#either by coming off anon or by running at me in the street and carting me off

[heyitsyn]

Manager!Seijoh Part 5

a/n: we ltr going at 5 parts and i have another part written out and im just drowning in love with these seijoh asks

for more seijoh content, check this masterlist out!

anon request:

Can i ask for cute moments between manager and the boys outside of school, like how she and kyoutani probably bump into each to go feed strays etc??

yes anon!!!!!! these moments made me so soft™

IM CACKLING LIKE BLS THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE PARTS OF THE ENTIRE STAGE PLAY BC HE PLAYS OIKS SO WELL AND IWA IS JUST SO IWA AND I LIVED FOR OIKS’ ‘IWA-CHAN!’ AND IWA’S ‘RAAAAA!’ AND THIS GIF JUST SHOWS SEIJOH BEING SEIJOH AND HOW THEY WOULD REALLY ACT IF THEY WERE REAL LIKE UGH THEY DID SUCH A GOOD JOB W THE CASTING

these are the cute little moments and get ready to die of the cuteness

be warned, this isnt a straight plot or no main focus but just bits and pieces of fluff 

keeping up with seijoh episode 3467328937

as mentioned before, they dont really get to hang out a lot w you outside of practice 

youre either too busy taking care of your schoolwork, catsitting for the aizawa’s, or having you time since youve been busy w the boys all week

but there are times where you do have available time to go hang out with the boys

and they know about your schedule so they try to make memories either during practice or after practice

fortunately, kyo lives at the same street as the aizawa’s so he walks you to their house when you have a job 

but sometimes when you are just walking home, you both stop by the convenience store first and find some cat food cans and dog food cans and water 

it was a complete accident when you both found each other standing at the same aisle, holding the same things, with the same intentions, for the same animals

the alleyway where you first met is basically your second home bc thats where your babies live

since you cant exactly take in 5 dogs and 6 cats in your house, you and kyo are taking care of them in that alleyway where you feed them and build them a little shelter with blankets and stuff

this will be explained more in the next manager!seijoh part

after practice, particularly after a really productive one, the guys like to go to the ramen shop near the school to treat themselves after their hardwork

by now, the old lady who owns the shop knows their order by heart and has it ready when you all enter

yall get settled in but you go over to yahaba and snap his wooden chopsticks for him bc he never snaps them properly and ends up breaking them

meanwhile,,

you gather as much napkins as you can and place them beside kindaichi bc he makes such a mess while he eats and you have stand-by wipes for him

you make a special request to add tofu into iwa’s ramen bc the mans loves tofu so much and he still doesnt understand how the lady seems to know this despite him never telling her

your seat is usually next to mattsun bc he doesnt eat all the side dishes up like the others and you can eat some of it too

kyo sit across you and demands you eat at least 2 bowls bc you never seem to eat enough and he gets secretly concerned so he aggressively cares for you

‘kyo-san,,,, im full though’

he ‘glares’ at you

‘what you mean youre full. you didnt even finish the bowl. eat the rest and have another or youre not leaving this table’

pls what

fun fact, oikawa actually has two pairs of glasses and he gave you one in case he forgets to wear his main one and leaves it at home

so he gets to school and he just realizes he forgot his glasses and his contacts were still being shipped so he freaks out and texts you about it

but you always have the case safely tucked in your bag so you wander up to the third year floor and knock on his class door

iwa, who is in the same class as him, glares at the students who stare at you and nudges oikawa who was looking out the window

‘oi, your glasses’

his head snapped to the side and sees your smiling face and the familiar brown box being held out to him

his face scrunches and he launches up his seat and takes you in his arms

‘Y/N-CHAN IS SO RESPONSIBLE! SO NICE! OIKAWA-SENPAI REALLY APPRECIATES YOU!’

‘oikawa-san, please let me go’

you mumbled, embarrassed at his behavior in front of the whole class

once iwa has you safely on the ground, you excuse yourself and go back to class

the class still stared at the door you passed through and iwa had to bark at them to go back to their business

youre like the seijoh and younger version of goddess kiyoko

before kyo got back to the team, you usually walked home by yourself but makki actually accompanies you when he doesnt have errands to run

‘makki-san, i heard theres a sale going on for puffs’

you would mention as you walked and you would look to see his eyes light up and walk faster towards the bakery

‘cmon, y/n-chan. makki-senpai is treating you today!’

he turns into a child, a contrast to his chaotic energy in school, and he runs over to the glass where indeed, there was a sale going on for his puffs

while he was staring at what flavor he wanted, youd go to the cashier and give her your card

‘when that guy with the light brown hair with the blue and white jacket comes up to pay for his cream puffs, charge it to my card, please. whatever you do, dont take his and use mine immediately, please. ill come by later and pick it back up’

the old cashier lady felt true hope and happiness for humanity at your actions and it increased when she saw the shocked look on the boy’s face when she immediately swiped the card when he finished ordering

‘what? i havent paid-’

‘the young lady that came with you already did, young lad. shes a keeper’

he turned red

‘ahaha, no, shes our team manager’

once he finished paying and went outside, he took out his phone and dialed your number to call you

you smiled from the aisle in the convenience store down the street bc you were expecting him to call you

‘hewwo, makki-san’

he shut his eyes at how cute you sounded

‘y/n-chan, senpai wanted to treat you today!’

he whined but you bit your lip, leaving the store after purchasing a drink with the remaining cash you had

‘hmm, but i did too. you just werent too fast, senpaiiii~’

you teased and he let out a breathy laugh

‘next time i’ll be faster! mark my words!’

‘then im looking forward to it, senpai~!’

did anyone notice that he is the first one she called senpai?

to our baby yahaba

we know how he literally tried to go after yachi in that one episode so you know how flirty he is

but youve made it clear that you reject his advances and he pouts and finally accepts it so he stops it, instead actually just caring for you

ya know how he cares for the others and cheers them on?

he does the same to you

our babie notices that you are so busy taking care of the others that you forget to take care of yourself

like that time they lost to shiratorizawa, you made bentos for them all week to cheer them up

but he saw you not even eating and realizes that you were busy making the food that they like, each different to accomodate to their taste, that you had no time to make your own

he went down to your class and noticed you missing and he asks kindaichi and kunimi and they said that you said you wanted to get fresh air

since he pays attention to you, he knows you like to go to the roof to breathe

he ventures up the stairs and when he opens the door, he notices you just staring up at the sky, sitting down on the floor

‘being in an empty place like the roof doesnt compare to how lonely Pluto must feel to be outcasted in the solar system’

your comment catches him off-guard but he regains composure and makes his way to you before sitting down next to your form

‘hmm, oikawa-senpai talked to me about space one time. he mentioned the vast possibilities that stays hidden in the shadows’

you and him turn your head at the same time and share a gentle smile

‘but its up to us to find those secrets and abilities’

you finished

he nodded and went back to look at the clouds that looked like they were slowly moving but it was really the earth turning

‘i want to be a sports instructor. i want to be able to help others,,, i want to help them find those abilities and perfect them so they could fully love playing’

a chuckle escaped you and you tightened your arms around your knees, following his gaze to the blob of white that was painted on to the blue canvas

‘let other people be your universe, baba-senpai. dont let them be like Pluto. take time to find out who they are so they dont feel so lonely, okay?’

yall im tearing up right now though

as mentioned at the first part of this series, you go to the gym very early to set up for morning practice

sometimes, the four third years arrive at the same time but sometimes, only iwa comes

you noticed him put his bag down and help you with the nets before pushing the cart to finish the task for the morning

‘thank you, iwa-san!’

you thanked and he ruffled your hair

‘can you actually help me with my workout?’

you nodded and you knew his routine by now

as he got in position for a push up, you gently sat down on his back so he could start pushing up

you sat cross-legged and you counted every push up and held a timer so he could beat his previous record of 100 push ups in under 5 minutes

IWA IS LITERALLY ON ANOTHER LEVEL

once he hit 100, he collapsed on the floor and you stopped the timer at 4 minutes and 48 seconds

‘good job, iwa-san! new record!’

you cheered and he grumbled on the floor

you gently turned him over so he could lay on his back

he closed his eyes from the bright light of the gym and he raised his arms as his hands made a grabbing motion

‘hug. i want hug’

he whined and you fake gasped at this

‘iwa-san, i didnt know you could be so whiny’

‘huuggg~’

in my series, its canon that iwa is actually a whiny little babie despite that tough exterior and hes much more whinier than oikawa

you laughed before surrending, mumbling ‘yes, yes’

this wasnt the first time this happened since he asked you to do this before bc hes a touch starved babie and as a manager, you must give your team love

you climbed on him and laid your head on his chest while he mumbles happily with his arms going around you

‘just five minutes’

you offered and he said ‘mhm’

well, you both fell asleep and were woken up by scandalized and jealous yells from oikawa

to our baby libero watari

watari is actually the only player who has been to your house before

you made an off-handed comment of making bentos for the team again and he offered to come and help you make them

so here he was, standing in your kitchen, as you were cooking with him

you were chopping up vegetables and he was waiting for the eggs to boil so he was just stirring it slightly

‘wata-san, can you give me a bowl from the cabinet above you?’

he nodded and gave it to you so you could place the chopped carrots and onions in it

once the timer was done, he scooped out the eggs and placed them into an ice bowl so he could peel them later

you knew his favorite food was boiled eggs so you wanted to boil some so he could snack on them

‘can you peel one and see if theyre perfectly cooked, wata-san?’

his fingers skillfully rolled the egg on the table before peeling it effortlessly

he hummed as he chewed on the food

‘delicious?’

you asked and he turned to you, cheeks still full but he raised a thumbs up

you grinned and went back to chopping the scallions

‘actually, i didnt need any eggs for the dishes. i wanted you to snack on your favorites as i cook. its like payment for keeping me company’

his eyes shone and he hurriedly went to hug you tightly

‘i really appreciate everything youve done for us, for me. but i just want you to keep smiling okay? i know we’re a handful and we can get out of hand sometimes but you always keep us together. you must be stressed and there must be times you get angry with us and must’ve cried because of us but i hope you’ll still stay with us even through all that’

WATARI YOU MAKING ME C R Y 

lmao kindaichi’s made me laugh

so basically, we all know his famous haircut, right

but what if that was actually just a style hes had since he was young but he has naturally down hair?

the stuff he puts in it like this brand of gel is just so tough and sturdy that two washes of hair is the only thing that can get rid of it

even during practice when hes sweating the atlantic ocean, it somehow stays up

he puts gel on it and stuff after he showers to make it stick up and BOOM turnip head

but one morning, he,,,, wasnt turnip head

the boy woke up late and he didnt have time to perfect the sticking up so he went to school with his hair down and everything

you were already there since morning practice has started and kunimi told you that kindaichi texted him he would be late so you were just patiently waiting by the door for your classmate

but some guy just walked in

your eyes widened and you pulled their arm

‘um, this is for seijoh volley-’

then the words died in your mouth

‘yuu-kun,,,’

you stuttered and he placed his hands on his face to hide away

‘dont look y/n-chan!’

his shout attracted the others and then silence before the laughing and howling started

‘THESE FIRST YEARS I SWEAR!’

makki was on the floor, punching it as he laughed

kindaichi turned red and he was about to run out but you held on to him

‘i can fix it for you, yuu-kun. come with me?’

he nodded immediately and hurried away towards the back where the sun was just starting to rise

you rummaged through your gym bag and found the specific gel brand he uses 

kindaichi was SHOOK bc why the hell did you have it?

you noticed his shocked and confused look

‘i knew this would happen. we’ve facetimed before, remember? just in case this would happen, i brought backup’

his eyes glistened with tears of gratitude but you waved it away and started attempting to fix his hair

tbh you dont know why he did this hairstyle because his hair was really soft and nice and he still looked attractive either way

moving on to kunimi babie

lets face it, he probably doesnt sleep at all at night and he suffers from insomnia

and when he cant sleep, he bothers his friends

but he doesnt bother you though

which makes you sad bc you thought you made it clear that he could come to you if he was in need of something

you only found out after kindaichi accidentally blurted out during morning practice of how tired he is bc kunimi wouldnt stop talking to him at 2 in the morning

‘aki,,, you could’ve called me’

you gently said and kunimi scrunched his nose at how sad you sounded

‘you need your sleep, y/n’

‘but i want you to sleep too’

‘kindaichi’s been my contact since i was like 5 so-’

‘so you dont need me?’

your eyes watered and kunimi jumped, frantically fussing over you

‘okay, okay, y/n, okay. ill call you’

then as if they were never there, you cheered up and bounced happily

‘i’m expecting it, aki-kun!’

but at 1:43 in the morning, his finger hovered over the call button on your contact since he really didnt want to bother you

but he could already hear your whines in the morning

‘aki?’

he cursed when he heard your groggy voice

‘sorry y/n, ill hang up-’

‘no!’

you sat up, forcing to wake up

‘stay’

you mumbled and he made a sound of agreement

‘not tired?’

you asked

‘no. well, like im tired but i cant sleep, yknow?’

you laid on your bed with your cheeks puffed out, trying to think how to put him to sleep

‘we can just talk, aki’

‘about what?’

‘anything. just,,, talk to me. i want to know your favorite color, your favorite food, everything about you’

:( morning calls really hit different

last one is our mattsun babie

so like, mattsun is a TREE

im like 5′3 and hes like 6′2 so we a whole dwarf next to him

you are always dwarfed whenever you stand next to him and this little shite takes advantage of that and puts his elbow on top of your head

he likes to poke fun at you but you just pout bc you know hes all fun and games

‘hows the weather down there’

‘so mean, mattsun-san’

but his height did give him a special memory with you though

you were both left in the gym to clean up bc everyone had something to do like oiks had to go home bc takeru got sick and iwa also got sick and you just volunteered to clean up and mattsun stayed behind

you were sweeping the floor and you unconsciously started humming as you swept and started swaying a little

mattsun heard you as he pushed the carts and watched as you just swayed and twirled around and he found himself smiling at you

you noticed him stop in front of you and he bowed down, holding out a hand

‘may i take this dance, m’lady’

you laughed

‘what? whats going on?’

he softly held your hand and pulled you to him

‘you were dancing and i wanted to join you’

you nodded and looked up at him, eyes half-lidded

‘stand on my feet, chibi-chan. i can lead while you sing’

it was a random song you heard from the radio earlier but you complied while he moved with your feet on his

you giggled when he would lean down to softly kiss your forehead and shriek when he would unexpectedly dip you down

either way, at 8:34 PM, you and mattsun danced under the gym lights with no witness except you and him

ughh i really want seijoh now

you and the team share individual memories that are more special than the ones with the others bc its where you could actually be upfront with each other

its just a shame that there are 4 third years in the team that would eventually graduate and go their own separate ways after high school, leaving behind their underclassmen

they could just hope that those memories and special moments would remind them of who you were and how special you were to them since at the prime of their youth, you were their first true love

a/n: ngl i didnt expect to finish this so quick but im just in a really soft mood right now and this is to makeup for the fact that my update schedule could start becoming erratic due to my school so i hope you enjoyed this blurb!! and depending on my asks, there could only be one last part to this series unless someone requests for another specific scenario with the manager!!

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! headcanons #aoba johsai #aoba johsai x reader #aoba josai x reader #aoba josai #seijoh #aoba johsai imagines #aoba josai imagines #seijoh imagines #seijoh manager #haikyuu manager #haikyuu!! manager #aoba johsai manager #aoba josai manager #seijoh x reader #aoba johsai headcanons #aoba josai headcanons #seijoh headcanons #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! fluff #aoba johsai fluff #aoba josai fluff

[queenmylovely]

Helloo i was wondering could we get a smutty roger blurb pretty pleasssseee maybe due to the recent pop quiz videos 🙄 like he's on the show and youre watching in the audience as a friend and his team losses + he's hella annoyed so he's determined to get home asap so he can relieve his frustrations but you decide to come home with him to cheer him up but you don't know what you are in for because he can't resist you when he's in this mood 😍

1st Holiday Advent post yay! (send me a request here and check out the explanation here) Anyway, this has been in my inbox forever, so thank you for your patience anon, I reward you with a honkin’ 2.5k words (warnings are smut, 18+) Masterlist

☆☆☆

You were attending the taping of one of the episodes of Pop Quiz that Roger was on. He had invited you the week before after you had mentioned that you always caught the episodes when they aired and liked answering the questions yourself. It wasn’t totally clear if this was a date or not, but you were fine with either. Not that you didn’t really fancy Roger, you just were okay with it being a friendly invitation as well. The two of you always flirted and were touchy, but you knew you were just a flirt in general and Roger himself was touchy with all of his friends.

The idea of asking him out had been something you were toying with, but whatever was between you and Roger seemed like something that would develop on its own time and in its own way. You knew it wouldn’t be a conventional sort of relationship, which you were totally okay with, so you figured it’d be best to just let everything happen the way it was going to.  

Sitting in the front row of the studio audience, you had a great view of the stage other than what was obstructed by the cameras. Luckily, Roger wasn’t obstructed so you could watch him all night. At the beginning, he would wave to you during commercial breaks or mouth things when the other team was answering and he was sure he wasn’t onscreen. He made you laugh a lot with all of his faces and you had to stifle yourself to keep from interrupting the taping.

Unfortunately, as time went on, it became clear that Roger’s team was losing and by three quarters of the way through, they were too far to come back and win. You could tell Roger wasn’t happy. You would’ve bet money that no one else could really tell the difference in his behavior, but having been his friend for quite a while and seeing the way he acted in the studio, you could see the slight differences. His hand was tucked into the collar of his shirt and you could see his fingers underneath the fabric moving underneath like they were tapping out a quick rhythm. His answers to the questions became short and gone was the funny banter and quips that he was usually known for. He probably wouldn’t have been so upset, but his team was doing poorly mainly due to a few mess ups on his part, and he felt guilty and stupid for getting the answers wrong.

Roger kept his composure through the rest of the show, but as soon as it was done, he was finding you to leave. The host tried to invite the two of you to the pub with everyone else, but Roger waved him off saying it wasn’t a good night for it.

Once he got to you, Roger grabbed your hand a little roughly and pulled you next to him, saying with a gruff voice, “Let’s get you home.”

He led you out of the studio quickly, to his car that was parked in the garage. Roger let your hand go so you could both get in, turning on the car and then practically speeding out of the garage. As soon as he got to the highway, he pushed the accelerator hard, going well past what you knew the speed limit to be.

“Roger, Roger, slow down!” you cried out, gripping the door next to you and subconsciously pressing your feet into the brake pedal you wished was on your side.

“Don’t worry love, the street’s empty,” Roger assured you, keeping up the speed.

“Well, what if someone else gets on?”

“Then I’ll slow down,” he looked over to you to make sure you accepted his answer and when you nodded, he turned back to the road, increasing his speed further.

A little less worried, you started paying attention to where he was going and realized he was taking you home.

“You’re going to my house?” you asked in confusion.

“Yeah, I said ‘let’s get you home,’” he reminded you shortly.

“Oh,” was all your reply, disappointed because you knew he was planning to just drop you off and be on his way. You had been looking forward to the rest of the night with maybe a drink or two and lots of good conversation with Roger.

It wasn’t long before you arrived at your house, Roger stopping in front of your driveway and putting the car into park.

“Sorry I kind of ruined the night. ‘m just not in the greatest mood after the shit that was that show,” Roger said, looking down at his hands on the steering wheel instead of up at you.

You put your hand on the closest of his and he looked up, “You know, it wasn’t all on you. And besides, it’s just a bit of fun for a show, right?”

Roger moved past just feeling the warmth of your hand on his to answer, “Yeah, I guess.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you suggested, “Why don’t you come in for a drink or something. I hate to send you home without having cheered you up, even just a little.”

The earnest look in your eyes and how close you were to him made Roger eager to say yes to your suggestion. But he thought again and wondered if he should because he knew that whenever he got in this mood he was prone to doing whatever he could to relieve the frustration. That often included sex with whoever was around and willing, but he wasn’t sure that the possible risk to your friendship was worth the fuck he wanted just to release some steam.

Roger also knew there was something between the two of you and wasn’t sure that now was the time to expand on it, without practically any patience on his part. He was about to decline your offer and just drive home to work his irritation out on his drums when you let go of his hand.

Before he could react, you shut off the engine and pulled the keys from the ignition, unbuckling and throwing open the door of the car. You got out, shut the door, and ran, stopping about ten feet into your lawn.

“If you want them back you’ll have to come in first!” you shouted to him. He watched you in surprise, which quickly turned to shock and then a fire low in his belly when you tucked the keys into your bra with a laugh.

He got out of the car, almost slamming the door shut and you tensed in anticipation. He started like he was going to start running and you bolted a couple steps, but he was just messing with you. So you watched him again, and he walked, slowly this time, until he was five feet away. When you were least expecting it, he lunged for you, but you were just far enough away to stay out of his grasp. You made it to the door and unlocked it before he got there, leaving the keys in the lock to slow him down before continuing into your house.

Roger watched you disappear into your house, shaking his head as he pulled your house key from the lock and walked in, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

“I’m going to get those keys,” Roger announced to you as he sauntered into the kitchen where he already knew you’d be.

You held out a drink for him, whisky, neat, that you had poured from the bar cart in your kitchen.

“Not for awhile you won’t,” you replied as he walked around the counter to you, leaning back against it.  

He took the drink you held out to him, and the two of you cheersed before taking a sip, looking each other in the eye.

“So what do you suggest we do until then?” he asked, swirling his drink and cocking his hip to the side.

“Well, we’ll have to finish our drinks, of course,” you reasoned, moving a step forward and taking another sip.

Roger, on the other hand, downed his drink all at once, then looked at you and said, “What next?”

“We could listen to some music,” you suggested, getting another step closer.

“Not really in the mood to listen to music,” Roger muttered, setting down his empty glass on the counter; you did the same with your still mostly full one.

Rolling your eyes, you took the last step until you were right in front of him and then waited until he looked down at you before speaking, “What are you in the mood for?”

***

There was a moment of silence and tension before you rushed together, meeting in a fervent kiss. Roger gripped you by your waist and you held yourself steady by wrapping your arms around his neck. That steady was knocked off balance as Roger flipped the two of you around, pressing you against the counter with his hips. You moaned and parted your mouth when Roger’s tongue ran along your lower lip. As he deepened the kiss, his hands slid down to your ass, squeezing it before using his grip to lift you onto the counter.

Laughing, you widened your legs and used your heels to pull him closer until you could feel his growing hardness pressing against you. The kiss made you feel hot all over and you shrugged off your jacket. Roger let his fall to the floor before moving his hands to the buttons of your blouse. He undid it as you nipped at his neck, but when he tried to undo your bra, he couldn’t.

“Oh, it’s-- it’s in the front,” you explained and undid the clasp between your breasts. Then, when you did, Roger’s keys fell to your lap.

The two of you paused for a second before you burst into laughter and Roger dropped his head to your shoulder, his breath tickling your skin.

“I--I told you I would get them,” Roger told you through chuckles.

“Shut up and kiss me,” you replied as you tossed his keys to the side, and he did.

As the kiss got more intense, you raked your fingers through his hair, pulling roughly at the ends. Roger groaned deeply in his throat, pulling back to mouth at your neck, using his hands to feel your breasts. As a spike of heat travelled through you, you pushed him back a little to hike up your skirt (which you were grateful you wore) and pull down your underwear as quick as you could.

Roger did the same, kicking his pants off all the way before pulling you to the edge of the counter. You reached between you and ran your hand along the length of his dick, getting a sense for it and making sure it was ready, the moan that came from Roger’s lips just being an added bonus. He reached between your thighs and swiped his thumb up through your folds, gathering some wetness before rubbing your clit in tight circles.

“Fuck. Mm, just fuck me now, I’m ready,” you said breathlessly.

Nodding, Roger let you guide his cock to your entrance, pushing in slowly until he bottomed out. Giving you a second, he pulled out just as slowly then started fucking you for real. His pace wasn’t too fast, in fact it was just right and hit you in all the right places as you gripped onto his shoulders and used your legs for leverage. His thumb stayed on your clit and that matched with his sharp thrusts made your pleasure grow faster than you expected.

It wasn’t long before you couldn’t keep quiet, telling Roger all the ways he was making you feel and how good he was fucking you. Roger was just as loud, but with moans instead of words and each of his sounds sent another bolt of pleasure through you.

“Roger, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna co-ome, keep going,” you said, your voice breaking.

In return, he snapped his hips into you with each thrust, and as you clenched around him, his shaky moan was all it took for your orgasm to take over. As your muscles tightened and your eyes closed, pleasure waved through you, making it almost hard to breathe with how good you felt.

Roger kept going, and even as you came down, showed no signs of stopping. You could tell that he was working off some frustration, and it honestly made you feel heady that he was using you for it. Luckily you weren’t too sensitive, and despite already coming, each thrust still gave you pleasure.

Wanting to help him along, you clenched around him, at the same time moved to kiss his neck. You kissed until you found the spot that made him groan, deciding to suck and nip your way to leaving a hickey there.

Before you knew it, you began to feel another orgasm building, and you moaned against Roger’s neck as a particularly strong wave of pleasure went through you. You kissed your way up to Roger’s mouth and kissed him again, reveling in the feeling of his tongue against yours.

But then you felt his fingers on your clit again and you broke the kiss to tell him, “Oh Roger, oh my gosh, you’re gonna make me come again. Fuck me.”

“Already am, but I can sure go harder,” Roger joked, voice a little uneven.

“Yes, that, do that,” you agreed, nodding quickly.

Roger complied, and as his thrusts grew harder you keened at the feeling. His free hand went into your hair, pulling your head back enough so that he could lean down and get his mouth on your breasts. He kissed his way to one of your nipples, bringing it between his lips as he sucked.

One of your hands went behind you to keep you up but the other went to the back of Roger’s head keeping him in place. And then Roger tugged at your nipple lightly with his teeth and you were cumming, tightening your grip in his hair and moaning brokenly at the feeling.

Even as the hot pleasure ran through you, you could feel Roger’s hips stuttering and the change made you whine. Just having caught your breath enough to talk, you grabbed Roger’s shoulder, “Come, I need you to come.”

“Where?”

“I’m on birth control, inside me, please, fuck,” you pleaded, a little because your sensitivity was getting stronger, but mostly because you wanted him to reach that high too.

And just a few thrusts more, with the clench of your walls around him, Roger came into you, moaning into your chest as his thrusts slowed down. When he stopped, he stayed inside you, and you ran your fingers through his hair as he came down.

Breath still heavy, Roger started pressing lazy kisses up your chest and neck before finding your mouth and kissing you slowly. After a minute, you pulled back and smiled at him.

“So that happened,” Roger said, his smile matching yours.

“Yeah, finally,” you said with a laugh. “Guess we should thank Pop Quiz for adding the last bit of frustration that made it all boil over.”

“Yeah, guess we should,” Roger muttered, leaning in and kissing you again.

★★★

tagging bc its sooo long: @riseetothesun @drowseoftaylor @caborhapch @queenlover05 @johndeaconshands @stardust-galaxies @theblossomknows   @buckyluvrs   

#first thing I post in probably months and its at 12:45am my time #well I like it so I hope y'all do too! #yay for dec 1 #queen #roger taylor #roger meddows taylor #queen x reader #roger taylor x reader #smut #blurb #queenmylovely #holiday advent

[danny-chase]

Thanks to anon for requesting On the Run with Cassandra Cain and Dick Grayson!

Read on AO3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Nightwing (Comics), Batgirl (Comics) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain & Barbara Gordon Characters: Cassandra Cain, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon Additional Tags: Canon Divergence, blockbuster arc alternative ending, POV Cassandra Cain, Cassandra Cain is Batgirl, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Cassandra Cain Is a Good Sister, Cassandra Cain is bad at feelings, TW: Suicide, tw: ambiguous suicide attempt, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, there are no hugs sorry, Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batfamily (DCU), Dick Grayson Whump, Cassandra Cain Whump, Hurt No Comfort Series: Part 1 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

The one where Cass runs away with Dick instead of Catalina (Catalina doesn't exist for the sake of this AU - and this is not romantic between Dick and Cass).

Full story under cut

“Cass? You here?” Light poured into her room as Barbara cracked open the door. Cass tucked her head under the blanket, yawning - it was too early to get up. “Cass, please.” The anxiety in Barbara’s voice made her reconsider – and she sprung upright, she could feel a mission coming on, and Cass didn’t pass up missions.

 “What’s up?” She asked, striding over to her closet, pulling out her Batgirl suit.

 “It’s Dick, I’m worried… He left in a rush yesterday morning.” Barbara’s hands were shaking – that meant it was serious. “Cass I was watching the news… I… God…he…”

 She pulled on her costume in record time. Dick was nice, he made Barbara happy. Made her happy too. Brought over cookies and told funny stories, he made the apartment feel… warm. He was a friend… no… family, they were family.

 She glanced back at Barbara, pulling the door wider, she looked pale, about to cry. She shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to help. “What’s up?” She demanded, stepping around the wheelchair. She grabbed the handles, and quickly steered them both towards the mission room.

 Barbara wiped her eyes as she reached the computer, pulling up a video clip. Cass recognized the apartment building; she’d been there a few times after joint missions. That was Dick’s-

 Oh.

 Fire rained down on the screen, the building reduced to rubble.

 Barbara sobbed next to her. “I don’t know if he was there… I don’t even know if… Cass… He… What if…?” Cass tentatively patted her shoulder, uneasiness filling her stomach. “He hasn’t called… his trackers are either off or…”

 “I’ll find him.” She promised. That was her mission. Find Nightwing, bring him home, then Barbara wouldn’t cry. She didn’t like when Barbara cried, it made her want to cry too.

 She dove out the window, swinging through the sky, down to where she kept her bike. Gunning the engine, she flew through the streets, Blüdhaven was an hour away – but she could make it in half the time. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, she tried to settle in for a long ride.

   It wasn’t hard to pick up the trail – she followed the flashing red and blue lights to scenes of carnage, masked men beaten and discarded in Nightwing’s wake. The whole day, she snuck around, carefully out of sight, watching as ambulances carted away people, describing them to Barbara and learning their names.

 “This… isn’t working.” She complained, her legs swinging off the side of a roof. “I don’t understand.”

 “He’s not taking a predictable path.” Barbara noted. “We’ll find him, we’ll just have to be patient.” She sounded much more confident than this morning. Cass sighed, leaning back to stare at the clouds. Why was Dick running around in circles? She reached up as raindrops began pattering down, feeling them seep through the suit. She let her hand fall across her face. Something felt off – wrong.

 The injuries Nightwing left behind were violent – he was violent, but not this much. Too much force. “This isn’t right.” She muttered, reaching her head behind her head. Dick wasn’t someone that lost control – that much she had learned.

 Cass sucked in a breath. It bothered her. Something bad was happening. “He’s hurting people.” She tried to explain. “Bad.” Breaking bones that would never heal right, being careless in his aim. “He doesn’t do that…” Normally, but it’s happened before. It’s happened when… “They’re threatening his family.”

 That felt right. Despite what the others thought, Cass wasn’t dumb – she was a detective too. And this was her case.

 “We’ll have to assume it’s connected.” Barbara mumbled. “Haley’s circus was attacked by Firefly a few days ago.”

 “Huh?” What did some circus have to do with-

 “It’s where he grew up.” Barbara explained. “You’re right, I suspected… we need to find him, someone might have figured out his identity.” She paused a moment. “Keep trying to track him down, I need to call Batman.” The line cut off.

Cass frowned, she figured something out… but it hadn’t been good. She briefly wondered if she’d caused more trouble by bringing it up. Hopefully, it would make sense when-

 Light flooded the sky, lightning cracking, and moments later a symbol arose, shining against the clouds and illuminating the area. Another clue. She swung off the roof, careening towards the source of their troubles.

   Nightwing was leaving as she arrived, tearing through the city skyline. As it poured, she did her best, following in his tracks, though not quite able to catch up. He was angry, she could see it even from far away. She was at a disadvantage; he knew the territory – knew the destination, and she frustratedly sighed as he slipped into a building a few blocks ahead.

 She leapt off a balcony – about to enter where Nightwing had, when a flicker of movement caught her eye a few windows away.

 “NO!” She screamed – too late, glass shattered as a bullet ripped through the night, thudding as it found a mark. An enormous man barged through the broken windows. Cass scrambled to follow, scurrying across the ledges. She could hear voices arguing in the room – Nightwing and the man, the sounds of smashing, they got farther away as she got closer.

 She burst into an empty hotel room, leaping over the woman’s dead body, and running past a destroyed wall to the end of a hallway.

 “Do you like being alone, Dick?” The large man caught sight of her, throwing Nightwing against the wall as he charged. Cass readied herself, rolling under his legs as he passed.

 “Batgirl?” Dick mumbled, running after the man. “Get out of here!” He shouted, leaping into a flying kick, and connecting with the man’s head.

 “I’ll make sure you can’t save any of them.” He punched the man again. “I’ll make sure you relive over and over, your failure to save my mother.” The man elbowed Nightwing out of the way, diving for her again. She jumped this time, using his head as a springboard. He grabbed for her ankle, but she slipped out of his reach, pulling out batarangs and throwing them as she twisted in the air. Each hit their mark, sinking into both his shoulders.

 The man didn’t seem bothered, simply turning to chase her again. “It’ll never stop.” Nightwing slide tackled his ankles, and the man fell, his hands grabbing at her feet. Cass danced closer to his head. “Every loved one, every stranger, I’ll kill-urk” She struck a nerve in his jaw, kicking it a second time for good measure as the man fell unconscious.

 “Call the police?” She asked, reaching up to her comm, glancing towards Nightwing. She froze in place. He was running towards her – reaching, about to hit, no he was –

 She dodged reflexively as he tried to swipe her comm. “We can’t.” He was shaking – tired, exhausted, pained, scared(?) – Cass recoiled, that wasn’t how Nightwing normally was. “Give it! We can’t call anyone! You need to run, he saw you!”

 “I’m not scared.” She stated, standing her ground – she was strong, she wouldn’t be killed so easily.

 “You should be!” He was – what did Barbara say? Upset… no - hysterical. Panic laced his voice. “He’s not kidding, he has people – he’ll kill people just for talking to me, I’m talking to you – if he hears us talking to-” Cass handed over the comm as he frantically grasped for it again. He threw it to the floor crushing it under his boot.

 “We have to go… I-I… I don’t know what to do.” He paced back and forth, muttering to himself. “I-I can’t talk to people, I need to be alone… but he saw Batgirl, she’s not safe…” He stopped, looking directly at her. He swayed on the spot, she felt uneasy – he didn’t look well. “You’re coming with me.” He demanded, grabbing her hand, and she let him lead them out through the fire escape.

 She didn’t understand, she had never seen him so… frightened. They didn’t need to run, Barbara would send the police – the man couldn’t hurt anyone, they’d won. “I don’t-”

 “He has power.” His breathing was ragged and pained. She cringed, he needed help – not to run. “He won’t stay in jail… He has people everywhere – there’s cameras they see everything. He-he…” They dropped into an alley. “It won’t stop.” The hand in hers was trembling.

 “I can-” He stopped in his tracks.

 “NO! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” He bellowed, angrily snapping at her. “YOU’RE NOT SAFE – NO ONE’S SAFE UNTIL I’M GONE.”

 Dick’s body was a wave of emotions, and she was being swept along with the current. “I’m strong! You’re being a coward!” She yelled back – but she already knew she wouldn’t change his mind.

 “Maybe I am.” He deflated and began running again. “But everyone’s safer this way.”

 She was at a loss for what to do, so she kept running. She couldn’t leave him alone; she couldn’t go back and explain to Barbara. She regretted letting him smash her comm. And so, she followed, and they weaved in and out of street after street, rain soaking through her costume, chilling her to the bone.

   While they ran, Cass had formulated a new strategy – wait until Nightwing lowered his guard, then nerve strike him, and bring him back to Gotham. A struggle would be too risky – he was acting erratic, someone (him) might get hurt if she tried too soon. So, sitting atop a train, watching as hills rolled over the horizon trying her best to be patient.

 The wind whipped in her face, the rumbling of the train drowning out all other noises. Nightwing paced beside her, obsessively turning from side to side, trying to keep all directions in his line of sight. He was getting too close to the edge.

 His movement wasn’t correct – Dick’s gait was normally smooth, intentional. Now, he dragged his steps, the normal grace gone. He kept tripping over his own feet.

 She couldn’t understand how one man could have such an effect; he was still shaking in anger and fear. They’d defeated the enemy, she’d won, right? Cass never really thought much about what comes after that – but Nightwing seemed convinced the battle wasn’t over.

 Dick was staring over the edge of the car. Cass was moving before she realized what was happening. She grabbed a fistful of his costume as he leaned forward, pulling him back.

 “Don’t.” She couldn’t tell if it was accidental or intentional – but she didn’t wait to see if he’d pull back on his own. Nobody would die tonight. Maybe she’d have to speed up her plan.

 He remained silent and stepped away from the edge. They slowly fell back into their routine – Nightwing pacing as she kept a watchful eye. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she watched him make his careful pattern – now staying three feet from the edges.

 Cass sighed. She was tired of running – she could protect herself; this was pointless. She wasn’t sure how long they’d wasted like this – the sun had been rising when they got on the train and now it was starting to set again. She was hungry, thirsty, and hadn’t slept in two days.

 She kept waiting for Dick to crash, but he never even sat down. He couldn’t stay like this forever - she was pretty sure he was injured based off his movement, he had to rest soon.

 “Sleep.” She demanded (as she had maybe an hour ago). He shook his head, going back to his pacing. Cass groaned, lying back to look at the sky, though keeping him in her field of vision. Stars were starting to peak out, though clouds were blocking some of them. She bit her lip; she was never good at helping people like this.

 Her stomach growled loudly, and she looked at him pointedly. “We’ll get food when we get off.” He replied in a monotone voice.

 She blinked sleep out of her eyes, digging her nails into the palms of her hands, and sitting back up. Nightwing could not be left unsupervised – that much was clear. And so, she resigned herself to watching pacing once more.

   The sun was high in the sky when the train finally began rolling to a stop. She followed Nightwing as he leapt off the car and began running after him towards the tree line. He made it about ten paces before collapsing. Cass rushed forward, as he began pushing himself up.

 She struck his jaw without warning, and he crumpled to the ground. Finally, she sighed in relief, things were easier this way. Crouching down, she hiked him into a fireman’s carry, and then looked around.

 She was in the middle of nowhere. Cows grazed off to the right, and there was an open field to her left. Straight ahead, the land eventually reached a forest. A small train station sat maybe a mile away.

 It would take a day to get back to Blüdhaven, but she was hungry and tired, and had no idea where she was. The train still rolled along behind her. So, she decided to walk alongside it – towards the lonely little station, away from home.

 Nightwing was heavy. She was strong, but he was… heavy. And she was tired.

 Every step was painful, it wasn’t long before she was drenched in sweat. She could see the station in the distance, slowly getting closer. She could make it… She could push through this – she’d pushed through worse.

 She focused on her breath, staring at the ground as she took step after step.

 “Lose some weight.” She muttered to the side of Dick’s head. She cursed herself for not packing more water and snacks – she’d run out while tracking him yesterday.

 She refused to stop, pushing past the pain of burning muscles, her suit unbearably hot in the afternoon sun. Gritting her teeth, she powered on.

 She wanted to scream with furry, at the man who’d hurt her brother – who’d left him so worn out and totally beaten despite losing the fight. She wanted to scream because she didn’t understand – why was this happening to them? They were strong – their family was strong – they shouldn’t have to live like this. Cassandra Cain did not run from fights, neither did Dick Grayson, and yet here they were.

 She grunted, shifting Dick’s weight on her shoulders. Cass didn’t like thinking about these things. She liked when things were easy – when she beat the bad guy, and things were over. Though, with every mission, she was starting to realize things weren’t always that simple…

 She thought of the man she’d rescued, who’d died on a train like the one beside her, because he’d wanted to say goodbye to his mom. Of the girl who’d she’d rescued from her father, yet she’d condemned to a different kind of hell living with her mother. Of the boy who wanted his father to come home safely, despite the man being a ruthless killer.

 And finally of the man who’d defeated Nightwing, his words dealing more damage than his massive fists.

 This world was so confusing – sometimes she missed the days before the words clouded her mind, muddling her in the mists of gray that transformed what she’d seen before in black and white. Was she better for living in that gray? For knowing it was there? Sometimes, it was hard to tell.

 She stumbled on uneven ground and soon she was falling, Dick sliding off her shoulders. She hit the ground face first and tasted blood. She let out the pent-up yell, frustratedly pounding the ground. This sucked. Everything sucked. Why couldn’t things just be easy for them?!

 Dragging herself to her feet, she ignored the pain wracking her exhausted body as she lifted the broken vigilante once more. She took slower steps, but certain ones, and inched closer and closer towards somewhere she hoped would be better.

#bad things happen bingo #batfam #cassandra cain #cassandra wayne #dick grayson #barbara gordon #tw: suicde #tw: ambiguous suicidal intent #tw: Blockbuster arc #batfamily #batgirl #nightwing #my writing

[udunie]

(anon submission)

Pet!omega + objectification!omega + stocks!omega + foodrestriction!omega (lmao y'all caught me horny & bored at the tail end of my workday, bless remote work tbh)

Omegas are at a weird intersection between status symbol, pet, public resource, and breeders that results in Stiles Having A Very Bad Time:

Peter has several omegas - anyone worth knowing does - but it’s inconvenient to take more than one out at a time, and Stiles is his favourite, so Stiles gets out more than the others. Omegas out with their owners have things they are required to wear (like city leash laws): a collar with identifying information, a gag or muzzle (or both) to prevent uncouth sounds, a blindfold (omegas who are properly cared for should only ever look at their alpha, no other), a cock cage with a sound to prevent accidents or unwanted dripping if the omega gets excited, and some kind of arm or hand binding to prevent grabbing. Peter is a bit of a traditionalist, so his omegas also wear a nose hook and nipple clamps when out, as well as any accessories he feels like

However, while it is quite respectable to walk the streets with an omega stumbling behind you on a leash, it is *not* respectable to actually bring omegas in anywhere (no, your pet cannot come into the clothing store, what if they make a mess?). So when Peter goes in to a tailoring appointment, he puts Stiles on the omega rack that is next to a bike rack outside the building

An omega rack has two thick metal plugs, though they’re more like steel poles with rounded ends, that slide into both an omega’s pussy and ass - they are long enough to prevent sliding off of no matter how the omega may be contorted (or contort themselves) and thick enough to prevent anything else from easily sliding in either hole, thus guaranteeing that a racked omega remains unsoiled while their alpha is elsewhere. The rack locks into place around the omega’s neck, with a long pole that aligns with their spine and ensures both good posture while waiting and prevents significant movement, as well as an adjustable ring gag that folds up from the collar and clicks back into the omega’s jaw. The entire rack is metal and is locked into place by the collar. Alphas supply their own locks, but have to pay a rack meter for the time their omega will be using it

Any rack with an omega that is being left for more than twenty minutes has a yellow light above it. Yellow lights mean the omega will need watering to prevent dehydration, and while it is illegal to penetrate a racked omega’s breeding holes unless you are their alpha, their mouths are locked open specifically so any passing good samaritan can piss (or come, if they have enough time) into the omega. Dehydration is especially an issue in the summer months, and it’s considered polite to water as many racked omegas as you can, even those already sporting well-rounded piss bellies

If the rack meter runs out before the alpha returns, racked omegas as boxed up (plugged with city standard issue breeding prevention rods and diapered) and carted off to an omega impound. Impounds are generally in places that get a lot of foot traffic, because even impounded omegas are legally required to be watered at the least. The impound boxes are specially designed to line up with bathroom plumbing (from the piss only toilets) so every impounded omega gets consistently watered until they are picked up by their alphas (at this stage it is not unheard of for omegas to be so well hydrated that they are stuck in their impound boxes - the city offers an unboxing service that also flushes & cleans all the holes that need it for an additional fee)

Omegas impounded for over a week are released into the city’s care; alphas can still pay the higher fines and get their omega back at this point, but typically don’t, as the city uses impounded omegas as emergency rut response resources in cases where the rutting alpha doesn’t have an omega at hand to breed (regardless of species - a shockingly high number of wild animals that wandered into cities are alphas, as they are generally more bold and aggressive, and a rut’s a rut)

Peter paid the fine eventually. It was a matter of pride. He kept Stiles in his family’s kennel (with prevention rods locked in place) until the omega delivered his litter of puppies- fortunately of well-documented pedigree- also as a matter of pride

Stiles would have to perform flawlessly to earn back being Peter’s favourite, cute puppies and new bitch teats aside

*****

Udunie: Holy shit, friend, this is a whole ass fic, and I LOVE IT!!! 

I love the world building, and the humiliation and the implication that Peter just… forgets Stiles exists at all *___________*

Also, I love the omega racks especially!! Like, my first thought was that Stiles would be a bit too tall for an omega, which would mean that Peter would always struggle a bit to get him into the rack, having to make him literally sit on the ground and take the poles in his holes to the base. Like, imagine Stiles just crouching there, with a puddle of slick under him :D 

(Oooh maybe the poles have a thicker ‘knot’ at the base, and most - smaller sized - omegas just sit on top of the knots, but since Stiles is so tall, Peter needs to push on his shoulders and force him down over the knots to be able to get the collar part around his neck :D)

#prompt box #submission box #submission

[just-zenitsu]

oh that makes me curious... do you think zenitsu was thrown between orphanages and foster homes as a kid? or maybe he was in one until he ran away, either when he eloped or some time before and then lived on the street from then... or did he just live on the streets his whole childhood? ive been wondering this for days and its been on my mind for ages

*deep breath* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

first of all id like to say that i have like three fic ideas that explore his past (whether it focuses on how he grew up or not) BUT THANK U FOR INDULGING ME GUYS IM DEFINITELY RAMBLING ABT EACH OF THEM NOW… (this is a fucking monster tho. so its under read more)

* @anon THATS A WHOLE ASS MOOD TBH. i spend literal hours at night thinking abt whether he was in an orphanage or a street kid. ive wrote him living in the streets  and getting sent to an orphanage when he was caught stealing. whereas i ALSO have mindless scribbled notes of modern au where his parents left him in an orphanage but bc of bad experiences (and thats putting it lightly) he gets sent to different homes A LOT and eventually gets kicked out at some point, ILL GET TO THAT LATER IN A BIT

* SINCE im trying to NOT write a fic here ill just list down headcanons and stuff bc YEET!!!! and for the sake of convenience lets just say he was both sent to an orphanage and lived as a street kid :”DD

* lets talk abt hcs ive seen first,, jpn fandom mostly all seem to hc him as a street kid who lived by working on odd jobs and the sort. ofc more often than not he just gets the bare amount for payment and the people he works for arent really nice :(( they never have the nicest words to say and sometimes they even hit him. zen sometimes endures it bc its not like he has much of a choice in the end. other times he runs away crying and scared.

* he also doesnt really have a permanent home so he wanders a lot carrying what little stuff he owns (probably a few clothes or a worn-out futon or something)

* he’s taken advantage of a lot,, whether it’d be people tricking him into doing some work saying ‘he’ll be given something good in return’ or something equally vague. he usually wonders why their words sound so kind in comparison to their heartbeats that sound… off,, its not until he’s older that he gets an answer to that question

* bc he cant be picky i like to think that its not that hard for him to sleep somewhere uncomfortable. he also curls up a lot into a ball when he sleeps. he likes being cooped up into small spaces, it makes him feel safe and that no one can get him. 

* was initially very verbal about his hearing condition (something along the lines of saying ‘i heard you say that ____’ or ‘hey, do you hear that’ etc etc.) people think hes creepy and/or he’s lying most of the time. he eventually doesnt really wanna talk about it anymore once someone came this close to threatening to cut his ears off.

* i think we can say that zen lived in the city? its why he likes expensive things and the sort, and he has a lot of stock knowledge about how the city works and stuff like that, not to say that he’s ever really participated in it 

* as a child (and even as he got older) zenitsu’s favorite season is spring, autumn being a close second. he likes spring bc the air is fresh and he can find flowers in the outskirts of the city, surviving despite growing in cracked concrete. he makes little flower crowns out of them!

* he likes autumn bc the way the leaves change is pretty! but its only second to spring bc the flowers usually wilt by then and he gets cold :(

* he doesnt like winter simply because it is VERY cold. he dislikes summer the most tho bc the sound of literal thousands of cicadas give him a lot of headaches aaa 

* is very used to being hungry when he goes to sleep. he makes due with it as best as he can. one of his fondest memories is a frail old man who owns a sweet bun cart that gives him buns in exchange for a lower price than what he actually sells them for. on a day where he thinks the old man looks more tired and quiet than usual, zenitsu takes it upon himself to give him a flower crown. 

* unfortunately he never is able to give it, bc the next day, or days after that, zenitsu never sees him again.

* he has experience bein a sneaky little thief! its the reason on why he can easily take sweets without permission at the butterfly estate in canon hehe

* but its this very same reason that he gets sent to an orphanage, he gets caught! and bc he is a Literal Child. they send him to foster care woohoo

* (GOD THIS IS GETTING SO LONG BUT PLS DEAL WITH MY RAMBLING….)

* i dont have a clear idea on how zenitsu couldve been treated in an orphanage. but all in all, he’s just very grateful to be given some kind of semblance of a home and food

* he learned how to speak (barely) when he lived in the streets, but they teach the basic minimum and suddenly he’s learning all these sorts of things

* the people who took care of them arent the most affectionate, neither are the kids he lives with. zenitsu’s crying is often really looked down upon, he tries to stop but he can’t really help it. he’s not really anyones favorite person here

* there’s a small somewhat neglected garden in the orphanage’s backyard. he spends his time here when everyones playing and no one wants to play with him

* every time someone comes to adopt a kid he cries and begs for them to adopt him whenever they show a spark of interest towards him. it goes as bad as u think it does, they dont like that type of kid, and as such they assume everyone else is like that and leaves w/o taking anyone. zenitsu isnt allowed to eat dinner in these nights ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

* bc of the latter reason, kids gang up and bully him a lot. zenitsu tries to go along w it bc its the ONLY time anyone ever pays attention to him, but at the end of the day the only thing he gets is scratches and bruises from being pushed around and lots of words that hurt his heart

* (WAHH. OPK OK IM SORRY IM SAD NOW AINNFJKKJFDFHKH..)

* people think he’s a nuisance more or less. and then he gets sent to varied foster homes again and again bc he’s ‘difficult to deal with’ and going back to the first bullet point, he gets kicked out again wAH. at this point he might have been 15 and its when he starts trying to date girls, despite hearing everyone’s sounds of deceit and lies time and time again, he still goes through with it. and the rest is canon, 

OK. thats basically my brain vomit about zenitsu backstory. i am deceased and IM JUST PURELY FROTHING AT THE MOUTH EVERYTIME I THINK ABT HIM KDFKLGDFDGHF. thank u sm if u read this far, i appreciate it ;_______;

#ask #KHGJSKGKJGD THIS TOOK SO LONG HAHAHHAHAH #headcanons #.post #screaming but w feeling

[panharmonium]

For Want of a Woodwright (Part 4)

aaaand we’re back with another slice of AU nonsense! 

(parts 1-3 can be found here; original idea is courtesy of this awesome anon ask)

today’s installment is gift-fic for @ragtag-band-of-murderers, whose generous reading and commenting last week brought me such joy and truly helped me in the midst of a tough moment.  here’s a little ficlet for you, my friend - featuring a bird’s-eye view of the city, more of our fave dudes just being themselves, and a minor reference to something you already read <3

THANK YOU, as always, to everyone who’s having fun playing in this sandbox with me - i hope you enjoy some more of the boys being alive and well in the Good Timeline :D

as before, the same disclaimer applies: this is VERY rough, not meticulously edited, and not even remotely close to a final draft.  it is hardly even a first draft, in fact.  the snippets in this series are not necessarily connected to each other, or in order, or part of any actual coherent plot, and they do not directly adhere to the plan laid out in lovely anon’s original post, either; they are just snapshots of images that refused to remain unillustrated once they’d occurred to me :)

with that said, if you’re looking for more AU fun (thank you again, anon, for this ‘verse!), hit the jump!

4. solid ground

Merlin drummed his boots against the wall beneath him, the stone battlements on either side of him providing some stability for his precarious perch atop the parapet.

From his seated position inside one of the inner curtain wall’s crenels, Merlin could see the entirety of the lower town, and the outer curtain encircling the urban crush, and the Sprawl beyond, a haphazard collection of settlements outside the reach of the city walls, the Crown’s cultivated fields and pastures transforming finally into wilderness, where the land was swallowed by forest.  Directly below, the King’s Works were in full swing, the framing yard at the base of the inner curtain a picture of hustle and bustle, numerous craftsmen unloading heavy timber from a caravan of carts lined up just beside the gate to the upper ward.  A number of other beams were laid out upon the cleared earth in a predetermined pattern, and something vaguely recognizable as a pair of roof supports appeared to have already been joined together at the other end of the yard.  

Merlin had been in the city long enough to know that once the beams for this mystery structure had been measured, cut, and framed, they would be disassembled and carted off to wherever the desired building was to be erected, but he could not have explained in any detail the specific tasks taking place down below.  One worker was marking some of the timbers with chalk symbols just as indecipherable to Merlin as the runes Gaius had recently set him to studying.  Another fellow was chipping away at a beam using something that wasn’t quite pointy enough on either end to be a pickaxe.  Two others appeared to be having some kind of animated argument over a set of timbers that looked all right to Merlin, but mustn’t have been, judging by the amount of arm-waving and indecipherable shouting taking place below.

Will probably could have told Merlin more about it, but Will had not climbed into the crenel.  He stood at Merlin’s back instead, staring determinedly ahead at the distant horizon, as opposed to peering down at the framing yard’s frantic scurry of activity.  

“High up, this,” Will said.

“Saddlegap’s higher.”

“Saddlegap’s up the side of a mountain, though,” Will muttered, his eyes firmly fixed on absolutely nothing.  “Not straight up, like.”  He drummed his fingers nervously on the sharp cut of the raised battlement.  “Never been up anywhere like this.”

Merlin looked at Will, fighting a sudden, surprised urge to laugh.  “Are you afraid of heights?”

“No!” Will retorted, instantly grouchy.  He redirected his gaze - with discernible difficulty, Merlin couldn’t help but note - down to the framing yard, where a pair of tiny figures in brown and white were rolling a log over to a deep depression in the earth.  Once suspended over the hole, the log could be sliced down the middle using a lengthy pit saw.  

Merlin hid a smile.  “Come and sit with me, then.”

Will looked nauseated, though he wiped his face clean of any such expression quickly.  “I’m not sitting in there.”

“Why not?”

“There’s no room.”

Merlin scooted as far over as he could, leaving a space between himself and the merlon to his right.  “There’s plenty.  Come in.”

“I’m not coming in there.”

“Just admit you’re afeared of the drop - ”

“I am not,” Will declared, and to prove it, he climbed into the crenel alongside Merlin, wedging himself into the space between Merlin’s side and the raised masonry of the merlon to their right, sitting there with his feet dangling in the air, upper body squashed between Merlin on one side and solid stone on the other.

Will’s frame was as stiff and unyielding as the log being hewn down below.  Merlin nudged him with an elbow.  “You see?  It’s not so bad.”

“Not so bad,” Will echoed through gritted teeth.  “Right.  You’re cracked, Merlin.”

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“I wish I didn’t.”

Merlin decided not to pursue the potential truth behind that statement, for all that it made him itch.  

Later.  

They could talk about it later.

Instead, he changed the subject, and pointed at a section of the lower town, where there was a dark gap in the layered patchwork of thatched roofs.  “We had a fire over there, the other week.”

Will was not really looking.  He appeared intently focused on a cloud floating at exactly the level of his eyes.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.  Little one.  Not so bad.  But now I can’t get pies from that fellow’s shop anymore, and that’s rotten luck, because they’re really tasty.”

“What sort?” Will asked, resolutely inspecting his cloud.  “Meat or fruit?”

“All sorts.  You’ve never seen so many pies in your life.  I’d have got you one if I could.”

Will shrugged in his best ‘life is like that’ way.  “Gods rest the pie man.”

“He’s not dead!” 

“Oh.”  

“Gods forbid, Will.”

Will rolled his eyes.  “Sorry, Merlin.  Didn’t realize you were so attached to the man who made your breakfast - ”

“He’s just closed down for a bit.  We’ll have him up and running again soon enough.”

“‘We’ who?”  

“Everybody loves the pie man, Will.  It’s a neighborhood effort, rebuilding him.”

Will tried valiantly to inspect the spot Merlin had pointed at, though his cheeks paled the moment he registered just how far down the pie man’s plot was situated relative to their own spot on top of the wall.  “Bad timing for it,” he said, averting his eyes after only a brief glance.  “For you.”

“Is it?”

Will pointed at the countryside beyond the Sprawl.  “Apples coming in and all.”

“Oof,” Merlin said, never having considered this fact.  “You’re right.”

Will smiled faintly.  “Apple season and no pie man to make Merlin’s favorites.  What’s a poor sorcerer to do?”

Merlin shrugged, affecting an abjectly mournful weariness.  “Die.”

Will snorted.

“Apple pie is serious business, Will.”

“Deadly serious.”

“Obviously.”  Merlin sighed and stretched out his legs over the drop, letting them fall back against the wall with a thunk.  “I’ll nick a few apples for myself, I suppose.  The Crown’s got orchards aplenty.  I’m no hand in the bakehouse - ”

“Too right - ”

“ - but I’ll trade a favor with Gwen, maybe; I reckon she knows what she’s about.”

“Who?”

“Gwen.  You met Gwen.”

“Which one was she?”

“The one in servant’s garb.  She’s got brown skin, curly hair to about here?” 

Will nodded.  Merlin searched the mottled sea of rooftops for Gwen’s house.  Just down the lane from her cottage, smoke rose over the forge, a cloud of fumes that never truly dissipated, even after nightfall.  The smell hung in the air day in and day out, clinging to the straw in the street and the wooden struts of the surrounding structures.  Even the building itself continued to radiate vestiges of heat long after Tom and his crew had gone home for the evening.  

“I think you’d get on with her,” Merlin ventured.  “Gwen’s lovely.  She’s the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah?”  Will’s reply was some mix of absent and unconvinced.

“Yeah.  I mean, she’s nicer than you, anyhow.”

“Mm.”

“Not that that’s a particularly high bar to step over.”

“Thanks, Merlin.”

Merlin hesitated.  “Maybe I could introduce you to each other.”

“We’ve already met.”

“No, you haven’t, not properly.  You didn’t even remember who she was.”

“I remembered her.  I just didn’t know her name, is all.”

“Well, you didn’t talk to her or anything.”

“Why would I talk to her?  I don’t know her.”

Merlin squirmed in his seat, self-conscious.  “I don’t know.  I just think you’d like her.  She’s not...”  He gestured vaguely behind them, past the slope of the wealthier upper wards and back to the citadel proper.  “You know, she’s not silly like that sort.  She’s plain folk, like us.”

Will was staring straight ahead, past the crowded mess of the lower town and out to the country, beyond the Sprawl’s creeping expanse of civilization.  It was a clear enough day that one could see the hazy jut of the mountains looming in the distance, and - in Merlin’s imagination, at least - the border was there, too, and their home just beyond that, hidden in the foothills, nestled in a little valley behind the White Mountains’ far-reaching roots.

“Gwen helped me a lot when I first came here,” Merlin said.  “Taught me loads.”

“I’m sure she’s brilliant, Merlin,” murmured Will, his eyes locked on the horizon.

“I just thought since you’re here - ”  Merlin stopped himself, sitting up a bit straighter.  “I mean, not that you’re here-here, obviously; but - just staying, you know, not that you’re staying-staying, or anything, just - ”  Merlin forced himself to take a deep breath and exhale, unlocking his fingers from where they’d wound themselves into a knot.  “Since you’re here just now, I mean.  I just.  Thought maybe it would be good, you know.  For you to know some people.”

“I don’t think your friend there wants to know me, Merlin.”

“Why not?”

Will raised his eyebrows.  “She thinks I have magic, doesn’t she?”

“That’s - ”  Merlin faltered momentarily.  “It’s just Gwen, I mean, she’s - you’re my friend.  It wouldn’t matter.”

Will gave Merlin a skeptical look.  “Why haven’t you told her your secret, then?”

Merlin opened his mouth, then closed it again.  The breeze curling through the gap of the crenel was chilly, raising goosebumps on his arms.  

Will shook his head and returned his gaze to the mountains.  “Look, Merlin...if it really didn’t matter, she’d already know.  Let’s not court trouble, all right?  We’re in enough of that as it is.”

“You don’t have to be,” Merlin said, after a brief pause.  “You could go.”

Will did not reply, staring at the White Mountain like he was trying to climb it with his eyes.  Merlin wondered what he was thinking, Will with his closed mouth and his set jaw and his inscrutable frowns.  Did he wish he were back there?  Did he wish he hadn’t left in the first place?

Merlin shifted on the cramped crenel, but there was nowhere for him to go.  “I just thought...it might be good, you know.  For you.  To make friends.

“I’ve got enough friends, Merlin.”

“You’ve only got me.”

“That’s what I said.”

The line of Merlin’s body where it pressed against Will was very warm.  

So was Merlin’s face.  

Merlin was glad suddenly that there was no space on either side of them for either of them to scoot away.  He relaxed where he sat, solid stone on one side and solid Will on the other, the two of them squished and snug against each other in their shared seat.

Will’s frame was hard as a rock, though.  Merlin looked down at Will’s hands, one of which was fisted on his knees and the other of which was wrapped, white-knuckled, around the corner of the battlement.  

“You really don’t like it up here, do you?” Merlin asked, a surprised smile spreading over his face. 

“Hate it,” Will burst out immediately, with a vehement gust of relief.  “It’s wretched.  I can’t believe you’ve got me sitting up here, Merlin; of all the daft, foolheaded places for a person to be - ”

“We can get down,” Merlin laughed, climbing back over onto the walkway.  He wrapped a hand in the fabric of Will’s mantle and jostled him lightly.  “Go on, lean forward.  You’ll get to the bottom quick as anything.”

Will gave Merlin a dirty look and scooted himself very painstakingly out of the crenel, back onto the safety of the ramparts.  

Merlin, hands on his hips, evaluated Will with newfound curiosity.  “And here I thought I knew everything there was to know about you.”

“I’m not afraid of heights, Merlin,” Will said, turning to stride along the line of the wall toward one of the towers that would take them back to the ground.  

“Don’t get tetchy,” Merlin said, following him.  “Everyone’s afraid of something.”

“You’d know.”

Merlin did not argue.  Will, for all his formidable powers of perception, hardly knew how true his statement was - Merlin found something new to be afraid of every day, it seemed, now that he was in Camelot.  

“I’d never let you fall off, you know,” Merlin said, tugging open the door to the tower, the creaking hinges echoing down the darkened spiral stair within.

“Oh, aye?”

“Aye, so,” Merlin replied, ushering Will onto the staircase and nodding to a guard headed up in the opposite direction.  “And if you did fall, I’d catch you.”

“You would not,” Will scoffed.  “You’ve never caught anything so big in your life.”

“Not yet.  But I can do all sorts of new things now; I haven’t shown you hardly anything.  Gaius gave me this book - ”

Will groaned.  “Oh, Lugh, Merlin, no.  Not another book.”

“A great big one,” Merlin grinned.  

“Gods alive,” Will muttered.  “This again.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”  Merlin’s grin widened as he tripped his way down the stairs.  “Gaius has all sorts of books, dozens of them; well, you’ve been in his chambers, you already know - and he tosses them all over like it’s nothing; it’s mad; it’s like he doesn’t even care.  Most of them are physician’s texts, I mean, and that’s interesting enough, I suppose, but there’s more, Will, on the lower levels; there’s an entire library; it goes on forever, it’s got everything, it’s - what are you doing?  Where are you going?

Will had turned around and was heading back up the stairs.  He jerked his thumb upwards.  “Back.”

“What for?”

Will did not look round at Merlin, but continued to trudge determinedly up the stairs.  “I’ve decided to take the quick way down after all.”

Merlin snorted and snagged Will’s sleeve in his fingers.  Will, pulling away, put up a valiant show of resistance.  “Just let me jump, Merlin.  I can’t survive another round of this book nonsense.”

“Not on your life.  I’m not spending an evening scraping you off the paving stones.”

Will gave up and allowed himself to be pulled down the stairs, but his face wore the dark, surly look of a man marching to his own execution.  “If you try to read me anything, I’m crawling out your window.”

“Bit high up, that,” Merlin remarked mildly, “for a fellow who’s just discovered he’s afeared of heights.”

“I am not afeared of heights,” Will snapped.  Then, in his most stubborn tone, he added, “The higher the better.  I don’t want to suffer.”

Merlin laughed.  “You might’ve thought on that before you went running off to Camelot, William.”

Will’s face changed slightly.  “Aye, so,” he replied, a touch of something grim in his voice.  “So might you have done, but that’s neither here nor there.”

Merlin bit his tongue on an uncertain reply and shoved Will out the door at the base of the tower, out of the stuffy shadows of the staircase, into an overbright, sunlit afternoon.  

Later, Merlin thought, chivvying Will across what was supposed to be solid ground, though Merlin wasn’t sure, now, if they had really made it to the bottom, after all, for all that there was grass and good earth under their feet.

They could talk about it later.  

#TBC maybe! inspiration pending as always #this is a fun AU to play in #and it allows me to continue writing for my fave #so we'll see what happens! #(i clearly wasn't done writing about these kids when i was 'done' writing about them it seems) #(shocking) #XD #fic #the once and future slowburn #for want of a woodwright #no kings no masters

[blackcoffeeandteardrops]

Reprieve (1/3)

To the anon forever ago that requested a story where Mulder finds William, I’m sorry this took so long. I have two other parts for this, but I’ll leave you with part one for now. Under the cut & also at AO3:

Mulder had heard through the proverbial grapevine what had happened. Things back home in D.C. were far worse than he thought, and Scully had been forced to make the ultimate sacrifice. Giving up the son she’d wanted for years was not an easy decision for her, he knew that, and yet a tiny part of him resented her for it.

The night he’d gotten the call--after a few somewhat conspicuous e-mails from Skinner, he’d used a payphone in the back of a bar, where his former boss confirmed his suspicions--Mulder had gone back to the hotel and punched a hole through the wall. He left early the next morning, thankful he paid in cash and stayed under an alias so they couldn’t track him down and make him pay for repairs.

His first instinct had been to hightail it back home. He could only imagine the horrors that awaited him there. Upon second thought however, he knew he couldn’t exactly return to Scully empty handed. What kind of gift to the woman who’d given him everything would that be? The whole reason he’d left in the first place was to guarantee both hers and William’s safety, and he couldn’t even do that.

Sighing, Mulder bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, and he marched up to the counter at the bus station, buying a ticket on the first Greyhound out of town. He wasn’t headed home, not yet.

When he climbed on the bus, he clutched a worn out bag to his chest and stared out the window. The sound of an infant crying brought him back to reality. A woman sitting across the aisle smiled apologetically, all the while rubbing her daughter’s back.

“She should calm down once we get moving. But I suspect she’s not feeling well,” the woman said, by way of explanation.

Mulder nodded in reply. “It’s okay,” he said, reaching into his bag for a worn out paperback, not intending to be rude but hoping the woman would take it as a sign that he wasn’t looking for a conversation. Tucked between the pages of the books was a picture of William and Scully, one he’d taken the day before he left. He knew it was in the book, knew it because every night before he fell asleep, he’d hold the picture and stare at their faces, and he’d hope he’d see them soon. The picture had been a source of comfort before, a talisman that kept him grounded and reminded him why he had to keep fighting, but seeing it again filled him with something kin to sadness mixed with anger. He closed the book as the bus took off, and he stared out the window, trying to convince himself the anger wasn’t at Scully, but rather at the impossible situation they’d been faced with.

It wasn’t right, he thought, after everything they’d gone through, that this is how they’d end up. That William had been carted off to who knew where while he was on a bus headed west, and Scully was back in D.C. doing “not well” as Skinner had put it. He knew he should head back, should at least try to fix whatever was left of their lives, but he was reluctant to do so, both out of self preservation and an unwillingness to accept their newfound reality.

Before too long, Mulder was lulled to sleep. When he woke up, they were pulling into another station. The bus driver stated he needed to refuel, and lucky for them he’d said there was a nice diner inside the station as well as several shops they could peruse while they waited. Mulder bought a sausage biscuit and a coffee that was on the wrong side of burnt and walked over to a bank of payphones. It occurred to him that in a few years such things would fade out of existence, what with the invention of cellular phones. He’d had one back home, but it had been ditched. He couldn’t run the risk of being tracked.

“Who is this?” Skinner asked, upon finally answering on the other end.

“Sir, it’s me, and--”

“I thought we agreed it was best to sever contact for the time being. And aside from that, am I really the person you should be reaching out to right now?”

Mulder closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to the cold metal of the phone booth. “I know, sir, but I can’t reach out to her about this. Not yet.”

“What are you talking about?” Skinner asked.

“I need you to tell me where he is,” Mulder replied, keeping his voice low. He hadn’t even known exactly what he planned until the words left his mouth, but now he’d never felt more convinced. “I need to find him, and I need to bring him--”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea? You’re not exactly in a position at the moment to be keeping anyone, let alone him, safe. You don’t know what it’s been--”

“Then what was the point of you tracking me down and telling me? To add to the difficulty I’m already facing?” Mulder cried, clutching the receiver so tightly he feared it might break.

“I just meant…” Skinner trailed off. Across the miles, Mulder could practically picture the older man taking his glasses off and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Circumstances here aren’t entirely ideal for the two of you to be taking care of him. This line is secure, Mulder, but that’s about all I’m able to say at the moment.”

“Then I’ll come back for Scully, and we’ll go someplace else. We’ll get out of what’s left of your hair, Walter, and you’ll never have to see us again,” Mulder said, realizing full well he was pleading with him, despite having no real bargaining chips in his pocket. “I just--” he started, but he paused, feeling a lump grow in his throat. “I need to see my son. I know you were part of the process, okay? So all I need is something to go on. A dot on a map, someplace to start. You and I both know this isn’t what she wanted, and this isn’t what’s best for either of them,” he continued, growing increasingly convinced that what he was saying was true. He could only hazard a guess at circumstances back home, but for Scully to give up the miracle child they’d created together, he knew they weren’t good.

The line grew quiet, so much so that Mulder feared Skinner had disconnected the call. Eventually, Skinner cleared his throat and sighed. “What’s your schedule number?”

“My what?” Mulder asked.

“I need to know what bus you’re on, so I know the route, so once you reach your destination, I can have the information you need waiting there for you,” Skinner replied.

Mulder pulled the ticket from his jacket and rattled the number off to him. He tamped down the hope that began to flicker, because he knew it was far from over.

“Be careful, Mulder. Don’t do anything that would put him at even greater risk. I think we both know how she’d feel about that,” Skinner said, by way of warning.

A tinny voice warned Mulder that if he wanted to continue the call, he’d have to insert more money. He thanked Skinner again and disconnected instead. He finished the last of his breakfast sandwich, wiping the crumbs from his face as he tossed the wrapper in the trash. He boarded the bus feeling more determined than ever to set things right.

It wasn’t until Mulder reached the last stop that he even realized the enormity of what he planned to do. Someone from the depot approached him, confirmed his identity, and handed him a thick envelope she was instructed to provide him. When she walked away, he held the envelope in his hands, afraid to open it for fear of being burned. Inside would be the location of his son. He glanced about, tears burning his eyes, and for a split second he considered tossing the envelope in the trash. Sure, he’d asked Skinner for help, but he wondered if William would be better off staying where he was.

He approached a bench in the corner, telling himself he’d just take a look, and decide then what he’d do next. Inside the envelope was a handful of cash--enough, he assumed, to reach where he’d need to go--and an address scratched out on an index card. His jaunt across the country had taken him to Oregon, because of course it did, but to get to William, he’d need to go to Wyoming. How his son had ended up across the country, he could only guess, but Mulder stood up with a sudden resolve. He approached the desk and purchased a ticket before winding his way back to the bench to wait. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out the photograph of William, curling his hands around it like a secret. His eyes ran over the boy’s face and his impossibly tiny hands and feet, and he wondered how much he’d grown. Before long, the intercom announced his bus was leaving, and he again stood, ready to get things over with.

Once in Wyoming, he rented a car, knowing he couldn’t very well show up on foot. Then again, he thought, no matter the vehicle, there was no easy way to walk into someone’s house and demand them to give you your child. As he maneuvered his way, Mulder realized he had no clue what to say. These people, whoever they were, had agreed to raise William as their own. They’d only had him for a matter of a few weeks, but surely they’d grown attached. They’d changed him, bathed him, sang to him, and held him. The last one made his arms ache for the weight he’d felt for so brief a time.

When he pulled up across the street from the address written on the index card, he realized something was wrong almost immediately. There were a few cars out front, nondescript enough, but something about the scene made him feel uneasy. Against the curb, a man sat in a van, trying his best to look inconspicuous. If not for his training as an agent, Mulder may not have suspected anything more than someone waiting for a friend, but as he headed up the drive he heard the van door open and the sound of the man approaching him.

“Can I help you, sir?” the man asked.

Mulder turned, sheepishly rubbing at his neck. For a minute, he wondered if maybe he’d guessed wrong and this was a relative of the couple inside, or maybe the husband himself. But the way he stood, pushing his jacket back just enough for Mulder to catch a glimpse of his gun, made him realize it wasn’t true. “I’m just here to visit my cousin. They’ve got a new kid, you know, and I just wanted to see him.”

The man eyed him suspiciously. “You come visit a new baby and don’t bring any gifts? Some cousin you are, huh? Listen, you’d better get going. They’re actually sleeping, and--”

Before he could say anything else, Mulder decked him, hoping it was enough. Whatever was going on here, something was very wrong. He held the man’s neck in a lock, pulling him close while still pinning him in place. “Who sent you here? Are you here for the baby? Is he here?”

“I--” the man choked, gasping for air until Mulder let up pressure enough to let him speak. “They’re inside, finishing the job, I--”

Mulder’s heart stopped. He’d heard from Scully before he left the dangers she’d faced while pregnant, and having witnessed the chaos surrounding William’s birth, he knew first hand the lengths people would go when it came to his son. To have come all this way, only to learn he’d come too late, made him grow cold. “Why does he have to die? Can you at least tell me that much?”

The man hesitated so long that Mulder tightened his grip on his neck in hopes of forcing him to respond, causing stars to pepper his vision. “He doesn’t,” he gasped. “He wants the boy to live. He said...he said it’s important that we bring him back alive.”

It was all the motivation Mulder needed. Once the man started fighting back, he twisted his neck, pulling back on his windpipe for good measure. Leaving him on the lawn for passersby to see seemed like a bad idea, but he headed for the door, knowing he didn’t have much time. In the living room, a man lay in a pool of blood. As he headed upstairs, quickly drawing his gun, he spotted pictures on the wall that confirmed it was the man who lived there.

“Please, don’t--” a woman’s voice cried before the sound of gunfire exploded down the hall.

Mulder ran the rest of the way, rounding into a room he quickly realized was a nursery. A woman he could only assume was William’s adopted mother--he cringed at the word, however accurate it might have been--lay on the floor between two men staring at a crib in the corner. He couldn’t see William, but the mobile above him was spinning like crazy as he let out a piercing cry.

“What the hell is he doing? We need to get him out of here,” one of the men said, frowning in confusion when the other, several inches shorter, pressed a hand against his arm to stop him. “We were given a job, and we need to complete it.”

“Yes,” his partner replied, pointing to the mobile. “But look what he’s doing. We were told he was special, but who knows what else he can do? We need to be careful, or--” he turned, eyes widening, at Mulder emerging from the shadowed doorway.

“You aren’t going anywhere with him,” Mulder said, raising his gun, but praying they’d move away from the crib. There was no way he’d ever dream of putting his son in danger.

“And who are you to stop us?” the taller man spoke, regarding Mulder with an air of suspicion. “He warned us we might have trouble collecting the boy, but I never imagined we’d have this much resistance.”

“Who sent you?” Mulder bellowed, stepping further into the room. He carefully skirted around the woman’s body, inching closer to the crib as the men circled away, still close enough to reach him but further away from Mulder’s gun. The sight of William’s face, despite it being contorted in confusion and sadness, caused Mulder’s heart to swell. “Who sent you? What does anyone want with him, enough to kill the people tasked with raising him?”

The shorter man cleared his throat, gesturing wildly toward the crib where the mobile appeared to be picking up speed. One of the felt animals, dangling from a thread, seemed dangerously close to flying off. “You see what he’s doing, don’t you? We can take him somewhere his abilities will be cared for, somewhere he’ll be appreciated.”

Mulder shook his head before charging forward, pressing him to the wall. He watched as the man’s lips turned turned purple and his eyes bulged out. “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” he said, pulling him away from the wall and all but dragging him out into the hall, painfully aware of the gun the man’s partner had aimed at his own head. “You’re not taking my son anywhere,” he said. He pressed the gun against the man’s chest and pulled the trigger.

“Look, dude, I don’t know who you are,” the taller man said, holding his hands up. He paused, pressing a hand against his graying hairline that was lined with sweat, despite the chill that permeated the house. “That boy is dangerous. He was left in the hands of people who can’t protect him. He’s a special boy, and I have to--”

Mulder’s eyes pressed on the man, and he watched as finally, he crossed the threshold into the hall. This man, much like the others he’d come across, weren’t the brains behind the operation, and he had a very strong suspicion of who was pulling the strings. Still, he couldn’t risk him getting away, whether he had William or not. “That boy is my son, and you’re not taking him anywhere,” Mulder said, gripping his shirt and urging him backwards towards the stairs. The man raised his gun, intending to shoot, but not before Mulder shot him first, pushing him down the stairs for good measure.

All at once, the house seemed eerily silent, the cacophony of noise settling down into a quiet hush. Mulder drew a deep breath, keenly aware he needed to hurry. He was fairly certain Spender was behind all of this, and it was only a matter of time before he sent someone else. Even if he didn’t, the neighbors were sure to have heard something, and had likely already phoned police.

Mulder made his way back into the nursery, grabbing a bag and stuffing it without giving things too much thought. He could stop somewhere along the way for baby food and whatever else he might need, but he wasn’t about to leave his son without clothes and diapers. His son, he thought, stepping towards the crib. Above William, the mobile had ceased moving, save for the slight rocking of the animals dangling from it.

“Hi,” Mulder said, surprising himself at how shaky his voice was. He reached for William, keeping his movements slow despite the necessity to leave quickly, for fear of scaring him. When his eyes locked with William’s blue ones however, it was like he seemed to understand that this was important. Holding his son for the first time in months should’ve been a much more joyous occasion, but Mulder pressed a kiss to the boy’s head and hoped they’d have time later for that. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his lips ghosting against the boy’s hair. It was a reddish brown, somewhere between his and Scully’s, and it was the softest thing Mulder had ever felt. “William, I’ve missed you so much. You have no idea.”

In his arms, William let out a little cry, his bottom lip jutting out as his eyes watered in confusion. Still, he reached out a pudgy hand and pressed it against Mulder’s cheek, as if offering encouragement despite the fact he was still too young to speak.

“I’m your dad, buddy. And I’m here to protect you, okay? I know these are your things,” Mulder said, trying his best to speak calmly. He reached into the crib and pulled out a stuffed whale. William’s hand left his cheek, and Mulder had to laugh at the impatient way the boy’s fingers curled as he reached for the toy. “Okay, you can keep this one. But we have to leave the rest. I can get you some more once it’s safe, okay?”

As he cradled William against one hip and a bag of his belongings on the other, Mulder carefully maneuvered his way back outside, hurriedly crossing the street to the car. He’d had the foresight to purchase a car seat along the way, and carefully buckled William inside. As he secured his son, the boy’s eyes never left him. Mulder thought of what he saw, of what William did to the mobile above his crib. He couldn’t help wondering what else he could do, but even as he thought that, he knew it didn’t matter. William was safe, at least for now. He planted a kiss against the boy’s face before handing him the stuffed whale, and then he jumped into the driver’s seat, eager to get away, already thinking it was a miracle no nosy neighbors had come out and caught a glimpse of the action.

“Do you like music, Will?” Mulder asked, only second guessing the nickname after it left his mouth. He wondered what the couple who’d been keeping him had called his son, let alone what nicknames Scully might have been partial to. Scully, he thought, freeing one hand from the wheel to turn the stereo on. He’d have to reach out to her eventually, have to find somewhere safe for the three of them to reunite. He found a station playing classic rock as he followed signs to the highway. “We’ll stop when it’s safe, okay?” Mulder said, even as he realized he didn’t know how soon that would be.

Mulder lost track of what state they were in, but he kept driving until his eyes blurred together. William had, for the most part, settled down, although Mulder suspected that was perhaps due to the rhythm of the road. He spotted a sign for a rest stop and, needing to stretch his legs while also figuring William needed his diaper changed, pulled into the lot.

“Alright, buddy,” he said, upon reaching in to unbuckle William from his car seat. It struck him in the fluorescent light of the streetlamp that his son's eyes looked so much like Scully’s. “Like your mom,” he muttered, not realizing until afterward that he'd spoken aloud. “Ready for a break? Ooh yeah,” he continued, scrunching his nose. “You do need changed. Come on, let’s go.”

As Mulder walked into the rest stop, he couldn't help thinking how light his son was in his arms. He wanted so badly to get used to the feeling of tiny hands clutching at his shirt and the way the boy nestled his head into his chest. He'd have thought William might not have reacted so well to someone who was technically a stranger to him, but he was grateful all the same.

After grabbing a few basic supplies, Mulder dashed into the bathroom for himself but, casting a glance around, he realized there was nowhere he felt it was clean enough to lay William down to change him. “Backseat of the car it is,” he muttered, only to be met with mild babbling from William.

He headed out to the car and got out the necessary supplies before pausing, his hands hovering over William, who’d suddenly decided he wanted to wiggle around. It struck him as he pulled back the tiny tabs and went about changing his son that Scully had done this many times before him. Scully, he thought, his breath hitching in his throat, who was halfway across the country, oblivious to their kid’s whereabouts. Scully, who’d changed their son one day not too long ago, thinking it would be the last time. The choice to give William up had been hers, but he hadn’t been there to help her, let alone stop her from making a decision he knew she regretted. He’d made a choice in deciding to get their son back, although he hadn’t exactly counted on bullets being involved, but he was just thankful he and William had both survived unscathed. He stepped back from the car, tilting his head to the side and surveying his work. The tabs keeping the new diaper closed weren’t exactly straight, but as long as they did what they were supposed to, he considered it a job well done. “Not bad for a first time, huh?” he asked, working to fasten William back in his car seat.

As Mulder went to get in the car himself, his eyes caught sight of a payphone outside the rest stop. His fingers flexed against the steering wheel, and he knew he should call Scully. He should pick up the phone, drop in a few quarters, and tell her everything that had happened since he left, especially the last few hours. He wanted to, but he also knew the longer they stayed in one place, the greater chance remained of them being found. There was also a part of him, a small part that still existed all the same, that whispered at him to wait for other reasons. He didn’t resent her decision, not really, but he still felt protective of the small moments he had with William.

He merged onto one highway for a bit before switching to another, and then he switched back, deciding that he’d head east. Going back home wasn’t an option, not yet, but he could head in the general direction, and get a hotel room. He’d driven for far longer than he’d been used to, and William had given up his peaceful baby act in favor of crying. He pulled up to a drive thru to get food for himself and then checked them into a cheap motel that looked a bit nicer than some he’d stayed in by himself in days gone by. Once safely inside, he started unpacking their meager belongings.

“You cool with bananas and cereal, Will?” Mulder asked, noting how the boy had perked up at noticing the food. A pang of guilt coursed through him at that, realizing how hungry the boy had to be. “I’m sorry we didn’t stop sooner. I had to make sure we’d be okay,” he said, preparing the food. It wasn’t perfect, positioning William on one leg to eat his banana and cheerios while eating his own cheeseburger and fries with the other, but Mulder made do as best he could.

William was, for the most part, content to shove pieces of banana into his mouth while picking up pieces of cereal along the way. It wasn’t until he saw Mulder shoving a fry into his mouth that he reached out his hand, flexing his fingers at the fry, clearly signaling that he wanted one.

“Oh, I don’t think your mom would--” Mulder began, cutting himself off before realizing that for one thing, Scully wasn’t there, and that also, there was no reasoning with a child William’s age. His lip quivered, his eyes brimming with tears, and it was all Mulder could do to give him just one fry to nibble on to keep him from crying.

After dinner, Mulder cleaned him up and changed him into a set of pajamas he’d nabbed before they’d run from the house. He settled them both on the bed and fumbled through the channels, desperately needing sleep but also wanting to see if what had happened had ended up on the news. If it had, it hadn’t made the national level yet, which he supposed wasn’t much of a surprise. A group of people intending to kidnap a baby who they believed had special abilities knew how to cover their tracks.

The thought occurred to Mulder that he’d seen the proof of William’s abilities himself. He’d seen the way the mobile over his crib moved, but he hadn’t seen any evidence of anything he could do aside from that. What caused his abilities he didn’t know, but as the boy nestled into his side, Mulder knew it didn’t matter. William was his son, and that was what remained important.

Bedtime proved to be more difficult. He wasn’t about to pull out a dresser drawer and make his son sleep in that, and dragging the carseat in wasn’t an option either. He decided on arranging the pillows in a way that would make William safe, and then settled in himself. He remembered the night before he’d left, staring down at William, laying peacefully between he and Scully. Scully had been hesitant about it at first, spouting off about documented cases where infants sleeping in the bed weren’t safe, but knowing it would be their last night together, she’d eventually caved in. He glanced over at the phone, and again thought of calling her. He didn’t quite know how she’d take it, but it was still something she deserved to know.

As if William could read his thoughts, William raised his tiny fists and began to cry. No amount of rubbing on his tummy or whispering soothing words would do. Mulder wondered what, if anything, William had retained from his time with Scully. Brains were more her territory, but Mulder figured surely babies knew who their parents were.

Eventually, but especially after Mulder got up and paced about, rubbing on William’s back while singing an old Elvis song terribly off key, William settled down. Mulder waited until he was sure his son was asleep before he decided it was safe enough to wind down himself. He kept a hand securely on William’s body, as if doing so could ward off any harm.

Before sleep claimed him, he decided he’d call Skinner in the morning. Using his former boss as a middle man was a safer option, he decided. “Things will be better soon,” Mulder whispered, watching the steady rise and fall of William’s chest. Satisfied that they were safe, Mulder let himself fall asleep.

#msr #txf #william #fanfic

[starkatana]

405

Also for Anon!

Summary:

You are a villain with a paper control quirk and you get injured in battle. You and Dabi manage to get away and he takes care of your wounds.

Dabi x Reader

Thank you HMA Amino for the quirk inspiration!

https://aminoapps.com/c/my-hero-academia/page/blog/quirk-ideas/EwPP_nkfPuad52ZMbkqjGJ0nKdqEwjnGD

Quirk: Paper control – You can control and manipulate paper

“AH!” You scream dodging the blue flames. You look back at Dabi who just shot the flames, aiming for the hero. “Stay out of my way!” you hiss.

“Get out of the way!” he shot back.

He rocketed himself into the air and dived for the pro hero. “Tch.” You roll your eyes as he fought. As much as you loved Dabi, you hated working with him more. You controlled paper and having Dabi throwing flames around willy-nilly, well, it was getting pretty old.

Looking around you, a crowd that has gathered. You give them finger guns clicking your lips together, “I hope you enjoyed the show!” You bow then blow them kisses before making an exit as more pro heroes joined the crime scene.

With a flick of your wrist, any of the paper items around you; newspapers and magazines from carts, and other miscellaneous paper items from the crowd. They flew around you creating a barrier as you ran for cover.

“Stop villain!” someone called after you.

You roll your eyes and turn around, “You really think I’m gonna fucking stop?” you laugh, when a small knife goes flying past your face, cutting your cheek.

You quickly manipulate the paper into cones. You go to flick your arms forward to send the papers towards the hero. Yet, all the papers lost their shape and fell around you.

Frantic and confused you look around, for an answer, lifting your arms again to get the paper to move and nothing happens.

“What the!” you look up and another knife was thrown at you cutting your arm and the hero was now controlling paper. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

“This quirk fucking sucks.” He scoffed, “I’m almost better off-“ without finishing his sentence, he throws a knife at you.

You dodge one, but a smaller one gets you in the back of your leg. “FUCK!”

You watched the pro hero get out of the way as Dabi shot at him and make his way to you. He crouched down to help you up.

“I told you to get out of the way.”

“I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.” You wince standing on your own.

“Obviously.” He gestures to all the paper on the ground.

“It’s the hero, I think it’s his quirk because he started manipulating the paper when I couldn’t.”

“Is that so?” Dabi snapped his fingers and the usual blue embers didn’t appear.

Then, you saw flames appear shooting towards you and Dabi. “Watch it!” you instinctively build a wall of magazines to block you two from the flames. As the magazines were set ablaze, behind all of the smoke, you and Dabi quickly run for cover.

“Hurry!” he hissed.

“Working on it!” you snap ripping the knife out from the back of your leg. “Fuck.” You swore throwing the knife on the ground. Your compression suit helped with the pressure to stop the bleeding. But damn, it hurt.

“C’mon.”

You nod and jump on his back as he carries you down the alleyway. Dabi takes the different turns, knowing the alleyways like the back of his hand. You make sure to leave a paper trail going the wrong direction to get the heroes off your trail. 

Eventually, you and Dabi stop behind a building. He gently lets you down.

“Can you walk?” he asked.

You give him a thumbs up. “I’m fine. Nothing a little ba na na na na, NEO, ba na na na na na, SPORIN! Can’t fix.” Then instinctively use you’re your keyfob against the door. You hear Dabi groan at your ridiculous reference. Inside is a storage/walk space for the back of a theater.

You grab a backpack and throw it at Dabi. You feeling the pain in your leg feel yourself moving slower, but you shake it off and change out of your costume and into your street clothes.

You turn around and look at Dabi, who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. You knew you are sexy and you didn’t mind showing off, “Aye!” you clap at him, “close your mouth and let’s go.” You gesture to door leading deeper into the building, “We’ll take the service stairs to get to my room.”

Dabi insisted on giving you a piggy back ride you up the stairs and then bridal style once you two got to the floor of your penthouse suite. You didn’t like to talk about it, but you are an heiress to a million dollar company. You lived in this suite that your parents pay for. They are out on business, a lot. Growing up you had very little to none parental guidance or supervision growing up, just nannies you had to change out because you tormented them so often. You really did whatever you wanted. That attitude, mentality, and lifestyle translated into adulthood.

You think that’s how you ended up here. You weren’t doing it for attention. It was just fun for you that on paper and in the eyes of business you are this perfect princess. Yet you were running around with the villains messing things up. You just have too much time on your hands.

Inside your suite, Dabi sets you down and you take a seat on the floor.

Dabi, coming back from the bathroom with the first aid kit, snapped his fingers, and his flames were back.

“His quirk either has a time limit or he has to see me.”

“Seems like he can only possess one other quirk at a time since he saw your quirk, he gave up mine and went for yours.”

“Makes sense.” He cocked an eyebrow at you, and with a sigh kneels on the floor with you, “Hey, I didn’t mean to yell, I just worry for you in battles.” He said without making eye contact as he prepared some bandages.

“Don’t worry about it. I got hurt because I got cocky.”

“I’ll do what I want.” He said dapping the cut under your eye with the antiseptic cotton ball.

You sigh, letting Dabi take care of your wounds, bandaging you up. “Think we’re going to get in trouble?” you ask thinking about how you two didn’t rendezvous with the league.

“I’ll handle it.” And speak of the devil, his phone went off. Looking at his phone, he ignored the call and went back to taking care of your wounds.

You’re laying on your side, as Dabi treats the wound on your leg. “Is it deep?” you ask.

“Yeah….we’re gonna have to amputate.”

You snap your head looking over at him.

“Jokes.” He says applying antiseptic and Neosporin, “you’ll be fine.”

“You’re the worse.”

“I know.”

“Not really.”

“I know.”

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi bnha #mha dabi #todoroki dabi #dabi is touya #todoroki touya #touya x reader #mha oc #mha #my hero academia #bnha oc #bnha #boku no hero academia

[tonydadisbestdad]

Would You Rather

Peter ParkerxReader

NOT Dad!Tony (but protecting parental figure Tony)

Word Count: 2,313

Request from anon: Imagine being Riri Williams (ironheart) and having to use your suit to save peter. Tony freaks out because 1 he hasn’t safely checked your suit (dad!tony vibes) and 2 because he doesn’t want you and peter in danger. I really don’t mind, whatever floats your boat. I feel like wringing a character like riri would be easier though.........

A/N: Okay, so anon I was kinda still unsure what you wanted exactly and you told me I could technically do what I wanted. Even though the way you worded things made it seem like I shouldn’t do it my way. But I’m not comfortable enough with Riri to actually write her if that’s what you were trying to get me to do? Anyways. I wrote it as a reader and the whole baseline of genius kid who built their own suit and is Ironheart. As for the dad!tony vibes bit I figured that meant not actually being Tony’s kid. So if I completely screwed up what you wanted I’m sorry and let me know and I’ll rewrite. Also, apologies for the long wait, college is hard lol.

The day Tony Stark showed up at your door you knew you had to be in trouble. Like, big trouble.

Turns out he was very surprised by you. Here you were, only 16, and you’d managed to reverse engineer your own version of an Iron Man suit without the resources he had.

When he offered you a place with him, you jumped at it. A chance to work with Tony Stark and actually have the means to work on big stuff? You might be young but no way were you going to turn that down.

So, you went off to New York, and it was amazing. Of course, Tony tried talking you out of using your suit. It definitely needed some tune-ups, which he wanted to work on. However, the first few weeks you were there he was rather busy, but he did what he could when he could.

But his absence meant you got to work with Peter. You were head over heels upon meeting him your second day here. He was so sweet to you, and he didn’t mind your ramblings about science like everyone else cared about, and he could actually keep up with you.

What was even more fun was when Tony wasn’t there and you and Peter would head out into the city to protect the good people of New York.

Which of course, Tony knew about. So when he officially returned from what seemed like constant missions and meetings away, he sat the two of you down.

“First off, Peter,” Tony started, directing his attention to the young man who sat on his couch. “I told you not to let Y/N use her suit while I wasn’t here, it’s not even finished yet. I’m not going to be responsible if something happens because you two couldn’t follow directions.”

Peter went to dispute, but Tony held a finger up to him as he turned his attention to you.

“And Y/N, I know you think your suit is safe, but it’s far from finished. I didn’t bring you here to fool around. You won’t be saving the world if your suit malfunctions and it becomes your coffin.”

You scrunched down some. You didn’t want him to be mad at you, especially mad enough that he might think of sending you home. Which you hoped that he wouldn’t do. “I just want to help,” You told him.

Tony released a soft breath and rubbed his forehead. “I know that, but you won’t be able to help if your suit doesn’t work. I’m almost done with it, just one more day. Why don’t the two of you go out and be normal kids for a night. Do something fun. I’ll even pay for it. Just please, no superheroing.”

You and Peter exchanged looks, that sounded fun, so you both silently agreed.

Suffice to say Tony was glad he got the two of you out of his hair and not breaking any of his rules.

You and Peter exited the building and he offered his hand to you. “Come on, I know a great pizza place in Midtown.”

You offered and excited look, “oh, that sounds great right now.” You took his hand and the two of you made your way there the old fashioned way, walking and the subway.

The pizza was better than Peter led you to believe, and the time you were spending with him was even more so. The two of you were currently stuffed with food and playing an interesting game of would you rather. It wasn’t usual that either of you got to act like the teenagers you are.

Peter had a lot more responsibility than just being Spider-Man, and that alone was more than anyone should have to handle, especially a teen.

And you, well you just never took a break from being smart to begin with. You never really found anyone to do that with. The smart thing kinda pushed people away that weren’t as smart as you, and those that were smart always thought it was a competition to be smarter than you.

“Would you rather,” You asked next, the two of you still laughing at Peter’s last question. “Have 600 tarantulas crawl around your house or 1000 crickets jumping around your room?”

Peter shuddered, “The crickets. At least then I can just stick to the ceiling and stay away from them. I hate spiders.”

That answer actually kind of surprised you. You chuckled. “Seriously? I figured you wouldn’t mind them since you can kind of relate to them.”

He shook his head. “No, no way. I’ve always hated spiders. Am I grateful for the one that bit me? Yes. Doesn’t mean they aren’t super creepy.”

You smiled and had to agree. “You’re right, at least you could get away from the crickets. I don’t think I could deal with that much noise from them though.”

Peter chuckled. “So you’d prefer the spiders?”

“If I had to pick,” You admitted. “Your turn.”

Peter licked his lip in thought.

You noticed his demeanor change slightly as he looked away from you. He suddenly seemed nervous.

“Okay, don’t hate me for this one, please.” He started, finally bringing his eyes back to you.

You frowned but he continued before you could reply.

“Would you rather… go on a date with me or pretend I didn’t just ask that and we can act as if I didn’t make things weird?”

A blush engulfed your cheeks in surprise.

You were silent for a moment too long, causing him to start backpedaling. “I-I shouldn’t have asked that. I’m sorry. That was really stupid. Why would I even think you’d be interested. You like just got here and you’re here to work with Mr. Stark and-”

You reached over the table and grabbed his shoulders. “Peter, you didn’t even let me answer. Yeah, sure I am here to work with Mr. Stark, but… that doesn’t mean I’m not interested. I’d love to go on a date with you.”

He swallowed hard, “R-Really?”

You smiled and sat back as you nodded. “Yes.”

He smiled back at you, relieved that that was your answer.

“Okay, would you rather,” You started, continuing your game. You didn’t want to not continue and make things awkward.

You were making your way back to the tower, Peter refusing to let you go alone.

You weren’t even to the subway yet to ride most of the way back, when Peter shoved you into a passing alley.

“Shh, shh, shh,” He said, holding a finger to his own lip as you went to speak.

Your eyes widened as something shot past overhead.

Peter didn’t hesitate, his clothes immediately started flying off. He grabbed his suit from his backpack and got it on as quickly as he could. “Either stay here or get back to the tower safe. I need to go see what Green Goblin’s up to.”

“I’m not gonna let you go alone,” You told him. “Just give me a minute to summon my suit.” You were already starting to punch things into your watch.

Peter’s hand covered yours, “No, I don’t want you getting involved with him. Just get back to the tower.” He thwipped out a web and swung down the street.

To say you had a bad feeling, and that you weren’t going to listen to him were both true. You darted down the street after him. You tried summoning your suit but to your surprise Tony had turned the function off.

You hid in an alley close enough and out of the way as Peter started fighting with the Goblin. It was going well.

Was.

The second it started to seem to go downhill you didn’t hesitate to start hacking into Tony’s system.

When your suit powered up, Tony thought it was a glitch. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. shut it down,” He requested.

“Sir, someone’s hacking into the system,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed him. “I can’t stop it.”

Tony jumped back the second your suit shot off the table and went crashing through the window to get out. Tony irritably rubbed at his forehead. “Call Y/N.”

You were freaking out as you watched Green Goblin hit Peter with what must have been a nasty pumpkin bomb, because Peter went down.

The Goblin laughed maniacally and carted away with Peter in tow.

“Come on,” you mumbled, then felt your phone start ringing, you ignored it in favor of checking your wrist to see where your suit was. You started running down the street it would catch up and hopefully you wouldn’t lose Peter.

When your suit finally reached you, you were grateful. You took off right into the sky after the villain.

Tony tried one more time, only this time he knew you were in the suit and he could push the call through with ease. “Thanks for almost burning my face off kid,” He shot at you. “Wanna explain why you’re disobeying me?”

“Peter’s in trouble Mr. Stark, I gotta save him,” You told him quickly. You knew you regret it later, “End call.”

Tony was very surprised, but also extremely worried. No way was Peter in trouble and he wasn’t going to do something about it. But he was surprised you didn’t just ask for help. He knew he’d need to talk with you about it later. He suited up, and tracked the two of you down.

When you caught up to Green Goblin you shot him right off the goblin glider. Of course, it swooped down to catch him. Immediately putting him on your path.

You’d say it was a quick fight, but it was one you were blocked out of very quickly.

Your stomach knotted uneasily as Tony swooped in to take care of things. It really just hitting you what you’d just done. This man had brought you here as his guest, and you just blatantly disobeyed him. There was no way he wouldn’t send you back home.

He handled the Goblin quickly, knowing that this was one of Peter’s newer enemies he’d done his research. He wanted to be prepared. Of course the goblin had a few new tricks up his sleeves, but Tony dealt with it and rescued Peter.

“Take him back to the tower so I can finish up here. And I mean it when I say you need to go slow and stay close to the ground. I was in the process of re-uploading all of the software into your suit. Not sure what all made it.”

You nodded and obeyed, not saying a word as you left with Peter in your arms.

You entered the building through the downstairs and went all the way up. You laid Peter down on the couch before exiting your suit. You tugged his mask off, hoping he was okay. You figured out that F.R.I.D.A.Y. was now apart of your suit and she told you he would be okay, but you still weren’t sure. You quickly left him to go get some water for when he wakes up.

It wasn’t long after that that he was stirring. He let out a small groan and rubbed his forehead.

“Are you okay?” You quickly asked.

“What happened?” He asked, sitting up on his one elbow.

You offered him the glass of water and he took it with thanks. “You got hit with a bomb and it knocked you out real good. I kinda screwed up though… I called for my suit and Mr. Stark’s pissed…”

“I’m not pissed,” Tony said, from behind you.

You weren’t sure when he got back, but you stiffened up.

“Thanks for the save,” Peter said.

Tony nodded and sat down beside you. “Wanna explain or do you want me to talk first?”

“I-I’m sorry,” you said, unable to even cast a glance towards his feet. “P-please don’t send me home, I-I promise I’ll do better.”

Tony sighed, “That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind, Y/N. I just don’t understand why you didn’t call me if you thought something was wrong.”

“I’m just not used to having help,” You admitted.

“Well, you do now, you should have just contacted me. I told you your suit wasn’t safe. It was even less so because I was in the process of working on it. And you disobeyed me. Would you rather have a working suit or fall out of the sky because it malfunctions? What would have happened if the suit never came? Of course, I know when Peter’s not winning a fight, I still would have showed up. But, what if?” He wasn’t exactly mad, just disappointed. At least this was a bit different than the time with Peter and the blown up ferry.

“You have help now Y/N,” Peter added.

“You’re not alone anymore,” Tony continued. “I guess that needs to be your first actual training practice. I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear about how this was going to work. But, you kids mean a lot to me. I’m not going to let you guys get hurt. Especially in your own suits. Got it?”

You nodded and finally looked up at him. It was nice to finally have people who have your back. You were definitely going to make sure you didn’t screw that up.

“Okay, now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go finish your suit, it was almost done, but nooo.” Tony stood. “Peter, get going before Aunt May has my head. And Y/N, you’re more than welcome to join me in the lab.”

“I’m gonna walk Peter out, if that’s alright,” You responded.

Tony looked between the two of you and immediately knew. He rolled his eyes before leaving the two of you. You could have sworn you heard him mumbled as he walked away. “Teens.”

#peter parkerxreader #peter parker #peterparkerxreader #peterxreader #peterparker #ironheart #dadtony #dad!tony #not dad!Tony #tony stark #dad!tonyxreader #dad!tony stark #father figure tony stark #spidermanxreader #spider man #spider-man #spiderman #reader #xreader #readerxpeterparker #readerxpeter parker #reader x peter parker #reader x spiderman #reader x dad tony #reader x dad tony stark #prompt #request #insert #reader insert #insert reader

[eenefangirlanalysis]

And finally we catch up with Jonny 55 minutes into the film. What has he been doing all that time? Are they trying to give off the vibe that this scene is taking place during the same time as the kids? Well, that may be viable theory as he has to wait for a long amount of time at the end of this scene.

Take one last look at the cul-de-sac. It’s the final time we’ll ever see it.

It almost looks rather faded as if it were a ghost or mist covering it. You all know how I love coming the Eds with Stephen King stories.

Jonny and Plank, or Captain Melonhead and Splinter, run into town.

Jonny chucks a melon through the sky.

I took a screenshot of this as we see a date. 1955, the year Marty McFly traveled back to. Ooh, connection? 

1955 must have been when the stores in the town were established.

The water melon smashes to the ground.

Is this Jonny’s signal as Captain Melonhead? I wish we could have learned more about his alternate ego. He’s living two lives. It’s never revealed why Jonny has taken on this mask. He wanted to the keep the kids safe from the Eds scamming them which never happened. 

He’s obviously not doing it for attention. Jonny built that whole melon fortress for himself. He’d rather be a loner then spend time with the kids. He’s obvious to towards how the kids feel about him. Then again, he does have two personalities. I remember Jonny wore a sad look when Kevin told him to give his act a rest. 

Now that I think about it Jonny went on this journey alone. Rolf is only trying to prove to himself and his family that he can make a whole journey on his own and can live up to his ancestors. Jonny is trying to get to the Eds first in order to impress the kids who ignored him all through the first act. That you gives you a clue how Jonny is being treated as of lately. 

Jonny looks inside a mail box.

Well, the Eds did hide in a mailbox once.

The famous candy store!

Oh, the nostalgia.

Instead of looking inside the store Jonny peaks inside gum ball machine.

Again, Jonny is not so far off.Edd and Eddy did hide inside a prize grabber scam machine.

Plank has something to tell Jonny.

“What do you mean we ain't gettin’ no where?”

I love the use of this close intimate shot of Jonny. And I like how it’s two separate shots of Jonny and Plank.

I have always believed that whenever Plank ‘speaks’ it’s Jonny’s conscious. Jonny’s split personality theory also plays a good role. There has always been something a little off about Jonny. He gets wackier over the course of the series and can’t take anything seriously.Jonny interacted with the kids much more in the earlier seasons until now he only hangs out by himself.

In the beginning Jonny knew Plank wasn’t real. I struggle between theories on whether on not Jonny’s parents gave him Plank to cope with his social anxiety or Jonny found Plank as a toddler. Jonny’s parents are hardly ever mentioned. They don’t feel like they’re there. Fans have discussed that Jonny’s parents could share his eccentricities.

Jonny claims that it’s tradition to freeze the whole house on Christmas. He never specifies if it’s a family tradition or not. I don’t get the feeling that they’re ever present during the holiday special nor during Plank’s party in Between a Rock and an Ed Place. 

Jonny needs more attention for his mental downfall especially when it comes to the end of this film.

Plank ‘pulls’ Jonny down the street.

I go back and forth on whether Plank is alive. I’ve always believed that it is really Jonny doing magic tricks whenever Plank supposedly moves.

Then again, this series is exaggerated. Maybe Jonny is really running. If he believes that Plank is pulling him then that’s what he wants to tell people. Jonny lives in a very confused world. 

Planks comes to a halt making Jonny smash to the ground.

I don’t think I will count this as self harm. 

for all we know maybe Jonny slammed into the pole and fell to the ground.

An intimidating bus stop sign stands in front of Jonny.

Jonny returns to Captain Melonhead warning that his melon senses are tingling.

I love this screenshot. Especially any scene between Jonny and Plank. 

An anon asked me a question today if I thought any of the other kids had siblings. If Jonny had a sibling would he carry Plank around? Jonny is never home. He’s always out playing with himself. And whenever we do see his home his bedroom looks to be in the attack where there are... no stairs. 

Holy cow, I just realized something! Once Upon a Ed reveals that Jonny enters his bedroom by pulling himself up by a rope while sitting in a basket. And the basket remains in that place for the rest of the night. If his parents wanted to come into his room they can’t! Is that how they want it? Wow, wow, that gives a whole new perspective on Jonny’s relationship with his parents. And why he built that melon fortress.

His parents don’t care to be in his life. Jonny moreso becomes crazier becoming his alternate ego. If his parents noticed him more he would have been given the right help he deserves.

Jonny whimpers that he has never taken a bus before.

Technically he has because he rode the Eds bus scam in season 1. That doesn’t count.

Jonny has never been out of the neighborhood on his own. There was that one time where Kevin kindly brought him along to go go-carting with he and Rolf. Jonny has major social anxiety which has never gotten better. The adults at school don’t seem to care either.

Jonny is scared of the world not knowing what or who is out there. That explains more into his anxiety attack in an important scene we will see later on.

Plank ‘tells’ Jonny that there is nothing to it as Jonny acts as if he is being shoved against the pole.

What if Jonny is hallucinating that Plank is an actual person taller then he is?

There was this old comic strip called Calvin and Hobbes. The famous question is if Hobbes was really Calvin’s imagination or not. Calvin sees Hobbes, his stuffed tiger, as real. Calvin was rather eccentric and unique from the other kids. He didn’t have the best social skills either rarely talking to anybody his own age. Jonny and Calvin are relatable as they live in their imaginations rather then living in reality.

“Boy, Plank you sure turn into a fireball when you're wearing a mask!”

“Okay then. If it means we bring down those three maniacs, we're takin’ a bus to justice!"

And Jonny holds this pose for a total of 8-9 seconds until his scene is over.

As I was pointing out up top he must wait a least a few hours because it’s implied that the kids stories are all happening at the same time. The last time we saw Jonny was when he was bouncing off the houses as Kevin and Nazz were leaving. 

It can only be determined that this is what Jonny was doing as Kevin and Nazz crashed, Rolf was in the desert, Sarah and Jimmy were preparing their picnic, and the Eds were making their way to the cow field.

Honestly, the writers could have done a better job with Jonny’s subplot. He gets the bad ending. He does not deserve that. The kids all deserve to be happy together. 

And don’t you find it unsettling how the kids beat him? They came all that way to beat up the Eds. Since they no longer can they still want to give a beating. We’ll talk more about that later on.

#ed edd n eddy #eene #ed edd n eddy big picture show #the eds #Jonny #Plank #eene head canons #Once Upon a Ed #Sarah #Jimmy #Rolf #Nazz #Ed #Edd #Eddy #eene analysis #character analysis #calvin and hobbes #eene season 1 #between and rock and an ed place #ed edd n eddy jingle jingle jangle #back to the future

[sinsiriuslyemo]

Heya! Your blog is my new obsession, lol. Could you do an imagine where reader is a new detective from a small town in the south, and just transferred to the NYPD? Barba could take her under his wing and show her what city-life is like in the big apple. (Teach her how to get a cab/the right street vendors/etc.) Thanks!

Hey sweet anon!! Thank you so much! I’m so glad you enjoy my blog, and I’m so sorry for how long this took me! This request was fun to write, though and if you don’t mind, I may keep it on the back burner for a possible future story!!

You must’ve looked as though you had a hoard of bees stuck in your shirt with how wildly you were waving your arms around. They made this look so much easier in the movies; being able to hail a cab should’ve been the least of your problems, but apparently right at this moment it was your biggest problem. Simply put, there was no way you weren’t going to be late on your first day at SVU. Suddenly the romanticized idea of living as a real New Yorker by choosing to leave your car back home seemed like the stupidest decision you’d ever made, though the traffic didn’t necessarily look like a better option either.

“Come on now,” you growled to yourself as yet another yellow taxi zoomed by you without so much as a glance.

“You’ll never get a cab flailing your arms around like that,” you heard from behind you.

Turning towards the source, you were met with a tall (or at least taller than you) man with dark hair and blazing green eyes.

“Just put one arm up, and yell ‘cab’ or ‘taxi’. Put a little baritone in your voice,” he suggested. “And you might want to wait for one that actually has their lights on. Lights off means they already have a fare,” he added with a smirk.

“Oh…right. Okay then. Thank you, Mr.–”

“Rafael,” he said, switching his briefcase to his left hand and holding out his newly freed one.

“Rafael. Y/F/N,” you replied, shaking his hand firmly.

“Now I get it,” he mused and you knitted your brows, tilting your head slightly. “You’re new to the city, is that right?”

“Is it that obvious?” you asked, a faint blush rising to your cheeks.

“A little,” he replied before his eyes went to something behind you. His right arm shot up. “CAB!”

And like magic, the yellow car stopped in front of you. Smirking down at you, he opened the door to the backseat.

“Why don’t you take this one,” he suggested.

“Oh, I couldn’t–”

“No, please. I insist. I can get the next one.”

You hesitated for a moment, thinking about why everyone said New Yorkers were always so mean when this one was being so kind.

“Alright…thank you,” you said, getting into the taxi with a thankful smile with another thankful wave.

Giving the driver the address to the 16th precinct, you looked at the architecture of your new home, still amazed by all the tall buildings and the lively activity on the sidewalks.

Once you reached the squad room, you scanned the area for signs of the Commanding Officer’s office.

“Scuse me Miss, can I help you?” A tall, blonde man came to stand in front of you with a disarming smile.

“Yes, I’m looking for Lieutenant Benson, please. I’m Detective Y/F/N, new transfer from (your home state).”

“Oh yeah, she mentioned we were getting a new detective. I’m Dominick Carisi Jr, call me Sonny,” he replied, smiling wider.

“Pleased to meet you, Sonny,” you answered shaking his hand.

He led you towards the empty desk and then showed you into the Lieutenant’s office, where you talked with your commanding officer for a bit. It wasn’t long before you got a call to a crime scene, and you and your new partner, Sonny went with Fin and Rollins. For as many things that were different in New York than they were back home, the crime scenes seemed to be the same, but then you imagined it was the same in that respect everywhere. Still, you enjoyed Sonny’s stories about growing up in Staten Island and dreaming of coming to the city as a detective. You appreciated it, because for so long you’d had the very same dream.

It wasn’t just about the magic that everyone said New York City held, it was about the adventure. Diving into the unknown and with any luck coming out the other side a stronger and wiser person.

Before you knew it, it was time for lunch, and you’d decided to grab a quick bite from a food vendor you’d seen downstairs. You were almost to the cart when you heard a vaguely familiar voice.

“Oh no, you definitely do not want to eat at that vendor.”

You grinned, turning to see Rafael and his briefcase standing behind you again. Shaking your head at the coincidence of seeing him twice in one day in such a big city, you took a step towards him and playfully crossed your arms over your chest.

“And why is that?”

“The better vendor is just up the block. This one always serves food that’s cold in the middle half the time,” he answered. “If you’re a gambler, then by all means, but I assure you that it’ll possibly turn you off to street vendors at all, and that would be a shame.”

“Well, alright then…you showed me how to hail a taxi, why not show me the best place to get a hot sandwich,” you suggested, and he smiled at you.

“Follow me,” he said, walking towards the corner. “So how long have you been in the city?”

“Just a week, long enough to get my things unpacked in my new apartment and find a good place to get supper in the area on the nights I work late,” you answered. “How about you? Are you originally from here?”

“Born and raised, though I lived in the Bronx most of my life. Didn’t see much of Manhattan until after law school,” he replied.

“A lawyer, huh?” You tried your best to keep the smile up, but if it so happened that he was a defense attorney, it likely would’ve turned you off.

“Yes,” he answered. “I work at the DA’s office downtown. I was actually just coming to meet with my detectives. Seems they caught a case this morning.”

“Oh really? Wouldn’t happen to be the Special Victim’s Unit, would it?”

“Actually, yes…how did you–” His face fell a little; he was hoping you weren’t the family member of a victim or God forbid a victim yourself.

“I started this morning, I’m the new transfer from (your hometown).”

“Oh…I see,” he replied. Well, there went his idea of asking you to dinner. “Lieutenant Benson told me a bit about you when she sent in the request for your transfer. You have an impressive closing record.”

You blushed, and he tried not to notice how sweet it made you look when it was just the slightest bit of pink added to your cheeks.

“That’s very kind a’you to say,” you answered. “So you must be Barba, then? Hear you have quite the record yourself. 97%? That’s somethin’.”

“I do what I can for the victims,” he replied as you reached the vendor cart. “Well, here it is. I recommend the roast beef and cheese, toasted. It’s delightful.”

“Thank you, again. You know if it isn’t too much trouble, I could sure use someone to help me navigate the subway system. I was running late this mornin’, that’s why I took a taxi instead,” you said, smiling at him.

He looked hesitant for a moment, seeming to think about it before he ultimately nodded his head and smirked at you.

“Sure,” he replied. Showing you which subway to take wouldn’t constitute fraternizing outside of the office, would it? Just a friendly New Yorker helping out a new resident. “I’d love to.”

“Well, alright then. I’ll see you in the squad room, counselor,” you answered, smiling at him before getting in line to order yourself a sandwich.

Rafael watched you for a moment, biting his bottom lip before he turned and walked back towards the precinct.

[wewomenbookclub]

I am really struggling. I feel like I am failing? I have been doing the gratitude lists since 3/9/17 & I am struggling to come up with even ten still. I hate feeling flustered.

Hi Anon, we’re grateful that you felt comfortable enough to come to us with your frustrations. You’re not failing - far from it. You’re trying, and that’s the most important thing.

Like any new practice, it takes time and...well...practice to make it a habit in your life. We are ALL going to struggle at some point along the way, and all we can do is support each other, right?

Here is some advice from the book that might help you:

From Jennifer: “To my cynical intellect, it seemed trite and insincere. For the first few days, I struggled to find anything I felt grateful for. For somehow each day it got easier...” (page 10)

“Tip: Keep a small notebook or space in your journal for your gratitude list. Experiment with what time of day you write it. Use it as a spiritual remedy to either kick-start your day or get a restful night’s sleep. And you can refer to it halfway through your day if you need an instant hit of positivity.” (page 9)

Experimenting with time of day is really useful because first-thing in the morning might not be the best for your emotional state. Just like working out, everyone has different times of day that work best for them.

Start small: Can’t come up with ten all at once? That’s fine too! Then write down two or three, and put it away. At lunch, pick it up again and see if anything has struck a cord with you since the last time you opened your journal. It doesn’t matter if you can write ten all at once. The goal is to train your brain to look at life differently. For some, they will write their list in the morning and be done. For others, they will write throughout the day, or even save it until just before bed. There is no right or wrong way to do this.

Think small: Think of what Gillian said yesterday in the Facebook live interview. “Socks to keep your feet warm” is what she said she was grateful for. Jennifer said the sky was something she found beauty and joy in. These are small things. Your list doesn’t have to include grandiose or “big-ticket” items.

“Your list might also include some of the simple daily events that we so often overlook because we take them for granted - yet if they were to disappear suddenly, we’d be lost.” (page 7)

What are some things that we use on a daily basis that might seem trivial but are in fact vital? How about clean, running water straight from the tap?

Or, a car that allows me the freedom of travel whenever I please....?

Even if you don’t have a car, let’s break it down further:

-public transit that shuttles me to and from work and school so I don’t have to walk;

-or, legs that are strong and able that allow me to walk to work and school.

-Sidewalks that carry me to my destination safely....

-Crosswalks, and street signs that help alert drivers and pedestrians and help to keep us all safe...

-The Crossing Guard in front of the school for helping to make sure those students arrive to school safely...

-The coffee maker in the break room because thank you sweet baby jesus there’s coffee...

-The coffee cart downstairs has your favorite muffin in stock...

-The fact that there is even a coffee cart downstairs in the lobby

- A lunch break spent with a friend instead of in front of your computer

- A lunch break taking a nap in your car because...because naps are amazing and who needs a reason to nap?

Do you see how easily it spirals?

“As we go through life, many of us notice all the things that seem to go wrong, rather than the things that are going right. We focus on the times we haven’t gotten what we wanted, when life has disappointed us, when we may have been ignored or slighted in some way. Like fortune-tellers, who are capable of foretelling only negative conclusions, we examine the tea leaves of our life and decide that life is unfair, that we are just not destined to be happy, that we don’t have the good luck other seems to enjoy. Not surprisingly, if you join up these dots, you end up with a depressing picture.” (page 6)

A positive attitude is something that does not come easily for many people, and for many takes conscious effort (raises hand).

Reverse Thinking: Try taking a situation, and instead of focusing on what was wrong about it, focus on what was good about it. For example:

Replace: “I’m so tired of sweeping crumbs off the floor,”  with “I’m grateful for the crumbs on the floor because it means my home is filled with messy children.”

Replace: “I am SO OVER THE SNOW” with “Look how beautiful it looks sitting on those branches.”

Some things might feel impossible to find the positive in, and that’s okay. Then don’t focus on those. All you can do is TRY to see the positive in things you wouldn’t otherwise.

From Gillian: “The minute a negative thought is about to leave my lips, I force myself to say the opposite. ‘Thank you for getting me here safely,’ as opposed to ‘Oh my God, the traffic!’ The difference it makes in my life is huge...The more I keep up my gratitude lists, the less likely I am to complain in a day; it’s as simple as that.”  (page 10)

You’re not failing, anon. It just takes time, and practice. There will be days where it seems easy to find the joy and beauty in all things, and days where you’ll want to give your gratitude list the middle finger and pull the duvet back over your head. That’s okay.

WE are here for you.

Love, Mod Liz

BONUS: If anyone read that novel all the way through, what have you done to find making a gratitude list easier? Any tips or tricks you can share with Anon?

[magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics]

4Chips - Requested

Requested by anon:  Hi!can u make a one shot with Sherlock where he finds out she self harm(he couldn't deduce it&they're together)&he takes her out 4chips like in the lying detective&twalk around London &shows her that she doesn't need to do this with lots of fluff?

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Word count: 2,120

Warnings: Cutting - mentions of blood, pain and depression.

A/N: This was such a release to write...

Enjoy!

Sherlock was out on a case; (Y/N) calculated he would be away for at least three more hours. She had no idea what the case was about, or who ended up being the criminal, and she didn’t care at all. She needed to do it.

That day had been rough, and she was feeling less than nothing. Sherlock was far too focused on his case and ignored her, as usual. Not that she expected much from him, they had only been together for a month and Sherlock wasn’t precisely affective. But sometimes one just needs a little bit of attention.

He was a know-it-all. From the instant they met, Sherlock deduced everything about her… Almost everything about her. He always missed a detail and the one he missed on her was one of the most important part of her life, whether she liked it or not.

Hiding the scars wasn’t hard. London was a place so cold it wasn’t weird to wear sweaters and multiple layers of clothing; also, Sherlock hadn’t tried to get intimate with her, maybe his disgust for other humans or the fact that, for a whole month, he had gotten a case right after the other.

She locked herself in the bathroom, taking off all of her clothes and the small razor blade she carried in her makeup bag. Nobody had ever noticed it, she could’ve worn it as a necklace and everyone would’ve thought it was a fashion statement but it was more than that.

Her inner pain was far too hard to bear, and needed to be opaque against something else. Physical pain, yes, that was her only way out. When the brain is too focused on the outside, it forgets about the inside.

Her tears ran a second after her fingers grabbed the blade. She knew it was wrong, she knew she had to stop, but she lived in a world where no one noticed how much she ached; no one noticed her suffering, her fear… Not even the Great Sherlock Holmes, who everyone thought of a master mind, someone who no one could keep a secret from him.

“Ha-ha” (Y/N) whispered at the thought, she had hidden something from him and she hadn’t been discovered.

The cold blade ripped her skin as she moved it swiftly over her thighs. The burn gave her a sweet release, something no therapy could, but she was insatiable. She needed more than one cut to forget about his inner pain for the rest of the week. Hence, she made another one, and another one, and another one until the bathroom floor had small droplets of blood.

She stayed there, observing the red liquid running down her shivering skin. It was warm, and dark… When people thought of red liquids to forget, they usually think of wine, but this… This was more intoxicating than any wine.

She was too mesmerized by it, and so she didn’t hear when Sherlock arrived two and a half hours earlier. If she had only known that the criminal wore too many fluorescent colours to sneak in the darkness… It was harder to cut a cake than to trap him.

Sherlock noticed the locked door before even touching it. He knew (Y/N) was there, he had asked her to wait for him because Watson insisted that he owed her a date. But she was quiet, only a soft sob could be heard from afar, almost like a whisper and Sherlock – aware of the many death threats he and his friends received daily – couldn’t think of something else but to drop to the floor and try to see something from the little separation from the door to the floor.

He didn’t have a clear view, but he saw the droplets of blood as well as her bare feet next to them. Judging by her position, she was leaning over the toilet, like she had fainted, and so Sherlock panicked. He opened the door with a kick and revealed (Y/N), wearing only her underwear, with a blade in hand and with dry blood all over her legs, arms and belly.

“What did you do?” He whispered, falling to his knees.

“Sher…” She breathed out. He was disappointed, sad even, and (Y/N) couldn’t stand to hold his gaze so she turned her face away from him. More tears escaped her eyes, and the kind of pain she felt then couldn’t be solved by more cuts.

She felt his cold hands over her legs, tracing her cuts softly like a hard touch would make them bigger. “I don’t understand…” He said, “Since when…”

“Years.” She muttered.

“It can’t be, I couldn’t…”

“Deduce it.” She interrupted, looking down at him. “This isn’t something you just deduce, Sherlock.”

“But why?” He inquired sadly, “Aren’t you happy?”

Happy, such a vague state. Happiness wasn’t the exact feeling she felt, yet it wasn’t completely untrue. She felt happy at times, like when Sherlock kissed her for the first time, but said happiness was soon covered by the dull darkness of numbness. She wasn’t precisely sad, either. She simply felt nothing, and that is the worse feeling in the world.

“I don’t know.” She whispered, “It’s like I can’t feel anymore… Everything that should make me happy feels dull… I know what I have, I know who my friends are and that they are there for me… But they feel so empty, like a blank piece of paper. I’m drowning in an empty pool, Sherlock.”

He nodded. “That’s what depression feels like.”

He stood up with a jump and went out to look for the first aid kit. She tried to argue, but Sherlock had made his mind and he was now curing her cuts. First, he cleaned them with alcohol, slowly and making sure to blow cold air every so often so it wouldn’t burn her. Then he used a pink liquid that turned red on her skin, it was meant to heal her faster. Finally, he put her bandages to avoid any kind of unfortunate contact with the fabric of her jeans.

Sherlock extended a hand to her. “What?” She inquired, alternating her gaze between his sad eyes and his hand.

“We’re going for chips.” He said. (Y/N) had no idea what he meant, but as long as he acted like a regular boyfriend for once was more than enough.

(Y/N) stood up, and before they could go out Sherlock begged her to change into something less tight. That way, her cuts would be able to “breathe” and heal faster. She agreed and ended up wearing one of Mrs. Hudson’s maxi dresses from when she was young and a coat Sherlock lent her.

Sherlock didn’t order for a cab, instead they walked. (Y/N) felt her cuts with every step she took, but it was part of the process and she was used to it. Sherlock remained quiet; he was holding one of her hands, which was a lot of PDA for him. But then again, what she did was out of the ordinary for him, and even if he denied it, he felt a little guilty.

It was just a cart, with a man charging and giving his clients bags of chips. Nothing special, nothing unique, but the simple smell of it mixed with the petricor of the rain that had just fallen was heavenly.

Sherlock payed for two bags and then lead her to sit on an empty bus stop. “These are the best chips in all London.” He said happily and ate one. (Y/N) mimicked him.

“Are you mad at me?” She inquired softly. Sherlock hesitated to reply.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” He looked down at her, “I’m mad at myself for not… For not noticing.”

“No one notices ever, it’s not your fault.” She tried to comfort him.

“But I’m not a common person.” Sherlock insisted, “I’m Sherlock Holmes… And your boyfriend.”

(Y/N) looked down, not knowing what to say. She felt a tad bit embarrassed for being caught; if she had waited until she got back to her own flat, maybe things would be different.

“Tell me, why do you do it?” He asked.

“It eases the pain.” He nodded.

“The pain of…”

“Living.” She stated.

“Living isn’t painful.” Sherlock tilted his head a little.

“It isn’t a fun ride either.” He chuckled.

“There are so many things about life worth living for…” He whispered, “Let me show them to you.”

“Sherlock…”

“No, please.” He begged, “I know you must feel like crap right now, especially because you’re wearing a dress and its winter. But please, come with me… If it doesn’t help, we’ll find another way.”

“Sherlock Holmes begging.” She joked as the professional she was to change the subject.

“Please.” He said once more. He was uncomfortable with the word itself, just like (Y/N) felt uncomfortable with talking about her self-harm; and if Sherlock didn’t interrogated her, she wouldn’t force him to beg more than what he had just begged.

“Fine.”

-

The streets of London had a lot of people considering it was past midnight by then, but it was part of the beauty. “Look at that.” Sherlock pointed at the Buckingham Palace that shined from afar. “You see the lights illuminating it?”

“It’s impossible not to.” She said.

“Don’t you think they’re beautiful?” He inquired softly. He has the mind of a scientist or a philosopher…

“Yes.”

“And look at the bridge and the London Eye, and the boats at the Thames… They are all illuminated by small lightbulbs.” He continued, “One lightbulb would look awful, but when you mix them all they create this… Show.”

“What’s your point?” She asked.

“My point is that what you are feeling is like… Like the darkness from the night… And the small bits of happiness are the lightbulbs. If one focuses on the parts with no lights, they miss the ones that are illuminated…” He explained and the excitement was palpable on his voice.

“Sher…” And before she could finish, he dragged her back to the streets.

Sherlock walked with her all over London, telling her witty jokes and deducing things to impress her. He also didn’t miss a single chance to make some cheesy comparison, trying to get her to understand that life was worth living and that self-harming wasn’t the way.

They got to the darkest place in London. Away from the centre, from the crowds, a spot where the city was visible from afar like a film happening in a different time, on a different area. It would’ve been beautiful if it weren’t for the smell of garbage.

“This is where you are now.” Sherlock spoke, “It’s dark, it stinks and it was an amazing view of the lights, but it’s not quite there… You need to get back to the lights, (Y/N).” He turned to see her face to face.

“It’s not as easy as taking the tube or walking.” She mumbled.

“That’s why I’m here.” He said softly, “I will help you, (Y/N). Let me save you.”

“I…” She tried to move away, but Sherlock held her tightly against his chest within an instant. It was the first time that he truly hugged her instead of the usual absentminded hug they were used to.

And maybe it was his warmth, or the peaceful beat his heart had against her; maybe it was how amazing and understanding he had been with her, or the fact that he had showed her that he could feel as well, and most importantly, that he understood her feelings. More tears streamed down her face, but they weren’t sad tears, but rather the kind of tears that carry all the pain away with them, leaving one free of sorrow.

Sherlock held her until there were no more tears to be cried, and then he took her back to the city where they sat on a bench at the edge of the Thames and observed the first boats leave and how the city became alive slowly. The world was spinning, the people were doing things, following their routines, and they were only spectators.

Sherlock observed in awe as she took consciousness of her surroundings, the things she had ignored in the past. It was like a new born baby discovering the world for the first time, starting by the simplest things. He hadn’t let go off her hand since they sat there, and so his touch was the only thing keeping her truly warm; she felt like, if she moved, she would freeze to death.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked in a whisper.

“Yes.” Sherlock shifted closer to her, letting go off her hand to wrap his arms around her in a warm embrace.

“Good.”

*Requests are ALWAYS open.*

Masterlist.

Sherlock Tags: @resurrection-huntress @oaisara @charlottemalfoy @zena-dukmak @just-a-blog00 @wefracturedmotivation @beccamullz @newts-fan-case @sugarshai

#bbc sherlock #sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock fluff #sherlock imagine #imagine sherlock #sherlock imagines #sherlock oneshot #sherlock one shot #sherlock one-shot #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock x reader #sherlock au #sherlock reader insert #the lying detective #benedict cumberbatch

[refusemyreality-blog]

Doin’ Good, Anon

“I cannot even tell my boss I grew up in a mobile home,” she says to me. She’s my sister, not quite three years my junior.

She’s at the top of a large non-profit in DC. She still shops at thrift stores, buys groceries at Aldi, and drives used cars. Her thrift is #TBT. It’s a matter of pride to pare down our closets and pay five bucks for a nice jacket. It’s a gift from our mother who garage saled, goodwilled, resaled us through childhood and adolescence. We grew up “kind of poor,” like one pair of flip flops for warm months, one pair of quality mary janes for church during the school year. When we ruled the trailer parks, rugrats on bikes, we wore twenty-five cent knotty knit jumpers from garage sales or my hand-me-downs. It comforted me to be stacked three girls to a bedroom. 

My sister and I had one authentic Cabbage Patch to our names. The third one of us got one my mom made from a kit. Cute as ours but not the brand and it did have that funny nose- two little upraised handlebars instead of a pert little nose. My sister’s had a funny name though. She could have sent in adoption papers to have it changed, but she kept it. At least the sister with the handcrafted patch doll got to name her own.

We each had stuffed animals of our favorite type. She had a mother-child monkey set. The baby sucked its thumb. All other toys were in the shared pool: battered tin kitchen set, Fisher price put-together train, riding horse, mini-tupperware dishes, fake food and grocery cart, plastic record player, Muffin Family Bible storybooks, and a box of cast off dresses for costuming.

Mom cut coupons on Sundays after dad picked out the parts of the paper he read with us on our orange swivel chairs in the living room. We’d help her organize them on those rare occasions she let us. Every morning, mom brushed our long locks into tight ponytails and trimmed the ends in the bathroom of our trailer (Baby curls trimmed by yours truly in great-grandma’s white bathroom while our parents were visiting. My mother discovered it the next morning and never let me forget that the gorgeous sweat curls around my sisters’ faces had be shorn away by me. Like I’d absconded with their beauty and made them plain jane white girls too early.) 

I was the oldest of seven kids (eight if we count the one wasn’t born). Most of them came home to the trailer and several came in seventeen months succession. (Them winters was cold?) The big fat break between this sister and me is one of the longest. Almost three years, because mom was sixteen when my dad knocked her up. They married a few weeks after he graduated high school. While she finished up her junior and senior years, my grandmother babysat me. My parents cleaned up before this sister. They quit toking up, smoking, found Jesus and moved into a bigger trailer across the street. 

This sister has a MA in Non-Profit Development from a swanky Philadelphia private university. She’s newly minted on the board of an East Coast private college in her denomination. She keeps her hair in a bob that she never has to curl. She barely blows it dry. She wears almost no makeup except black mascara to emphasize her eternally thick long lashes. She looks exceptional in a scoop neck shirt because she has thin broad shoulders that make her clavicles stand out. That’s a white girl beauty standard.

She carries herself like a queen. She’s barely been in debt since high school. She’s a saver, not a spender. A half-glass of wine makes her tipsy so she rarely drinks. She’s never smoked. Her skin has always been flawless except for that one well-placed beauty mark. 

People say she and I are alike. We share traits. But not beauty. I’m thicker in the face. I have dad’s nose and everything about his side of the family. Bulbous nose, dangerous incisors (they’ve been ground to look more normal but still stand sentry in front of all my other teeth. We were too poor to get the traditional American braces. This makes me relate more to the Brits. Mind my gap.) I have narrow shoulders, thick bones, mousy brown hair that gets nappy on the underside. And zits, still. 

I’m over forty and I still get zits. In high school I slathered them in toothpaste all night (some brute pranked me and said toothpaste would dry those red bumps. They only grew.) During the winter I smeared orange foundation from Big Lots over them. In the summer I baked them in the sun, then slathered more orange foundation on them.

But it’s not the variation in beauty that matters. It’s her comment.

“Why? You raise money for poor mothers and children.” Her organization gets women off the streets, provides medical care, connects mothers and children to basic assistance along with housing and education. I thought our upbringing motivated, at least in part, or that it would give her cred.

Granted our poverty is not like the women of color she raises money to help. We grew in Rust Belt white urban poverty.  My mom organized and handled the church food pantry so she could work for the with government cheese and donations like endless pints of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, dented cans of vegetables and freezer burnt gas station sandwiches that we ate once there were six of us. (Gardening to feed six kids? She’d have to crazy on caffeine. She gave up on gardens after two years of building a house while home-schooling the lot of us.)

We were never homeless. We had a safety net. My grandfather owned the trailer court. He gave my parents “free” rental space in exchange for tapping my dad for snow plowing, road work and cement laying on my grandfather’s schedule, of course. (Um, yeah, I’m gonna need all day Saturday to help me lay cement for.... Sigh. My father just wanted a day off. Maybe that’s why he volunteered to lead worship, Saturday night church school, the youth group and a crap ton of outings for our church.)

When dad got itchy to get out of the trailer life-- Quote: “I don’t want boys coming to pick my daughters up for dates in a mobile home park.” -- grandpa gave my mother her inheritance of five acres of land and we moved into a camper for nine months so my parents could build the house. Not have the house built. No. They built it. The aunts and uncles and grandparents and church folk kicked in so we could have a real house. 

So we grew up thrifty, boot-strappy, bleeding heart volunteering-types. Most of my siblings work with at-risk populations. Two work with addicts who have mental illnesses. My dead sister worked with high school girls in lock-up till she had kids and couldn’t afford daycare. Her husband works with teens on disability. One sibling is a nurse. Another sibling a programmer who adopted two kids with physical disabilities from the Philippines. 

I teach at risk high schoolers. Most of my students have failed so many classes or grades they are just waiting on eighteen and the right to drop out. The ones who stay have babies, parents who are dependents, crippling anxiety and depression or other mental illness, full time jobs, a history of missing thirty or more days of school most years, or physical illnesses or disabilities. Almost all of them grew up in need. When my assistant principal pitched the program, she recruited me because we both grew up white poor. I didn’t want to say yes. Teaching general education high schoolers is daily triage. And, I would be aiming right for the hardest luck cases. 

My other grade level teachers begged me not to go to the program. I tried some hang-ringing and soul searching and self-cajoling because this group of kids takes all my energy, but I couldn’t say no. I grew up around these kids, with single moms who have bad chunky highlights and don’t use the helping verbs before participles because they speak Hoosier. I might have been one, but I had what many of them don’t- a lot of breaks: my parents stayed together, my mom and dad kicked the TV out of the house and made music, talk radio and books our entertainment, then mom home-schooled us (with a rigor that surpasses most elite private schools, like “You will read the ENTIRE history textbook, answer all the questions and ace those tests. I don’t care how boring it is. Oh, and yes you will do thirty algebra-trig-geometry problems a day. I know you are cheating on the evens because the answers are in the back of the book and you didn’t show your work. Do you think I’m stupid?”). 

We had a healthy diet, mostly. My mom and dad gardened a big ass garden and my mother canned most of our vegetables for years. She sweated with the pressure cooker and the bulging veins of a constantly pregnant woman while shooing us outside to either A) shuck the corn so she could freeze cobs, B) ride your bikes and stop letting all the cold air out. Do you think we are air conditioning the neighborhood?, or C) swing on the swings, go the park or just disappear peacefully for a while because I’m canning while a baby is attached to my boob. 

Just after three pm, my father arrived from the warehouse. We’d spy his orange VW Rabbit coming down the road and run into the house slamming the aluminum screen door several times in succession and scream as we ran down the hall to “hide” so we could jump him as soon as he entered the house. Dad’s return highlighted our day. He’d shrugged us off after a lot of giggling and my mother chewing us out for waking whichever baby was sleeping. Saturday nights, after church, when we had popcorn and ice cream were the sanctioned “attack dad” nights. We throttled him with our pillows while he tried to tickle us. He laid on the ground while we beat him and he crawled at us threatening to tickle more than achieving it. Just the threat of his tickle made our sides hurt from laughing. Then he’d lay there, tossing us up and over his head in a twist, time after time until the butter brickle ice cream high, from servings the size of a tub of margarine, wore off. 

The next morning, he made us pancakes and fake maple syrup and took us to church where we slept off our sugar haze during a two or three hour song and sermon service. In the middle, we saw some Pentecostal action- flags waved, people dancing in the spirit, blowing a shofar (an animal horn), and getting anointed then “slain in the spirit.” In other words, we had extraordinary loving parents with a great work ethic and a network of friends who spoke ancient tales and metaphors to embed in us all the advantages that working poverty can offer. Most of my students lack those safety nets.Our poor life wasn’t perfect but it was good. I keep thinking it was a life worth living and one worth telling.