think they can call themselves "trans allies" while consistently ignoring, degrading, and dismissing the concerns of anyone who isn't a binary trans woman. Etc.

The thing is, they are all feminists. What makes someone a feminist, at bottom, is the acceptance of and opposition to patriarchy. That's it. It's similar to how what makes a person a Protestant Christian is the acceptance of Jesus as their Lord and Savior--you might need to do one or two things to be considered a part of a specific branch of Christianity, but all you need is that one specific belief about that one specific idea. There's a lot of bunk about how "you can't be a REAL Christian unless you do X" just like there's bunk about how "you can't be a REAL feminist unless you do Y", and it's all bunk.

There are people who might be really bad feminists or Christians, but that's not the same as not being feminists or Christians.

So, the coalition of leftism has several sub-coalitions who actually despise each other. Here is my proposal for the sub-coalitions. (Please keep in mind that I am not defining groups by how they define themselves, but by the far more useful metric of their actions.)

Liberals who agree with leftist economic thought, but strongly disagree with leftist conclusions regarding violent revolution. Liberals do not have time for online arguments and superficial action. They are generally participating in protests, running for office, writing postcards to advocate for candidates, informing voters, and working within the system for positive change that alleviates suffering. They are pro-expert but opposed to a vanguard party due to its inherent authoritarianism.

Tankies, whose primary interest in leftism is authoritarian. They oppose capitalism and support violent revolution because they imagine themselves as the vanguard party who gets to control everything when the revolution comes.

Anarchists, whose primary interest is opposing hierarchy. They want to burn down the system because it is a system, and frequently become angry and defensive if you try to ask them any questions about what would be built out of the ashes.

Progressives, whose primary interest is opposing liberals. They also oppose capitalism; they are, like tankies, positioning themselves as the vanguard party because they are already in political power. What makes them Not Tankies is that they care more about sticking it to "the Dems" than they do about actually being the vanguard, opposing capitalism, or achieving anything of worth or meaning politically.

"Red fash", who used to be called "beefsteak Nazis". They say all the right things regarding violent revolution and economics/capitalism, but they only believe what they believe for the sake of their specific ethnic group and nation (frequently, white and USian, but this is extremely popular in Europe too). IOW a red fash wants the vanguard party to only have whites of a specific ethnicity in control of the revolution; they only want universal health care for "their" people, that sort of thing. Some red fash are actual Nazis cosplaying as leftists, but some are just really, really, REALLY bigoted leftists.

Whether we like it or note, the acceptance of armed, violent revolution as a Good Thing means that leftism has always regarded punching up and violence as a necessary component of leftist thought. This is not a perversion of Real Leftism. This is leftism. If you think revolution is good and necessary instead of a terrifying possibility, then you also think punching up is okay; it's just a matter of who is Up and who gets to punch.

Of the five sub-coalitions I described, only one has rejected violent revolution--and it's the one all the other leftists accuse of being right-wing. And interestingly enough, only liberals are habitually accused of secretly colluding with the right... when red fash are natural allies to the right, and when all other forms of leftists openly ally with right-wingers so long as they say the right things about economics. (See under: "After Hitler, us" leftists, left-wing Trumpistas who think they'll rule the ashes after Trump burns down the current system.)

And if you believe in violent revolution, then (let me be facetious for a second) what's the problem with making fun of your political enemies for being ugly? If we believe Steve Bannon is a Nazi, aren't we obligated to stop him by any means necessary, and doesn't that include mocking him for his alcoholism? Isn't mocking someone for their appearance and intrinsic characteristics mild compared to, say, threatening them with exploding cars covered with hammers? Or retweeting pictures of pitchforks and guillotines?

If we believe Ben Shapiro is an opponent to the revolution we accept is necessary and vital to the movement, then what's a little antisemitism in the name of the people? Don't we have to be bigots to oppose bigots? And--

--oh. There's that horseshoe bending round to the right again.

#leftist antisemitism #horseshoe theory #coalition failure #political analysis #from someone who never attended college but who is old and has seen and read a lot. to be fair #the people most likely to die in your violent revolution are the people most likely to die under capitalism #the people who advocate the hardest for violent revolution are those most convinced they will live through it #as for me. well. i already live under threat of constant violence and kind of don't look forward to it #so a political philosophy that fetishizes violence was never going to fit me very well

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xidyl · 4 months

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can we take a sec to appreciate the weird, kind of alien pokemon designs out there

Like, sure, there's a bunch of pokemon designs that are really cute/cool and all, but I feel like there isn't enough love for the more bizarre designs out there and I really wanted to take a closer look at them.

I think Metagross is a more popular pokemon out of the bunch I'm going to be looking at, but have you ever considered just how weird its design is?

Like... where do I begin here. The legs are so strangely organic looking, with folds and bulges that mimic leg anatomy despite the rest of the design being so rigid and hard-surface. It's this bizarre blend of organic and inorganic that just makes this design truly *feel* alien and strange. The joints look like ball and socket joints on a plastic toy which further makes its design a little surreal to me.

The striking red eyes under that big metallic cross makes its face even more distinct and menacing, sort of like a threatening display, or like, substantiating that feeling that this robotic creature is an unrelenting wall that won't let anything pass it.

The overall radially symmetrical design of Metagross is also really interesting to me. They could've made metang's final evolution look like a more traditional humanoid robot with big metallic arms and instead of 2 more arms it got 2 big legs (kind of similar to Golurk actually), but instead they went for a, kind of disc shaped design that looks far more like a strange alien spider. The big ring around its body makes me think of toy tops or like even a UFO to continue the idea of this being some alien creature. Truly fascinating and I am really really glad they went with this kind of design.

Let's move on to another pokemon that admittedly has very similar vibes to Metagross, Ferrothorn

Ferrothorn is another pokemon with a radially symmetrical design. It is based on prickly seeds that stick to fur and clothing, and they went for a design that feels almost like an echinoderm like a sea urchin. Its body is round and vaguely disc shaped once again, kind of giving UFO vibes, and instead of bulky robotic arms like Metagross, Ferrothorn has these massive vines that sprout from the top of its head, giving it a really unique design with a lot of potential.

The vines sprouting from the top of its head is very clearly inspired by how they would actually sprout out from a seed, but it also suggests that Ferrothorn is mainly adapted for climbing on the rooftops of caves and kind of swinging around as its spiky arms clasp onto the rocks above. Perhaps it takes down aggressors or prey by rooting its arms into the top of the cave or nearby stalagmites and then slamming its massive thorny body onto them.

Now I want to talk about Dhelmise, which I believe isn't really that popular. There isn't a lot of art of this fella and that's a shame because the potential is insane for this concept.

I think people sleep on this fella a bit too much. Sure, it's just a wheel and anchor, but there's so much more to it. One little detail I like is that the wheel has a compass on it that looks very much like an eyeball which gives truly gives it the feeling that it's a live, sentient creature and not just a shipwreck. But what I really want to talk about is the seaweed.

Dhelmise is actually the seaweed that's enveloping the abandoned wheel and anchor, explaining its grass/ghost typing. It's this bizarre species of seaweed that sort of possesses these ship remains and uses it as a vessel as it moves about. What appears to be a chain isn't even a physical metal chain wrapped in seaweed, it's *just* seaweed that's probably tightly bound and shaped to kind of resemble a chain, which I assume is the main body of the creature.

Just imagining Dhelmise rising from the ocean and just swinging its massive chain and anchor around a wailord (something it has been described doing frequently in pokedex entries) and then just dragging it down below the ocean is such a menacing thought. Perhaps they are arbiters of whalefall ecosystems, and they drag Wailords to the sea floor to then feed off its decaying remains alongside countless other benthic pokemon. Maybe they nourish seabeds with young Dhelmises who haven't yet taken a host with Wailord remains they have hunted before they are ready to possess an anchor.

Do you ever wonder if they actually go out of their way to ambush human ships to create shipwrecks and that's how they procreate? Are there nautical legends of possessed anchors and wheels rising from the seas and attempting to sink their ships? It's a chilling idea.

#pokemon #i just really wanted to talk about these pokemon and these designs #especially Dhelmise I feel like its wayyyy underrated #long post

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beachbabey · 1 year

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Ok so we know that the motel is bugged thanks to that cop, but how would miles react to reader moaning his name while playing with themselves?

Where you'd normally be reading a book, or painting your nails pretty pastel colours, now, you're on your hands and knees on the lumpy mattress. A pillow is slotted between your thighs, your face is pressed into the slightly worn fabric, and the faded logo is barely muffling the desperate moans you let out into it.

It's plain to see; You're soaked, and you're soaked for him. He feels like a peeping tom.

He supposes that's what he is, as he watches you from the other side of the thick glass, hunched over in the steel chair he was sitting on backwards, so he could slump over the back of the metal.

He feels his cock aching beneath the tight, itchy cotton of his pants, and he doesn't think twice before bringing a hand up to grind down onto it. His breathing deepens, as you rut harder against the pillow. His hazy, glassy eyes trace your figure, down to your hands clenched up messily in your bedsheets, your nails almost tearing up the fabric. His eyes were glued to your chest, the way that your tits hung and moulded against the pillow. bouncing slightly as your hips gyrate, circling down onto the pillow

He feels stupid, He wants the pillowcase. He wants to rip it off of the pillow after you cum, wants to slip it over his head and wear it like a trophy. Because there's no doubt in his mind now that he, Miles Miller, concierge, housekeeper and bellboy of The El Royale, has won every single game he's ever played.

"Miles" was the only word falling from your lips, it was quiet, barely a squeak, but the speakers miraculously picked it up, filling his ears and swirling around his brain

The name from anyone else sounded utterly repulsive. But from you, it was downright biblical. He’d hang on your every word forever.

"Mi-Miles~" You draw out your whine, louder this time, and Miles' hand presses further into his cock. He almost wants to cry at the thought that all you can manage to think of at this moment is him.

Not anyone or anything else.

Just him.

He manages to hold off his orgasm, using all of his willpower to take his hand off of his cock, but then you turn your head to face the mirror, your eyes screwed tightly shut.

"Miles I know you're watching. Filthy little boy, I know you can hear me"

He freezes up, looking up at you, his breath caught in his throat, cumming instantly, untouched as he catches your eye, a knowing smirk on your face as you stare at your reflection, knowing that he's behind the glass, looking straight at him.

"You could've joined me, if you knocked on my door, I would've answered, could've been here Miles" you moan out, your voice getting higher and higher, the thought of him touching himself, eyes big and watery, lips bitten raw getting you even closer to your orgasm.

fuck, fuck he thought, the burning feeling of shame starting to settle in, he doesn't even know how you figured out the two-way mirror, let alone the microphone, not that it matters now, you'll never forgive him for this.

You're shaking, panting, and sweating as you come down from your high. Swinging your hips off the bed, standing on wobbly legs and sauntering towards the mirror, placing a wet, filthy kiss on the glass before walking to your en suite, chuckling to yourself as you turn the shower on. And Miles wishes he had the courage to go in and help you out. But for that, he'd have to admit that he was watching you, and he'd rather curl up and have the earth swallow him right then and there instead of confronting you.

He knows he's being cowardly as he creeps back into the shadows of the concrete hallway. Walking back to his room, stiffly, agitated by the feeling of the drying cum in his pants, already hard again as he replays that moment in his head, over and over until his head was spinning. It was something out of a porn magazine that the guys back in his platoon used to sneak in the barracks, and he wishes he had brought the camera with him, wishes he loaded up more film.

The second he gets into his room, he beelines for his dresser, pulling out a pair of your underwear that he swiped while he was cleaning your room yesterday. He fucks the fabric into his fist until he sees stars, desperately wishing he was cumming inside your cunt instead of just your used panties.

#once again i am horrible at ending my writings oh my GOD #miles miller x reader #miles miller smut #miles miller #bad times at the el royale

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bi-bats · 9 months

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hello!! i was just wondering, since the damitim fic is ongoing, does this mean know yourself updates are slowed/paused? (not a complaint i’m loving both!!)

Hiya!! Sorry that I never give easy answers 😂

So yes, Know Yourself updates are slower (not paused or on hiatus!! I am working on it still), but it's not because of the DamiTim fic.

I've been writing Know Yourself for over a year now (even though I haven't been posting it that long) and I'm just struggling with getting the words on the page to be what I want them to be. The plot is sorted out and I'm content with what I'm going to make happen, but also when I think about the fic my brain starts to feel the way my eyes do when I stare at a screen too long 😂 so I'm trying to be patient with myself and let myself take my time with it instead of pushing something out that I'm really not happy with, because 1) I think it'll show, 2) I'll just burn myself out, and 3) if I treat it like a chore it'll never get finished.

Also I've realized (post-jaytimweek) that I prefer writing in present tense, it makes everything feel more natural to me and I can control some writing things like timing and flow a little better and I WROTE OVER 100K WORDS IN PAST TENSE FOR THAT FIC AND I'M NOT FUCKING SWITCHING NOW!!!! SO I GUESS I GOTTA FINISH IT IN PAST TENSE!!!!

And also we're at the point in the plot of Know Yourself where I'm really stepping on the gas on the number of things happening per chapter, and the chapters are overwhelmingly long. And I would love to simply be more brief, but everything happening is relevant to the plot, so. Sigh.

Now, the DamiTim fic.

That one is just going up because that fic is happening to me. I can't prevent that fic from occurring. I would love to think about something else, actually! That boy is so unwell! But that's what I'm feeling inspired about and lately I've only been able to write when something worms into my brain and I have to put it on the page immediately no matter where I am or what I'm doing (I have a newish manager who doesn't know how to write a schedule, so I'm currently on day 7 of a ten day stretch of work where I only had one day off, which I had to spend doing all my chores and then hosting D&D. So basically, gone are the days off where I could just sit at my computer and write for a day 😭😭😭).

Also, Ive been having problems with Know Yourself since May, but the DamiTim fic is just fucking pouring out of me fugue state style. My brain hasn't latched onto DamiTim and released Know Yourself in favor of it, it's that the claws of Know Yourself began to unsink from my flesh like, 2 months ago and DamiTim saw its chance. Like, this isn't about to be a cute analogy, but I feel like I'm vomiting out the DamiTim fic because it's a virus. It can't be in my brain anymore okay? I need it out. And it feels like a shame to have like, almost 40k words of it written and just sitting in my drafts when I could be updating it (which I'm sure you appreciate if you're loving that one too 😂), and it has the added benefit of yall knowing I haven't abandoned the fandom/preventing yall from thinking that something horrible has happened to me!

Tldr/to reiterate: yes I'm slowing down on Know Yourself, but it's not because of any of the other chaptered fics I'm working on.

Anyways, sorry this got long and ranty, I think I needed to vent all this out anyways so thank you for giving me a chance to do that!! And also thank you for phrasing your ask the way you did, I really appreciate you specifying that you're not complaining 😂 this is a valid question (that did not upset me but could've if the phrasing was different) and I didn't feel pressured so thank you!!! Ily anon 💕💖💚

#🥸 anon ask #batsasks #know yourself #bibatrambles #i hope this doesn't read like me feeling like I had to justify myself bc fr I don't feel like that #i just wanted to kvetch for a little bit 😂#everyone play nice with anon I'm not upset with them 💕

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fallenasleepyetagain · 10 months

Text

Tense - Error/Dream

Media: UTMV/Undertale AUs

Genres: Pre-established relationship, human AU, fluff

Characters: Error, Dream, Ink (mentioned), Blue (mentioned)

Pairings: Error/Dream, Ink/Blue (if you wanna take it that way)

CW/TW - None!

Word Count: 1311

Angry muttering comes from the Anti-Void.

Nothing really echoes in the Anti-Void, due to the lack of walls and ceiling. It is a void after all. So if you're far enough away from something, you won't be able to hear it, even if you could in an actual universe.

However, Error's grumbling was quite audible to the Guardian of Positivity.

The destroyer hadn't even noticed the portal opening, or Dream stepping inside. He was hunched over, Undernovela blaring and his knitting needles clicking aggressively together.

Whatever was happening, Dream could tell that it wasn't helping his poor mood. Maybe Ink got him all riled up? Was his knitting not cooperating with him? The reasons could be endless with Error. It could also just be that he was in a bad mood.

That happened sometimes, no shame to him. Emotions were emotions, and everyone had to deal with them.

Luckily for Error, he had Dream to help him through them.

It was his job, after all.

As both Guardian of Positivity and boyfriend to the man-baby.

Dream sauntered into the Anti-Void, his heeled boots clicking against the pure white floor. Error, as he expected, didn't even notice his arrival. He walked over to Error, standing behind the beat-up bean bag that Error sat on.

Still no acknowledgment. It was almost impressive as to how in his own head Error could get. Dream bent down to Error's level, being crouched behind him. His breathing was quiet, as to not be heard.

"Stupid fucking-!" Error grumbled before shouting, throwing his knitting needles away in frustration.

Yeah, Dream needed to step in. He lowered his head down, only a few inches away from Error. Gently, he blew out air onto Error's neck to get his attention. Touching was a no-go, and this felt like the best way to get his attention.

Sure, he could've spoken to Error, but what's the fun in that?

Error yelped, slamming a gloved hand over his neck and throwing himself forward. He spun around, cables yanked out of his eyes as his fingers twitch.

When he realized that it's Dream who blew air on him, he relaxes slightly. Dropping his hand. He closed the TV-portal to Undernovela, deciding that he'll catch up on it later. But first, he had to deal with Dream.

"What the fuck?! How long have you been there??"

With a small smirk on his face, Dream leaned into the beanbag, his face in his hand. "Not too long. What's gotten you all worked up, Glitchy?"

"Nothing, piss off!" Error shouted, glitches filling up his eyes. The lie was obvious, and Error knew it.

"Right, because I totally believe that."

"I'm fine!"

"No, you're tense as hell, that's what you are." Dream slid down the beanbag, kicking his legs back and forth. "Let me help you."

An eyebrow was raised on Error's face. Dream raised one back.

"Help me? The fuck do you mean by that?"

A playful smirk appeared on Dream's face, "I'm going to say it, but you have to hear me out, m'kay?"

"...Okay."

Dream drew a circle on the pillow, an almost flirtatious look in his golden eyes. "I was thinking that I could give you a massage."

A finger was put near Error's mouth to shush him. Dream could see the flurry of shouts and swears that were bubbling up in his throat.

"It'll just be on the shoulders, and that'll be all. I won't touch anything else but your shoulders." Dream smiled at him. "It'll feel good, I promise."

"Ng..." Dream could tell that Error was thinking. He could've sworn that he saw the loading buffer in his eyes, thinking about his feelings toward the matter, and whether or not to accept.

"...Fine."

"Wait, seriously? You for real?!"

"Yes." Error hissed out, gripping onto his forearms. "If you ask again, I'll throw you out of here."

With a grin, Dream held his hands up, not saying anything further. He patted the beanbag and Error, with some intense hesitation, he sat down on the beanbag. His legs were pulled close to his chest and his shoulder tensed up.

"Y'know Error, this isn't going to work if you don't try to relax. Just...take a deep breath, 'kay? I'm not going to do anything you don't like."

Much to Dream's surprise, Error did so. He took a long, deep breath, and slipped his jacket from his shoulders. His scarf was pulled off and set to the side. He was wearing a red, sleeve-less turtleneck underneath.

Now. Dream wasn't one to find shoulders attractive, but holy shit.

Error was always covered up somehow, and rarely showed any skin. With his distaste for touch, it was understandable. But, when Dream did get that rare sight of Error's dark brown skin, he couldn't stop himself from blushing.

Error was pretty! It's not Dream's fault for wanting to stare!

"Gloves or no gloves?" Dream asked. He likely knew the answer already, but it was good to double-check.

"Gloves." Error stated flatly, pulling his dreadlocks over his shoulder, so they wouldn't get in Dream's way.

"I'm going to touch you now."

"...'Kay."

Dream gently placed his hands on Error's shoulder, who jumped in response. He didn't remove his hands, rather waiting to see what Error did.

"Is this okay?"

"Y-Yeah."

A smile grew on Dream's face as he gently pressed his thumbs into Error's shoulder blades. Without straining himself, he massages Error's muscles, rolling them upwards.

At first, Error managed to tense up even further, trying to see if he could handle the touch or not. As Dream went on though, he felt himself leaning into it, his body relaxing as Dream kneading the knots out of him.

It was nice. Really nice.

The feeling of Dream's hands carefully squeezing and rolling his muscles was addictive. Error mentally cursed Dream out for not suggesting it sooner.

"Shit man, you're so tense!"

"Fuck off..." Error growled, rolling his eyes.

"It's not an insult! Ink's a pain in the ass to deal with, I get it.”

Dream hit a particularly tense spot, and Error groaned. He jolted slightly and spew a few curse words out before slumping back into the beanbag. Dream continued as if nothing happened, since he knew Error wasn't in any pain.

"Then why even live with him? Kick his ass to the streets."

"Can't. Blue likes him."

"Damnit! He's too kind for his own damn good..."

"Preaching to the choir babe."

The massage session continued for a few minutes, but to Error it, felt like an eternity of heavenly bliss. He had just...relaxed, for the first time in far too long. Dream's hands just kneading away his worries, his voice humming a tune unfamiliar, the silence and un-stimulating Anti-Void, oh, it was amazing.

Error couldn't even remember why Ink had made him so mad.

It was bliss until Dream got a text and he pulled away. Error's skin tingled where Dream's hands used to be.

"What is it?"

"It's Ink. Blue's in trouble. I need to go."

"Take care of him."

"'Course."

Dream took a step away from the beanbag, his hand raising up to open a portal. Before he could do so, however, Error grabbed onto the back of his leather jacket.

“Dream?”

“Yeah?”

“When you’re done rescuing Star Boy, could we…” Error paused, glancing away as blood rushed to his face. “…Do this again?”

Dream grinned, and Error wanted to knock that stupid, toothy smirk off of his face.

“You just give me a call, alright Glitch?”

“Yeah yeah…” Error muttered, turning and grabbing his jacket before slipping it over his still-warm shoulders.

Swiftly, Dream gave him a gentle goodbye kiss on the forehead. He laughed as he left, the sound of flustered dial-up echoing in the Anti-Void.

#Fallen’s writing #UTMV #dream (utmv)#error (utmv)#Dream/error #Dream sans #error sans #Dream x error #insomnia #Dream sans x error sans #utmv fanfic #fanfic

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bsdthings · 2 years

Note

ALSO!! If it’s not too much to ask?? Can we get Chuuya x male!Reader story based of a Halsey song?? I feel like “Is There Somewhere” would fit well for an angsty one 😼

You don’t have to do both my requests!! And as always please feel free to ask me for something in return, I need BSD requests haha

Thank you so much for the song! I love Halsey and I truly didn't know this song and it's such a shame! Honestly, I craved some angst, so really, thank you very much! It was such a pleasure writing this one

,Chuuya Nakahara

Chuuya x male!Reader

Genres: ☣️ angst ☣️, 😭sad😭

Warnings: blood, violence, illness, childhood friends, friends to lovers, heartbreak, anger, open ending

I truly hope you will enjoy this one! I admit to making it quite personal >~< btw, I'm so sorry for the long time and how hurried this probably feels T-T

There are some things in this life Chuuya truly wonders if he could have done better. They keep him awake at night don't give him any peace, ghosts of his past ready to haunt him at any given moment, make that lump of heavy guilt form at the base of his throat, suffocating. Because he knows he didn't make the best choices, he knows he should've done better in some contexts, knows he could have done better. And yet, he didn't. And he lost. Oh, he's lost so much. He's lost his friends with a betrayal in the stab of his back when he was with the Sheep. He lost many men in his years of being with the Port Mafia and will continue to lose even more of them, but somehow, he hopes to reduce the numbers, to make it as small as possible. He lost a lot. People kept on leaving him and he kept on being the second choice for so many. And as much as it hurt, to never be enough, to never be capable of being the first choice in someone's life, to never be able of making someone stay and not go...it was even more hurtful to know you could have been the first choice for someone if you would've stuck to them. If you stuck around just a bit more, knowing you were already the first choice for someone at some point and yet you dared let go.

Maybe that's the biggest problem. How does he even dare to complain about always being the second choice for the ones in his life when he, himself, has deprived his own self of being the first choice, the first go-to in someone's life. When he's let that go, when he dared to let such a precious thing go, slip right between his goddamn fingers...

How does he dare when he let go of you?

Tonight, as many other nights, it haunts him. The thought of you, of your crooked smile, of the lines forming at your sparkling eyes and the way you used to hold onto him so dearly. The days when he actually felt like your first choice. Those days he carelessly let go of without even realizing how much he's willing to lose for something so little to gain. Because as far as he's got, just as lonely he feels compared to those days when he used to feel so alive, happiness overwhelming. Yet, he feels like he took it for granted, now that he thinks about it, when he remembers those good, old days.

It's been 10 years. It feels like it's been an eternity, another life even. Those days when he used to be so happy and just lived in the moment.

If he could, he would turn back time, give all his Port Mafia years, his rank, his wealth, everything just to get to feel those moments again with you. To have you again in his life.

But he pushed you, didn't he? Now, curled up in his own bed, his red curls touching the skin of his shoulders and back, he lets the growing guilt in his gut swallow him up as he wraps his arms around his knees. How could he do that to you?

You were his first friend. Now that he thinks better of it, you're probably also the only true friend he's ever had.

It almost makes him smile, if he is to be honest. The way he could've have had everything he ever wished for yet he let it slip right between his fingers.

That's the worst feeling ever. To know you were so close to having what you want, to know you had it, to just know and yet, to let it go.

Because when he woke up existing with no memories whatsoever, with nobody to care about him, with no home nor how to make a living for himself, you were there. When he didn't feel human at all, you were there. You just were there, patient and understanding and right by his side. Because you taught him how to read and write, because you were right by his side.

And yet, when the Sheep formed, he cut every string and gone away to find meaning in his life, to find a way to support himself and not depend on you anymore for a living. Or, better said, he was quite forced to do so. Your parents despised him right from the start, found you to be too high for his low self, for a child of the streets, with nobody, with nothing, no family, no home. Your parents had bigger hopes for you, for your future, for your circle of friends, and they weren't even trying to be discreet about it, about how low they saw Chuuya.

But every living skill he had was because of you. From cooking meals together while hiding from your parents to the way he was able to pick up on books and poetry, everything he started in life with was something that connected him to you.

He thinks about you often. About the boy with a big kind smile and the warmest of hugs. About the boy with crinkling sparkles in his eyes and uncaring of the dirt and ripped clothes he owned, giving him new ones and the chance to take a bath, something so basic, so small, yet so important, with the heaviness of the whole world. He still remembers so clearly the way you grinned at even the smallest difference of height between the two of you, saying it's perfect because this way you can keep on giving him clothes and always having that warm tone when you said "Don't grow up too much, Chuu, or I won't be able to give you my clothes anymore".

It was so stupid. Yet, it meant the world to him. And he knew where you are, knew you moved to Tokyo seeking out better studies because you were so smart and indeed deserved more than his nothing ass. He knew you're doing good and knew you're achieving so much and his heart squeezed in his chest, proud of you, so proud of you, yet at the same time hurting so bad, because he's not by your side anymore, because he's not a part of your life anymore, but a mere stranger of your past with memories, not daring to enter your life again after so many years, after disappearing without a world, after just disappearing from your life. Because years passed and you're doing so good, because you're probably not even gonna come back to Yokohama anymore, because, after all, why would you even come back to this port city when you've seen the big streets of Tokyo and made friends and made a place for yourself somewhere else, somewhere where your talents will be appreciated?

It hurts. It hurts so bad to know that he could've been by your side and congratulate you on your absolving, on the take of your first job, on getting into University. Knowing he could've lived those moments with you just if he would have hold on a bit tighter instead of letting go.

His phone pings with a notification and he's almost ready to curse anyone daring to bother him at such an hour, but-

But his eyes widen as he sees your name. Y/N started following you.

It makes his heart thud. How did you find him? How could you even remember him after so many years have passed? How-

"Is there somewhere you could meet me?" he wakes up with the message from you so suddenly.

He didn't expect that, if he is to be honest. Didn't expect you to even remember him, what more to say about you even having the slightest wish of meeting with him or talking with him? After all, he left you without a word. But he can't help but cling to that small bit of hope building up within himself.

I'd come to the end of the earth just to meet you, he thinks to himself.

"I'm back in Yokohama. I know it's late, but..."

Fuck the hour, he can't help but think to himself. Honestly, as if it has any meaning when you're back, when you want to meet him. It feels like a dream, if he is to be honest.

"Where you're at? I'll come pick you up" he fastly responds to your text, his fingers trembling a bit, heart thundering in his chest.

The moment your adress is sent to him, he doesn't hesitate to hastily put on some clothes and get the keys to his bike, fastly moving through the not so busy streets of the port city to get to you.

He almost worries he didn't make it in time back to you or that it was actually just something made up by his mind when he looks around and you seem to be nowhere—

And then there's this boy, with a reserved smile and a raised hand, and he recognizes the colour of your hair, recognizes your eyes, even if more mature, recognizes you, and you've changed so much, and his heart thuds so loudly he's afraid you'll hear it too.

He doesn't even know what to say, what to do with himself, his fingers aching to touch you, to caress you, the one person who's showed him so much and gave him so much without asking for anything in exchange. The one who taught him kindness, a type of kindness he most often than not cannot show, cannot give away existing in him, not in his fielt of work.

Someone he thought he'll never have the chance to see again.

"Chuuya!" and your sparkling eyes, the way your arms suddenly wrap around him, warm and comforting and he missed it so much, the hugs, the contant, the care.

He couldn't even help himself. He couldn't hold back the way his arms wrapped tightly around you, the way fear coursed through him at the simple idea of losing you forever, of everything being nothing more but a simple play of his restless mind, of you letting go of him forever. But you were warm and solid against him. He just couldn't let go.

It's the days that follow. It's the staying at the early hours of the morning on the highest building in Yokohama, dancing to stupid music like two stupid people.

It's making memories, it's the soft admission of never being able to stay in the rain because you would oftenly catch a cold, your frail body unable to battle it with ease.

It's the wide smile, the crooked teeth, the almost slipping on wet paves and him catching you before anything could happen, his senses so used to you they become reflexes. The reflex of catching you.

It's the falling, the shocked giggles when Chuuya admits to being able to control gravity and the way you scream of being like Peter Pan as he lets you float, for once in your life feeling weightless.

It's the stupid bento box you run through literal storm to deliver to him because he might be hungry.

They all catch up to him and he cannot help the heaviness in his heart as the memories tumble in one after another.

"Why did you come to Yokohama?"

It's the small tattoos you two decided to share on your wrists, matching and now making him feel heavier than he's ever felt, his hand clutching yours, way too pale, the other moving gentle fingers through your messy hair.

"I wanted to see you before my time ended"

It seemed ridiculous to him at the time. Ridiculous to think of the deepness of those words. Ridiculous to think of a world without you, ridiculous to think your lungs might not take another breath.

It's the rage burning in his veins when you ended up in the hospital because you were robbed and fell to the ground, your frail knees unable to support your body.

It's the way he could have used his ability to wash you, yet refused to, changing bandage after bandage, warm hands making sure to scrub the sweat away.

It's the way he would clutch at your body and help you walk without putting actual weight on your feet as the wheelchair became a cage.

It's your smile that haunts him after a long day strolling through the city, cursing loudly when a car passed and sent water all over him, who instantly moved to not let it paint your clothes and ended up soaked, but unable to stop smiling when you laughed like that.

It's the mere touch of your lips over his, his heart slowing down for once, such a deep feeling of home settling into his bones.

Why is the Universe so cruel to him?

Why send you back into his life just to have him watch you like this, on the hospital bed, the life you clutched on so tightly seemingly barely in your grasp?

"Don't be ridiculous! We've got a long way to live!"

"Yeah…you're right. Let's cherish every moment, Chuuya, hm?"

His hat fell to the floor, his head bowed, cheek rubbing affectionately over your hand, which sat in his tight, desperate clutch, tears gathering into his eyes, forcing the sobs wrecking his body to silence as he bit his lips.

Is there somewhere you could meet me?

#bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #spotify #chuuya #bsd chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #bungo stray dogs chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs chuuya

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mccoys-killer-queen · 8 months

Text

Seeing Kix's last ever live show Part 2- the show

So yes, I drove 3 hours to Columbia, MD just to get my heart brutally torn to pieces and left in the rain. By the time Kix actually came on the alcohol i chugged started to hit (it took like an HOUR) and it made me wanna scream at all the photographers to go fuck themselves

TL;DR- it was underwhelming?

they opened with Atomic Bombs- which was bittersweet I guess but I love it when they open with Hot Wire the most

seeing Ronnie made me so happy

since my seat was literally as far to stage left as you could go, the concrete steps were right next to me, as was a rail, and i could stand on the concrete and hold onto the rail and go nuts

that is until a security person told me to stop fgeoirngerngfdnd

in the moment i had fun but as soon as the moment was over it was back to heartache

Steve never opened up his shirt which was disappointing

when they did Midnite Dynamite there were BIG COLUMNS OF FIRE ??? SHOOTING OUT FROM THE HUGE HIGH UP PLATFORM THEY HAD ?? I was at least 30-40 feet away from it and i could FEEL THE HEAT

same thing goes for huge spark fountains (except for the heat part)

they did three medleys of obscure songs (but I'm gonna be honest I didn't recognize most of them)

the first medley, they did Body Talk and as soon as they started playing it, Steve stuck his finger down his throat like he was trying to make himself puke from hearing it rtgnnsadiofifearf

every medley was basically Steve judging the songs on whether he likes them or not it was funny

seeing the girl money glasses for the last time ugh concerts will never be the same if they're not kix

Steve always leads up to Scarlet Fever with "this song is about dirty diseases" or something like that, and he said something about "you gotta wear a condom to not get those diseases but condoms are no fun right they're just not fun"

the Itch and the crowd singalong and Steve always picking on people never ever fails to crack me up

when they played For Shame, Steve walked into the crowd and walked around and shook people's hands and gave hugs and stuff and the second he started singing while doing this i fucking lost it and tears were running down my face it was so bittersweet it was like he was trying to thank every individual person

idk why I always forget about Cold Shower when it's like the sluttiest of all slut songs

Ronnie did the guitar solo leading up to Cold Blood and I'm sorry Ronnie but I'm used to Bob and I like Bob's solo better but seeing Ronnie finally in the place where he was supposed to be this whole time was bittersweet

big balloons falling from the ceiling

confetti cannons and one not going off until the next song

Steve doing more jumping than normal during Blow My Fuse

i wish Steve did the full feature length Yeah Yeah Yeah monologue

^^that was their last song

i always forget how much steve says "aiight"

when their set was done, Steve introduced some people in their crew and management

when everyone walked offstage, and really only steve was left, he imitated Porky Pig and went "t-tha-th-that's all, folks!" and left the stage.

imo the setlist could've been a lot better bc a lot of their hard-hitters were cut (like Hot Wire, Same Jane, Kix Are For Kids, Sex, etc) but i guess the medleys were more important. The show also felt really short? It was under 2 hours and imo the whole thing felt really underwhelming, like I was expecting a huge extra long super exciting show but this was like... below average? Like yeah there were more stage effects and two guest members and three medleys but- it just didn't make it feel any more special than a normal Kix show, yknow? It almost felt like they were in a hurry to finish (the set feeling quick made it feel like this, not their actual performance. In fact- this entire rushed retirement seemed like they were in a hurry to retire...).

I don't know if it's because I wasn't at the barrier like I always am for Kix or the fact I had my heartbreak on pause or what, but to me it just felt really underwhelming? I went back to my hotel afterwards feeling similar to how i felt in my hotel after the last night of M3; dumped.

I'm still in shock that it's all over, and that it ended this way- with absolute silence and a soul-crushing shame. I can't ever forget the fun I've had with Kix over the past year, though. I just wish to god it had ended differently.

EDIT: I was trying to kill Mark with my mind last night. Tried to shoot lasers from my eyes. When he walked offstage he walked in my direction and I glared at him as hard as I could. I knew he couldn't see me, let alone recognize me, but he was looking in my direction.

EDIT #2: after steve walked through the crowd and went back on the stage, he said "that was fun. i hope none of yall have herpes *wipes hand on his shirt* I got that when it first came out!!"

#concert log #concerts #kix #i told that motherfucker mark i would always be there for them and that i'd always be in their debt too #i fucking told that fucker i was grateful for him #i fucking told him he meant a lot to me #god i feel like a fucking fool #i don't know how i'm ever gonna have the balls to ask people for passes now #i feel like my creative soul has been contaminated and my heart's literally gone missing #i feel this massive hole in my chest where my heart should be and it hurts so fucking bad #like for fuck's sake mark look what you've done to me #i need my heart back

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werewroammin · 1 year

Text

Solar Eclipse

Chapter Two: The Aftermath of a Hurricane

i think im gonna post these daily (or as daily as i can remember lmao) cos i really wanna get the whole thing posted. if you haven’t read the first chapter check my blog!! hope y’all enjoy :3

Summary: In a drunken stupor, Janus confesses to Patton that he's in love with both Roman and Logan. When things spiral out of control from there, how will he keep his feelings in check?

Characters: Janus, Logan, Patton, Remus, Virgil, Roman

Pairing(s): endgame roloceit, current logince and focus on janus’s feelings for roman and logan

Warnings: hungover character and mention of alcohol consumption, bit of an angsty ending, and i think that’s it but tell me if i missed something!

Word count: 1,342

Janus awoke with a pounding in his head.

It took him a moment to remember everything that happened last night. Once he did, he groaned rather dramatically. He felt around his bed for Patton, but his bed was empty aside from himself.

Perhaps that was a sign that most of last night had been a dream. The thought was a relief, as the idea of him drunkenly confessing his crush on Logan and Roman was mortifying, even if he didn't tell Logan and Roman themselves.

He buried his head underneath his pillow to block out the entire world.

This worked for maybe four minutes.

"Hello, Janus."

Logan's calm, cool voice would be heavenly on any other day, but not today. Today it was loud and grating, even if Janus felt guilty for feeling that way.

Janus responded to Logan's greeting by throwing his pillow at him.

"As I'm aware that you're not feeling like yourself, I'm willing to let that slide. Have you taken the ibuprofen Patton left you?"

So that wasn't a dream. Just his luck.

Janus groaned in response.

"I can only presume that's a no. Can you at least look at me, please?"

Janus sighed deeply. "Are the lights off?" he murmured into his mattress.

"The only light in the room is coming from the window. Would you like me to close the curtains?"

"Yes, please."

A moment of silence passed, and Janus considered going back to sleep. Then again, Logan was a persistent one, and would likely wake him back up. Not worth it.

"There. Your room is almost as dark as Virgil's."

Janus smirked. "Excellent." He slowly managed to roll over onto his back, looking up at Logan and feeling rather jealous of how well put together he looked.

"I recommend taking some ibuprofen and drinking plenty of water. Are you willing to sit up?"

Janus groaned. "You're asking a lot of me, Logan."

"I understand your current state might be making things unnecessarily difficult, but I promise you, this is for your own good."

Janus sighed. "How'd you even know I was hungover, anyway?"

"There were two factors. The first was when I overheard you and Patton in the hallway last night, which you may or may not remember."

Janus's face flushed with shame.

"The second was Patton informing me just a few moments ago."

"You could've led with that," Janus pointed out grumpily.

Logan grinned. "Yes, well, I must admit I was hoping you would remember the events of last night as I wanted to see the look on your face when you realized I heard you express the desire to 'hang out'."

Janus groaned. "You smug bastard."

Logan's smile grew, and Janus found himself thankful for it.

Janus suddenly realized what Logan said. "Wait... Patton told you about... last night?"

"Nothing in great detail, just that you drank more than you thought you had and needed assistance getting to bed. Though, if you need to talk about anything regarding last night's events, I'm more than willing to listen."

Janus wanted to talk to him, but what was there to talk about? He was drinking because of his crush on Logan and Roman. He drunkenly confessed to Patton that he had a crush on Logan and Roman. Not much happened last night that didn't involve Logan or Roman.

"I only really remember bits and pieces. Drinking with Patton, the hallway... thing, little things like that."

Logan furrowed his brows. "Drinking with Patton? So Patton... drank alcohol?"

"I introduced him to port wine."

Logan's eyebrows raised. "I see. He did not inform me of this. Though, I suppose his main concern was your well-being."

Janus looked over at the ibuprofen and the water bottle on his bedside table. He managed to climb into a sitting position before reaching over for the water and painkillers. There was a note there that read "get well soon!" with a cartoony smiley face. Janus couldn't help but grin.

He opened the pill bottle and grabbed two of them, taking them with the water.

"I also recommend eating something. Are you willing to come downstairs or should I bring you a plate?"

Janus hated the idea of leaving bed and the idea of being helped pretty much equally. Logan had doted on him long enough, Janus wouldn't let him serve him breakfast in bed.

"I'll go downstairs, but I'm gonna complain the entire time."

Logan grinned. "Fair enough. Do you need help getting out of bed?"

"Absolutely not. I'm fine."

Perhaps the blanket statement "I'm fine" wasn't entirely accurate, but it was his go-to.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and took a quick breath. He got to his feet with hardly a stumble. Logan stood close by in case he needed assistance, which Janus both appreciated and loathed.

As they walked, Janus felt the need to express his gratitude. Logan was always there for everyone, it was one of the things Janus loved about him.

"Um... thank you. For... being here... for me."

Logan was looking at him, but Janus refused to meet his eyes.

"Of course. In spite of how things started, I do care about your well-being. You're an important part of Thomas, and I hope you know that."

Janus's heart was doing somersaults in his chest. He didn't ask for emotional warfare this early in the morning, whatever time it was.

Janus scoffed. "You're such a sap."

"I most certainly am not."

"That was the sappiest shit I've ever heard, and I've seen Roman recite Shakespeare in the Mindpalace Theatre."

Logan rolled his eyes, but there was no malice to be found.

They reached the kitchen, where everyone else was sat at the table. Janus sat by Patton and Logan sat by Roman.

"Hey, kiddo, how you feeling?" Patton greeted softly.

"Like shit," Janus replied bluntly.

"Yeah, I heard someone got shitfaced last night," Remus teased.

Janus rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, make your jokes while I'm over here slowly dying."

"God, you're dramatic," Virgil murmured with a grin.

"Sorry, who was it that cried for fourteen hours when My Chemical Romance announced their reunion tour?" Janus shot back with a grin of his own.

Virgil sighed. "I hate you."

"Hate you too, buddy."

Roman cleared his throat. "Well, since everyone is here, Logan and I have a bit of an announcement!"

"You're pregnant!" Remus exclaimed.

Roman sighed. "No, not even close." He looked over at Logan. "You wanna tell them, or should I?"

"I know you want to tell them, so you do it."

Janus's stomach was up in knots for reasons he didn't want to think about.

It only worsened when Roman took Logan's hand.

"Logan and I have been dating in secret for a few months now, and... now we're officially boyfriends!"

Janus felt his heart drop into his stomach.

This couldn't be happening. He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it.

He tried so hard to smile.

"Woah, what?" Virgil asked around a mouthful of pancake.

"Ooh, I thought I saw a certain look between you two!" Remus exclaimed. "That's fun!"

"Yeah, kiddos, I'm so happy for you!" Patton said, though Janus could tell his heart wasn't in it.

Janus needed to say something.

"I'm happy for you." He gave them both as sincere a smile as he could muster. "Both of you."

"Thanks, guys," Roman said with a smile. "We- well, I wanted to tell you guys sooner, but Logan and I both agreed that we should wait and see how things worked out. Now that we're boyfriends, we figured it was time to, uh, figuratively spill the beans."

Janus had noticed Roman using the term "figuratively" more often. He hadn't thought much of it, he just thought Logan was influencing him a bit.

How had he not noticed something between them? Denial? Idiocy? He would likely never know for sure.

It was undeniable now, though. They loved each other, and they would never love him.

Janus tried not to take it personally.

#janus writes #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #janus sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #roloceit #roloceit fanfiction #logince

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raeannabelle · 1 year

Text

Summary - Gary decides to treat his girlfriend to an intimate date, breaking the time bureau code and possibly getting his past self into a bit of trouble.

Warnings - smut 18+, praise kink, cussing, thigh riding.

Word count - 2.9k

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"You know Gare Bear I've been thinking." After catching her breath Melissa would be drawing shapes on the chest of her boyfriend. Pillow talk was definitely one of the best parts of an intimate night, words of endearment or secrets exchanged between them in their state of ecstacy.

"Yeah, what about?" Gary couldn't keep the grin from his face as he laid back against the headboard, the same place he had been for over an hour now while Mellisa took her charge straddling his waist.

Melissa would hesitate, feeling a sudden sense of shame wash over her for what she was about to admit. They had gone over the dos and donts of their bedroom life the first time they had been intimate together, and while Gary admitted to be down to trying almost anything once Mel wasn't as open about her wants.

"I wish I would've known you when you still worked at the bureau." Her green eyes would still be fixed on his chest, not looking away from the small patch of hair she was occupying herself with.

"Why do you say that?" He wouldn't be met with any answer though, as Melissa slowly started to vanish inside of her own head. He wasn't going to allow her to do that though, pulling away from her only so he could look down properly at her.

"Come on, you know you can tell me anything."

Her green eyes would only meet his for a second, before immediately finding someone else to stare at in the room. Gary was rarely ever the type to tell her what to do or to impose when he could see she didn't want to talk, but he felt something come over him as he reached down to gently grab her chin forcing her eyes to meet his.

"I'm not going to judge you for anything Mel, you don't have to tell me but I'd love to know more about what I can do to please you. Anything you want, I want to make you feel good too."

As he'd grab at her chin her eyes would widen with surprise, chest tightening as her heart seemed to beat out of her chest. This is exactly what she wanted, him to take over for one night and be the one calling the shots.

With a quiet gulp she'd start to explain. "I wish I knew you then, because I'd get to see you in your suit all the time. And I could've come to see you at work, seen your office, maybe… spent some alone time with you in there."

His eyes would widen now, although a smirk would quickly make its way onto his face. He didn't have an office truth be told, and he barely had a desk but he wasn't going to tell her that now.

"I would've liked that a lot too."

"Really?" She was loving the change in his tone, and how at this angle he almost loomed over her. She'd find herself moving further under him, looking up to meet his gaze through her lashes. "Did you have a big office, one with your name on the door?"

Although he was almost always the one submitting to her, Gary didn't have a problem playing into her needs, especially after she'd already done more than enough to please him for the night. As she'd move further under him his grip on her chin would tighten, leaning down to briefly kiss her.

"Yes, one with a picture of me behind the desk. A dark mahogany wood sturdy enough for anything I sat on top of it." He was thinking of that something being her, laid out and begging for him to please her.

"I wish I could've seen it then. We would've had fun there." Unfortunately that couldn't happen though, and even if they wanted to pretend like it could, anything they did that made more than a little noise was sure to wake Chris a few doors down, and earn the wrath of her mother too.

Letting out a yawn Mel would move herself to fall asleep against his chest instead, surely dreaming of a night where they didn't have to muffle their moans and he could bend her over the desk he had been talking about.

Gary however wouldn't be sleeping much at all, thinking of any way he could do what she wanted. As he'd turn over in bed it would dawn on him, seeing his time courier charging on his nightstand. He'd be able to get her exactly what she wanted after all.

The morning couldn't come fast enough for him, thinking a few times of waking her up. But he knew better, if he wanted to keep his life and keep her happy then making sure she got a night full of rest was crucial.

"Good morning sleepy head." He'd finally whisper as she started to toss in her sleep, searching for him in their bed but only opening her eyes when she'd realize he wasn't there.

"Gare? What are you doing up so early?"

The way he was standing at the foot of their bed with a huge grin should've been telling enough, he was definitely up to no good.

"I have something I want to show you, come on, throw on your robe and follow me!"

She'd grumble, sitting up in their bed and whipping the sleep from her eyes. She still wasn't fully awake, but she knew better by now than to argue with him when he was excited about something.

"This better be good, we haven't even had breakfast yet."

As she'd slowly get up to slip on her robe she'd follow him out into the hall, one room over to what still served as a small library connected to Chris' room. What would soon be their baby's nursery.

It wasn't until he'd be reaching for the handle she'd realize what he was wearing. He had on his full suit, a tie to match but most importantly his old name tag he'd kept from the bureau.

"Gare. I appreciate you trying but we can't do that here. I'm sure Chris is still asleep and if she wakes up they'll kill us."

Reaching out for her hand Gary would reassure her. "Just trust me, no one will hear us okay?"

Seeing the hesitancy from her he'd open the door, opening a portal into the old time bureau at the same time. Specifically into Avas office, someone he made sure was busy at the time of their arrival. He knew better than to break the laws of time travel, but with the doors locked and windows tented no one would know their little secret.

"Gary. Is this really… your old office?" As she'd step inside she'd see his name plaque on the desk, mahogany just as he had told her with papers stacked in the corner.

She knew this was wrong, and that they couldn't be there but as her boyfriend shut the door and portal behind them she'd find herself not arguing. No words seemed to be coming out as she looked around.

Feeling accomplished Gary would smirk, leaving her side to instead sit at the chair behind his desk. His usual bubbly happy nature seemed to have vanished as his face dropped immediately.

"So. Ms. Wilson, you've come in for your assessment I see? Shall we get started?"

"Gary. We can't do this, it breaks so many time laws." Looking outside the large windows she'd see other works pass by. "Plus what if someone sees us?"

"The windows are tinted and the door is locked, only I can open it with this button. So no one will be coming in to bother us. I can promise you that, now I have a job to do." His eyes seemed darker than usual as he stared her down. "Come sit down for your evaluation."

She'd hesitantly listen, slowly moving across the room as her bare feet sunk into the carpeted floor. She liked him like this, powerful and in control. It was a part of him she hadn't really seen before.

As she'd start to sit across from him he'd stop her. "Not there, here." Moving his chair away from the desk he'd motion to his lap, having her choking on air before quickly listening.

Holding her robe together she'd do her best to squeeze her legs together to keep the juices coating her thighs from dripping onto his suit. "What did you want to know, Gare?"

"Mr. Green is what you'll refer to me as." Moving his hands up to grab her waist he'd move her to be straddling his lap, earning a moan from her as she rubbed against his slacks.

"And as I've already told you, you're here for your evaluation. Starting with your uniform, you seem to have forgotten." Looking down at her he'd run his hands along the soft material of her robe.

"You told me to wear this Ga- Mr. Green."

"Is that back talk?" He'd quickly snap back locking eyes with her as she melted under his brown gaze.

"No sir. Sorry sir." Rutting against him she'd swallow down a moan. "It won't happen again."

Feeling the way he was growing hard under her, along with the obvious stain she was leaving behind on his pants she'd find it harder to stay still. Even the smallest movement from him quickly has her gripping onto him for stability.

"Wearing something like this to work. It's like you're begging for my attention." Running a hand up and down her sides he'd slowly start to untie the string keeping her from being exposed. "Is that what you wanted Ms. Wilson? My attention."

"Yes." She'd quickly answer back, arching her back as he finally pulled open her robe, as her breasts would fall free of their confines she'd moan, watching as he licked his lips.

"Well I think you've got it." Leaning down Gary would take one of her breasts into his mouth, sucking around her hardened bud, his hot tongue making her feel like she was burning.

Mel would quickly reach up to grab at his hair, keeping him in place as he teased her. Once he was thoroughly done with one side he'd move to the next, holding her hips still as she desperately tried to grind against him.

"Please. Mr. Green, I need you so bad."

Popping his mouth off of her nipple he'd hum, watching his saliva drip down onto her stomach. He'd be caught in a daze until he'd hear her pleads, immediately snapping to attention again.

"Yeah? You need your boss to fill you up, make you scream for me huh?"

"Yes Gary, fuck, please Mr. Green, I'm begging you." She'd continue to plead as she unbuttoned his suit, Gary reaching up to stop her before she got lower than a few buttons.

"Well, if you're begging me." With a smirk he'd gently push her off of him, making her watch as he slowly unbuttoned his pants, lowering his boxers with them down to his knees as he sprung up to attention.

"Come on, sit back down." She wouldn't hesitate to follow orders, watching through hazy eyes as he aligned himself with her before helping her sink down on him.

As he'd breach through her opening they'd both share a moan, Melissa throwing her head back as she sank down further until eventually he'd bottom out inside of her.

Gary could keep up the in charge act all day, but once he was buried inside her moist walls he found it almost impossible not to slip back into a submissive state. He knew she needed him to take control this time, so as he'd grab her hips he'd slowly start to move her up and down.

As his slow and steady thrusts would turn into something harder and faster Mellisa would stop biting back her moans, pleading for him and near screaming his name as she sank herself down onto what felt like a massive intrusion. Maybe it was because of how blissed out she felt, but to her Gary felt bigger than the previous night as she all but humped into his lap.

"I'm gonna cum, you feel so good Gary. Don't stop." He didn't want her getting there so quickly, and definitely not before him this time, which is why he'd quickly slow down.

"No. Not yet, I'm not done with your evaluation." Slowing down to a stop he'd have Mellisa groaning with irritation, slipping out of him as she shoved against his shoulder.

"Gary. What the hell, I told you not to stop." Mellisa wasn't used to being the one following orders either, especially when she was so close to cloud nine seconds ago. Maybe now she'd finally understand what she did to her boyfriend on a regular occasion.

"Mr. Green. And I'm the one giving orders here, not you, remember."

Slowly Melissa would fall back into her submissive role, if for no other reason than because she wanted to chase after her release again. And she needed him to do that.

"Please Mr. Green, I'll be good this time I promise. I won't finish until you tell me to." Grinding against his leg she'd groan, smearing her near orgasm all over his black pants.

"Good girl. Now get up, so I can finish my job." Once she'd do so he'd follow after her, standing behind her as he turned her to face his desk. "Now bend over."

She'd look over her shoulder at him, biting her lip as she slowly did what she was told but not before taking her robe and finally tossing it to the floor. As soon as her ass was in the hair she'd wiggle back and forth, as if trying to entice him to keep going.

Moving to stand behind her Gary would pump himself a few times, getting himself hard enough to push through her dripping lips and immediately inside of her again. He'd set a quick pace, thrusting into her while holding her hips to keep steady.

Turning her head Mel would watch him take her from behind, knuckles white from gripping the desk as he pounded into her. From the corner of her eyes she could still see people walking up and down the hall, but it did nothing but make her moan louder. The thrill of it making it that much better.

As both of them quickly reached their highs again Melissa would only get louder, screaming his name as the desk started to squeak under them. Gary would feel the same way, as a tightness grew in his stomach he'd lose his composure, gripping at her hips as he slowly started to slip into his usual position.

"Oh God Mel, you feel so good." His eyes would fall down to where they were connected watching as he moved in and out of her, whimpering at the sight.

"Tell me what to do, I want to make you feel good. I want us to cum together."

Melissa wouldn't skip a beat, looking behind her again as the Gary she was used to took over again making his thrusts weaker and slower in his state of ecstacy.

"Harder, fuck me harder Gare." Reaching under her she'd fumble to find her clit, rubbing circles around herself as she quickly got herself back to the edge again.

As he'd listen to her command she'd moan again, pushing back against him as her neck craned up towards the ceiling.

"Good. You're doing so good Gare, you fuck me so good." She knew he loved praises and as she'd give them he'd moan, bracing her hips as he finally fell over the edge and came inside of her, coating her walls in his seed.

The feelings of him filling her up was enough to have her join him in a state of bliss, swearing his name as they both slowly came back down to reality. As he'd go soft and slip out of her she'd slowly find the strength to turn back around, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss by his tie.

She wanted to go again, this time with her calling the shots but just as she'd lift her leg up to hook around his waist a loud knock would come from the door.

"Gary! I know you're in my office." It was Ava, seemingly back from whatever she was busy doing earlier than he had expected.

"If you don't get out in the next five seconds I'm going to murder you!" He'd quickly snap to action at that, handing Melissa her robe to throw back on before picking up any mess he had made all while opening a door back to the house of mystery.

Hitting the button to unlock the door he'd quickly get out of there, the only trace it was him being the name plate left on her desk.

As the portal would close and they'd both be back in the hallway Melissa would try to catch her breath, looking up at her boyfriend before bursting into a fit of laughs. He'd look confused at first, before joining in as she came to kiss him on the cheek.

"You didn't have to lie Gare, I think you're hot even without the big fancy office."

"Really?"

She found it surprising he still struggled to accept how much she loved him at times, but she'd reassure him time and time again. Kissing his cheek again she'd smile. "Of course. Plus, think of you doing that to me on your real desk."

His grin would grow even wider, but that would be an idea he'd have to use next time.

#legends of tomorrow #gary green #x oc

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thetraingotsetonfireonmidnight · 2 years

Text

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔗𝔴𝔬: 𝔒𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔥𝔬𝔟𝔦𝔞 (𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔢)

You start your first day of school.

Marinette has to deal with Mr. Pigeon.

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Chapter Index

The shock of almost getting akumatized didn't go away for the next few weeks.

Whenever you turned on the news and saw news reports of a new akuma, you couldn't help but think, 'that could have been me.'

You tried not to linger on the thought, but it was easier said than done. You thought of what could have happened. Who you could've become, what you could've done. It gave you a knew found respect for past akumatized victims.

And of course, photos of Chat carrying you were spread around, news articles reading about how he had saved you last minute accompanying it.

It was only a matter of time before Alix found out. She called you a few days after the incident, chewing you out for not saying anything. She felt guilty knowing that it happened moments after saying bye to you.

Your aunt hadn't reacted any better. She nearly had a heart attack, holding you close and reminding you that if you ever needed to talk, she was there.

You didn't like dwelling on the experience, feeling rather embarrassed about it. You were always the type of person to cling onto your mistakes and chide yourself for it, and this was no exception.

The shame you felt tore you down, and all you could do was try to ignore it as you woke up for your first day of school.

And just like many of your days, the world just didn't agree with you.

You had to fight the tube of toothpaste to get anything out, you stubbed your toe getting dressed, and you had to deal with your aunts lectures about staying safe.

"Be careful, but not so careful that you're too worried! I wouldn't want you to get akumatized. And please watch out for creeps, you can't trust anyone these days. And oh, another thing-"

Your aunt was sweet, really, but sometimes her worries weighed heavy on you. You hadn't been worried about the possibility of getting akumatized due to the stress of school before, but now you were very much aware of it.

And that new fear of yours glared at you as you stood in front of the grand gates of Lycée Françoise Dupont.

"Here we are!" Alix put her hands on her hips, glancing at you to see your reaction. You felt uneasy standing there. The school was so big, overshadowing your figure. You felt so small.

You wanted to voice your concerns, but you clamped your mouth shut. You had concerned Alix enough, you didn't need to complain to her because you were feeling a bit nervous.

So instead, you swallowed your fear.

"I'll direct you to a friend of mine that can help you find your classes, then you're all on your own, got it?" Alix gave you a thumbs up, a gesture you returned shakily, before guiding you up the stairs and inside.

The school itself was grand. The paint was washed with age and cracks had settled in a few areas. Despite the old fashioned structure, it was littered with posters and banners all bright and colorful. It was definitely an art school.

The main court was huge and full of students searching for their classes. Teachers were lined up inside, all of which holding papers. A few students with pins on their shirts stood next to them. They must be the helpers.

Alix cupped her mouth and you quickly covered your ears. "Marinette!"

A girl with messy midnight hair turned to look at you. She smiled when she saw Alix and walked over.

Maybe you were just tired and imagining things, but something about Marinette was just...off.

Her smile was lazy, as if she didn't have the energy to actually smile. Her eyes were dim, the blue losing its hue and becoming dark. Her hair was pulled back into cute pigtails, but a few strands were sticking out, as though she were in a rush this morning.

If it weren't for those small details, Marinette seemed perfectly fine. Her posture was perfect and she strided over to you with confidence, clipboard and pen in hand. A quick look at the helpers pin on her blazer was all you needed to see to know it must have been the result of a tiring morning. Finding your own classes was stressful enough, so you couldn't imagine also having to also navigate everyone else. You felt bad for her.

She waved, "Hey, Alix! Who is this?"

Alix nudged you, gesturing for you to introduce yourself. You flashed your best smile and told her your name.

Marinette's smile grew and she stuck a hand out for you to shake. You nervously took it, "It's nice to meet you! I'm Marinette. Alix has mentioned you a few times, your art is great by the way!" You turned to Alix with a confused look, only earning a wink in return. "I can show you to your class if you'd like!"

"Uh, yeah!" You wiped your sweaty palms and nodded, "I'd like that!"

"Great! Last name?" She pulled out her clip. You answered and she scanned her paper, "There you are! You have Mrs. Ramou for homeroom, I'll take you there."

The two of you said your goodbyes to Alix and walked down the halls to find your classroom. There were many stairs, to your dismay.

Along the way, Marinette explained a few rules,

"Try not to be late, certain teachers will mark you absent and refuse to change it. And most of the teachers don't accept late work."

You raised a curious brow, "So what do you do if you have late work?"

"Cry."

Marinette giggled like a mad woman, while you on the other hand stared at her in horror. She sighed with a smile as if it were a funny joke, but didn't bother taking back her words, telling you that her "joke" wasn't really a joke. It was genuine advice.

"Everyone is usually friendly, but I'd stay away from conversation until everyone is done with their morning grumps."

"Morning grumps?"

"Not everyone is a morning person. You'd be surprised of how many people get akumatized at 6 am."

"Oh."

It didn't take long before you came to the conclusion that Marinette was…not well…but she really was a kind soul, a natural sweetheart who had a tendency to ramble. (How she had the energy to explain everything to you when she looked like she could pass out at any moment is beyond you).

Her voice was like a soft melody and her smile was bright. She made you feel more comfortable at the school. Even if her words were less than comforting.

Alix had mentioned that Marinette was Paris' it girl. Practically everyone knew her and no one hated her. You began to understand why.

Eventually, you stopped in front of a classroom. Marinette snapped her pen in place on her clipboard, "And that should cover everything! If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask me or one of the teachers. Your schedule should be on the school app. If you get lost, there will be students to help you around. It was lovely meeting you!" She spoke fast, giving you little time to respond.

"Yeah," you cleared your throat when your voice came out weak, "it was nice meeting you too! Thank you." Marinette gave you a curt nod before zooming off, and with a small deep breath in, you walked inside your classroom.

You stepped in nervously, clutching your backpack. No one looked at you, every single student there looked like they wanted to die on the spot. Perhaps this was what Marinette meant by "morning grumps." You sat down in a seat towards the back, wishing you could curl up in a ball and die as well.

Finally your teacher, Mrs. Ramou, walked in sipping coffee. She set it on her desk and sat down, looking extremely miserable, "We need to wait for new students to find their classrooms, then we'll start." Her voice was monotone, like it was a thorn in the side to have to speak.

You quickly started regretting attending this school.

Marinette prided herself on being organized. She may have been a mess at times, but she was a calculated mess, and she was happy with that.

It's not like she had any other choice anyways, she was Ladybug, all of Paris depended on her to be quick and organized. It didn't matter if she lost sleep, or if she was still in pain from a previous battle, Hawkmoth didn't stop for anyone and neither did she.

She had felt so proud of herself that morning. She finished some of her personal projects, she had completed some paperwork, finished work around the house– everything was perfect.

Except everything wasn't perfect because she made a mistake again. She planned for every single aspect of her day except for what she'd do if an akuma happened while she was expected to be giving students a tour of the school. She had a plan for what she'd do if there was an akuma during class, lunch, passing period–she even had a plan for when she would be promoting her back-to-school party. But while she was giving students tours? She had nothing.

Mr Pigeon had made another appearance, and while he wasn't usually a threat, pigeons running around would be inconvenient.

With no backup plan, Marinette had to settle for one of her classic "Marinette specials" (which consisted of her giving the lamest excuse on Earth and making a run for it.) She had made it a personal goal to become better at lying, and she felt shame wash over her knowing that she hadn't accomplished that.

"You need to be easier on yourself, Marinette." Tikki chimed in after Mari had locked herself in a closet. As always,Tikki had read her like an open book.

Marinette shook her head, "I can't afford to be easy on myself, there's no room for mistakes when you're Ladybug. I'll need to think of an excuse for my absence later, but for now—Tikki, transform me!" Marinette didn't miss Tikki's small frown before she got sucked into the earrings. A part of her felt bad for ignoring the kwami's advice, but she wouldn't let herself dwell on it any longer, instead focusing her attention onto the magic that spread over her skin.

Transforming into Ladybug used to be reassuring. It was like this sense of self confidence took the wheel, and all of Marinette's struggles left her mind…temporarily. There was always this shift, where she felt herself become stronger. Where suddenly she was indestructible and could take on the world.

But now, it felt like nothing had changed. Like she was simply playing dress up, as if she weren't the real deal. She didn't feel like Ladybug, she felt like Marinette.

And that scared her.

It reminded her of when she had first recieved her miraculous, two years ago. When she was still a scared kid who hadn't been prepared for the responsibility that was forced onto her.

Marinette didn't want to go back to that.

Marinette couldn't go back to that.

Because that Marinette made mistakes. That Marinette was too scared to take action. That Marinette wasn't ready to become Ladybug, and because of that, she had let her people down.

So she forced herself to suck it up, because she would never let herself become that Marinette again.

Ladybug whipped out her yo-yo, pulling up Adrien's phone number. (It was still off calling his number. Knowing his identity wasn't something she'd get used to anytime soon).

Her yo-yo rung until Adrien picked up.

"Ellie? Is something wrong?"

(Ellie was Ladybug's codename he used whenever he was in a public area. It was supposed to be a play on her nickname LB, something that Adrien had been very proud of when he came up with it.)

"Mr. Pigeon is back. Do you think you can make it?"

"Of course, I'll be there shortly."

"See you then." She hung up and sneaked out of the closet. She still didn't quite feel like Ladybug, but that didn't matter. Hawkmoth didn't stop for anyone, so she'd have to fake it till she made it.

Her best move was to get high ground. It'd give her a good view of the school as well as the damage caused.

But as she left the closet she was previously hidden in, she heard screams. Coming from you. She recognized your voice (though she had some trouble remembering your name at first. Your name was jumbled around with the other students she had assisted). You were running away from a herd of pigeons, all coming at you with full speed.

Reacting quickly, she zipped her yo-yo around you and pulled you towards her. Once you were tucked within her arms, she she zipped herself up high, setting you down on the roof.

"Are you ok?"

Your eyes were dazed, as you were clearly still in a shock. "Pigeons…" you mumbled, "again…"

Ladybug sighed, "Yeah…again. Mr. Ramier's heart is too big for his own good." She flashed her best smile in hopes that it'd calm you down. Whether it actually helped or not, she couldn't tell. "Stay here, I'll come get you once this is taken care of."

She unraveled her yo-yo and swung high. Mr. Pigeon always hung out around a park, Ladybug just needed to figure out which one he had taken over this time around.

As she swung, a pigeon flew past her, barely scraping her side. Ladybug's eyes widened once said pigeon circled around and darted straight towards her, fully intending on causing physical damage.

She stopped swinging momentarily, letting herself fall as the pigeon missed her once again, before wrapping her yo-yo against a pole and swinging herself up.

The sound of wings flapping became louder, and though Marinette always told herself to not look back, she took it upon herself to look back.

Pigeons.

A whole army of them.

All.

Flying.

Towards.

Her.

In a surge of panic, she desperately kept swinging as fast as she possibly could. She tried taking harsh turns and moving in zig zags, but it all proved to be useless as the pigeons caught up to her every single time.

As she circled a building, she caught sight of the seine. Her face scrunched up at the idea, but she couldn't allow herself to be picky now. She needed time to think, and it was hard trying to focus when pigeons were chasing you. She reminded herself of this fact as she dove into the cold waters.

As she sank, she blew out air so she wouldn't be pulled back to the surface. The pigeons flew close to the waters edge, pausing as if contemplating whether it was worth possibly drowning. It wasn't long that they decided that it was in fact, not worth it, and they began to fly away.

Ladybug sighed in relief….or at least she tried to until she realized that she was underwater and didn't have any air. She swam up, taking in a deep breath. Her lungs were on fire from the adrenaline and her muscles ached. She wiped her dry eyes mumbling about how this wasn't how she planned for her day to go.

"You too, huh?" A voice came from behind her, causing Ladybug to instinctively punch them. She cringed as she saw Chat hold his nose in pain. She whispered an apology, though she was never sure why he'd always pop up behind her. It never ended well.

"Wow, who ruffled your feathers?" Chat grumbled.

"Sorry, chat. I thought you were…I don't know."

"It's alright. At least I don't have the urge to sneeze anymore. The pigeons are a lot faster than I remember." He scratched his nose, his face scrunched up.

"I'd say, and they attack anything that moves." Ladybug pursed her lips, recalling what she had seen right before she left to detransform. They were faster, and they worked in swarms. If you did so much as breathe in their direction they'd mercilessly surround you until you inevitably became one of them.

Mr. Pigeon had always stirred up some sort of chaos in Paris, but never once was he ever this aggressive. The pigeons were usually too preoccupied to chase after them, but this time, it seemed as though they had no problems running them up and down the streets of Paris. Clearly, they had to be more stealthy about this.

"The akumas are getting more and more aggressive."

"Like they weren't before?" Chat joked.

Ladybug shook her head, "Before they were at least distracted by their own wants and needs. Akumas are incapable of caring about anything other than what they want.. But now, it's like their only focus is us, regardless of their personal goals."

He frowned, "Should we be concerned?"

"I'm not sure…"

Ladybug still had no doubt in her mind that she and Chat would be able to take him down. She was just frustrated with the inconvenience. She had a lot of work that needed to be done and the last thing she needed was an akuma to deal with.

Chat's ear twitched, "If the pigeons are aware of any and everything this time around, how are we supposed to get close to Mr. Pigeon?

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." She picked up her yo-yo, quietly calling out her lucky charm.

A box of claque-doigts.*

She smiled as she realized that today's solution would be an easy one.

"Ok, here's the plan." Ladybug swam closer to Chat, whispering as if she were telling him a secret, "We use the claque-doigts to create diversions and lure the pigeons away from Mr. Pigeon. Then once he's alone and defenseless, we go for the akuma."

He nodded, "Great plan, small flaw: we don't know where Mr. Pigeon is. It's going to be difficult navigating Paris without being caught if we don't even know where to go."

A frown played at her lips. She had the answer to that dilemma, they needed to follow the pigeons, but she felt a small pit form in her stomach as she realized how long this would take. How she wanted to be over and done with it. Stealth missions were never her favorite.

To have to track Mr Pigeon down, lead the pigeons away carefully, then grab the akuma… it all sounded simple but she knew better. And she still had so much work to do. She needed to create a new batch of power-ups, there were parts of the Grimoire she needed to decode, she had a party to plan later that day—not to mention the homework one of her not-so-nice teachers would be giving out.

And she was so tired.

Her eyelids felt heavy as her adrenaline died down.

She hadn't slept well last night. She hadn't slept at all. She tried to plan out her day perfectly, and if everything went according to plan, she'd finally have time to finish sewing her dress she had been working on.

But of course, just like always, things didn't go according to plan.

A part of her wanted to cry, to let out her anger and frustration about how unfair it was. How it was unfair that she had to be so many things all at the same time.

But she had no choice, it was her responsibility. And the lives of Paris were more important than her fashion designs. So as always, she sucked it up and faked a smile.

"Good point, simple solution: we follow the pigeons"

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Chapter Index

#chat noir x reader #chat noir #cat noir x reader #cat noir #miraculous fanfic #miraculous x reader

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kimhargreeves · 3 years

Text

A Silent Voice- Polkadot Man x Reader

Summary: Your team is headed to Corto Maltese to stop something known as Project Starfish. One of your team mates takes a liking to you, but it's hard to express your feelings back to him when you're unable to talk.

A/N: This is a short one but I was inspired by the Japanese animated film A Silent Voice. And the style of the Reader is kinda based on me since I'm a goth and like to use my type of aesthetic on the works I do.

"I hate the sensation of clothes sticking to you when you get wet." Ratcatcher also known as Cleo said. Her rat Sebastian was clinging onto her to not fall. Our team made it out of the water and could see that on the other end not, so far from us was a huge fire.

Team 1 died so us being Team B came as backup. It's a shame I didn't get to meet them.

"Are you okay, Sebastian?" Cleo spoke to her rat who made a noise. "How about you?" She asked turning to look back at me.

I smiled and gave her a thumbs up. "They were stupid to fight without us." We heard Bloodsport say while we followed him.

"I could've easily killed them." It appears Peacemaker will keep up with the rivalry against Bloodsport. The entire flight here they began to fight.

"I knew were we going to be doomed from the start." Abner Krill known as Polkadot Man said to himself. He's a man who doesn't say much, he's soft spoken and would always make a comment about dying.

I would stare at him worriedly so he would just look at me and shrug his shoulders like it wasn't such a big thing. So far, Cleo and Abner have been the kindest to me.

"Nom Nom."

They all turned to King Shark weirdly. "There's no way are you hungry already."

It was already dark and walking around was getting complicated, so we all decided to rest up and wake up early in the morning. We had to find if there were any survivors.

Robert and Abner went to collect wood while I lit up the fire and we all made ourselves comfortable around the fireplace. "You okay there, Morticia?"

Peacemaker began calling me that name because as you guessed it, I was dressed in black from head to toe with dark makeup.

"Quit being a dick. You look like you have a toilet seat on your head." Robert quickly told him off. I covered my mouth from laughing and quickly looked away when Peacemaker glared at me.

"What's your name?" Bloodsport looked at me. Cleo sat down close to me and handed me a notepad and pen. I nodded my head as thanks and wrote my name on the notepad.

"(Y/N)." Robert and Abner said. Both interested in knowing about me.

"That's a nice name." Abner said almost in a whisper. I felt cheeks feeling warm, I quickly wrote down a "Thank you"

"Hey, how'd you get into Belle Reve?" Robert asked and I saw Peacemaker behind him roll his eyes and sat farther from us.

I quickly began to write down how I got in. "For murder. My parents were drunk and they would regularly hit me or do anything to harm me. It's because of them I lost the ability to talk, they deeply cut my throat and luckily I survived. I spent a long time as hospital and as soon as I was released I killed them. I was a teenager when that happened."

I held the notepad in my hands and my hands began to tremble. I tried my best to not cry at the memory. Robert's serious face turned to displeasure, Abner seemed upset and Cleo came and wrapped an arm around me.

"I'm sorry that happened to you, (Y/N). It's a shame we never met before, my father would've treated you like family."

I think I know why her name is Ratcatcher 2. Her father was the first one. I wonder what happened to him.

"I kill my Mom." Abner spoke out of the sudden making us look at him now. "She experimented on me, that's why I have polkadots, I need to release them or they'll consume me."

Quickly I began to write down again. "We aren't so different after all." I gave him a sympathetic smile and saw him smile back.

"Okay, let's rest up for tomorrow." I could tell these types of conversations was making Robert uncomfortable so we stopped and rested up for the night.

🟠🟡🔵🟢🔴🟣

I woke up early in the morning. It was still a bit dark but I woke up because I heard someone throwing up, I lifted my head off the ground and tilted my head when I saw a bright light of rainbow?

The person behind the bushes came back and it was indeed Abner. He stood still when he looked back at me, surprised I had woken up. "Did I wake you up?"

I shook my head and stared at him worriedly. "No need to worry, I'm alright." He seemed to be the only one to understand me without talking or me writing down notes.

"You can't sleep either, right?"

I gave him a thumbs up and he tiredly started walking closer. "Would you mind if I sat down next to you?"

My heart nearly leaped itself out of my chest. I didn't notice him before but he is extremely handsome and cute. I quickly nodded my head so he came and sat down almost close to me.

"Its weird, we've almost just met but I feel like we've known each other, like I can tell you anything. Ignore what I said, I'm staying weird things again.

Abner began to move up to go back to his spot so I quickly reached out for his arm and pulled him back. He saw my angry expression so I waved my finger back and forth.

"Don't ever apologize. Its weird but I was thinking the same about you. You understand me without, me saying a single word. Let's be friends." I heard him read out loud and he turned back to see me smiling at him.

He genuinely smiled and that made me very happy. "Let's be friends, (Y/N)."

Even though it was dark I was sure he could see the blush on my cheeks, because I certainly saw him. I let out a yawn and without thinking it twice I rested my head on his shoulder.

I felt Abner tensing up. After a while he slowly relaxed and rested his head on mine and we finally went to sleep. Hopefully tomorrow we'll get to know each other even more.

#the suicide squad spoilers #abner krill #polkadot man x reader #the suicide squad 2021 #the suicide squad x reader #bloodsport #ratcatcher #peacemaker #task force x #david dastmalchian

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songmingisthighs · 3 years

Text

Hooked

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

ch. lxiii - weeping

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??? × reader, ateez × reader

A freshman hookup rekindled into something new. With an incentive, of course. But what would happen if your 'relationship' led you somewhere you never thought would happen to you ?

It took Seonghwa a while to work up his courage and knock at your door. True, he was the one who contacted you first but truth to be told, he wasn't thinking when he chatted you up. But he had already said that he was coming so he had to do it.

You called out from inside with a shaky voice, very noticeable to Seonghwa. Before he walked in, he took a deep breath to calm his mind and stabilize himself. When he felt he was ready, he opened the door and peeked in.

"Hi (Y/N)," he greeted. You were sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, initially staring at your bed before snapping your head to look at Seonghwa. From your bed, you forced a smile at him. The use of your name was rather... hurtful but you couldn't complain after what you've done. Yeosang's words kept replaying in your head nonstop

"Hey, Hwa, I'm sorry," you said, your gaze dropped to your intertwined hands on your lap.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at you and walked towards your bed after closing the door behind him. He took a seat by your side, rather awkwardly if he had to admit.

"Why are you saying sorry for?" he asked. He had an idea as to why you said sorry. But to him, it wasn't that important at the moment, he was honestly just glad that you were unscathed.

You couldn't look at Seonghwa directly, the shame and fear were eating you alive and it made you uncomfortable. You wanted to tell him how you felt, how sorry you are, and what drove you to wordlessly disappear like you did.

But you don't know how to start.

So you sat silently as tears began to drop from your eyes.

Seeing this, Seonghwa's heart broke and he immediately enveloped you in a hug. "Honey, why are you crying? Did I said something wrong?" he asked as he started to rub your arms, chuckling slightly. You couldn't let any words out, you could only let out pitiful sobs as you bury your face in his chest, your arms slowly wrapped themselves around his slim waist.

Due to the uncomfortable position, Seonghwa slowly leaned back onto the headboard with you so you could be snug in his arms.

As per usual, Seonghwa's arms felt like home, you felt completely protected and cared for. Which was annoying since you were supposed to be at odds with them all.

You both stayed in that position, completely disregarding everything else. As you sobbed, Seonghwa kept rubbing your back soothingly. sure, you both liked the silence and the calmness of the situation. But there were just a lot of things left unsaid and the both of you realized that there were things that you needed to talk about.

"We really do miss you, you know?" Seonghwa said, breaking the silence. You looked up through your tears to see him smiling softly at you. One of his hands reached forward to wipe the tears off your cheeks, "We were really useless without you, you know?" he told you with a pout. You couldn't help but giggle at him, "Yeah? I was miserable too, you know? I couldn't tell any of you guys where I was and I had to hide at Haknyeon's apartment that he shared with his roommates," you told him.

Just as you were about to get comfortable again, Seonghwa pulled you back slightly to look at your face. He had his eyebrows furrowed whilst looking at you with a weird expression.

"You weren't with your parents?" he asked. It was your turn to be confused. You furrowed your eyebrows back at him, "Well, yeah, I couldn't stay at home," you told him.

It was true. You were tormented knowing that Sunhee, Jinhee, and Gaho knew about things going on at the frat. So much so that it made you paranoid.

In the end, you turned to the one person you knew could protect you, your cousin Haknyeon. Sadly, he had recently moved in with three other men in a nearby apartment which his other seven friends were staying on different floors. The plus side was you had sure security and you were never lonely.

"Why couldn't you stay at- did your parents knew that you were staying somewhere else?" he asked.

Confused at the sudden change of tone in his voice, you sat up and turn to face him with crossed legs, "No, they don't know. Why are you making a big deal out of this? It's not like Haknyeon and his friends are bad guys," you tried to reason with him.

But at the mention of 'guys', Seonghwa's eyes bulged out and he immediately sat up straight, "Guys?? His roommates are guys??" he asked in disbelief.

A bad feeling crept up in you and you suddenly felt like you don't wanna say anything anymore. But you know you had to answer him if you don't want the situation to become worse.

"How many people were there?" he asked. His once soft expression turned hard, his jaw clenching and his fists balled up. "There were three roommates in his apartment, so there were five of us," "Was Haknyeon always there with you?" "N-no, there were times when Haknyeon had to go out to deal with things and his roommates stayed behind, at least two of them were always around,"

You were being honest, so you didn't have to feel nervous. But somehow you do. With how Seonghwa was staring at you, your brain was blaring the danger alarm.

As his fists unclench and his gaze faltered to a softer one, you began to relax slightly. Seonghwa let out a sigh as he looked to the side, seemingly thinking about something.

But then something flashed in his eyes, it was as if he made a sudden realization.

"What did you meant by 'three in his apartment'? Why did you have to specify that there were three roommates in HIS apartment?" he pressed.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You didn't even realize that you said that. With the way he asked the question, you just knew that the conversation was not going to end well.

"What I meant... Was... That... Uh..." your voice turned softer as you tried to think about the perfect way to explain to him. But the intensity of his stare messed your brain up, "Haknyeon's other friends also lived in that apartment on different floors, so sometimes all twelve of us hung out together,"

At the mention of the actual number of guys there, Seonghwa jumped off the bed to stand towering over you with his hands on his waist, "So eleven!? There were eleven men around you in which three were always with you during the night!?" he exclaimed.

"W-well, if you put it like that-"

"How else am I supposed to put it, (Y/N)!? You LEFT us for whatever reason there were only to go to an apartment with more guys?? What the fuck, (Y/N)!?" he spat out.

His insinuation that you were out whoring yourself hurt. It hurt so much.

As you tried to speak, your voice cracked, "Y-you think I re-really went out to other guys?" you asked, obviously brokenhearted at the insinuation.

If Seonghwa realized how much you were hurt because of his words, he definitely didn't show it. He let out an exasperated and sharp sigh as he ran a hand through his hair, "I don't know what to think, okay? But Yeosang made a good point earlier; you DID leave us with no explanation and without telling anyone, and now you told me you were staying with other guys? How am I supposed to think!?"

Tears began to drop from your eyes once again, "Hwa, I was with my cousin," your voice was so small, that you were sure Seonghwa couldn't hear you.

Especially with how emotional he got.

"We're not mere options, (Y/N). The fact that I had to tell you that is just infuriating, you know!? We were worried sick about you, and where were you? Having fun with your cousin and his guy friends," he stopped himself when he felt like he was getting overwhelmed. He took a couple of deep breaths with closed eyes, trying to not blow up. As best as he could at least.

After calming himself down, he spoke up again, "I know we were never official, but we told you we loved you and we were genuine about it. If options were what you were looking for, you're with the wrong guys. You're free to make your own choices, but don't play with someone's feelings if you were never sure to begin with," he said before turning around and leave the room.

Feeling hopeless, you broke down and cried out. Tears streamed down your face like a waterfall as your breath became uneven. Your head pounded from the overwhelming emotion and lack of oxygen that tried to enter your lungs through your pitiful sobs.

You tried your best to not cry too loud by covering your mouth and folding yourself into a fetal position on the bed.

The boys really hated you. They all think you were just playing with them and that you left to pursue something more. You considered Yeosang's and Seonghwa's words, how you didn't even try to communicate with them. For whatever reason you had, you just HAD to make a choice alone. A choice that affected nine people.

Maybe it was best to really leave them.

They deserved someone better than you, someone, who would be able to be there with them and be honest and open. Someone who wouldn't just bring shit to them. That someone could've been you, but maybe you hurt them too much to the point that it was all too late.

So you grab your phone from the nightstand after sitting up to dial a number.

The call connected and the person at the other line picked up almost immediately.

"Hello? Yeah, it's me. I-I know it's late and I-I h-have no right to bother you again after everything, but do you think you can help me?"

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which-star · 2 years

Note

#42 + your choice for ship!

also for @i-lovethatforme bc she asked me the same number!!!! Spidey squad social media uni au anyone???

better off (with me)

Felicia stares down at her screen, unusually dumbfounded. Cindy Moon's Instagram has changed.

What used to be a profile picture of Peter dozing off is replaced with no profile picture at all. The Instagram bio ("see you, out there") is the same... except for the little part under that phrase where Peter's handle used to be tagged. That's gone now.

When a certain Cindy Moon only has five posts up on her page, and nothing but group photos, it's pretty telling when something's changed. Especially when Cindy only ever changed her profile picture to Peter after a certain idiot (Flash) suggested it. It's like all traces of boyfriend Peter on her profile have vanished.

Hurriedly, Felicia switches over to search for Peter's user. There's a brief moment as everything loads where Felicia's almost praying it matches the clean slate of Cindy's. It does.

His profile picture used to be a selfie of him with an arm slung around Cindy's neck. Cindy's face was scrunched up in delight, the drawstrings of her hoodie pulled all the way. Peter's cheek was squished against the side of her head, also grinning. It could -- as far as couple selfies went -- even be considered cute. That picture is gone, in its stead a picture of Peter against a sunset.

Felicia frowns. She liked that selfie. Well, she liked Cindy in that selfie. The arm around her and the face nuzzling her could've been improved on, but Felicia could practically hear Cindy's giggles through the still image, which more than made up for it.

His bio has changed too. There's empty space in what used to be a heart with Cindy's account tagged. It doesn't and does make sense at the same time.

MJ's text flashes over her screen. what the FUCK are we supposed to do now

I don't know babe, Felicia types back. brb doing some digging.

Peter's page is easier to stalk than Cindy's, seeing as Cin has a grand total of five posts. His posts wishing Cindy a happy birthday ("lucky to have you!") and select selfies are still up. The posts where Cindy's asleep in bed (his bed, Felicia remembers seething), and the blurry ones where Cindy's clinging onto him like a koala, legs wrapped around his waist, are gone. Maybe archived? Who knows.

Felicia has to grudgingly admit, as she scrolls through, that they are a maddeningly photogenic couple. Were? There's a weird thump of her heart at the thought that feels a little too close to hope.

Cindy's always been attractive. Pure of heart, dumb of ass, yada yada, and a very fine ass at that. She's also always been off limits. Peter got to her first, Felicia always had to remind herself whenever they were hanging out and Cindy did something spectacularly amazing. Which was a shame, because Cindy was apparently amazing all the time. From hanging out on rooftops basking in the sun, to watching movies snuggled under the same blanket, it was getting harder and harder to conceal her want.

It's come to the point where Felicia has to physically restrain herself from sweeping baby hairs out of Cindy's eyes, wrapping arms around her shoulder, holding her hand, because those are things Peter does and Felicia's a bitch, but not that much of a bitch. She can control her libido. Doesn't stop her from appreciating those muscles though. And if they're broken up now...

She goes back to Cindy's profile, to the tagged section, and almost drops her phone. The latest tagged post is from last night and is a blurry shot of Cindy kissing another, clearly female, person. Caption goes: guess who joined girls night!

Now, what the fuck?

Felicia furiously screenshots the post and navigates over to her messages with MJ.

Somehow, Felicia manages not to crush her styrofoam cup while waiting for MJ at Jerry's. The diner is moderately packed, cruising on the tail end of the breakfast rush. She's ordered a French toast while waiting for MJ to appear, grappling with several new realizations in the meantime.

Several realizations with a certain Korean-American's name stamped all over it. Complete with hearts and kisses, maybe. That's wishful thinking. It's not often Felicia's hit with information she hasn't been expecting, much less bulldozed over. But whenever it does, it always seems to have a certain silk-spider involved.

She's suspected for a while that Cindy's not completely a hundred-percent straight. It's been pretty obvious, really, but Cindy's been dating Peter for as long as ever and Felicia never thought to ask.

So why does she feel so shocked? It's not the liking girls part, she realizes, it's the kissing-someone-who's-not-Peter-part. It's the kissing-someone-other-than-Felicia part. Because, for as long as Cindy has been dating Peter, Felicia has been eyeing Cindy even longer.

Unrequited love. Felicia truly thought she was better than this. It's a pathetic situation from movies and trashy romances she never thought she'd be in. And have it get in the way of her friendships, no less? How utterly annoying.

MJ walks in and makes a beeline straight to her. She's clutching her phone in her hand and looks almost frantic. Felicia rises to greet her, a question already forming until MJ shoves her phone in front of her face.

Read. Peter left MJ on read.

Felicia sits down slowly, her thoughts swirling. She knows for certain that last week Peter and Cindy's Instagrams were matching. So, when did this happen? How dare they not tell the squad if they did break up. Felicia has already wasted valuable time if Cindy's already going around kissing other girls.

Maybe she should feel bad for planning on making a move so quickly, but she doesn't. The veneer of the perfect couple has been glass thin for a while. Felicia has heard almost every detail from Cin. If they did break up, it's been a long time coming. Still surprising though.

"What. The. Fuck." MJ emphasizes as she runs her hand through her hair. "Is going on."

"Your guess is as good as mine," Felicia replies evenly. MJ knows better than anyone how fragile both parties have been in the last month. She nods to the server who brings over her French toast and mindlessly unlocks her own phone.

"He left me on read. Read!" MJ shakes her head, grabbing a fork from the plate. She spears a fruit and eats it. "He never does that."

"I know."

"And, speaking of, Cin hasn't been active on the group chat lately. She always at least reacts to our messages." This is a good point. MJ continues. "And that picture of her kissing someone else? That's so… not like her."

Felicia's grip tightens around her knife at the thought of Cindy finding comfort in another body instead of her friends. It is a very un-Cindy-like move if she is doing that, but worse things have come out of break ups. That is pretty bad, though, for Cindy's sake. Definitely not Felicia's.

As if just realizing what she said, MJ sneaks a glance at Felicia before looking away guiltily. Felicia unclenches her jaw and resumes cutting into her order.

At that moment, Felicia's phone dings. She checks on it only to see that Cindy has posted on Instagram. Yes, the only post notifications she has on; it simply makes the most sense when Cindy posts once in a blue moon. Make that six Instagram posts? Automatically, Felicia opens it.

The post itself is nothing out of the ordinary, a shot of the city at night. It blends in with the rest of Cindy's posts of landscapes or books or things-that-are-not-her-face. She swipes to the second image, and smiles, despite the caption. It is strange, though, seeing a solo shot of Cindy instead of a group photo. Felicia likes it.

The bell on the diver's door chimes as more people step in. MJ's eyes widen as she looks past Felicia, and she immediately starts waving. Felicia ignores her, too busy studying the post on her phone until, "Cindy! Over here!"

At that, Felicia whips around, her hair a blur of white. Cindy, in a cream turtleneck and slacks, waves then hurries over. As classy as she's dressed, she's still wearing her raggedy sneakers. She scoots into Felicia's side of the booth. "Hey! What are you guys doing here?"

"Stalking you and P--" MJ says at the same time Felicia hums, "Oh having some breakfast. You?"

"Me too!" Cindy nudges Felicia on the shoulder before turning to MJ. "I need to study for an upcoming test so I was planning on grabbing a bite and going to the library."

To the library while dressed like she's going on a date? Felicia makes eyes with MJ then looks at the turtleneck with renewed suspicion. She resumes eating, casually. "Really? I was thinking of doing the same thing." She really wasn't, didn't have much of a plan for today at all past the emergency meeting with MJ, but who is she to turn down a chance to hang out with Cindy?

To her credit, Cindy doesn't seem the least bit phased. "Great, I'm meeting up with some friends there. I can't wait for you guys to meet."

MJ and Felicia are both studying her now like an art piece. Cindy self-consciously tucks in her hair behind her ear and feigns whatever innocence she needs. If it was a messy breakup, it sure doesn't look like it.

"Anything to do with this supposed girls night of yours?" MJ inquires.

Cindy's eyes comically widen. "What?"

Felicia wordlessly shows her phone to Cindy's latest Instagram caption. Then, the tagged post.

"Oh, that." Cindy laughs nervously. Her eyes flit to Felicia's first, chestnut brown and a little pleading just the way Felicia likes it, before meeting with MJ's. "I forgot to tell you guys I'm single now."

"Oh really." The confirmation seems to send things crashing down around them. Felicia can hardly believe it. Peter and Cindy, who've been together for almost as long as Cindy's joined the friend group, is actually over. History. Recent history, but still history.

This was the couple who everyone but Felicia and MJ swore were gonna get married after university. The definition of campus lovebirds. Felicia and MJ knew, though, the cracks in the facade. They were there to witness it firsthand.

Cindy has spent most of high school in a bunker. Peter has spent most of high school fighting crime. They match in heart, in spirit, in fun, and in what seems like everything else that matters. Once they met, Peter and Cindy getting together seemed like a forgone conclusion. But there's something in the way they had to grow up so much in such little time, how they latched onto each other when they discovered each other's existence, that has always read to Felicia as desperate. Desperate for connection, and maybe for a match. Well, who was she to judge, though she judged them anyways.

"I mean, the way we got together…" Cindy shrugs. "It definitely wasn't the most conventional." MJ hides a snort at that. "And I don't even think I could call it the healthiest either." There was more sex than actual talking, Felicia recalls Cindy mentioning off-handedly.

"We just kind of felt like we hit a wall, so we called it off." Cindy finishes and steals Felicia’s next bite. Felicia lets her, because why not.

"Are you okay?" MJ asks carefully, trying to decipher Cindy's post-breakup mood. Felicia is too, but is so much more subtle about it.

By subtle she means flat out analyzing every twitch of muscle on her face. Cindy's brows scrunch incrementally and, for the first time, Felicia sees a well of sadness behind those eyes. She's been doing a good job masquerading, but it's apparent it still hurts somewhat.

"I've been better," Cindy admits. "But I've been really busy so it hasn't been that bad."

Felicia wonders if Cindy's ever going to mention the kissing and then immediately hopes she won't.

"And the kissing another girl part?" Fucking MJ.

Cindy flushes and tugs her turtleneck up higher. Hmm, suspicious. Nervous tick or hiding something? "Truth or dare?"

How cold her voice is even surprises Felicia. "Feelings, or no."

"No feelings." At that, Cindy sounds certain, her gaze steadily meeting hers. "We were just a bit tipsy, is all."

So that's Cindy's side of the story. Felicia can tell that MJ is itching to hear Peter's now, and so is she. But Cindy's here now and Cindy's single and Cindy's not off limits anymore. Felicia has only ever backed down from getting what she wanted once and this is the chance to remedy that mistake. She's waited long enough. She takes a look at MJ across them, clearly deep in scheming thought. They've waited long enough.

Finishing off the last bit of her order, Felicia smirks. She leans on her elbow and lowers her chin, zeroing in on Cindy. "Wanna just come study at my place?"

In the corner of her eye, she sees MJ straighten. Cindy tilts her head. "I thought we were going to the library to meet my friends?"

"I'm sure they won't mind you flaking for one day," Felicia smoothly reasons. "You hung out with them last night." She coaxes when she sees that Cindy's not convinced, "I have ramen."

"You do?" The automatic perking up is, frankly, adorable. It's laughably easy to bribe Cindy. A tinge of possessive satisfaction coils in her stomach when Cindy agrees.

She knows Cindy's found her attractive since the beginning. They've slept together before, only once and a long time ago, but Felicia's never been the same since. The interest and intrigue in her eyes is back, complete with a beaming grin that blinds. Felicia has been in love with that smile since that night in her apartment: Cindy patching her up with careful hands and delicate words.

They have history. She and Peter are the ones who busted Cindy out of that horrible bunker. She's helped Cindy through a lot and Cindy's helped her even more. And it won't be till Felicia can call Cindy "my girl" safely out loud when she'll truly be satisfied with their relationship.

Felicia looks down at a text from MJ as they go their separate ways. go get her girl

Cindy grabs her hand when she pockets her phone after she replies, giving it a small swing. Felicia pulls her closer relishing the warmth as the biting chill in the air nips at their cheeks. She wonders if there actually is anything beneath the turtleneck. Because if there is, she's afraid she's a little too possessive for that. A little too jealous.

Luckily for them, there isn't.

#go to ao3 for an extra photo:p #jess tag #OUR BRAND!#send me a number 1 100 and i'll write a thing on it #which writes #silkcat #petermj #ask #spotify prompts

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honestlyfrance · 3 years

Text

It Rains Every April 10th

ship: sam/bucky

warning: grief, depression, mcd, hurt/comfort

summary:

"I love you, baby," Sam had spoken, three words so sweetly spoken, an angel could've said it, and Bucky wouldn't mind if that meant that he had crossed to the other side and reached heaven, because it was Sam Wilson.

Bucky had twirled Sam once, the two of them sharing a laugh before he pulled the man closer by the waist. "I love you too, honey," he replied, making sure to put in much eye contact, to let his own eyes send the message his heart failed to say.

A sneak peek in the life of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson to know the real reason why they think April 10 was a bad date.

—■—■—

Depression hits like a wave on a cliffside — sometimes you see it coming, sometimes you didn’t see it, and sometimes you just let it happen. It sometimes gnaws at your skin, always there, but more of a ghostly hand hovering over you; there’s that presence but you think you don’t have enough proof to prove it existed. Times like these you try your best to move but you become unmotivated, absolutely immobile except for the moments your body decides to exhaust itself for unrelated things you shouldn’t be doing. It takes a toll on you you wouldn’t even realize, and even then, who else realized it? You’re just tired. You don’t cry. You’re just tired.

It’s moments before dawn that the rain began to pick up, basking the entire scenery in a state of loneliness and tranquility, and it made everything more silent than before. Birds weren’t chirping, and all anyone could hear was the deafening downpour outside their windows. The bedroom is blanketed in blue lighting from the grey clouds outside, and the rain slips down the French windows and the slanting skylight. Bucky Barnes laid in bed, staring solemnly towards his windows with disdain, buried under his duvets. There are bags under his eyes, but they’re almost faint, and there’s a red tinge to his eyes, but he doesn’t feel discomfort from it; he felt as if whole, if anything. He’s just tired.

Bucky lets his eyes flutter shut, grunting as he buried himself deeper into the sheets, pulling his pillows to envelop every side of his body: his back, his chest, his head, his feet. He wanted warmth. It was too early to wake up. The faint smell of something icky wafted through the cold air and suddenly, all Bucky could think of was how slow time had passed by — he woke up before two in the morning, but his body felt as if it was midnight. It was dawn now, and he still hasn’t sat up. He rose and went, his consciousness blanking ever so often, and all he could think of was how numbed he was to the point that he couldn’t remember how many times he slept and woke up.

Bucky sat down in his tub, the cool but refreshing water pouring from the faucet. The bathroom was dim-lit and the orange lights bounced off of every reflective surface in the room. Here he sighed, watching the excess water go into the side drain, setting his head on the side of the tub. All he could ever hear was the sound of gushing water and the ache of his own heart, and there's that dread of going downstairs and actually living.

His dog suddenly pitter-pattered through the open door, suddenly sitting by the side of the tub. Bucky lazily looked back at the golden retriever. His eyes were barely opened as he spoke, “Roger, go back outside…” His voice was gruff and worn down, like a path down memory lane; so distant and faded that even the memory couldn’t recognize itself.

Bucky turned his head back towards the ceiling, and with a heavy sigh, he grabbed the tub by the side with his one hand and slid himself with a strong push, he lowered himself under the water, and there he felt free. There was nothing waiting for him down there and there was nothing worried for him down there. All he had in that tub was himself and his thoughts, and all his thoughts said to him was, “It’s April 10. You need to wake up.”

He needed to wake up.

Breakfast was quiet, and with every long drawn-out bite of his cereal was a much longer painful dread in Bucky’s chest, one that swallowed in itself for centuries before and centuries more. It’s a sickening twist to the plot and there’s nothing more emptying than feeling drowsy from one’s own solemn adventure. The outdoor lights filtered through the drawn open blinds and there they go, dancing on tabletops and the clean dishes left on the open sink like ballerinas, and there’s a piece of accompanying music that was dulled to a filtered flute of wind by the rain; water dripped against the windows and made the room look bluer than before, and the white walls seem to close in on Bucky, but he just kept on eating in his bathrobe, his one leg propped up on another chair as Roger sat on his hind legs beside him.

Bucky sighed with his mouth full as he waved his dog off. Roger goes dashing through the open doorway and into the other which led to the expansive library. Bucky didn’t want to look out into the window and see how beautiful the morning was, now that there was something so elegant to see when the whole world just drained itself out of color, and it all seemed unfair — a misuse of justice. Roger brought in a book, and Bucky couldn’t even look at the cover. The Masque Of The Red Death. His hands gripped the pocketbook, his mind fuming and his lips searing at the seams; he fumbled with the book and his muffled sobs, and he suddenly thrashed — he threw the book across the room, successfully breaking another picture frame that was hung on the opposite wall. Roger whimpered and set his head on Bucky's stomach, pawing at his hands until all Bucky gripped was the dog’s coat, gently and softly, feeling his heart squeezed out of life but he’s lightheaded. He’s not better now, but he feels like he could be.

Bucky whispered something to Roger's ear and he pets him, even gave him an extra treat.

It’s an unmistakable kind of brokenness that is almost like a “tell,” you know something is wrong, but they don’t fess up to it. Ending up with a game of cat and mouse, and both of you are chasing each other's tail, not knowing who is the culprit and the victim; both of you victimized yourselves because it was the only solution left. You weep at the mess you’ve made and that’s all that you can do. It’s all anyone’s ever done these days, and you shouldn’t apologize for it.

People should start screaming from the top of their rooftops and get that anger out of them, find a victim to mesmerize, and leave them for dead or nothing. Bucky wanted to drive off to the nearest cliff and scream his guts out, vomit his spine out, and just gouge his eyes out, because in a world where the skies seem bleaker — it wasn’t a world. It sounded like a page ripped off of the book of legends, burnt to a crisp, never to be seen again, and Bucky had hoped he would never see it, but then again, here he lies, almost dead and unhinged, mesmerized by the beauty of death to the point that he’d let her sleep in his room for the night.

Bucky would let death spend the night and pick at his skin, peeling it off of him like some sadist, wear his skin, even — let him have a bit of life, even if he was a puppet. There’s nothing more shameful than thinking of such atrocities, yet what other choice does he have? He couldn’t handle it anymore. He was pained, mourning, and helpless. If an angel went down from the skies and told him to jump off a cliff, Bucky would jump off a bridge; if a second angel came down and told him to get lost at sea, Bucky would get lost in a swamp; if a third angel came down for him and told him to suck a dick, Bucky would suck a shoe. Bucky thought he didn’t deserve the gentleness of suffering, so he let himself hurt worse than what was anticipated. So, he lost his leg, had another prosthetic, then he’d lost his sanity.

Out on the couch at the back porch that overlooked the vast fields of his property, he could feel the tiniest of pinpricks of rain whipping him in his face if it was not for the wall of crawling vines dangling from his rooftop. He set his foot on the coffee table, and right beside him was Roger, resting his head on Bucky’s lap. Bucky’s hand ran through his dog’s fur as he read another random chapter of Pride and Prejudice. He couldn’t say. He didn’t even notice. He’s been so out of it, he wouldn’t even realize the title of the book until he’d put it back into the bookshelf. Bucky’s mind had been empty except for anxious thoughts that he had become numb with the idea of surprises. He left his phone buried in the backyard because he didn’t want any unexpected calls.

His hands were calloused over the years of stressful work, eventually leaving him with thin and rugged fingers that feel pinpricks almost every second. His hands were once a thing of beauty, and ever since the accident, he couldn’t think much of it. All Bucky now wanted was to decay faster, to lie down on the grass, and feel moss crawl on his skin and declare himself one with the earth. Now that would be a thing of beauty.

His breath was slow and steady, turning into nothingness a few seconds here and then. Holding onto his breath was the only thing he knew he could hold onto and never let go of. It was the only thing he remembered to be tangible. It didn't use to be like this. Then again, April 10 didn't exist back then.

Sam Wilson would walk into the back porch right now, holding two mugs of hot chocolate, because he adored the rain with his whole heart, and as much he loved nature, that's how much he loved Bucky Barnes. Sam would now then sit right beside his husband and they'll stay snuggled together, bare legs intertwined together, and they'd be giggling like children at the warmth in their chests.

"Look, baby," Sam had said, pecking a quick kiss on Bucky's lips. Bucky's eyes would be overcome with stars that he'd become dizzy at the sensation, "Rain. Do you think it'll rain all day? The weatherman said only a 30% chance,"

Bucky had hummed into Sam's cheek, feeling the way Sam's skin tasted right on his lips. Bucky's mouth would trace the edges of Sam's jaw and the man would let him do more. "Maybe. Perhaps," he had breathed out, "Do you want to stay like this forever?"

Sam had laughed into Bucky's mouth, leaving another kiss that lasted a second longer now. It was sweet, and there were stars dispersing in their hearts. "What else am I going to do all day?"

They had spent the whole day like this: sneaking kisses like teenagers and sipping on hot chocolate like children. Their hearts grew as the rain poured stronger. The pitter-patter of downpour had drummed against their roof like bullets and all they could feel is how safe they were in the war with each other's arms wrapped around each other. It was their own kind of shield, and it was perfect .

That kind of day was now replaced with Bucky and Roger. Bucky would read a random book as Roger would look out into the backyard, longing to run around the rain, but Bucky needed Roger right beside him, and that's what the dog shall do.